Northern Shanxi.
Li Zicheng—still nursing the humiliation of being beaten by Sun Chuanting's personal guards in Daizhou—was now leading his men south, intent on returning to the Jinzhong region.
"Report!"
A scout galloped up at full speed, barely stopping before shouting:
"Government forces are converging on us in large numbers! Zhang Zongheng, Supreme Commander of Xuanfu and Datong, is personally leading eight thousand troops, accompanied by generals Bai An, Hu Dawei, Li Bei, He Renlong, and Zuo Liangyu!"
"The newly appointed Governor of Shanxi, Xu Dingchen, has also mobilized seven thousand soldiers, led by Zhang Yingchang, Gou Fuwei, Shi Ji, Po Ximu, and Ai Wannian!"
"The government army has formed a massive encirclement and is closing in fast!"
Li Zicheng frowned but did not speak immediately.
Li Guo leaned closer and whispered, "Uncle… what should we do?"
Li Zicheng lowered his head slightly, brows knit. Ten seconds passed—just enough for a plan to crystallize.
"Send word to Zijing Liang and Gao Yingxiang," he said calmly. "Tell them to move east and converge with us."
"We'll act as the vanguard and push straight into the Taihang Mountains."
"Once we enter the mountains, the government troops won't be able to find us."
Li Guo hesitated. "Uncle… the Taihang Mountains are mostly uninhabited. What will we eat once we're in there?"
Li Zicheng replied evenly, "We won't stay long."
"Once inside, we head south along the mountain range, fighting our way through step by step."
"Our real target is Henan."
"We aim to reach it by the end of this year—or early next year at the latest."
"Henan?" Li Guo blinked. "Why Henan?"
Li Zicheng let out a dry laugh and pulled an intercepted imperial gazette from his robes.
"Look."
"The Yellow River has burst its banks at Mengjin. Floods for thousands of li. The people are ruined—homeless, starving, turning to banditry just to survive."
"Heh."
"This chaos… is perfect for us."
"When we reach Henan, recruits will come flooding in."
Li Guo's eyes lit up.
He understood.
"Up ahead is the Yellow River Three Gorges!"
On the river, Bai Yuan stood tall at the bow of the lead vessel, shouting above the rush of water.
"Not far from Mengjin! Everyone stay alert—we're almost there!"
"Boatmen familiar with the currents, take the lead!"
"Hold the helm steady!"
The Gao Family Village rescue fleet was threading its way through the Yellow River Three Gorges.
The scenery here was majestic—sheer cliffs, roaring currents, towering stone walls—no less magnificent than the Yangtze's famed gorges.
But no one had the leisure to admire it.
Every man strained to his limits.
Heaven, at last, showed mercy.
The rain had stopped.
The wind had calmed.
The summer sun climbed high into the sky.
A rare window of opportunity.
Bai Yuan raised his arm. "Unfold the solar panels! Maintain full speed while charging!"
The awnings atop the boats were pulled back, revealing dark solar panels beneath.
As the fleet surged forward, electricity flowed back into the batteries.
The rescue team cut through the gorges like an arrow loosed from the bow.
On the high slope.
The floodwaters had not receded.
The villagers trapped atop the slope were at the edge of collapse.
Days of unending rain.
No food.
No large pot to boil water.
They drank rainwater when they could—muddy river water when they had no choice.
Hunger hollowed their faces. Dizziness clouded their thoughts.
Jiang Cheng and his ten subordinates fared slightly better. As merchants, they had brought dried rations with them—but even that was pitifully insufficient.
Hundreds of mouths. Almost nothing to eat.
After several days, most of the people lay sprawled on the ground, barely conscious.
Only Jiang Cheng and his ten men could still stand.
And Jiang Cheng feared one thing above all else—
The water bandits.
As if summoned by fear itself, they returned.
The same dozen boats.
The same fifty or sixty bandits.
They rowed brazenly to the foot of the slope and stopped.
They didn't shout.
They didn't threaten.
They simply stared upward.
Jiang Cheng's heart sank.
Just as despair closed its grip around him, the cotton-thread amulet at his chest suddenly spoke:
"Do not be afraid."
"Hold on a little longer."
"Just a little longer."
Jiang Cheng's eyes widened. "Dao Xuan Tianzun?! You've returned!"
A calm chuckle sounded in his ears. "I have."
"And rescue is already here."
"Unleash everything you have left."
"Just hold them off for one wave."
Hope exploded in Jiang Cheng's chest.
He reached into his robes, pulled out his last mouthful of dried rations, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Chewing hard, he roared down the slope:
"Come on! Attack if you dare!"
"Anyone who still has strength—pick up a stick!"
"Just hold on a little longer!"
His voice cracked with desperation and fire.
"Just a little longer! We can crawl back from the eighteen layers of hell into the human world!"
"Get up! All of you—get up!"
The starving villagers swayed, staggered… then slowly rose.
Hands trembling, they gripped their wooden sticks.
Cruel smiles spread across the bandits' faces.
"Brothers!" the bandit leader howled. "Prepare to charge!"
"Once we're up there, kill all the men—feed them to the fish!"
"We'll take our time with the women!"
"Hahahahaha!"
The boats slammed against the slope.
The bandits scrambled upward.
The incline wasn't steep—not even forty-five degrees.
The villagers hurled stones weakly. They bounced uselessly.
A wave of howling bandits surged up the slope.
The villagers' sticks shook, bent, and wavered.
Useless.
Jiang Cheng had no choice.
He relied on his ten subordinates.
Steel flashed.
His saber clashed twice with the leading bandit's blade—clang, clang!—but his arms were weak from hunger. The weapon nearly flew from his grasp.
He held on by sheer will.
Then—
A sharp, alien sound ripped through the air.
"Bang!"
Deafening.
A bandit collapsed face-first into the slope.
The villagers froze.
Another sound followed.
The unmistakable report of a firearm.
They turned.
Out on the water, a medium-sized flatboat sped toward them.
No sails.
No oars.
Yet it moved with terrifying speed.
At the bow stood a middle-aged man in flowing white robes.
In his hands—a firearm, smoke still curling from the muzzle.
With practiced ease, he flicked out the wadding, reloaded, raised the barrel—
"Bang!"
Another bandit fell.
Jiang Cheng threw back his head and laughed wildly.
"Hahahaha!"
"Dao Xuan Tianzun's rescue has arrived!"
"Rescue is here! Rescue is here!"
For days, the villagers had listened to Jiang Cheng's stories of Dao Xuan Tianzun, half-believing, half-doubting.
Now—
Seeing this divine, impossible arrival—
Even the doubters believed.
From the depths of starvation and despair, the villagers drew out the last remnants of human potential.
They surged forward.
Wooden sticks swung wildly.
The bandits, stunned and panicked, were driven back step by step.
They had come to harvest despair—
And instead met salvation.