News from Shanxi—at last!
Not only Bai Yuan but even Li Daoxuan perked up at the report. He popped a desert-roasted chicken wing into his mouth, crunching contentedly as he tuned in.
The ship captain, a man who clearly loved the sound of his own voice, began recounting the events at Gudu Ferry in exhausting detail—his storytelling so vivid you could almost sll the gunpowder.
From his heavenly vantage, Li Daoxuan listened in effortlessly.
Bai Yuan's fan snapped open. "Excellent! Bu Zhan Ni's fifth company commander has fallen into our hands! Heh, that old rascal really is a recurring villain in our story. We've been trading blows since the first year of Chongzhen. Tsk! I rember when Dao Xuan Tianzun blessed us with those heavenly missiles—one launch and both Bu Zhan Ni and Wang Zuogua were bawling like toddlers! Hahaha!"
Li Daoxuan chuckled, nostalgia flickering in his eyes. Bu Zhan Ni was practically a career rival at this point. His seventh company commander, Night Ranger, was taken down by Cheng Xu; his second, Dian Dengzi (Lamplighter), defected to Gao Family Village; and now his fifth, Old Zhang Fei, had t his end under Lao Nanfeng's spear.
"This leaf," Li Daoxuan mused, "keeps sprouting new branches."
The captain went on, gesturing dramatically. "When I left Shanxi, Boss Xing was still at Xie Lake handling salt distribution. But before she departed, she left an order—Gudu Ferry needs proper urban planning. No more 'build-where-you-please' chaos. Otherwise, the place will turn into a slum in no ti. Trouble is, all our n out there are fighters, not planners. We need to send so educated folks from Gao Family Village."
Li Daoxuan nodded. Finally, soone thinking ahead.
Urban planning was indeed vital. Gao Family Village itself had once grown like a toddler's drawing—cute, chaotic, and full of mistakes. Fortunately, he could just wave his divine hand and reshape the whole place like editing a sandbox ga. But Shanxi? That needed proper human effort.
"Guess it's ti to dust off the old design skills," he sighed. "Haven't touched any software in—what—three years? Three days without practice makes a craftsman rusty, so I'm basically a fossil now. Still, designing a small riverside town? Should be child's play."
He decided he'd personally draw the blueprint, then assign a cultured mind to implent it on-site.
The captain finished his report and returned to rest.
Bai Yuan, on the other hand, was already barking orders like a general on a caffeine rush. "Logistics team! Move it! Shanxi may be far, but our supplies can go farther! They've just fought a battle—ammo, gunpowder, lead shot, replenish it all! And don't forget food—load several boats of grain!"
He paused dramatically, eyes widening in realization. "And vinegar! Dao Xuan Tianzun has blessed us with vinegar! Didn't His Venerable Self decree: 'In Shanxi, we're iron-hearted and noodle-spirited—but go a al without vinegar, and we'll riot.'"
He slapped his fan against his palm. "No wonder half the province turned bandit! They've been vinegar-deprived for years! It's culinary rebellion!"
"Bring more vinegar!" he shouted.
And so, under Bai Yuan's culinary crusade, Gudu Ferry bustled once again.
anwhile, Li Daoxuan got busy too. He opened his laptop—an artifact of another age—and fired up design software that probably hadn't seen daylight since the last dynasty.
Given Ming-era limitations, there'd be no skyscrapers—two or three-story cent buildings were already architectural flexing. Underground drainage? Forget it. This wasn't Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Simple gutters would do just fine.
A few quick strokes later, the new town took shape on the screen—a grid of wide streets, neat plots, and symtrical layout that scread "civilized progress."
Satisfied, Li Daoxuan printed the plan onto a small sheet and handed it down.
Bai Yuan received it with reverence, rolling the paper into a scroll like it was divine scripture.
Design? Done. Easy part over.
Now ca the hard part—finding a scholar to oversee the project.
Li Daoxuan tapped the "Gao Family Village" seal on the box's exterior, shifting his gaze downward.
His divine view descended—and landed on a scholar indeed: Dian Dengzi Zhao Sheng.
Zhao Sheng was leaving the main keep, silver ingot in hand, wearing the satisfied smile of a man who'd just received his bonus.
He'd recently been on an "assignnt" in Heyang County, teaching farrs how to use chemical fertilizer and grow new crops—one of those noble yet poorly paid jobs that scread "public service."
For his efforts, the treasury had rewarded him a shiny ingot. And now, holding it like it was his newborn child, he dashed toward the comrcial district.
Li Daoxuan watched him run and imdiately thought, Oh no. That's a man whose lungs aren't built for cardio.
Sure enough, halfway up the incline, Zhao Sheng started wheezing like a broken flute. He had to slow to a crawl before finally reaching the clinic door.
Inside, an old physician sat calmly brewing tea. Zhao Sheng presented the silver with both hands. "Doctor, I've returned."
The doctor smiled. "Mr. Zhao, I've told you, I can't take your silver. You never charge the villagers for your help; how could I charge you?"
Zhao Sheng countered earnestly, "Then at least take it for the herbs! You pay gatherers for them. I can't freeload off dicine bought with your own coin."
The doctor sighed and accepted. "Fine. Mr. Zhao, your shortness of breath is called asthma. It won't vanish in a day—it needs long-term care."
Zhao Sheng nodded obediently.
The physician scribbled out a prescription—an ancient dance of brush and ink—and handed it over.
Zhao Sheng unfolded it… then froze.
Not a single recognizable character.
He stared at the page like it had personally insulted him. "Doctor," he said gravely, "why is it that every ti I read your writing, I feel like an illiterate caveman?"
The doctor puffed his beard. "Nonsense! My handwriting's perfectly clear. Which word don't you recognize?"
Zhao Sheng pointed. "This one."
"Ephedra," the doctor said.
Zhao Sheng blinked. "That's Ephedra? It looks like you dropped ink on the paper and called it art!"
He pointed again. "And this?"
"Almond," ca the calm reply.
Zhao Sheng groaned. "If you hadn't told , I'd have thought it said 'dragon riding on tofu.' But now that you ntion it... yeah, it does look like 'Almond.'"
He held the prescription aloft, gazing heavenward at a tragic forty-five-degree angle. "Oh Dao Xuan Tianzun above, why must doctors write like divine calligraphers possessed by ghosts?!"
Li Daoxuan raised his own paper sheet, sighing. "That's a question I'd like answered too."
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