Although Li Daoxuan had "ascended into the clouds," he hadn't actually gone anywhere.
He'd simply lowered the glass cover over the diorama box.
And was now peeking down from above—quietly, furtively—like a man eating midnight snacks while insisting he wasn't hungry.
It turned out this glass cover had unexpected metaphysical properties.
Lift the lid, and the villagers would see him as a divine figure wrapped in clouds, face half-hidden, voice echoing with authority.
Look through the glass, and they couldn't even see Gao Yiye's shadow.
Not a flicker. Not a hint.
Humans really were strange creatures.
When watched openly, they stiffened like students caught copying homework. When watched secretly, their true nature burst out like weeds after a spring rain.
Li Daoxuan found this extremely entertaining.
With the "Dao Xuan Tianzun" conveniently absent, Gao Yiye, San Shier, and the rest immediately reverted to their natural states—scheming, bickering, improvising, working themselves to the bone.
As for the temple? The idol?
Li Daoxuan honestly didn't care.
They could build a shrine, carve a statue, even make a golden effigy and bow to it three times a day—it wasn't like he needed the ego boost. Forty-odd villagers without manpower weren't going to overturn heaven anyway.
Let them fuss.
Sometimes letting people do something was more important than telling them what to do.
Villagers Mobilize
San Shier's first order was simple—and loud.
"Everyone! Bring out every oil jar, oil cup, oil bowl—anything that can hold oil!"
The village erupted into motion.
People rushed back and forth, hauling mismatched containers: cracked clay jars, dented metal bowls, cups whose original purpose had long been forgotten. Rapeseed oil was poured, siphoned, measured by eye.
Then, like an army of extremely motivated ants, the young laborers San Shier rounded up hoisted the enormous mineral-water bottle cap—half full of oil—and staggered toward his temporary residence.
Next came the flour.
All the flour Dao Xuan Tianzun had dropped into the box came in neat little dough-ball shapes.
San Shier borrowed the village chief's grinding plate and ordered several youths—Gao Xiaowu included—to grind every single ball back into powder.
Gao Xiaowu ground while grumbling, sweat dripping.
"Third Master… why smash them again? This is so much work…"
Smack.
San Shier slapped the back of his head without even looking.
"What do you know? I'm taking this flour outside the village to bring back more people. If officials see mysterious round flour balls, we'll be explaining ourselves at the execution ground. Grind it! We need to cover the heavens and cross the sea."
Gao Xiaowu blinked, sincere as a calf.
"If officials see us, can't we just say Tianzun gave it?"
Smack.
"What do you know?! The imperial court's been hunting White Lotus cultists for years. Anyone claiming divine gifts gets beheaded before they finish kneeling. You want the whole village dead because of your mouth?"
Gao Xiaowu clutched his head pitifully.
"Okay, okay… stop hitting me. I'm already dumb. If you keep hitting me, I'll become super dumb…"
San Shier snorted. "Then grind faster before it spreads."
Studying and Suffering
Under the eaves, the Third Lady sat with Gao Yiye, reading aloud from a Taoist scripture.
Gao Yiye's head felt like it was swelling—words stacking inside her brain like poorly packed cargo—but she read on, eyes serious, posture straight, expression exactly like someone preparing for an imperial exam she had never volunteered for.
Even the smallest villagers were doing their part.
Li Daoxuan watched from above and sighed.
"If you're all trying this hard… I suppose I should too."
He glanced at the clock.
"…If only to afford tomorrow's lunch."
He opened his work messenger.
Li Daoxuan: Bro, any freelance jobs these two days? Throw me another.
The reply came instantly.
Colleague: Waiting for you. Game company wants monster designs. Style: black, fierce, disgusting—must look gross at first glance. 800 yuan. Two-day deadline.
Li Daoxuan cracked his knuckles.
"…Alright. Monsters it is."
Work, Monsters, and Party A
Two days passed in a blur.
At dusk on the second day, Li Daoxuan stretched his stiff back.
Party A's feedback came in like clockwork.
"Looks good. Add fangs."
Added fangs.
"Fangs are too cliché. How about a long tongue?"
Added a long tongue.
"The tongue should have spikes."
He shrank the fangs and pasted them onto the tongue.
Silence.
Then—
"Perfect."
Eight hundred yuan landed in his account.
Li Daoxuan exhaled and finally turned back toward the box.
San Shier Returns With… an Army of Refugees
Inside the diorama, San Shier was entering Gaojia Village.
Behind him trailed a long line of ragged figures.
One hundred and two people.
Men, women, children—thin, dusty, eyes hollow from hunger and travel. They stared at the "majestic city walls" of Gaojia Village like people looking at a mirage they were afraid to touch.
They shuffled into the square, hands awkward, souls unsure where to stand.
San Shier planted his feet and announced proudly:
"As I said on the road: come to Gaojia Village, and you'll have food."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Then his tone sharpened.
"But let me make the ugly part clear. After tasting Tianzun's generosity, you work for Tianzun."
He turned sideways, grin sharp as a blade.
"And if you slack off… well. Offending Tianzun is fine. I'll just let you experience what Heaven and Earth Obliteration feels like."
Outside the box, Li Daoxuan blinked.
…This man really knew how to intimidate.
And he made Dao Xuan Tianzun sound terrifying.
The village chief hurried over. "Third Master, who are these people?"
San Shier clasped his hands behind his back, posture suddenly official.
"Remnants from Wang Village, Zheng Village, Zhong Village, nearby hamlets. Wang Er dragged most of their people away. Too few left to survive. Three years of drought ruined their land. They had no choice but to migrate."
The village chief frowned. "But… so many people. Where will they live? We don't have that many houses."
San Shier shrugged. "I give food. Sleeping arrangements are their problem."
The village chief hesitated. "Should we ring the bell and ask Dao Xuan Tianzun—"
San Shier glared.
"For every little thing you want to disturb Tianzun? One day he'll kick your crotch and throw you out of Gaojia Village."
Outside, Li Daoxuan froze mid-cut.
"…I'm what?"
He put the scissors down carefully.
Fine.
Let's see how you solve this yourselves.
The Refugees Settle In
Li Daoxuan picked up his takeout—shredded potato and pork over rice—and watched while eating.
San Shier distributed small bags of flour.
The refugees burst into tears.
They borrowed pots, mixed batter, cooked hurried meals, and ate like people who hadn't tasted real food in years.
As night fell, they gathered hay and made bedding along the city walls.
No rain was forecast.
A roof, tonight, was a luxury.
Then—
Light bloomed.
Lanterns ignited along the walls.
One every ten paces.
Golden flames dancing in the dark.
Two villagers with bows began patrolling the ramparts.
The refugees stared, stunned.
Burning rapeseed oil like this?
Just how rich… was Gaojia Village?