Watching the villagers chant with feverish devotion, Bai Yuan felt a familiar chill crawl up his spine.
Combined with San Shier's earlier behavior, a conclusion struck him with the force of long-conditioned instinct.
This was a cult.
There was no doubt about it.
This young woman—Gao Yiye—was clearly their Saintess, the same type produced in bulk by heterodox sects throughout history. And this so-called Dao Xuan Tianzun? Strip away the incense and slogans, and He was no different from the "Eternal Mother" worshipped by the White Lotus and its many cousins.
For centuries, the Great Ming Dynasty had made suppressing such groups a national hobby—one practiced with enthusiasm and zero mercy.
As a gentleman trained in the Six Arts, Bai Yuan harbored a natural, reflexive disgust toward cults.
He grabbed San Shier's arm and lowered his voice.
"Is this village involved in a cult? And you're actually mixing with these people?"
San Shier frowned.
"Only those who worship evil deities are cultists. If the deity is benevolent, it doesn't count."
Bai Yuan nearly laughed in disbelief.
"Listen to what they're shouting! 'Fear them not—' fear what, exactly? With slogans like that, what else could this be if not a cult?"
San Shier coughed lightly.
"Well… the Dao Xuan Tianzun is, shall we say… unconventional."
Bai Yuan muttered darkly, "Madness. Utter madness."
San Shier smiled.
"Actually, Master Bai, I understand you. When I first came here, I thought exactly the same. That was before I personally witnessed the Dao Xuan Tianzun's divine miracle."
Bai Yuan narrowed his eyes.
"Cults always use the same tricks. There's always a Saintess or a shamaness who can 'see' the god's miracles while everyone else sees nothing. Hmph."
San Shier replied calmly,
"But Master Bai—you did witness a divine miracle yourself."
A huge, invisible question mark slowly formed above Bai Yuan's head.
"When?" he demanded.
San Shier pointed toward the village walls.
"Just now. Outside the village, a sudden sandstorm rose and covered the bandits, allowing your retainers and tenant farmers to escape. But tell me—did you feel even a single gust of wind on your face?"
Bai Yuan froze.
At the time, his mind had been consumed by escape. Only now did the discrepancy strike him.
A violent sandstorm had raged outside—yet he, standing hundreds of meters away, had felt nothing. Not dust. Not wind.
This… truly smelled of the supernatural.
San Shier nodded solemnly.
"That wind was the Dao Xuan Tianzun acting."
For a moment, Bai Yuan genuinely did not know whether to believe him.
Outside the village, the mountain bandits had temporarily halted their advance. Hearing the unified chanting and shouting from Gao Family Village, they understood: the villagers had chosen resistance.
Since that was the case, there was no reason to hold back.
Two runners were dispatched to inform their leader to prepare an assault on Gao Family Village. The rest of the bandits lounged outside the walls, casting cold, measuring glances upward—like butchers inspecting livestock.
Inside the village, tension spread rapidly.
These villagers had no experience with warfare. Faced with the looming threat, they looked to San Shier.
San Shier looked back helplessly.
Then, as one, they turned to Gao Yiye.
Gao Yiye spread her hands.
"The Dao Xuan Tianzun told us to make our own preparations first. He has… other matters to attend to."
The villagers exchanged confused looks.
San Shier immediately grabbed Bai Yuan's arm.
"Master Bai, we'll have to rely on you. You're a militia instructor from Bai Family Fortress—you know how to fight."
Bai Yuan let out a bitter laugh.
"I was driven here precisely because I lost a battle."
San Shier pressed on.
"As the saying goes, fall into a pit, gain some wisdom. You're still far more capable than us."
Bai Yuan considered this, then nodded.
"Very well. I'll take command."
The bandits' main force was currently plundering Bai Family Fortress. Even if reinforcements were summoned immediately, a round trip would take no less than four hours. Dusk was the earliest they could arrive.
There was still time.
Bai Yuan began with a headcount.
Gao Family Village had roughly 150 residents. Removing the elderly, weak, women, and children left seventy. His own fleeing retainers numbered over a dozen, all capable fighters. Among the tenant farmers, after filtering out non-combatants, twenty-four remained.
In total: just over a hundred fighting men.
A hundred-plus people, backed by twenty-foot-high walls—
They had a chance.
His spirits lifted. Bai Yuan waved his hand decisively.
"Able-bodied men! Move stones! Every stone in the village—large or small—to the walls!"
"The largest stones go behind the main gate. Brace it completely. Even if they break the wooden doors, they won't get through!"
"Medium and small stones are for smashing anyone who tries to climb the walls. Stack plenty above the gate tunnel—if they force their way in, crush them from above!"
"If we run out of stones…"
He paused, scanning the village.
Thatched huts. Shabby sheds. Only one stone structure stood intact and conspicuously solid—the Dao Xuan Tianzun's Grotto, spotless and strangely pristine.
He hesitated.
"I was about to say… dismantle that one."
San Shier stiffened instantly.
"That absolutely cannot be dismantled. If you try, you'll die without a burial place."
Bai Yuan paused.
As expected, he thought. The entire village will defend their shrine.
As an outsider, discretion was wisdom.
He changed topics.
"Do we have oil? We can boil it. Pour it down on bandits climbing the walls—"
He regretted the question the moment it left his mouth.
One glance at the village's poverty answered it: ragged huts, straw bedding, empty granaries.
Where would such a place find oil?
Boiling water would have to suffice—far less lethal.
Just as this thought formed, San Shier shouted loudly:
"You, you, you—and you! Go to the storehouse! Bring out the big basin of oil! Prepare pots and pans—have the women start boiling!"
Bai Yuan stared as villagers rushed into a decrepit house.
Moments later, they emerged—straining beneath an enormous basin filled with oil.
The "basin" was, in truth, a mineral water bottle cap.
Inside the Diorama Box, it had transformed into a container nearly ten feet across.
It was less than half full. Otherwise, even a dozen men couldn't have moved it.
The basin slammed down in front of Bai Yuan.
He stood there, utterly dumbfounded.
"So much oil… and it smells incredible. Top-grade rapeseed oil? In a year of great drought… Is Gao Family Village actually this wealthy?"
San Shier laughed.
"A divine gift from the Dao Xuan Tianzun, Master Bai. There's plenty more to shock you—so don't just stand there. What else do you have?"
Bai Yuan snapped back to himself.
Time was running out.
He quickly organized the hundred-plus fighters, dividing them into teams, assigning wall sections, explaining responses for every possible breach—ladders, gate rams, climbing attempts.
Improvised tactics, hastily refined.
But tactics nonetheless.
Meanwhile, in the modern world—
Li Daoxuan had already descended the stairs and was standing inside a children's toy store.
Hands behind his back, he examined the shelves carefully.
Very carefully.
Selecting tools for a Late Ming siege.