Fan Shangzheng wasn't sleeping deeply.
In fact, he hadn't truly fallen asleep at all.
As one aged, sleep inevitably deteriorated.
After tossing and turning for a long time, completely devoid of drowsiness, he finally slipped out of his brightly colored tent and wandered alone through Wenshui County in the dead of night.
The county town lay shrouded in darkness. Only a few braziers burned atop the city walls, their flames flickering weakly, barely holding back the black.
Fan Shangzheng looked left and right.
There were only a handful of guards on the walls. Most of the soldiers were inexplicably asleep.
The entire county looked no different from a peaceful town in peacetime—utterly undefended.
This discovery sent a jolt through his heart.
Alarmed, Fan Shangzheng hurried to Li Daoxuan's tent and yanked open the flap.
Inside, he saw Li Daoxuan sitting cross-legged in a corner, utterly still, eyes closed, silent as stone—as though cultivating some profound internal art.
Fan Shangzheng rushed forward and grabbed Li Daoxuan's shoulders, shaking him hard.
"Grandmaster Xiao! Master Xiao!" he cried.
"We were just discussing this afternoon that the bandits would likely launch a night raid! How could you make no arrangements at all? Nearly all the soldiers are asleep!"
He shook him again and again.
No response.
Not the slightest reaction.
Cold sweat broke out on Fan Shangzheng's back. His breathing grew erratic as he reached out, trembling, to check Li Daoxuan's breath.
Then—
His entire body froze.
No breath.
There was no breath at all.
"AHHH—!"
Fan Shangzheng let out a wail of despair.
"It's over! Grandmaster Xiao has passed away at such a critical moment! Why—why did this happen? Did he mismanage his qi cultivation? How could this be? You can't just leave now! The bandits are still outside! What will become of Wenshui County?!"
He stumbled out of the tent, utterly distraught, and charged straight into Chen Yuanbo's tent.
Without ceremony, he shook the sleeping man violently.
"It's over! Master Xiao is dead! Grandmaster Xiao is dead!"
Chen Yuanbo was shaken half-awake, nearly dislocated in the process. He sat up in confusion.
"Governor… what on earth has happened?"
Fan Shangzheng repeated frantically,
"Grandmaster Xiao is dead! He isn't breathing! His hands and feet are ice-cold!"
Chen Yuanbo nearly laughed out loud.
That's just one of Dao Xuan Tianzun's statues, he thought.
When Dao Xuan Tianzun isn't inhabiting it, how could it possibly breathe? And of course it's cold—it's not flesh and blood.
But such words absolutely could not be spoken aloud.
Maintaining a calm expression, Chen Yuanbo said steadily,
"Governor, please be at ease. Grandmaster Xiao is merely practicing a special martial art."
Fan Shangzheng stared.
"Practicing martial arts?"
"Yes," Chen Yuanbo said with a straight face.
"That art is called the Ice Soul Condensation Art. When cultivating it, one's body feels as though it has fallen into an ice cave. Naturally, the hands and feet become cold. As for breathing—it slows to the extreme, sometimes only one breath every hour or two."
Fan Shangzheng narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"Are you trying to deceive this official?"
"This humble official would never dare," Chen Yuanbo replied.
"No matter how I look at it," Fan Shangzheng insisted, "Grandmaster Xiao looks very much like a dead man."
"Please don't worry," Chen Yuanbo reassured him.
"Once he completes a full circulation of his cultivation, he will awaken naturally."
Fan Shangzheng's heart still couldn't settle.
"Fine. Let's put Grandmaster Xiao aside for now," he said.
"What about your defenses? You clearly expected a night raid—so why are the defenses so lax?"
Chen Yuanbo answered calmly,
"Because the bandits won't attack in the first half of the night. They'll strike after midnight. Grandmaster Xiao instructed us to rest well now, so we'll be refreshed when the real fight begins."
Fan Shangzheng was stunned.
"You even know when they'll attack?"
"Of course," Chen Yuanbo said confidently.
"Grandmaster Xiao personally scouted the bandit camp earlier tonight and overheard their entire plan."
Fan Shangzheng sucked in a sharp breath.
It felt as though a thread of icy silk had slid straight into his lungs.
The supreme commander of one army, sneaking into the enemy camp during battle to eavesdrop on strategy?
That sounded like something straight out of a folk legend or a fantastical stage play.
To believe it immediately was impossible.
He was completely bewildered.
Just then—
"Oh?" a voice said behind them.
"What are you two doing up in the middle of the night instead of sleeping?"
Fan Shangzheng spun around.
Li Daoxuan was standing there, smiling casually, waving at him.
"Eh? Eh—eh—eh?" Fan Shangzheng stammered.
"He's… alive?!"
Li Daoxuan looked puzzled.
"Hm?"
Chen Yuanbo quickly winked at him.
"Grandmaster Xiao, while you were cultivating the Ice Soul Condensation Art just now, the Governor thought you had passed away."
"Ohhh, so that's what it was," Li Daoxuan laughed.
"Haha, thank you for your concern. That art is rather unorthodox—it does tend to make one look like a corpse."
Fan Shangzheng stepped forward and grabbed Li Daoxuan's hand.
"It's still so cold!"
Li Daoxuan waved it off.
"You get used to it. My hands are always cold in winter."
Fan Shangzheng was left utterly speechless.
"Governor," Li Daoxuan said kindly,
"you should get some rest. There'll be quite a spectacle later tonight. You wouldn't want to fall asleep during the excitement, would you?"
Fan Shangzheng sighed deeply.
"How could this official possibly sleep?"
"Even if you can't sleep, please don't make noise," Li Daoxuan said.
"Let the soldiers rest a little longer. I also need to continue my cultivation. And Governor—please don't announce that I'm dead again."
With that, he returned to the tent, sat cross-legged once more, and instantly became breathless again.
Fan Shangzheng felt a chill creep up his spine.
A good man… but far too strange.
Shaking his head, he returned to his tent, though sleep still refused to come.
He didn't know how much time passed before sudden movement erupted outside.
He rushed out and saw Grandmaster Xiao, Chen Yuanbo, and five hundred flintlock rifle soldiers already in motion.
The soldiers dressed with astonishing speed. In only a few dozen breaths, they had donned their uniforms, seized their weapons—and even folded their blankets into perfect, razor-edged rectangles.
Fan Shangzheng stared, dumbfounded.
Why… why would anyone fold blankets like that?
Grandmaster Xiao stood before the formation, smiling.
"In half an hour," he said,
"the bandits will begin their night raid. Everyone—take your positions."
The soldiers saluted in unison and turned to run toward the North Gate.
"No," Li Daoxuan said.
"Not the North Gate. They'll attack from the East Gate."
Fan Shangzheng's eyes widened.
"You even know which direction they'll attack from?"
Li Daoxuan smiled faintly.
"I scouted the bandit camp earlier and heard their plan with crystal clarity."
Fan Shangzheng had nothing left to say.
The five hundred soldiers immediately turned toward the East Gate.
They didn't head for the walls—instead, they ran straight out of the city.
Engineers began digging furiously in the open ground outside the gate, doing things utterly incomprehensible to onlookers.
The rest of the soldiers split into small teams and melted into the nearby woods. In the pitch-black night, even shallow ditches were enough to conceal them.
Fan Shangzheng could only stand there, completely at a loss.
Once all preparations were complete, the East Gate fell silent once more.
Only two sentries remained on the wall, pacing beneath the dim glow of the braziers.