In the dead of night, test-02—the small boat carrying the Dao Xuan Tianzun—finally reached the shores of Wenshui County.
Li Daoxuan disembarked, transferred into a specially reinforced, iron-framed carriage, and continued onward without pause. By the time the faintest trace of dawn bled into the eastern sky, he had arrived outside Wenshui County's gates.
The gates were already open.
The Sichuan White Pole Soldiers stood in formation, armor adjusted, weapons secured—clearly prepared to depart at first light.
This single night in Wenshui County had been the most comfortable rest they'd enjoyed in months.
They had slept securely. They had eaten well. County Magistrate Chen had even prepared delicacies—actual treats, not battlefield rations scraped together from desperation.
The feeling reminded them of that time by the Yellow River, when they had waited alongside Xing Honglang's troops for transport ships to arrive, cooking lunch meat together while laughing like normal people instead of soldiers trudging toward death.
They loved these people.
The ones who wore the Dao Xuan Tianzun's image embroidered on their chests.
Everyone here was pleasant. Capable. Dependable. As if misfortune itself avoided them.
But now—
They had to leave.
The moment they stepped out of Wenshui County, they would once again be marching straight into the jaws of ferocious rebel bands. It felt like walking out of heaven and plunging back into hell.
Zhang Fengyi stood at the city gate, gazing one last time at the warm, intact little county town behind her.
She raised her hand, preparing to signal departure.
Just then—
A specially reinforced carriage thundered toward the gate at full speed.
Before anyone could react, a tall, handsome young man leaped down from it, grinning broadly as he waved.
"Hey, General Zhang! How have you been?"
Zhang Fengyi turned sharply.
Her gaze locked onto his face—and froze.
For a split second, she was stunned.
That face…
Where had she seen it?
Then it hit her.
Xing Honglang's chest.
County Magistrate Chen's chest.
The chests of every official and soldier who had ever helped her White Pole Soldiers.
They all bore an embroidered image of this very face.
"You… you are…" Zhang Fengyi hesitated, then realized something awkward—she didn't even know his name.
Yet somehow, instinct told her this man stood at the center of an enormous force.
Li Daoxuan smiled.
"My name is Li Daoxuan. But lately, I've been using the alias Xiao Qiushui to stir up a bit of trouble. General Zhang, please don't reveal my true name. I only tell it to those I believe I can befriend."
Zhang Fengyi: "..."
The air grew momentarily awkward.
She could only force a polite smile.
"Li… ahem. Mister Xiao, then. It's an honor. Only now do I realize that the one who aided my Sichuan White Pole Soldiers time and again… was you."
Li Daoxuan waved it off.
"It was nothing."
Outwardly calm, inwardly he was thinking furiously.
How do I save her?
Warn her about Houjia Village?
Impossible.
He couldn't even determine which Houjia Village it was. Even if he told her to avoid it, she could march into some nameless hamlet, only to realize—too late—that this was Houjia Village, already surrounded.
Revealing vague heavenly secrets wouldn't save her. It would only confuse her.
What about persuading her to withdraw to Sichuan?
No.
She wouldn't listen—not without exposing the truth of her death. And if she feared death enough to retreat, the Sichuan White Pole Soldiers would never have earned their place in history.
Zhang Fengyi was not that kind of general.
After a long internal struggle, Li Daoxuan finally reached a conclusion.
"General Zhang," he said solemnly, "I have a small request."
She looked at him attentively.
"The rise and fall of the realm concerns every common person. Suppressing rebels, stabilizing the people—this is not merely a general's responsibility."
He took a step forward.
"I wish to join your army. As a single soldier. I will march with you and help track down these rebels."
Zhang Fengyi was stunned.
Was he serious?
Everyone wearing the Dao Xuan Tianzun's emblem clearly followed him. He was their leader—an existence standing far above ordinary commanders.
For such a person to join her ranks as a mere foot soldier?
Who would dare accept that?
Yet his tone was unwavering.
She nodded slowly.
"With Mister Xiao's ability, serving as my army's strategist would already be more than enough."
It was acceptance.
Li Daoxuan clasped his hands.
"Then I'll impose upon you."
At that moment, Chen Yuanbo leaned over and whispered,
"Dao Xuan Tianzun, how many men do you wish to bring?"
Li Daoxuan had originally planned to go alone—but quickly dismissed the idea.
Once his consciousness shifted perspectives, his physical body would be left vacant. test-02 standing motionless in the middle of a marching army would be… problematic.
"Select fifty men," he whispered. "Their main task is to drive the carriage and guard my body when my consciousness drifts."
Chen Yuanbo nodded.
"I'll arrange it immediately."
Soon, the unit was assembled.
Fifty men wasn't many.
But fifty Chassepot rifles?
That was a frightening amount of firepower.
The problem was logistics. Once they marched with the White Pole Soldiers, they would be cut off from Gao Family Village's supply lines. Every bullet fired would be irreplaceable.
Unless absolutely necessary, they could not fight.
Chen Yuanbo prepared additional provisions.
Since the Dao Xuan Tianzun himself was accompanying the White Pole Soldiers, Gao Family Village spared no expense. Portable rations were distributed generously. Every soldier received several bamboo boxes of lunch meat.
The only downside—
The famously swift Sichuan White Pole Soldiers now advanced… rather slowly.
Still, morale was sky-high.
Who wouldn't be happy marching with food piled on their backs?
Thus, a peculiar force of one thousand and fifty men departed Wenshui County, heading toward Xiuwu County.
Li Daoxuan remained hidden inside the carriage, not showing himself.
Zhang Fengyi was curious—but as a female general, she refrained from initiating repeated contact with a young man, avoiding awkwardness.
After an unknown stretch of travel, a ruined county town appeared ahead.
Xiuwu County.
Months earlier, Li Zicheng had captured it before advancing on Huaiqing Prefecture—a move that had seemed reckless, yet ultimately opened new paths for the rebels.
Xiuwu County had suffered even worse devastation than Wenshui.
County Magistrate Liu Fengxiang had died in battle. The populace was nearly exterminated. Buildings lay in blackened ruins.
A scout reported from the vanguard:
"Sichuan Regional Commander Deng Qi is stationed here."
Deng Qi?
Li Daoxuan recalled the name vaguely—a late-Ming general known for suppressing rebels, frequently mentioned in historical records.
A man who had risen from a lowly officer.
Hundreds of battles.
Almost no defeats.
As Li Daoxuan reviewed what little he remembered—
A short, stocky, energetic middle-aged man strode out from the ruins, waving broadly.
"Yo!" he shouted in thick Sichuan dialect. "One-Eyed Ma's wife! Fancy meeting you here!"
Li Daoxuan's brow furrowed.
Born in Shuangqing City, he understood Sichuan speech perfectly.
That greeting—
It was rude.
Crude.
And deeply disrespectful.