"The Dao Xuan Tianzun once said," Gao Yiye declared, voice steady but carrying easily across the hall, "that as long as the common people live well, no matter how powerful Christianity becomes, it cannot stir them into rebellion."
He paused, letting that sink in before continuing.
"The White Lotus Society in our Great Ming is no different. If the court truly allowed the people to prosper, the Embroidered Uniform Guard wouldn't need to run around arresting so-called heretics every day. With full bellies and steady lives, who would risk their heads causing trouble?"
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the hall erupted. Thunderous applause rolled like a summer storm.
Zhu Cunji tilted his head toward Mi Qianhu with a faint smile. "Did you hear that? Tell me, have you ever arrested a White Lotus follower?"
Mi Qianhu blinked. "I… I have."
"Then learn from this," Zhu Cunji said lightly. "If you learn it well, maybe one day you won't have to arrest any at all."
Mi Qianhu stared at him as if he had just been handed a philosophy exam without warning. "I heard it," he muttered. "But how exactly am I supposed to learn that?"
Before Zhu Cunji could tease him further, the international segment ended and the domestic news began.
A new host, seated to Gao Yiye's left, straightened his sleeves and began, slightly stiff.
"Now for domestic news. Continuing yesterday's report: we covered the Shanxi militia preparing to march south in support of Huguang. Today, we report on the movements of the Sichuan militia."
He cleared his throat.
"The five thousand militia members who entered Sichuan to suppress the rebellion have regrouped in Chongqing and are preparing to depart. Their next target is the Eight Great Kings, who are currently ravaging Huguang."
He stumbled over the title "Eight Great Kings," almost tangling his tongue, then swallowed hard. A faint laugh rippled through the audience.
"The new host still can't compare to the Saintess," someone whispered.
The poor man forced a professional smile. "Now, we turn to our frontline reporter, Zhou Daya, for an exclusive interview."
The scene shifted.
There she stood, Zhou Daya, radiant and composed on Chongqing's Chaotianmen Pier. Behind her: thousands of militia soldiers, and beside her, the masked Instructor He, Cheng Xu.
Even through the screen, she had presence. Clear voice, confident posture, eyes bright as riverlight.
"Instructor He," she began, "we understand you are preparing to leave Sichuan to deal with the roving bandits. How are preparations progressing?"
Though his lower face was hidden, the curve of Cheng Xu's eyes betrayed a smile.
"Very smoothly. We've gathered hundreds of vessels and will advance by land and water simultaneously."
He stepped aside.
The camera panned.
The pier was a forest of masts.
Small boats, medium ships, tightly packed, crowding the Yangtze and the Jialing until the rivers themselves seemed made of wood and sail. In this era, before any great dams reshaped the waters, the upper Yangtze ran shallow. Large vessels could not pass. Only smaller boats could carry troops upstream.
Which meant this sight was not excess.
It was necessity multiplied.
Mi Qianhu sucked in a sharp breath. "What kind of fleet is that? It looks stronger than the imperial navy."
As if hearing him through the screen, Zhou Daya asked, "Instructor He, how was such a fleet assembled?"
Cheng Xu answered calmly.
"Since entering Sichuan, our militia has focused on improving local livelihoods. The people know this. When word spread that we were leaving to strike the bandits, merchants lent their ships. Fishermen volunteered theirs. No one was compelled. Every vessel you see came willingly."
Mi Qianhu stared at the screen.
No forced requisition. No threats.
They came on their own.
He felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
Cheng Xu continued, "Huguang has many mountain regions. The Sichuan militia specializes in mountain warfare. We will fight them in the hills, where they believe themselves strongest."
He pulled a young man forward.
"This is Jiang Daliang, newly recruited into the New People's Militia. Let him speak."
The camera zoomed in.
Poor Jiang Daliang looked like a rabbit caught in torchlight. Television meant nothing to him, but Zhou Daya standing so close certainly did. He snapped into a stiff salute, voice shaking.
"I… I represent the dockworkers of Jiangbei District… Chongqing… Sichuan…" He coughed. "Do I really have to speak?"
Zhou Daya smiled encouragingly. "Just say what you feel."
He swallowed.
Then something steadied inside him.
"We're going to wipe them out. The roving bandits. The local tyrants. The bullies. All of them." His voice grew louder. "Every last one. For that… I'm not afraid to die."
Behind him, the dockworkers burst into laughter.
"Daliang, you're tripping over your own tongue!"
His ears turned red, but his back stayed straight.
Cheng Xu stepped forward again. "In short, we are confident we can sweep away the Huguang bandits in one decisive strike. Please wait and see."
The image faded.
Mi Qianhu's mouth remained open long after the screen changed.
"So… the Sichuan forces are already marching?"
Zhu Cunji nodded. "Yesterday you saw Shanxi's report. Shanxi will advance into Henan, link up with the Henan Front Army, then march south. Together, they will encircle the Eight Great Kings."
Mi Qianhu inhaled sharply again.
Encirclement from multiple provinces.
This was not suppression.
This was annihilation.
The broadcast returned to the studio.
"Next," the host announced, "we shift to Anqing."
The Yangtze rolled wide and grey beneath an open sky.
Standing at the riverbank was Shi Kefa, robed in flowing blue, calm as a pine in winter wind. Behind him stood the Anlu militia of Gao Family Village. Fewer in number than other forces, yes. But their formation was tight. Their discipline clear.
A reporter smiled at him. "Master Shi, you command the smallest force among the encircling armies. Do you feel pressure? Are you afraid?"
Shi Kefa's voice rang out, steady and unyielding.
"My head may be severed. My will cannot be bent."
As the words fell, ships entered Yingjiang Port behind him. Supplies poured ashore in controlled chaos. Barrels of gunpowder. Crates of bullets. New firearms stacked basket after basket.
A logistics officer saluted sharply. "Gao Family Village Waterborne Logistics Team reporting. Supplies for two thousand men delivered. Please confirm receipt."
Shi Kefa's stern expression softened.
"Our village's support has arrived again. With such backing, not a single bandit will break through our eastern flank."
Mi Qianhu exhaled slowly. "Such a vast encirclement…"
Zhu Cunji explained patiently, "The bandits number in the tens, even hundreds of thousands. To net them all, the net must be wide. This time, there will be a decisive battle in Hubei. The bandit crisis will end there."
Mi Qianhu's hands trembled.
"And after that… you'll march on the capital? Seize the Emperor's throne?"
Zhu Cunji spread his hands innocently.
"This heir apparent knows nothing. I am not even Prince of Qin yet. How could I dream of the dragon throne before earning my first title?"
He laughed.
"Everything depends on Dao Xuan Tianzun's arrangements. Whatever the Dao Xuan Tianzun says, that is what we will do."
He smiled lightly.
Mi Qianhu did not laugh.
For the first time, he realized something terrifying.
This was no rebellion fueled by hunger.
This was a machine powered by belief.
And belief, unlike hunger, does not disappear when fed.