Tang Chen rose to his feet again, wiping the dust from his cheek.
The blow should have kept an ordinary spirit master down for a while, but not him.
His body healed quickly, his blood burned hot.
It wasn't hard to imagine how this man would one day become the legendary Tang Chen, a future Limit Douluo.
He glanced around the camp, thinking about what had brought him here.
The rumors about the Elephant Armored Sect being selfless didn't sit right with him.
The sect had its flaws, but slander was beneath him.
He hadn't come to spread gossip, he had come because people were starving.
The famine had left whole towns in ruin.
Tang Chen had taken it upon himself to help, punishing corrupt profiteers who hoarded grain, cutting down bandits who preyed on the weak.
But since the "disaster relief army" had arrived, there was little left for him to do.
No bandits, no oppression, not even a thief brave enough to stir.
The once barren fields were now alive with noise, like a massive construction site rising from the ashes.
Everywhere, men and women in plain blue clothes shouted in rough village accents, calling out for workers.
"Three coppers a day! Meals included! First day, free food and drink!"
The refugees, thin, ragged, some hollow-eyed, paused when they heard.
Even those who had turned to looting followed, drawn by the promise of food.
They knew it could be a trap. Maybe they'd be sold into slavery.
But hunger was a crueler master than fear.
At first, Tang Chen suspected something sinister. He followed them, ready to intervene.
Yet when he arrived at the so-called construction site, he was stunned by what he saw.
The air smelled of hot porridge and roasted grain.
Under the supervision of soul masters and soldiers, each refugee received a small wooden token before lining up for food.
The portions weren't large enough to half-fill a belly, but the looks of relief on their faces said everything.
Tang Chen found himself unable to criticize.
What shocked him even more was what came next.
With different marks on their wooden tokens, over a thousand victims were quickly divided into groups of a hundred.
Each group had a leader, a patient person, who taught them what to do.
That day's work was simple: reclaiming wasteland.
Farmers took to it easily, hands and backs moving in rhythm.
From a nearby rise, Tang Chen watched as, under precise direction, hundreds of people moved like a living machine, turning dead earth into neat, fertile rows.
When the day ended, each person received three copper coins.
Tang Chen did a quick calculation.
Even after buying their meals, they'd still save a little. It wasn't much, but it was hope.
He'd seen "relief" efforts before: porridge lines, corruption, wasted grain.
But this was different.
Providing food and paying wages? It made no sense, at least not to him.
Wasn't this just doubling the cost?
"Been watching all day, haven't you?" a voice asked from behind.
Tang Chen turned. The man in blue who'd been directing workers gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.
He was middle-aged, weathered but sharp-eyed.
"Not from around here, are you? You've got the look of a spirit master. A decent one, too."
Tang Chen nodded slightly.
"I don't understand what you're doing. If you're going to feed them, wouldn't it be cheaper to just serve porridge?"
The man laughed.
"That's what I thought, too, when the Great Sage first told us to do it this way. Took me a while to understand."
Tang Chen frowned. "Great Sage?"
"Our leader," the man said proudly.
"The one who taught us to rebuild, not just survive."
He picked up a handful of dirt and let it fall through his fingers.
"We give them money, and they spend it buying our food. The silver moves from one hand to the other."
Tang Chen blinked.
"But the wages you pay are generous. You'll lose money."
The man smiled, eyes crinkling.
"Think about it. The fields they till today, who will own them tomorrow? The roads they pave, the walls they raise, the city they'll live in, who will it all belong to?"
Tang Chen's expression froze as the realization dawned.
"You mean…"
"Yes," the man said, his tone softening.
"The land, the crops, the homes, they'll all be ours in the end. When the math's done, we'll have spent nothing and gained everything. But more importantly…"
He trailed off, looking toward the workers, toward the laughter of children playing in the dusk.
"What's more important?" Tang Chen asked quietly.
The man smiled faintly.
"They stop being victims. They start being people again."
Tang Chen said nothing for a long time.
The wind blew softly through the field, carrying with it the smell of earth and soup and new beginnings.
"The most important thing," the man in blue continued, his eyes softening as he looked toward the workers, "is that this gives the victims dignity. They earn their meals with their own hands. They can sit down, eat, and feel at peace, like people, not beggars. The Great Sage always says: Labor creates wealth. I couldn't agree more."
Tang Chen fell silent, the words striking something deep within him.
It had been nearly a year since he'd left the Clear Sky Sect to travel and temper himself.
He'd seen suffering before, bandits, corruption, death, but never hope like this.
The man in blue studied him for a moment, then grinned.
"You look like someone who's seen a bit of the world. Probably literate too, I'd wager. If you really want to help, go to the Government Affairs Office over there."
He pointed toward a sturdy wooden building at the edge of the camp.
"They're short on managers. Take a post, supervise a thousand workers, maybe more. Better than standing around looking heroic."
Tang Chen smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Uncle, the things you said… were they all taught by this Great Sage?"
The man nodded without hesitation.
"Aye. If not for him, I'd still be breaking my back in some dying village, waiting for the next drought. The Great Sage took us in, taught us how to build, how to live. Changed everything."
Tang Chen's eyes widened slightly.
He'd expected the man to be humble, but not… enlightened.
These weren't the words of a scholar; they came from a farmer's heart.
And perhaps that's what made them all the more profound.
It wasn't forced; it wasn't recited. It was a belief, worn smooth through living it.
The man gave him a final pat on the shoulder before leaving to oversee the next shift.
Tang Chen stood there for a long moment, thoughtful, before finally walking toward the Government Affairs Office.
From that day on, Tang Chen joined the work himself.
He commanded over a thousand people, organizing teams to clear land, build roads, and raise city walls.
His spirit power helped, of course, but so did his hands.
Under the scorching sun and biting rain, his once fair skin darkened; his calloused palms grew rough and strong.
His neat, short hair grew longer, dusted with earth, and his travel clothes were replaced by the same blue uniform as the others.
Three months passed in a blur of sweat and stone.
When the final wall was set, Tang Chen climbed the newly built rampart and looked out over what they had accomplished.
A strong city rose from what had once been ruin.
Broad, straight roads stretched toward the horizon, flanked by green fields that rippled like waves under the wind.
Children laughed by the roadside; vendors called out to passing carts.
It was no longer a famine zone. It was a living city.
Tang Chen's chest tightened, not with exhaustion, but pride.
Every bruise, every callus, worth it.
After stepping down from his temporary post, he packed his simple belongings and looked north.
He had made up his mind.
He would go to Heaven Dou City to meet the Great Sage with his own eyes.
The man's name was on everyone's lips now, whispered like a legend.
Some called him a genius, others a reformer.
To Tang Chen, it hardly mattered what title people gave him.
Because what this man had done was nothing short of a miracle.
When the relief army first arrived, chaos had reigned: famine, bandits, despair.
But within months, the dead stopped dying. No plague, no collapse.
And as the harvest returned, the land north of Jialing Pass grew richer than before the disaster.
A miracle.
That was the only word that fit.
And Tang Chen intended to find the man who had made it possible.
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