The seventh year of Chongzhen.
The rebel army rolled forward like a black tide, pouring through Runing Prefecture.
On paper, the task of stopping them belonged to Zuo Liangyu, commander of the Runing garrison. He had sworn—loudly and repeatedly—to intercept the rebels and block their advance.
In practice…
Zuo Liangyu demonstrated a masterful understanding of a time-honored military art:
Avoidance.
He bypassed the main rebel force entirely, engaging only a handful of straggling detachments. Those unfortunate fragments were wiped out with decisive efficiency, their severed heads neatly bundled and submitted as proof of merit.
Evidence, after all, mattered.
As for the main body of the rebels?
They marched past unhindered.
Zuo Liangyu reported, with a perfectly straight face, that he had "done his utmost" but simply "could not stop them all."
History, as always, quietly recorded the lie.
The rebel army surged westward, trampling through Henan like a natural disaster that paid no attention to official paperwork.
The Governor of Henan, Fan Shangzheng, was already at the edge of despair.
Even with Bai Yuan assisting him, the situation remained dire. Bai Yuan's own troops were limited in number, and the Gao Family Village arquebusiers—as terrifying as they were—had one fatal weakness:
They required Gao Family Village's logistics.
The Ming supply system, glorious in name and catastrophic in execution, simply could not sustain their ammunition consumption.
As a result, Bai Yuan's forces could not stray far from the Yellow River.
By now, he had already withdrawn to Luoyang, clenching his teeth and waiting.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun," Bai Yuan said solemnly, his expression heavy. "I humbly request reinforcements be dispatched to Henan. Defeating the rebels in one or two battles is meaningless. Only by deploying a grand army—advancing from multiple directions and encircling them completely—can we eradicate them."
The golden-thread avatar on his chest shimmered faintly.
Dao Xuan Tianzun spoke.
"Your request is reasonable."
Bai Yuan's spirits instantly lifted.
"Truly?" he exclaimed. "Then I request that our strongest units be deployed together—He Jiu's team, Lao Nanfeng's team, Bai Mao's team, and Xing Honglang's team. Just like last time against Zijing Liang—multiple fronts, full encirclement!"
The golden-thread figure sighed.
"…However, I cannot deploy them at this moment."
Bai Yuan froze.
"Ah? Why not?"
"Because something far more critical demands their immediate attention."
Bai Yuan's heart skipped.
Dao Xuan Tianzun continued calmly, "I have already sent Tie Niaofei to investigate. Once his findings return, I will decide. If the situation is manageable, troops will be sent to assist you. But if what he discovers is dire…"
The golden-thread figure paused.
"…then the rebels must be set aside temporarily."
Bai Yuan inhaled sharply.
"Tie Niaofei?" he said in disbelief. "Could it be… a border crisis?"
"Yes," Dao Xuan Tianzun confirmed. "Tie Niaofei should have arrived by now. I will personally observe the situation."
And with that—
His consciousness shifted.
Tie Niaofei's caravan had just completed the delivery of a large shipment of grain and weapons to Zhang Zongheng, Supreme Commander of the Xuan-Da Command.
The moment Tie Niaofei stepped into the camp, he felt it.
The air itself was heavy.
Oppressive.
Like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon.
"Supreme Commander Zhang," Tie Niaofei asked cautiously, "what has happened? Why does everyone look like they're attending a funeral?"
Zhang Zongheng's expression was grave.
"In recent years, the Later Jin have repeatedly attacked the Chahar Mongols. Just days ago, Borjigin Ligdan Khan—their Great Khan—died of illness."
Tie Niaofei nodded.
Zhang Zongheng continued, "Afterward, the Later Jin withdrew their troops. But instead of resting, they passed through the northern steppes… and turned their gaze toward us."
He clenched his fist.
"Earlier today, Huang Taiji sent an envoy. His words were arrogant beyond belief. He claimed our Ming army disturbed their borders, killed their people, and harbored fugitives. He demanded that we hand them over immediately—or face invasion."
Tie Niaofei stared.
"What fugitives? Why would we harbor them?"
Zhang Zongheng shook his head slowly.
"There are none. They are merely seeking a pretext."
Tie Niaofei cursed under his breath.
"They're coming," Zhang Zongheng said flatly. "I've already sent an urgent dispatch to the capital—eight hundred li a day. Now we wait to see what the court decides."
As if summoned by fate itself—
A messenger burst into the tent, panting.
"Report! An Imperial Edict has arrived!"
Zhang Zongheng straightened instantly.
Tie Niaofei followed suit, adopting a respectful posture.
The decree was read aloud.
Its contents were… concise.
Every official was to defend their city.
If any city fell, its defending official would be executed.
That was all.
Zhang Zongheng's face darkened.
"…Is that truly everything?" he asked. "No reinforcements? No supplies?"
The messenger shook his head.
"None."
Zhang Zongheng drew in a sharp breath.
Tie Niaofei couldn't help himself.
"What's the use of a decree like that?" he blurted out. "At least I can send supplies! How is the Emperor less useful than me?"
Zhang Zongheng shot him a lethal glare.
"Even if it's true," he said coldly, "you can't speak like that. His Majesty may not be skilled at governance, but he is unmatched at silencing people."
Tie Niaofei instantly shut his mouth.
Zhang Zongheng sighed and bowed toward the decree.
"Your humble servant obeys."
The messenger departed.
Silence swallowed the camp.
After a long while, Zhang Zongheng waved his hand.
"Send word to all officials in Xuanfu and Datong. Every county. Every city. Inform them of the imperial command."
A subordinate hesitated. "Once this spreads… the local officials may panic."
Zhang Zongheng snorted.
"And what? Are we supposed to hide the order?"
The subordinate fell silent.
"At this point," Zhang Zongheng said quietly, "we can only submit to fate."
He turned to Tie Niaofei.
"Master Tie, do not return here for the next few months. If your caravan were intercepted by the Later Jin, it would be equivalent to aiding the enemy."
Tie Niaofei clasped his fists.
"I understand."
Without another word, he departed.
The caravan moved south.
Tie Niaofei's face was grim.
Only after walking far enough that no Ming soldiers were in sight did he pull back the tarpaulin covering one of the carts.
Inside was no grain.
No weapons.
But a two-meter-wide, button-shaped miniature camera.
It was still running.
Recording everything.
Tie Niaofei pressed firmly against it.
The indicator light went dark.
He lowered his head and spoke softly to the golden-thread avatar on his chest.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun. The task you entrusted to me is complete. Everything has been recorded."
"Good," Dao Xuan Tianzun replied immediately. "What was destined to happen has arrived at last. Though we created countless butterfly effects, the wings of a butterfly are still too weak to resist history's corrective force."
He sighed.
"This… is Heaven's Will."
Tie Niaofei understood very little of that.
He only grasped one phrase.
Heaven's Will is hard to resist.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun," he asked, "what should we do now?"
"Transport the camera back at once," Dao Xuan Tianzun said. "With utmost speed. As for Bai Yuan's request…"
"…it must be put aside for now."