Beside Gaojia Village, a vast new pond now stretched across the earth—over a hundred feet long, fifty feet wide, and deep enough to swallow a small hill.
The water inside shimmered like polished glass. Clear. Pure. Modern tap water—something the drought-stricken villagers had not seen for years.
Cries burst out almost at once.
"Water! It's water!"
"Heavens above, a whole pond of it!"
"And it's clean!"
"Is this… a gift to us?"
"I can't believe my eyes!"
"Long live the Heavenly Lord!"
Li Daoxuan lowered his gaze toward Gao Yiye. "Yiye, tell everyone that I'll refill this pond every day. They may use the water for their households… or to irrigate the fields."
Gao Yiye nearly wept with gratitude, kowtowed, then proclaimed the divine decree to the villagers.
Pandemonium followed.
"We won't fear drought anymore!"
"We can plant again—finally!"
"The seeds we hid away can see daylight!"
"What are you waiting for? Bring buckets!"
"Buckets my foot! It's midsummer, you can't plant anything now—wait until early autumn!"
"…Ah. Right. I got excited."
The men were dizzy with joy. The women, however, had priorities far more immediate.
Water meant bathing.
Water meant washing clothes.
After half a year of dust, sweat, and the kind of odor only famine can produce, the women were ready to sprint toward that pond like tigers released from a cage. At the very least, they needed to fill their home jars before someone else got there first.
As for San Sier—his drowsiness vanished completely.
He looked up at the sky. Nothing unusual.
He looked at the pond before him. Unmistakably real.
That towering invisible force he'd witnessed earlier… it wasn't a dream. A moment ago, something unseen had carved out a crater with impossible strength, then poured down a hanging waterfall from thin air.
Anyone who dared claim that wasn't divine work—San Sier would personally leap up and slap their ears into next week.
While he was still frozen in awe, Gao Yiye spoke beside him.
"Master San, the Heavenly Lord has words for you."
San Sier jolted upright, bowed deeply toward the sky, and shouted,
"Lord of Heaven, your humble servant awaits your command!"
Li Daoxuan's voice descended.
"You're the magistrate's adviser, aren't you?"
Gao Yiye dutifully translated.
At the mention of the county office, San Sier's face collapsed like soggy rice.
"Your divine grace… two days ago I pleaded for the common folk, begged the magistrate not to collect grain tax. It offended him. He kicked me out. I… no longer serve in the yamen. This is called… 'bringing fire upon oneself.'"
"Oh?" Li Daoxuan said. "So in short, you've lost your job?"
San Sier bowed again, mortified. "Y-yes… this is called—"
"Stop. Enough. Your four-character slogans are irritating," Li Daoxuan snapped. "With a mouth that annoying, no wonder the magistrate threw you out."
San Sier froze, like a man struck by lightning.
Li Daoxuan sighed. "I thought a yamen adviser might at least help deliver news from the county. But you… seem rather useless."
Useless?
The word stabbed straight into San Sier's soul.
Was the Heavenly Lord hinting—recruiting him?
Working for a god… that was a blessing earned over eight lifetimes!
He couldn't let this chance slip through even if he had to cling on with his teeth.
"I'm useful! Truly useful!" he cried. "Though I no longer work in the yamen, I'm clever, educated, and can handle anything complicated. The villagers here may be sincere, but… ah… certain matters would be safer entrusted to me. This is called—"
He almost launched into another four-character summary but slammed on the brakes mid-sentence. The sudden restraint contorted his face like he was choking on a dumpling.
Li Daoxuan couldn't help chuckling.
"Fine. For now, I have no task for you. Return to the county. Keep your eyes sharp and ears open. If you hear any important news, send word to Gaojia Village. When I need you, someone will summon you."
San Sier prostrated himself, forehead pressed to the ground.
"Your servant obeys."
Only after bowing several times did he stand and hike off toward the county seat.
Li Daoxuan watched him go, thoughtful.
I still have no way to expand my field of view in the Diorama Box. Since it's locked onto Gaojia Village, I can't see anything outside. Having San Sier out there is like having a pair of external eyes… and those might matter greatly.
He turned back to the village.
Everyone was busy now.
Young men were digging channels in the fields, their spirits ignited by the sight of the pond. Planting had to wait until autumn, but their hands itched to prepare the land. The instinct to cultivate ran deep—give them water, and their farming souls would explode back to life.
Li Daoxuan nodded in satisfaction.
Their "self-sustaining engine" was finally starting.
He'd still need to support them for a few months. But once autumn came, they'd grow their own food, and the cost of maintaining the village would drop dramatically.
If he could replicate this method across many villages… countless lives might be saved.
Which brought him back to Problem Two:
When I'm not beside the box and danger comes, how can the villagers protect themselves?
Instinctively, the most straightforward answer was weapons.
But reality vetoed that idea instantly.
Guns were impossible—modern firearms were too large. Even the world's tiniest Swiss minigun was 55 millimeters long. Once magnified 200 times in the box, it would become an eleven-meter monstrosity.
Who on earth was going to wield an eleven-meter pistol?
Designing custom micro-weapons was theoretically possible… but would require things like millimeter-sized barrels. No workshop in the modern world could produce that.
And even if they could, tiny swords and knives wouldn't significantly boost the villagers' combat strength.
The only viable solution remained… teach them to build their own firearms.
But with their current skill level, even crafting a proper kitchen knife was a challenge. Expecting them to manufacture matchlocks was nothing short of delusion.
That left one option.
A fortified stronghold.
In ancient China, when danger loomed, villages protected themselves by building defensive compounds—thick-walled communal structures like the famous Hakka walled houses.
If he built a miniature structure modeled after those fortresses—scaled 1:200—and placed it in the Diorama Box, the villagers could move inside and be far safer.
This was something he could create in reality.
Of course…
It would cost money.
Quite a bit of it.