At first light, Gao Yiye rose from her straw mat.
In the old days, she never needed to think—she would simply grab her bamboo basket and head into the wilderness to hunt for wild greens, bark, and roots, laboring from dawn to dusk just to keep from starving.
But now, with the Heavenly Lord's daily gifts, she woke each morning with the unfamiliar luxury of choosing what to do.
Water was no longer scarce, so she decided she might as well wash her face first.
Gao Yiye was born beautiful, though hardship had long buried that fact beneath grime and malnutrition. Her skin had once been sallow and thin, but after several days of eating full meals—meat included—her blood had returned, her cheeks had filled out, and her washed face revealed a softness she herself barely recognized.
Only her clothes remained shabby, no matter how clean she scrubbed them. They simply couldn't match her growing glow.
Face washed, she hesitated—what next?
She pushed open the door and stepped out.
After only two steps, a giant hand descended through the clouds, lowering something before her.
Gao Yiye brightened. The Heavenly Lord was beginning today's blessing.
What would it be today?
Rice? Flour? Vegetables? Meat? Salt?
None of these.
What landed before her was a massive iron slab the size of a small hill.
Gao Yiye blinked.
"Great Heavenly Lord… are we meant to eat this iron today? I… might not be able to chew it."
Li Daoxuan, watching from the outside world, nearly choked. Eat it??
"You really think about nothing but food, don't you? This iron is for making armor."
"Armor?" Gao Yiye tilted her head.
"Call everyone. Have them examine the iron. Your village has a blacksmith—was his name…?"
"Gao Yiyi," she supplied quickly.
"Right. Under his direction, the villagers will forge simple armor. Every able-bodied man gets one set."
Gao Yiye nodded and immediately summoned everyone.
Before long, the villagers gathered around the enormous slab.
The ever-blunt Gao Chuwu was the first to speak.
"So thick! Is the Heavenly Lord asking us to eat this too? I… don't think my teeth can manage."
Gao Yiye imitated the Heavenly Lord's scolding tone:
"All you know is eating! This iron is for forging armor!"
"Armor?" Gao Chuwu repeated, baffled.
At that moment, the blacksmith Gao Yiyi pushed through the crowd. He could make knives and hoes, yes—but armor was far beyond him. He paced around the gigantic slab, gestured a bit, and sighed.
"This much iron is worth a fortune. But to forge anything, I must melt it first. And this thing is enormous—my little furnace can't melt something this big."
Before he finished complaining, two divine hands reached into the miniature scenery box.
To Li Daoxuan, the "iron slab" was just a thin 0.3 mm sheet of rusty metal. He twisted and snapped it apart with ease—crack, then another crack—breaking it into dozens of pieces within moments.
To the villagers, it was a miracle—and a terrifying one.
They watched a "six-inch-thick" iron slab bend and snap like dried branches in the hands of an invisible god.
Small wonder they dropped to their knees again.
"Up!" Gao Yiye shouted. "The Heavenly Lord said not to waste time kneeling. Work!"
The villagers scrambled upright.
"Move it, move it!"
"Get the iron to Yiyi's place!"
"Fetch wood—lots of it!"
"And charcoal! Bring everything we've got!"
A lively bustle filled the village as everyone rushed about with sudden purpose.
Li Daoxuan listened to their chatter—discussing iron, forging, why armor was needed—and noted something… unsettling.
Not one person mentioned that forging armor without authorization was a capital crime in Ming law.
They truly knew nothing of the outside world.
He sighed. "Gao Yiye, tell them: the armor is to protect themselves. Remind them of when the bandits attacked."
The memory darkened Gao Yiye's face immediately—her mother had died that day.
She relayed his words faithfully.
The village elder was the first to react.
"The Heavenly Lord means more bandits may come."
Women paled.
"What do we do?"
But the men stood straighter.
"What do we do? Exactly what the Heavenly Lord said! Forge armor. We already have the bandits' stolen blades. With food in our bellies and iron on our chests, what bandit can scare us?"
"Ohh… that's what he meant!" the women said.
And so the entire village mobilized.
Wood piled up outside Gao Yiyi's forge. Charcoal too.
The tiny furnace glowed red-hot as pieces of divine iron were heated, hammered, and shaped under Gao Yiyi's limited skill.
A young man asked, "Uncle Yiyi, how do you make armor?"
"Nothing fancy," he admitted. "But I can make two-panel armor."
"What's that?"
"One iron plate for the chest, one for the back. Tie them together with rope. Protects the front and rear—simple but effective."
"So… like wearing an iron bucket?"
"If you wear a bucket, how will you swing your sword, you fool!"
Laughter broke out.
Li Daoxuan, however, frowned.
Gao Yiyi's technical level was simply too low. Even with divine iron, they could only make crude armor. What the village needed was a real craftsman.
No… I can't train them fast enough. I need to bring in outside talent.
At that moment, he remembered someone.
That snobbish, smooth-tongued adviser from earlier…
San Sier, the would-be strategist.
Perhaps that fellow might actually be useful.