Wangjia Village, on the slope behind the hills.
Bai-shui Wang Er stood before the gathered villagers, his face dark as storm clouds.
Last night, he had led a group of men to Gaos' Village to steal water—only to discover bags of flour instead. Everyone returned carrying two full buckets on their shoulders. Spirits soared so high that even their footsteps seemed to kick up a breeze.
But the joy evaporated the moment they stepped back into the village.
While Wang Er was gone, the county yamen runners had staged a surprise night raid—beating several villagers, burning down a shabby thatched hut, and looting every sack of seed grain the families depended on.
Now the injured lay before him, bandages soaked through with fresh blood, whimpering as they pleaded,
"Brother Wang… you have to stand up for us…"
"My seed grain's all gone. Even if the drought ends and Heaven finally gives us rain, I'll have nothing to plant. My family will starve."
"Mine too. Without seed grain, we're dead anyway."
Wang Er's anger exploded. His fists clenched until the knuckles whitened.
"Brothers—listen! We've brought flour back. Make noodle dumplings and fill your bellies. Then…"
He scanned the crowd, voice rising like thunder:
"…then to hell with them—we rebel!"
The villagers reeled.
"Rebel? That's a beheading offense!"
Wang Er roared, "Beheading? What's left to fear? Your homes have no seed to plant—starve now or starve later. If death is certain either way, better to take County Magistrate Zhang Yaocai's dog head before we die!"
The crowd hesitated—then slowly nodded. When phrased like that, it made terrible sense.
Wang Er scooped a handful of dark earth and smeared it across his face. Then he raised his arm high and bellowed:
"Who dares kill Zhang Yaocai?!"
The villagers blackened their faces as well, shouting back in unison:
"I dare!"
"Good! Light the fire, cook the dumplings, eat your fill—then we march on the county seat and chop off Zhang Yaocai's damned head!"
He looked around. Barely a hundred villagers stood ready. Far too few to storm a county seat. He beckoned two young men and ordered:
"You two—one to Zongjia Village, one to Zhengjia Village. Find my sworn brothers Zong Guangdao and Zheng Yanfou. Tell them Bai-shui Wang Er is rebelling. Ask if they dare join me."
The boys sprinted off at once.
Meanwhile, Gao Chuwu and three youths entered Chengcheng County for the second time.
This time, they walked with far more confidence—the difference between seeing the world once and having seen it twice. They kept their cheerful manners, asking passersby if they knew the residence of "Former Steward San Sier."
Someone pointed the way, and the four wound through alleys until they reached a large gate.
Gao Chuwu lifted his hand to knock—
—but the door swung open first.
His palm smacked empty air. He gave an embarrassed, sheepish grin.
The man who opened the door was none other than San Sier himself, calling back into the house,
"Hurry up, hurry—hm?"
He froze, staring at Gao Chuwu for a long second. Then his eyes widened.
"You're… that lad from Gaojia Village. Called… Gao something?"
"Gao Chuwu!"
"Ah, yes, yes." San Sier's eyes spun like little gears. In a heartbeat, he understood.
"What instructions does the Heavenly Immortal have today? I am all ears."
Gao Chuwu blinked. I haven't even said anything yet…
Educated people really do think faster—when the village chief wants to explain something to me, he has to tug my ear and shout for half the day.
Scratching his head, Gao Chuwu said,
"The Heavenly Immortal told us to forge iron armor. He said lots of bandits will soon appear and start hacking people, so we need armor to protect ourselves. But our only blacksmith, Uncle Gao Yi-yi, isn't very skilled. So the Heavenly Immortal wants you to help us find some proper blacksmiths."
The moment San Sier heard "iron armor," he went numb.
Private forging of armor—an execution-level crime.
But that wasn't the important part. The real message was hidden in the first half:
"A lot of bandits will soon appear."
San Sier instantly grasped the meaning.
Bai-shui Wang Er is going to rebel.
He had suspected as much from the looting of seed grain. Now, with the Heavenly Immortal's warning, it was a near certainty.
Heavens above, that's terrifying.
He spun around and roared at his household:
"What are you all dawdling for?! Anything not packed—leave it! We're going! This is called 'abandoning armor and fleeing for our lives'!"
His wife burst out with their daughter in her arms; the maid and servants stumbled after her with bundles full of silver and valuables.
"Where are we going?" she cried.
San Sier gritted his teeth and grabbed Gao Chuwu's hand.
"Brother Gao Chuwu, yes?"
Gao Chuwu jumped from the sudden intensity. "Wh-what is it?"
San Sier spoke rapidly, "Please—you and the other lads must escort my wife and daughter to Gaojia Village. Ask the Heavenly Immortal to protect them. Once I know they're safe, I'll devote my life to serving the Heavenly Immortal—this is called repaying kindness!"
"Eh? Eh? Eh?"
Gao Chuwu looked utterly baffled.
San Sier shouted, "Go! Quickly! Bai-shui Wang Er could arrive at any moment—once he's here, no one will escape alive! Stop listening to me ramble—GO!"
Gao Chuwu didn't understand a word of what was happening, but he had one good quality: he listened to whoever was "in charge."
If the village chief spoke, he listened.
If the Heavenly Immortal spoke, he listened.
Now San Sier was speaking—so he listened.
He grinned.
"All right! We're going!"
The four youths escorted San Sier's wife, daughter, maid, and servants—eight people total—and hurried out of the county, heading for Gaojia Village.
They had barely walked two li when, on the northwest hillside, hundreds of black-faced men appeared.
At their head marched Bai-shui Wang Er, flanked by his sworn brothers Zong Guangdao and Zheng Yanfou.
Wang Er shouted to the crowd:
"The wicked magistrate crushes us with taxes, seizes our seed grain, and leaves us no way to live! Today, we storm the county seat, take Zhang Yaocai's dog head, cleanse the city of every greedy bastard who preys on the poor, open the granaries, and let the starving eat! Do you have the courage?!"
The crowd roared:
"WE DO!"
"Who dares kill Zhang Yaocai?!"
"I dare!"
"Who dares kill Zhang Yaocai?!"
"I dare!"
"Who dares kill Zhang Yaocai?!"
"ALL OF US!"
Wang Er laughed wildly.
"Then what are you waiting for? CHARGE!"
Hundreds of villagers surged forward, wielding hoes, wooden clubs, pot lids, shovels, hatchets, and dung forks—an improvised army hurtling toward Chengcheng County.
Thus, the great peasant uprising of the late Ming officially began.