Gao Yiye lifted her head, about to consult the Heavenly Lord—when Li Daoxuan spoke first.
"Yiye, there's a family whose home was wiped out by bandits. The house still stands empty. Take San Sier's wife and daughter there and settle them in for now."
"Yes, Heavenly Lord!"
She hurried over to the newcomers. "Everyone, follow me."
The servant and maid didn't dare utter a word. The ten-year-old girl shrank behind them, terrified of strangers. Only Madam San—the steward's wife—had a bit of courage left in her. Seeing Gao Yiye's gentle, honest face, she relaxed slightly. As they walked, she ventured a cautious question:
"Miss… what exactly is this Gaojia Village? How do you have such enormous walls? They look sturdier than the county's own gates!"
Gao Yiye smiled. "Those walls were bestowed by the Heavenly Lord. Our village is under His protection, and we possess many divine treasures. Since you're here now, you'll soon see them with your own eyes."
Madam San blinked in confusion.
"Heavenly protection? Divine treasures?"
She did not understand at all.
Truth be told, she had been silently scolding her husband for the entire journey here. She expected that "leaving the city" meant hiding in a nearby village. Instead, Gao Chuwu marched them more than thirty li out of town.
Thirty li!
A nightmare for a soft, plump, middle-aged lady unused to walking more than the distance from her courtyard to the kitchen.
More than once she nearly flopped onto the ground, ready to abandon dignity entirely. But the moment they cleared the city outskirts, the thunderous cries of killing echoed from behind—so she clenched her teeth and forced her aching legs to keep moving.
Now, at last, they had arrived.
A tiny village—barely a few dozen homes. If not for the enormous, multicolored walls, nothing about this place looked special.
Madam San was still mentally cursing her husband when she glanced ahead and froze.
On the open ground stood rows of tall wooden racks, each covered with strips of salt-cured chicken hung to dry.
Curing chicken was nothing surprising.
But this many racks—packed densely across the entire clearing, stretching into the distance like a poultry forest—now that was astonishing.
A full-scale industrial chicken-drying operation.
Madam San stared, utterly stupefied.
Wasn't there a drought?
Hadn't people been starving?
Weren't peasants supposedly driven to revolt from hunger?
Then where in Heaven's name did all this chicken come from?
And the salt—Heaven above, the salt. Enough to cure an army's worth of meat.
Her maid and servant were equally stunned, eyes glued to the shimmering rows of meat. All three looked as if they'd stumbled into someone else's dream.
Gao Yiye led them up to a small, worn-down house. "You'll stay here for now."
The place was undeniably shabby. Madam San wrinkled her nose, but since this was merely a temporary refuge from rebels, she kept her complaints to herself.
Then she heard the Heavenly Lord's voice again:
"They aren't in the county anymore. Even with money they can't buy food here. Give them two grains of rice, a bit of greens, a few chicken strips, and a handful of salt. Let them fill their stomachs first."
Gao Yiye acknowledged the order, fetched the items, and laid them out before Madam San.
The woman nearly dropped them in fright.
"Th-this… this rice… why is it so large? And this salt—these crystals! They look like pieces of polished white quartz!"
Gao Yiye sighed as if this were obvious.
"I told you earlier—our village holds many divine treasures. This rice and salt are Heavenly grain, bestowed by the Lord. Just accept them with gratitude."
At last, Madam San understood what "divine" meant.
She hurriedly pressed her palms together and bowed twice toward the sky before accepting the food with trembling hands.
Li Daoxuan issued no more instructions, so Gao Yiye left the newcomers to settle in and headed toward the gate.
Madam San ordered her servants to tidy the house and prepare bedding. With nothing to do, she took her daughter's hand and wandered back outside.
The towering, brightly colored walls around the village filled her with an unexpected sense of safety.
But it was the vast rows of drying chicken that struck her first.
Then came something even stranger: a huge pond brimming with clear, fresh water.
In a drought-stricken year—where rivers ran dry and even grass withered—this was nothing short of miraculous.
"Ready—!"
"One, two, three—!"
Shouts echoed from the direction of the gate. Madam San turned just in time to see four or five villagers straining to lift a massive, freshly bound wooden gate panel into place.
The gate was solid timber, impossibly heavy.
One villager slipped—
The giant gate tipped sideways—
And the elderly village chief stood directly beneath it.
Cries erupted.
Madam San and her daughter gasped.
And then—
The falling gate simply… stopped.
Suspended in midair, as though gripped by an enormous invisible hand.
The villagers froze in ridiculous half-poses, too astonished to move.
A few breaths later, Gao Yiye's shout rang out:
"The Heavenly Lord is holding the gate—what are you fools dazing at? Lift it back into place!"
Gao Chuwu sprinted over, his arms now thick with new muscle thanks to steady meals. With him pushing, the weight lessened. Several other young men rushed in, working together to raise the panel and set it properly into the gate slot. They secured it with the divine rope and finally exhaled in relief.
From far away, Madam San rubbed her eyes so hard they reddened.
"Did… did an invisible hand just lift that gate? Heavens above. Merciful Celestial Sovereigns!"
Madam San was a devout Daoist.
She visited temples often, burned incense, made donations, and recited scriptures fluently—sometimes better than the priests themselves.
But her "spiritual fortune" was meager.
In all her years of devotion, she had never witnessed true divine manifestation.
Until now.
With no hesitation, she dropped straight to her knees—thud—forehead to the dirt, raising a cloud of mud.
She didn't care.
"Celestial Lord, you have revealed yourself. Your humble disciple beholds this sight only by the blessing of fate! My life is now complete— even death would not regret!"