“The bandit army has been driven away!”

“They’ve fled!”

“Hahaha!”

The sentinel laughed excitedly: “They retreated, scrambling back up the mountain. Hahaha! As insolent as their advance was, so wretched their retreat.”

Cheers erupted from inside Bai Family Fortress.

Especially the twenty-four groups of villagers who had been loading the cannonballs burst into uproarious laughter.

Unquestionably, they were the ones who had contributed the most in this battle. Others hadn’t even had a chance to act, so who could compete with their merit?

Likewise overjoyed, Cheng Xu roared with laughter and pointed at the dust-clouded slope: “Little ones, keep a sharp watch on that hillside. Once the bandits have withdrawn, send a few swift-footed men to check. Once we’re certain they won’t return, organize the porters to gather those cannonballs.”

He only needed to issue the command for such minor tasks, leaving deputy inspectors and archer squad leaders to oversee the execution.

As for Cheng Xu himself—of course, he would draft a memorial to report his achievements.

Back in his room, he picked up paper and pen, writing proudly: “Bandit chiefs Bu Zhan Ni and Zuo Guazi rallied ten thousand bandits to assault Bai Family Fortress once more. Though I commanded but a hundred men, I pledged to live or die with Chengcheng. How could they defy official authority? I organized local militia gentry to fell trees and craft missiles to repel the bandits…”

His pen froze at this point.

He’d heard the term “missile” from Young Master Bai—a word utterly unfamiliar before. If he included it in the memorial to the imperial court, would the emperor even understand?

The emperor would surely ask: “What is a ‘missile’?”

Then both civil and military officials would stand dumbfounded. The emperor’s curiosity would peak, likely summoning with an edict: “Deliver this ‘missile’ contraption to the capital. We wish to examine it.”

Should it reach that stage, complications would spiral.

The origin of the missiles would require thorough explanation. With no room for evasion, the connection to “Ghost Village” would inevitably come to light. Cheng Xu’s claim of “heroically repelling the bandits” would vanish, stolen by whatever ghosts resided in that village.

Cheng Xu quickly held the draft memorial over a flame, reducing it to ash. Taking up his brush anew, he repeated the opening, but upon reaching the felling of trees, he shifted words: “I personally led the charge into enemy ranks. Alone, I slew several fierce bandits, my might shaking Huanglong Mountain. Intimidated by my valor, the ten thousand bandits dared not confront me, fleeing in disarray. Untiring, I pursued them thirty miles under nightfall. Only the fear of ambush compelled me to halt the pursuit.”

Upon reviewing his words, he chuckled deeply, thoroughly satisfied.

With such magnificent deeds, those despicable civil officials couldn’t undermine him now!

Hahaha!

…

“Bai Family Fortress has triumphed again!”

A galloping horse dashed into Gaojia Village. While still distant, its rider—a Bai family servant—shouted exuberantly: “Praise the Deity’s bestowed magical missiles! Bai Family Fortress is victorious!”

Villagers of Gaojia Village erupted into joyous laughter once more.

A cheerful atmosphere filled the air above the village.

Climbing the watchtower together, Madam Bai and Young Master Bai knelt and kowtowed toward the sky.

The servant thundered up the gate tower to report battle details to them. Thirty-Two and Gao Yiye also gathered to listen.

Li Daoxuan, outside the box, today savored a 29-yuan portion of Leshan Spicy Chicken Skewers. Munching on chicken offal skewers, he also kept an ear tuned to events within.

When the servant described the power of the magical missiles, he gestured theatrically, exaggerating wildly, elevating their might to celestial heights: “A single cannonball blasted over fifty bandits to death!” or “One projectile flattened an entire mountain!” Li Daoxuan outside the box nearly spat out his skewers laughing.

Utter nonsense! Merely a plastic toy cannon blasting down a mountain? No matter how scaled down Huanglong Mountain was, it couldn’t be overturned by a mere plastic cannonball.

In reality, forget Huanglong Mountain—even a small stone in the real world couldn’t be damaged. Against solid fortifications in the future, these plastic missiles would offer little use.

After the hyperbolic recounting, the servant kowtowed deeply toward the sky: “Our master declares this rout has utterly crushed the bandits’ spirits. They no longer dare threaten Bai Family Fortress. Handling brief arrangements, he will journey here to thank the Deity in person.”

Li Daoxuan cared little for gratitude. Bai Yuan passing through the village, however, delighted him immensely. That entertaining man was pure distraction, like watching a husky clown around—unending amusement.

Feeling rather smug himself after the servant’s narrative, Young Master Bai exclaimed: “Haha! Since the magical missiles drove off those bandits, my contributions in this battle are significant, right? Accomplishment deserves reward! Mother, that talking bird I mentioned last time—will you get it for me now?”

Whap! Madam Bai delivered a hard pinch to his ear. “Frivolities cloud ambition! How utterly disgraceful! Now is the moment for diligent study! Think not that a minor service entitles you to such wasteful trinkets!”

Young Master Bai clutched his sore spot, speechless.

Madam Bai added coolly: “Very well. As reward, Mother shall acquire for you a new collection: Comprehensive Interpretation of the Tai Ji, Western Inscriptions, Correcting Childish Ignorance, Family Rituals, and Canonical Interpretation of Imperial Governance. How does that sound?”

Thump! Young Master Bai collapsed to the floor, unresponsive.

Hearing the book titles, Li Daoxuan had no clue what they signified. Judging from Young Master Bai’s reaction, they weren’t treasures—more akin to gifting a child the most dreadful textbooks. He sighed internally. Poor lad.

The commotion however reignited his awareness: Recent focus solely on warfare, his constant worry about casualties amongst his figurines, had made him neglect a crucial matter—education.

Without proper study, embracing new knowledge and ideas, dismantling old systems and forging new ideals remained impossible.

Consider peasant uprising rebels like Wang Er, Bu Zhan Ni, Zuo Guazi, Li Zicheng, or Zhang Xianzhong during the Ming dynasty’s decline. Lacking guiding ideology, their armed resistance against the landlord class wasn’t genuine “revolution”—it was power seizure. Once triumphant, altering the dynasty’s name might feign renewal, yet they inevitably replicated obsolete governance.

They simply annihilated existing landlords, then promoted peasants to become new landlords exploiting later peasants… fundamentally changing nothing.

Breaking this cycle demanded new philosophies.

Li Daoxuan sighed deeply, shifting his focus from battlefields to the village’s study well.

A cluster of children stood before Scholar Wang reciting The Hundred Family Surnames: “Zhao, Qian, Sun, Li, Zhou, Wu, Zheng, Wang…”

Must it start with these children? How many years would it require?

He pondered this when a shabbily dressed, impoverished-looking young man approached Scholar Wang. “Mr. Wang, I heard you sought me?”