Seeing the villagers’ wild excitement, Mr. Bai felt uneasy. Combined with what he’d observed about Third Lady, he immediately understood—it was a cult.

This was unmistakably a cult’s way of doing things.

The young girl was likely the cult’s Saint Lady, akin to the White Lotus Saint Girl. And this “Deity” they chanted about was no different in essence from the “Eternal Venerable Mother.”

For centuries, the Ming Dynasty had relentlessly suppressed the White Lotus Sect without pause.

As a gentleman deeply versed in the Six Arts of Gentlemen, Mr. Bai naturally despised cults.

He grabbed Thirty-Two’s arm and whispered, “This village follows a cult? You actually mingle with these people?”

Thirty-Two replied, “Only those worshiping evil gods breed cults. If the god is benevolent, it’s not a cult.”

Mr. Bai snapped, “Listen to those chants! ‘Fear no hammer’? Slogans like that—what else could it be but a cult?”

Thirty-Two coughed, “Well… that’s because the Deity is unconventional.”

Mr. Bai muttered, “Madness… utter madness…”

Thirty-Two chuckled. “Mr. Bai, I get you. When I first arrived, I thought the same. Until I witnessed the Deity’s miracles myself.”

Mr. Bai shot him a sideways glance. “Cults always pull that trick—only their saints or witches ‘see’ the miracles. Utter nonsense.”

Thirty-Two countered, “But you just witnessed the Deity’s miracle earlier.”

A massive question mark slowly formed over Mr. Bai’s head. “When did I see anything?”

Thirty-Two pointed outside the wall. “Sand swirled outside the walls just now, helping your guards and tenants flee to Gaojia Village. But did you feel wind stinging your face?”

Mr. Bai froze. Caught in the frantic escape, he hadn’t noticed. Now it struck him as eerie—fierce winds roared beyond, yet not a breeze brushed him hundreds of paces away. Truly unnatural.

Thirty-Two declared, “That wind was the Deity at work.”

Mr. Bai was torn between disbelief and doubt.

Outside, the bandits had halted their advance. Hearing Gaojia Village’s unified shout, they knew resistance was decided. The mask had dropped. Two men sprinted off to fetch their leader while the rest sat and glared up at the towering walls.

Inside the village, tension tightened. The inexperienced villagers hadn’t a clue. They turned to Thirty-Two, who shook his head helplessly. Everyone then looked to Gao Yiye.

But Gao Yiye simply spread her hands. “The Deity says prepare yourselves—he needs to handle something else first.”

The crowd fell silent.

Thirty-Two seized Mr. Bai’s arm. “Mr. Bai, we need your command! As a militia instructor at Bai Family Fortress, you know warfare.”

Mr. Bai grimaced. “I’m here because I got defeated!”

Thirty-Two insisted, “Failures teach. You’re still better than us.”

Mr. Bai reconsidered. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

The bandits’ main force was busy looting Bai Family Fortress. Even with scouts racing back, it’d take four hours at least—their fastest attack would come by dusk. Time remained.

First, a headcount: 150 Gaojia villagers. Minus the elderly and weak, 70 remained. Mr. Bai’s own fleeing guards added over a dozen; after culling the unfit, his tenants offered 24 more fighters. Total: over 100.

Against these high walls? They stood a chance!

Rushing with pride, Mr. Bai shouted orders: “Strong men—haul every large stone to the gates! Seal the gate tunnel so bandits can’t charge through even if they break the wood! Mid-sized stones go atop the walls—especially by the gates—to crush climbers! If stones run short, dismantle stone houses—”

His eye swept the village: ragged huts everywhere, just one solid structure. Freshly built too—the glaring “Dao Xuan Deity Cave.”

He opened his mouth to say “dismantle this,” but Thirty-Two cut in: “Undestructible. Dismantle this, and not even death will grant you peace.”

Mr. Bai paused. So the cultists would defend their shrine. He’d bow to reality.

Next, he bellowed, “Got any oil? Boil it! Pour boiling oil when they scale the walls—”

He instantly regretted it. Look at these crumbling broken houses! Ragged villagers! People slept under lean-tos or on dry grass. What oil? Hot water it is—but water can’t match oil.

Then Thirty-Two commanded: “You, you, and you—ten of you! Fetch that basin from storage! Pans and ladles too! Women, boil the oil!”

Named villagers darted into a broken house. Soon they lugged out a basin—actually, a mineral water bottle lid enlarged in the chest to near ten feet wide. The canola oil within weighed so much only half-full could be moved.

The basin crashed before Mr. Bai. So much oil! So fragrant! Top-grade canola oil, amidst this drought? Stunned, he stammered, “But… how is Gaojia Village…”

Thirty-Two grinned. “A Deity’s gift. Stay sharp—give us more tactics!”

Mr. Bai jolted alert. Time mattered. He led 100 defenders atop the wall, assigning sectors: how to fight bandits attacking here, over there, scaling over here…

A chaotic array of equipment plans took shape.

Meanwhile, Li Daoxuan had descended, scanning shelves in a toy store, sorting through trinkets…