Chapter Six: Drafting the List of Gods to Pacify Disaster and Calamity

The small county of Shanyang remained surrounded by refugees, like a lone boat caught in a storm. It seemed that if anyone gave the signal, this county—one of the few left in the three prefectures of northern Shaanxi—would face utter destruction. Fortunately, the refugees still understood that as long as Shanyang endured, the imperial court would continue to send relief grain. Though it was never enough to fill their bellies, it was sufficient to keep them alive until the disaster passed and the rains returned. Should they resort to plundering, there was nothing left to seize in Shanyang: gold and silver were useless, and there was not a scrap of grain to be found. Moreover, such violence would mean the next arrival from the court would not be relief grain, but imperial troops.

Master Liaochen descended from afar on his flying sword and walked into the city. Whether refugees or the soldiers guarding the gates, all remembered him as the immortal who had prayed for rain. Seeing him brought joy, for here was a true adept, a man with genuine powers. Their hopes of overcoming the disaster rested with him, and so his presence rekindled hope.

It took Liaochen considerable effort to break free from the crowd of refugees, repeatedly assuring them along the way that he had found a method to resolve the drought. He explained he needed to discuss matters with the magistrate before proceeding. The refugees wept with joy upon hearing his promise; the cries of tens of thousands echoed against the city walls, filling all hearts with sorrow. Upon entering the city, he found the magistrate hurrying forward to greet him. The magistrate was noticeably thinner than during their last meeting, his face drawn and weary. Seeing Liaochen stirred him deeply, leaving Liaochen quite bewildered. The two walked and conversed together, while those below could only follow from a distance.

As it turned out, the imperial court had conferred upon Liaochen the title of fifth-rank Taoist official, placing him on equal footing with the magistrate and the prefect. Since the last rain-prayer, whether due to the rain or other reasons, the number of refugees outside the city had grown daily, now surpassing one hundred thousand. While the court provided relief grain, barely enough to sustain them, the city’s fifty wells could not keep up with the demand. Over forty wells had dried up, and the remaining ones were quickly dropping in water level; they would not last much longer. All these worries weighed heavily on the magistrate’s mind.

When they returned to the county office, the magistrate dismissed the others and asked, “Immortal, what have you gained from this journey?” Liaochen responded with a bitter smile, “There is indeed a solution, but it will trouble you, sir.” The magistrate was startled, “Trouble me?” Liaochen then explained the origins of the drought demon and the method for resolving it. After hearing this, the magistrate was silent for a long time, finally saying, “Human greed knows no bounds. How hateful it is that the debts of the Tang dynasty, seven centuries past, must now be repaid by the people of Ming. Even more hateful are those blinded by riches—if only they perished themselves, but instead they have harmed countless innocents.” His righteous indignation boiled over.

“The drought demon is not among the three realms of beings nor within the five elements of heaven and earth; ordinary methods of consecration are useless. I possess a spiritual talisman drawn by Daoist Master Jiang Ziya; it can confer divine status upon the drought demon. What is lacking now is imperial recognition. The imperial court holds the mandate of the land’s dragon veins, and thus can gain heaven’s approval. Only then can the drought demon enter the divine path and cease to bring calamity to the red earth.”

“But to have the court consecrate a drought demon as a god is unheard of...” The magistrate was clearly troubled, for petitioning to enshrine the drought demon as a deity would make many think him mad. How would the court view him? His colleagues? The people of the realm? He could not even sit still, pacing in circles before his chair. Only after some time, perhaps dizzy from anxiety, did he slump into the seat, long silent. At last, he steeled himself and declared, “A magistrate’s duty is to benefit his people. In my three years of office, I have seen refugees wander and starve by the roadside. If this truly saves countless lives, I would gladly sacrifice my position. ‘To establish the heart for heaven and earth, to establish the life for the people’—let it be so.” He finished, rallying himself with those words.

Liaochen quickly bowed in gratitude, “Sir, your merit is boundless and will be remembered by the people for generations.” Hearing this, the magistrate brightened, “I am but a minor official, yet must consult my superiors. If I can join with other colleagues in the province to submit a joint petition, our chances will be greater. It may take some time; will the immortal be able to wait?” Liaochen replied, “It is no matter. Thank you for your efforts, sir.”

“Oh, there are fifty wells in the county, but with the drought, no rain falls. The entire city and over one hundred thousand refugees rely on these deep wells for life, but it is not enough. Over thirty wells have already dried up; we cannot continue much longer. I beg the immortal to work his magic and save these people.” The magistrate performed a deep bow. Liaochen quickly helped him up, saying he dared not accept such honor. He thought for a moment, “To pray for rain would require immense power, and its effects would be meager. It would not suffice. With the parched earth outside, any water would quickly seep away, and even if households brought out every jar and basin, it would not amount to much.”

“What then?” The magistrate clearly saw the problem as well. Liaochen pondered and said, “Do not worry, sir. I have a solution. The county must construct a reservoir; I will bring water daily.” The magistrate was astonished, “For one hundred thousand people to drink daily, it would require over one hundred thousand catties of water—can you manage that?” Liaochen replied, “Rest assured, sir.” After repeated assurances, the magistrate remembered that this immortal was indeed a man of supernatural abilities, capable of methods unknown to ordinary folk. He thanked him profusely.

When official matters were settled, the magistrate finally told Liaochen about his disciple’s return to Jingshan County, and informed him that the local magistrate had agreed to look after him. Liaochen listened and felt utterly relieved.

That night, Shanyang County built a large reservoir outside the city. They laid stone at the bottom, and used green bricks brought from the city to construct the walls, filling the gaps with sand and mortar to prevent water from leaking into the ground. The magistrate and Liaochen inspected it in person before feeling at ease. That same night, the magistrate handed over affairs to the county assistant, gave repeated instructions, and hurried to the prefectural city.

On the third day, with the reservoir completed, Liaochen flew overnight to the Yangtze River and drew water from it, pouring it into the reservoir. He worked through the night and only then returned to the county office to rest.

At dawn, the entire city discovered that the reservoir had miraculously filled with clear water overnight. The immortal’s ability took root in the hearts of the local people.