At the border between Sichuan and the lands of Tubo, a vast army struggled forward along a narrow path carved into the side of a snow-covered mountain, their formation stretched thin by the terrain as they advanced westward step by step, each movement costing more effort than the last as the thin air gnawed silently at their strength.
At the very front of the army, Bai Shui Wang Er stood still for a moment, his brows tightly furrowed as he looked up at the towering snow peaks ahead, the scale of them pressing down on the human heart in a way that no enemy ever could, and when he turned back to glance at his troops, what he saw made his expression grow even heavier.
Many soldiers were already gasping for breath.
Some staggered as they walked.
Some had to stop every few steps just to steady themselves.
"This is difficult," Wang Er said at last, his voice low but clear, carrying just enough for those nearby to hear. "This campaign into Tubo, the enemy is not what frightens me. It is this land itself."
From behind him, Bai Mao hurried forward, lowering his voice as he came closer.
"Brother, do we really need to fight this battle?"
Wang Er did not hesitate, and the moment the question was asked, the weight in his expression sharpened into resolve.
"We do," he replied. "The remnants of the Dzungar tribe have fled into Tubo. If we do not pursue them, their influence will spread, and Tubo will eventually turn against us. If that happens, our borders will never know peace again."
Bai Mao did not immediately argue, but his gaze shifted toward the soldiers behind them.
"But the men cannot endure this much longer," he said quietly. "The steam vehicles cannot reach this altitude. The technical unit says there is not enough oxygen, the coal does not burn properly, and the engines cannot produce enough power to climb. Everyone has to walk, and this kind of march… it is too harsh. Look over there, another one has fallen."
Wang Er turned his head.
A soldier had just collapsed onto the snow, his body giving out without warning, and two nearby comrades rushed to his side, lifting him up while trying everything they could to revive him, pressing at pressure points, forcing water between his lips, calling his name as if sheer will could pull him back to his feet.
For a brief moment, Wang Er said nothing.
Then he stopped walking altogether and climbed onto a large rock nearby, the effort alone enough to make his breathing rough as the thin air pressed against his lungs, forcing him to pause for several seconds before he could steady himself.
He drew in a deep breath, then another, forcing his body to obey, and only when his breathing had settled did he raise his voice.
"Brothers," he called out, his voice carrying across the wind, reaching far more ears than those nearest to him, "I know this march is hard, and I know many of you are suffering from the high altitude, and perhaps some of you are already thinking of turning back."
The soldiers looked up at him.
Some with exhaustion.
Some with doubt.
Some with something that had not yet faded.
"But ask yourselves why we are here," Wang Er continued, his voice growing steadier with each word. "Are we here for ourselves? No. We stand here for our country, for our people, and for the families behind us who deserve to live in peace. If we allow Tubo to be swayed by the Dzungar remnants, then wave after wave of conflict will fall upon our borders in the years to come."
A faint light began to appear in the soldiers' eyes.
Wang Er clenched his fist.
"Tubo has been weakened by disaster and internal strife. This is the moment when it is at its weakest. If we miss this opportunity, then the cost of future campaigns will be far greater, and far more lives will be lost. If we endure a little more hardship today, then those who come after us will bleed less."
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then the response came.
A roar.
"OOOH!"
Men who had nearly collapsed forced themselves upright.
Men who could barely walk took another step.
Even those who had fallen struggled to rise again, driven not by strength alone but by something that refused to yield.
The spirit of the army surged.
And when Wang Er saw that, a faint smile finally appeared on his face.
Then, without warning, the sky changed.
The clouds parted as if pushed aside by an unseen force, and from above descended a massive golden hand, radiant and impossible, its presence overwhelming enough that every soldier instinctively froze, their earlier exhaustion forgotten in an instant.
Seated upon that hand was Gao Yiye.
Wang Er, Bai Mao, and every soldier present reacted at once, their voices rising in disbelief and joy.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun!"
"The Holy Maiden!"
"It is the Tianzun and the Holy Maiden!"
Their cheers rolled across the mountainside, louder than the wind itself.
Gao Yiye looked down at them, her expression gentle, yet carrying a clarity that cut through the excitement.
"Your determination is admirable," she said, her voice calm yet reaching everyone present, "but when facing difficulties, determination alone is not enough. If you rely only on willpower, you will invite unnecessary sacrifice."
She pointed toward several soldiers in the crowd.
"You, and you, and you, I am speaking to all of you who are clearly suffering from altitude sickness yet still forcing yourselves forward. If you continue like this, you will die."
The soldiers straightened instinctively.
"We are not afraid of sacrifice," someone shouted.
Gao Yiye could not help but laugh, though there was a hint of exasperation in her voice.
"That does not mean you should go looking for it."
For a moment, no one knew how to respond.
Then she continued.
"Dao Xuan Tianzun has seen your loyalty to the nation and your sincerity, and today he has chosen to bestow upon you a divine tool that can save your lives in this highland."
The soldiers blinked in confusion.
"A divine tool?"
Gao Yiye smiled slightly.
"Oxygen cylinders."
The moment she finished speaking, a massive object descended from the sky, landing before them with a presence that was both strange and awe-inspiring, and before anyone could fully process it, numerous large plastic bags followed, falling one after another like an oddly mundane rain.
Then, before their eyes, Dao Xuan Tianzun demonstrated its use.
A bag was placed over the opening.
A simple press.
A soft hiss.
In an instant, the bag filled with oxygen.
The filled bag was then handed to a group of soldiers suffering from altitude sickness, who hesitated for only a moment before inhaling deeply, and the effect was immediate, their expressions shifting from pain to relief as if they had been pulled back from the edge.
"Remarkable!"
"It is filled with immortal air!"
"One breath and you live forever!"
Gao Yiye pressed her forehead lightly, clearly caught between amusement and disbelief.
"Stop talking nonsense. It only relieves altitude sickness. It will not grant immortality."
Wang Er quickly took control of the situation, issuing orders for the soldiers to follow the demonstration, and soon the army was working methodically, filling bag after bag and distributing them across units, repeating the process again and again until each company had its own supply.
Only when this was done did Wang Er step forward, cupping his hands toward the sky in respect.
"With such a divine tool, pacifying Tubo will be within our grasp. Please watch over us."
Gao Yiye smiled warmly.
"Wang Er, you have worked hard."
Then she turned to Bai Mao, her expression shifting slightly as if she had nearly said something else.
"Wang Xiao… Bai Mao, you have also worked hard."
Bai Mao smiled faintly.
"In the past, being called Wang Xiaohua would have angered me, but over the years I have learned to take things more lightly. There is no need to avoid the name. You may call me that if you wish."
Gao Yiye laughed softly.
"That is good. Very good. Everyone has grown, it seems. Only I remain the same, still foolish as before. Even in the heavens, I spend my days doing silly things."
Wang Er, Bai Mao, and the soldiers exchanged glances, curiosity overcoming restraint.
"Holy Maiden," someone asked, "what is the Heavenly Realm like?"
Gao Yiye's expression softened, and a quiet happiness appeared in her eyes.
"The Heavenly Realm is not so different from the human world. Wherever the one you love is, that place is heaven."
For a moment, no one spoke.
The wind moved gently across the snow.
Then Gao Yiye waved her hand lightly.
"Farewell."
The soldiers raised their hands in return, watching as the golden hand slowly withdrew into the clouds, disappearing as suddenly as it had come.
In that same year, Wang Er led his army into Tubo, and with the aid of the oxygen cylinders, not a single soldier died from altitude sickness, allowing them to swiftly eliminate the remnants of the Dzungar forces while also bringing the Tubo nobility under control.
In the following year, Tubo was incorporated into New Ming as the province of Tibet, and Wang Er was appointed as the commander of the western military region, remaining there for many years to maintain order and stability.
As for the other side of things, when Dao Xuan Tianzun withdrew his hand from the box, what had once been a tiny figure transformed instantly back into her original size.
Li Dao Xuan, who had been supporting her with one hand, found that the weight was no longer something he could easily hold, and before he could react properly, Gao Yiye had already leaped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck with practiced ease.
The movement was smooth.
Familiar.
As if the two of them had repeated it many times before.