New Ming Calendar, Year 2. Macau.
Inside the Portuguese Governor's residence, voices were raised in open argument.
Bai Yuan, Minister of Rites of the New Ming, had personally arrived and now stood before the governor with calm composure, delivering words that carried the weight of an entire nation.
"The lease of Macau was signed with the Old Ming," he said evenly. "Our New Ming has overturned nearly everything that came before. Naturally, that agreement no longer holds."
The governor's face flushed with anger. "This is unreasonable."
Bai Yuan remained dressed in spotless white, his expression tranquil as still water. "Be mature."
The words sounded light, almost casual, yet something in their tone made the governor pause. His gaze drifted toward the window. From there, the harbor lay in full view, where a massive fleet sat anchored in silent formation, while on the shore below, Li Dingguo's army stood in ranks that stretched like an iron wall.
The governor exhaled slowly.
Very well. Be mature.
He straightened himself. "Then let us sign a new lease. The rent can be negotiated."
Bai Yuan smiled. "Apologies. We do not lease."
The governor's expression stiffened.
Bai Yuan continued, as if discussing something entirely ordinary. "However, we will still allow trade. Pay the appropriate tariffs, and your merchants will be protected. Their business will proceed without interference."
The governor rolled his eyes. If insults were permitted, he would have delivered several already. Since they were not, there was nothing more to say.
…
While the negotiation dragged on, another figure walked leisurely through the streets of Macau.
Ma Tianzheng.
Clad in a green Daoist robe, a three-foot sword resting across his back, he moved at an unhurried pace that prioritized elegance over speed. Each step carried a deliberate grace. If one must spread the teachings of Dao Xuan Tianzun, then one must at least look the part.
Macau had been under Portuguese influence for years. Catholicism had taken root deeply, and Dao Xuan Tianzun had rarely displayed miracles in the southern coastal regions. The foundation here was weak.
Which meant he had work to do.
Up ahead, two men hurried past carrying a stretcher. Upon it lay a pale-faced man, breathing shallowly.
Ma Tianzheng's eyes lit up. He stepped forward and blocked their path.
"Hold a moment," he said. "What troubles this man?"
One of the carriers answered anxiously, "Daozhang, our brother fell ill. Dizziness, vomiting…"
Ma Tianzheng nodded and reached out, fingers resting on the patient's wrist. After a brief examination, along with a few questions, understanding dawned.
Nothing serious. A simple illness worsened by poverty and delay.
He smiled calmly. "A minor invasion of wind evil. Nothing grave. I have here a divine medicine granted by Dao Xuan Tianzun. Mix it with water, and within three days, he will recover."
The two men were overjoyed, but that joy quickly turned awkward.
"How much… does the medicine cost?"
Ma Tianzheng waved it off. "What nonsense. When has Tianzun ever charged money? What use would worldly wealth be in the heavens?"
He produced a small paper packet and placed it in their hands.
The two men dropped to their knees in gratitude before rushing off.
Ma Tianzheng turned, satisfied.
Only to find a priest standing behind him, watching with an unreadable expression.
A Catholic priest.
Ma Tianzheng raised a brow. "Ah. Greetings. This humble Daoist is Ma Tianzheng. And you, foreign monk, what guidance do you seek?"
The priest performed a surprisingly proper Chinese salute. When he spoke, it was in fluent Chinese.
"My name is Fan Bulian. I am Dutch. Our faiths are… old acquaintances. I know your naval commander, Shi Lang."
Ma Tianzheng gave a faint nod.
Fan Bulian continued, his tone growing warm. "Dear Daoist Ma, in truth, we are fellow believers."
Ma Tianzheng glanced sideways at him. "I do not recall joining your church."
Fan Bulian coughed lightly. "What I mean is that Dao Xuan Tianzun and our God are, in essence, the same. Only the names differ across East and West, much like how your people call Spain 'Franks'."
Ma Tianzheng chuckled. "Interesting. Go on."
Encouraged, Fan Bulian pointed at the embroidered image on Ma Tianzheng's chest. "Your Tianzun is our God. They are one and the same, just as a potato and…"
He never finished the comparison.
With a sharp motion, Ma Tianzheng struck his scabbard. The sword leapt free with a flash.
"You dare compare Tianzun to a potato?" His voice turned cold. "Shall I cut you down where you stand?"
Fan Bulian paled and immediately shut his mouth, silently thanking fate that he had not completed that sentence.
"I meant no offense," he said quickly, raising his hands. "I hold my God in the highest reverence."
Ma Tianzheng snorted. "To equate your deity with another is itself a form of disrespect."
Fan Bulian said nothing, though inwardly he disagreed. At his level, belief had long since become something more… complicated.
Ma Tianzheng studied his eyes and saw something familiar.
He had once looked like that himself, back when he wandered the world searching for divine signs.
Fan Bulian pressed on. "You wish to spread your faith in Macau. I wish to spread mine in your land. If we merge certain doctrines, cooperate… both sides would benefit. With our influence, your teachings could spread across the world."
Ma Tianzheng shook his head with a faint smile. "Only falsehood requires tricks. Dao Xuan Tianzun is real. There is no need for schemes. Following Tianzun is enough."
Fan Bulian sighed. "Be mature."
He said it in the exact same tone Bai Yuan had used earlier.
This time, however, the result was entirely different.
Ma Tianzheng suddenly looked up, eyes blazing with excitement.
"Tianzun has arrived! Tianzun has personally come to Macau!"
Fan Bulian blinked in confusion.
Then the sky split.
Clouds parted, and a colossal golden hand descended, carrying an enormous ship as if it weighed nothing. Slowly, gently, it lowered the vessel into the harbor.
At the bow stood Gao Yiye, smiling down upon the stunned world below.
The New Ming soldiers erupted in cheers. The people of Macau stood frozen, their minds unable to process what they were witnessing.
Gao Yiye's voice rang out.
"This ship is named Kun Kun, the final gift from Tianzun. From this day forward, you must rely on your own efforts to build ships."
The harbor exploded into celebration.
Fan Bulian stared upward, his thoughts collapsing into silence. Then, without warning, he dropped to his knees.
"I will not return to Europe," he said hoarsely. "I will stay here. I will join the Dao Xuan Tianzun faith."
At that moment, the embroidered Tianzun on Ma Tianzheng's chest spoke.
"Excellent. My foreign languages academy requires a capable headmaster. Fan Bulian is suitable. Ma Tianzheng, take him to the capital."
Ma Tianzheng bowed deeply. "This disciple obeys."
…
In the years that followed, Ma Tianzheng completed his work within the homeland and set sail for the southern seas.
By Year 10, he had reached Europe and established the first Dao Xuan Tianzun temple in Lisbon.
By Year 20, such temples appeared across major European ports.
By Year 35, the faith flourished throughout the Americas.
By Year 46, Ma Tianzheng ascended at the peak of Mount Hua, departing this world at the age of one hundred and ten.