Chapter 141: Southeast: Li Chengliang

The eyes of the Macao men fell on Lin Qian.

Lin Qian said calmly, "Ma Chenglie, you go."

"As you command." Ma Chenglie stepped out from the personal guards, clasped his hands in salute, and acknowledged. He strode quickly to a Macao cavalryman and said, "Lend me your horse."

The Macao cavalryman yielded his horse to Ma Chenglie, who swung himself into the saddle and rode north with the messenger soldier.

The Senate President watched this scene, his mind reduced to a muddle.

The Senate President knew that Governor Xu was the Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi, a grand frontier official, while this Battalion Commander He before him was a naval commander.

The gap in rank between the two was vast as heaven and earth, yet facing a summons from the Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi, Battalion Commander He did not care in the slightest — he casually sent a subordinate to handle it.

Just who in the world was this Battalion Commander He?

Entering the council chamber, the senators began probing indirectly, asking about Lin Qian's purpose in coming.

No one was a child anymore; no one would believe Lin Qian had helped Macao defeat the Dutch purely out of righteousness.

Lin Qian had ostentatiously docked his flagship and won over the people's hearts — he must have some design.

Lin Qian wasted no words, saying bluntly: "Just as I promised, from this day forward, this stretch of sea shall be protected by the Ming navy!"

When these words were spoken at the docks, they fell on the ears of Macao's citizens like a promise of safety, pleasant to hear.

But to the senators' ears, they carried an entirely different meaning.

Lin Qian smiled: "In other words, I intend to station troops in Macao."

At these words, the senators' faces instantly filled with terror.

Once the right to station troops was granted, wouldn't that be equivalent to handing over their very lives and fortunes?

Lin Qian seemed to ask only for the right to station troops, but in truth he was demanding "governance" over Portuguese-held Macao.

With governance in hand, was there any demand of Lin Qian's that Macao would dare refuse in the future?

Just as the council chamber was debating the question of "troop-stationing rights"—

Ma Chenglie had already ridden his fast horse across the Lotus Stem and reached General Mountain.

Seeing Xu Zhaokui, Ma Chenglie dismounted, offered a solemn salute, and said: "Your subordinate Ma Chenglie, Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao, pays respects to Governor Xu. Your subordinate is in armor, and begs pardon for not offering full ceremony."

The expression on Xu Zhaokui's face was exceedingly complex.

On one hand he was delighted that the fleet truly belonged to Ma Chenglie; on the other he was astonished at the power of the Nan'ao navy — those several Western warships were clearly not built under the Ministry of War's supervision. Where on earth had they come from?

When he first saw Ma Chenglie, Xu Zhaokui's heart had held more joy; he had prepared many words of encouragement, such as: "Regional Commander Ma has had a hard journey."

"Regional Commander Ma's battle last night crushed the red barbarians' fierce edge and displayed the might of the Ming navy. This official shall submit a memorial to request merit for the Commander!"

"That Fujian and Guangdong have gained Regional Commander Ma is truly a blessing for the nation."

But now, with Ma Chenglie standing personally before him, not one of the prepared words of encouragement could be spoken.

Xu Zhaokui felt as if a basin of cold water had been poured over him from head to toe. The joy of victory was extinguished, replaced by doubts surging endlessly from the depths of his heart.

Where had those Western warships come from?

When had Ma Chenglie acquired such a powerful naval force?

After defeating the Dutch, why had Ma Chenglie docked at Macao?

What was Ma Chenglie's relationship with the Macao people?

The Nan'ao navy was so formidable that even the red-haired barbarians were no match — could the rest of Fujian and Guangdong's navies keep it in check?

Ma Chenglie had secretly cultivated such a powerful fleet — where had the silver come from? What exactly did he intend to do?

The doubts in Xu Zhaokui's heart multiplied, his gaze growing colder and colder. He simply stood there, saying not a word, staring coldly at Ma Chenglie.

The atmosphere on the mountain instantly became extremely delicate.

The surrounding officials had all been beaming with joy, and seeing Governor Xu silent, they had wanted to flatter Ma Chenglie a few words to avoid an awkward scene.

But after seeing Governor Xu's expression, how could they not understand their superior's thoughts? Each one fell silent as cicadas in winter, schooled their expressions, and stood frozen.

Since Governor Xu did not speak, Ma Chenglie maintained his solemn salute.

By rights, the Governor-General of Guangdong and Guangxi was his direct superior. In the old days, Ma Chenglie seeing his superior like this would have been terrified, his heart trembling, and he would have knelt to beg forgiveness.

But the Ma Chenglie of today had found a new backer — times had changed.

He knew well that even if he openly rebelled on the spot, the Ming officials would not dare touch him; instead they would have to reason with him gently and persuade him to calm down.

This was what it meant to overwhelm with power.

The Nan'ao navy's performance in this battle had been so formidable that to Fujian and Guangdong, it had become a tail too big to wag.

Even if Ma Chenglie showed signs of rebellion, any official with a brain would first think of appeasement.

This was not only Ma Chenglie's own judgment — it was Lin Qian's analysis before the battle set out, and Ma Chenglie had never doubted the helmsman's words.

Moreover, this trip to General Mountain, he had brought over a dozen household guards; even if the Governor-General tried force, he could still retreat in safety.

After a long while, Xu Zhaokui said with a smile that did not reach his eyes: "Regional Commander Ma, you are very good."

Hearing this, Ma Chenglie lowered his clasped hands and replied: "Thank you, Governor."

In the Ming officialdom, facing a superior's sarcastic insinuations, this attitude was already arrogant.

Xu Zhaokui probed: "Regional Commander Ma, might I ask when the Nan'ao navy acquired foreign cannon ships?"

Ma Chenglie countered tit for tat: "Those were ships of foreign sea bandits, captured and refitted by your subordinate. I hope the Governor will forgive my presumption."

The surrounding officials secretly mused — how much oil could a mere Vice Regional Commander of Nan'ao squeeze out to support such great ships?

The Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner hastily pledged his loyalty, barking: "Ma Chenglie, you have quite the nerve, daring to fob off your superior!"

Ma Chenglie glanced at him sidelong, disdainful of deigning to reply.

The Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner was fuming with rage, and snarled: "Ma Chenglie, this official is speaking to you! Where did your cannon ships really come from? Are you afraid to answer because your conscience is guilty?"

Ma Chenglie declared in a clear voice: "Our army has just won a victory, yet we face baseless suspicion and wanton interrogation from vermin like you. Acting thus, are you not afraid of chilling the soldiers' hearts?"

These words carried a veiled threat, and the Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner's hot blood instantly froze.

If Ma Chenglie were still within the Ming bureaucracy, he would naturally be at the mercy of these superiors.

But once pressed too hard, if they mutiny and rebel, escaping the system entirely, these high officials with their nominal ranks would be too busy flattering them to do anything else.

Have you not seen how Regional Commander Li Chengliang of old guarded Liaodong for thirty years, his entire household filled with generals, seven Battalion Commander retainers under his command, his power deeply entrenched, managing all of Liaodong like a feudal state?

What did the court do? Endured it!

With such power, never mind that he was still under Ming rule—even if he truly rebelled, they would have to find every possible way to coax him back.

The officials all understood in their hearts: now that the Jianzhou barbarians were hammering at the gates in Liaodong and the native chieftains were in revolt in the southwest, the southeast could not afford another major upheaval.

At this juncture, whoever provoked Ma Chenglie into rebellion would have his own head used by the court to appease Ma Chenglie—even a Regional Military Commissioner would be no exception.

At this thought, the Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner felt his soul fly three feet out of his body.

For these officials, the best course was to pretend they had seen nothing—as long as Ma Chenglie caused no trouble during their own tenure, all would be well.

As for tails becoming too big to wag, as for brewing future disasters—once the capital's inspection rotated them away, the pitfall would land on the next official, and they would have nothing to do with it.

Thinking it over this way, Ma Chenglie merely had somewhat stronger military forces and a somewhat arrogant attitude—so what of it?

Which capable general was not arrogant and overbearing?

To slander the man as planning rebellion on such scant evidence was truly grasping at shadows.

How formidable was Li Chengliang back in the day? In the end, didn't he obediently guard Liaodong and serve as a loyal Ming subject his whole life?

Ma Chenglie traveled a thousand li in response to Your Excellency the Governor-General's orders, left his defense zone, came personally to Macao, and defeated the red barbarians—this response shows far more loyalty than Li Chengliang ever did.

Even in the worst case, the military pay and grain supplies for Nan'ao Island were still clenched in Guangdong's fist; even if Ma Chenglie truly harbored rebellious intent, he lacked the strength.

No need to drive a man to desperation—use the method of boiling a frog in warm water and gradually weaken him instead.

After a long moment, Xu Zhaokui said in a cold voice: "Colonel Zhou, you go too far! Regional Commander Ma fought a bloody battle for the nation, his loyalty and valor worthy of praise—how dare anyone add their carping remarks!"

The Guangdong Regional Military Commissioner hastily clasped his hands in apology: "Your Excellency is right. Regional Commander Ma, this official spoke rashly in a moment of haste—I hope the Commander will not take it to heart."

Ma Chenglie curled his lips into a smile, clasped his hands, and said: "No trouble at all."

Xu Zhaokui put on a smile and took Ma Chenglie by the arm, pulling him into the camp tent, speaking cordially: "Regional Commander Ma fought all night and cold has seeped into your bones—come, drink a few cups of wine to warm yourself!

The Commander's battle last night was truly valiant—you showed the might of the Ming navy!

This official will personally write a memorial to the throne to request merit for the Commander!"

That evening, Ma Chenglie was kept at the Governor-General of Liangguang's camp for a victory banquet.

Meanwhile, the council hall of Macao City also laid out a grand feast to celebrate Lin Qian's achievements.

At the banquet, Lin Qian sat in the seat of honor, with Bailangzai and Su Qingmei standing attendance at his side—all food and drink had to be tested by Su Qingmei and found safe before Lin Qian would take a bite.

The matter of garrison rights was truly too significant; the councilors dared not agree on their own authority, yet neither dared refuse outright, so the victory banquet could only proceed with awkward small talk.

When the banquet ended, Lin Qian led his brothers to Councilor Andre's residence.

Zheng Zhilong looked around—the councilor's luxurious office was exactly as it had been on their last visit, only the mindsets on both sides were now vastly different.

Lin Qian entered and sat down in the seat of honor without the slightest ceremony, placing his helmet on the desk with a casual air, as if he were in his own home.

Andre wore a fawning smile all over his face as he sat in the guest seat.

"Hm?" Lin Qian glanced at him.

Zheng Zhilong barked: "Did the Helmsman tell you to sit?"

"Yes, yes——" Andre scrambled to his feet with an ingratiating smile, "The order for the Bocarro Cannon Foundry has been placed—twelve... oh, no, twenty-four eighteen-pounder Siren cannons!"

Twenty-four eighteen-pounder Siren cannons, with a total price of over forty thousand taels! Nearly equal to the profit from Lin Qian's previous one-hundred-thousand-tael firearms order!

In other words, with these twenty-four cannons thrown in, Andre had sold the previous hundred-thousand-tael firearms at cost, earning only the price of a drink.

For Andre, this was the greatest sincerity he could offer.

Unexpectedly, Lin Qian did not reply, his expression cold and stern.

Sweat began to seep from Andre's forehead.

Zheng Zhilong said: "The twenty-four cannons count as the military expenses for this operation. Once they are delivered, we'll be square."

Andre secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Next, let's talk about cooperation."

Zheng Zhilong's single sentence made Andre's heart lurch upward again.

"First, the council hall must grant the Ming navy garrison rights.

Second, the Helmsman wants a ten percent share of the Bocarro Cannon Foundry, and will send a director to participate in decision-making.

Third, the trade route to Japan must be opened to us."

Even though Andre had prepared himself mentally, he was still dumbfounded—these three demands were each more excessive than the last, each more outrageous than the last, each striking deeper at the Portuguese's core interests.

If Andre agreed to any of it, it would be a complete surrender of sovereignty and humiliation of the nation!

Thus his reaction was extremely violent as he angrily demanded: "What did you say?"

The next second, Andre found himself pinned against the wall by a single hand gripping his throat.

Zheng Zhilong, clad in full armor, his eyes filled with murderous intent: "You ignorant fool—speak to the Helmsman in that tone again, and I'll cut out your tongue."

Andre looked plump, but years of indulging in wine and women had left his body weak and feeble—he could not break free at all.

Watching his face turn from white to red and then to a liver-like purple, his throat emitting hoarse gurgling sounds, the whites of his eyes growing ever larger—only then did Zheng Zhilong release his grip.

Andre collapsed onto the floor, both hands clutching his throat, desperately gasping for air.

Only at this moment did he recognize a reality: Lin Qian was no longer the sea bandit chieftain he had been a year and a half ago.

The Lin Qian of today was a different man entirely—crushing Andre would be like crushing an ant.

Andre, as a merchant, had always been adept at reading the room and trimming his sails to the wind, but even after a lifetime of weathering storms, he had never seen anyone like Lin Qian—rising from pirate to fleet commander in less than two years.

The speed at which this power had grown was simply astonishing!

Andre gasped for a long while before finally catching his breath, and looked up.

There stood Zheng Zhilong, Bailangzai, Bai Qing, Lei Sanxiang, Lü Zhou, and the others, all staring coldly at him.

Moonlight streamed through the window, shrouding their faces in shadow, their figures cast long and looming like mountains.

Andre said dejectedly, "Even if I agreed to these three demands, the other councilors in Macao, and the Senate president, would never agree——"

"Even if the Senate agreed, the Portuguese Governor-General in Goa would never agree, and the Crown would never agree either."

"If you insist on forcing this through, Your Excellency, you will only bring Portuguese warships down upon yourself."

"Hah." Lin Qian let out a light laugh, casually picking up the hawksbill-tortoiseshell telescope from his desk and toying with it. "Portuguese warships? Don't make me laugh."

Andre's face flushed bright red, but in the end he feared Zheng Zhilong's threat of cutting out tongues, so he said nothing more.

He himself understood well that among all the colonizers in East Asia and Southeast Asia, the strongest were the Dutch, followed by the Spanish, then the newly rising English, and only last could the Portuguese be counted.

Under the Dutch attacks, the Portuguese colonies of Malacca and Goa could barely defend themselves—how could they possibly have the capacity to concern themselves with Macao's affairs?

And Lin Qian had just soundly defeated the Dutch; the corpses of the Dutch sailors at sea hadn't even been cleaned up yet.

How could he possibly take the Portuguese fleet seriously?

In the end, Andre could only nod dejectedly and agree to all of Lin Qian's conditions.

From his own perspective, when the Dutch had besieged the city, he had led his servants and slaves in fleeing for their lives, witnessed by many citizens. If he did not rely on Lin Qian, his political career was finished.

Zheng Zhilong said in a soothing tone, "At tomorrow's Senate assembly, I will speak on the helmsman's behalf and push for you to be elected the new Senate president."

"Do a good job. Being loyal to the helmsman has far more prospects than being loyal to the Governor-General or the Crown."

Andre's eyes brightened again, and he said excitedly, "Thank you, Helmsman! Thank you, Master Zheng——"

Lin Qian rose to his feet. "This telescope is not bad."

"A gift for the Helmsman! Whatever the Helmsman fancies, take it freely!" Andre said with a fawning smile.

Lin Qian chuckled lightly and walked out of the office first, with Bailangzai carrying the helmet and telescope, walking behind Lin Qian.

The group rode carriages and horses back to the harbor and boarded the Tianyuan.

Lin Qian and his sworn brothers took off their heavy armor and looked at each other, laughing heartily.

Bai Qing rubbed his shoulders and said, "This thing only looks good. If it ever fell into the water, no matter how good a swimmer you are, you wouldn't float back up."

Lei Sanxiang said, "This is only one layer of armor. The Tartar White Armor soldiers wear three layers—even muskets can be stopped."

Zheng Zhilong unbuckled his arm guards and said, "We have to wear armor for it to look right—only then will the people of Macao be willing to trust us."

With Su Qingmei's help, Lin Qian untied the straps of his cotton armor at his back, saying as he did, "We'll be staying in Macao for a few days to stabilize the situation."

"Yiguan, for these few days you'll be at the Senate, helping Andre build up his momentum, securing the president's seat, and overseeing his fulfillment of the agreement."

"Yes!" Zheng Zhilong clasped his fists in salute.

"Bai Qing, return to the Changfeng and command the remaining warships, keeping watch over the nearby waters."

"Third Brother, take men to guard the key locations in Macao city. Remember: strict military discipline—do not disturb the common people!"

Lei Sanxiang laughed and said, "I understand. Whoever drops the ball gets whipped in public!"

"Bailangzai, take several groups of men into the city to help the people restore their daily lives. Whether they are Franks or Han Chinese, treat them all equally."

"Su Qingmei."

The young girl hadn't expected there to be something for her to do. She raised her hand and said, "I'm right here."

Lin Qian smiled and said, "I'll trouble you to follow Bailangzai these few days. If you encounter sick or injured people on the way, treat them as the opportunity arises. Don't worry about consultation fees or medicine costs—when we return to Nan'ao, everything will be settled together, and you'll receive extra reward money besides."

Su Qingmei looked a bit troubled. "My father said my medical skills aren't yet good enough to see patients."

"Treat the ones you're confident about; skip the ones you're not. This is just to win people's hearts."

Su Qingmei nodded, half-understanding.

With the orders given, Lin Qian said, "It's getting late. Everyone, go back and rest."

With that said, Lin Qian returned to the captain's cabin, where two official documents had already been laid out on the navigation table.

Lin Qian wiped his face with a towel, walked to the table, and began to read.

The first document was a casualty report. In this battle, Lin Qian's side had suffered fifty-one sailors dead or wounded, and four cannons damaged.

The Tianyuan had been hit by twelve cannonballs, and all the other ships had sustained damage of varying degrees.

Additionally, of the forty fire ships at the start of the naval battle, twenty-five Green Mountain ships and fifteen Bird ships had been expended.

As for materials, a thousand catties of tung oil had been consumed, along with incalculable quantities of cannonballs, musket balls, and gunpowder.

Compared to the Dutch losses, this exchange ratio could already be called heaven-defying.

Compared to what was about to be gained from the Portuguese, it was even more negligible.

After reviewing the list of casualties, Lin Qian took up his brush and wrote his instructions on the document, granting generous compensation to the families of the dead and wounded sailors as was customary.

Lin Qian then turned to the second document and saw that it was written by Jiang Hao—a man who was the shipowner of the five Sea Wolf vessels.

The document stated that Jiang Hao had personally slain the Dutch Governor-General Coen, and the head had already been verified without error by the Dutch prisoners of war.

Sent along with Coen's head were the severed heads of the Batavia's first mate, boatswain, gunnery officer, and others.

Lin Qian smiled knowingly. History had, in the end, been rewritten by his arrival.

This Governor-General Coen of the Dutch East India Company was a true killing maniac—harsh and cold in his methods, with an extreme love of violence.

During his tenure as Governor-General, he had orchestrated multiple bloody massacres and acts of genocide.

The man was also enamored with the slave trade—not only shipping slaves from Africa and India, but with a particular preference for Ming Dynasty "laborers."

Historically, when the Dutch East India Company's attack on Macao failed and they turned to Penghu instead, they had abducted over a thousand coastal Ming citizens to build their fortifications.

But now, with Coen dead, none of that would ever happen.

Lin Qian wrote his instructions on the document, generously rewarding Jiang Hao and the crew of the five Sea Wolf vessels, while also ordering Coen's head to be sent to Zheng Zhilong.

He was confident that once this head arrived at the Macao Senate, it would serve an even greater purpose.

At the Macao Senate, the verbal battle raged for a full three days.

Under Zheng Zhilong's deliberate guidance, the focus of the debate gradually shifted from discussing the Ming's right to station troops to assigning blame for the complete annihilation of the Portuguese navy in the Macao naval battle.

As a result, the original Senate president resigned first. As the external representative of the Senate, he bore primary responsibility for such an incident—rather than being hounded out of office by angry councilors and citizens, it was better to leave with dignity on his own terms.

After the president's resignation, Andre began a sweeping purge of his political enemies. Anyone who did not support the Ming stationing of troops, anyone whose political views differed from Andre's, anyone too upright to be won over—all were accused of bearing responsibility for the destruction of the Portuguese navy.

Andrei himself had Zheng Zhilong's backing, and Zheng Zhilong represented Lin Qian's will.

By this time, Lin Qian had already taken control of Macao's city defenses—from a military standpoint, the councilors were fish in a barrel.

From a public-opinion standpoint, the Ming navy was deeply beloved by Macao's Portuguese citizens. They had not only defended Macao from the infidels but had also treated the citizens with perfect discipline, even voluntarily helping them with their work and providing medical treatment.

Macao's councilors were all popularly elected; even if a councilor feared no power, he would not dare go against his own constituents.

Thus, in the council chamber, Lin Qian stood on unassailable ground, which meant Andrei stood on unassailable ground as well.

When it came to seizing on pretexts and striking down rivals, the Ming Chinese were the Portuguese's Old Ancestor.

Lin Qian only needed to hint at a few methods for attacking political opponents, and that was enough for Andrei to parlay a single trick into a lifetime of success.

After several rounds of debate, the entire council chamber underwent a major overhaul—even the judges and the procurator were replaced.

Andrei, as the popular choice, naturally became the president of the council.

The three conditions Lin Qian had raised also passed through the council without any surprise.

On the afternoon Andrei became president, Macao's city defense map and anchorage chart were delivered into Lin Qian's hands.

These were for Lin Qian to choose where to station troops and moor ships.

Also delivered were the share certificates of the Calar bronze-cannon foundry, along with the route chart from Macao to Hirado, trade permits, and more.

Interestingly, the Calar foundry had not originally been a joint-stock enterprise, but at the council's demand, the foundry was reorganized on the spot. The council paid out of its own pocket to purchase a ten-percent share from the foundry's owner and presented it to Lin Qian.

After obtaining the equity, Lin Qian immediately tested its effect by ordering a 50% pay raise for all foundry employees.

Though he held only 10% of the shares, in actual business and management decisions, Lin Qian held 100% of the say.

The notice of the pay raise was promptly posted at the foundry, and Lin Qian received the heartfelt gratitude of every foundry worker.

In truth, demanding shares and raising wages had all been part of Lin Qian's plan from the very beginning.

His real purpose was to attract more Portuguese cannon-casting craftsmen through generous welfare benefits.

As for the foundry's profits—they were nothing compared to maritime trade. Leaving the lion's share to the Portuguese would also give them the illusion that the foundry was still in Portuguese hands, which would better attract talent.

That evening, Ma Chenglie also returned from General Mountain and reported what he had seen and heard there.

He also asked Lin Qian for a list of meritorious officers and soldiers, to facilitate reporting their deeds to the court.

The list was already prepared—Lin Qian had long since sent men to tally it.

Before handing it to Ma Chenglie, Lin Qian thought for a moment, then added a line at the very top of the list: "He Ping, Battalion Commander of the camp soldiers of Nan'ao Island."

Ma Chenglie accepted the list and withdrew.

The fleet stayed in Macao for two more days, replenishing water, grain, sails, rigging, gunpowder, and other supplies before sailing north back to Nan'ao Island.

Before departure, Lin Qian left the Voyager in Macao, with a hundred crewmen aboard to exercise the right of stationing troops.

On the morning of the seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, the sun shone brightly.

The Tianyuan departed the harbor, leading the remaining ships eastward.

On every ship, the great Ming banners fluttered in the wind, their flame patterns baring claws and gnashing teeth, as if they had truly caught fire.

Macao prepared a grand farewell ceremony. From President Andrei on down, all the notable figures from every walk of life came to the harbor to see the fleet off.

The citizens packed the harbor so tightly that not a drop of water could pass through; even after the fleet had sailed far into the distance, they were reluctant to leave.

That night, in a dry latrine on the outskirts of Macao, a human figure squirmed out.

It was the ronin Yamamoto.

In the Dutch army's disastrous defeat on the second day of the twelfth lunar month, his good friend Hirata had fought to the death, and his corpse had been chopped to pulp by the furious Ming militia.

Yamamoto was scared out of his wits. He abandoned his katana and jumped into this dry latrine, hiding from the repeated searches of the Ming and Portuguese forces.

During the day he endured with all his might; at night he went to the beach to find snails and crabs to eat raw to stave off hunger.

He held out like this for five hard days, until finally the Ming troops withdrew and the Portuguese forces relaxed their watch over the outskirts—only then did he come out.

Yamamoto's first act after surviving the ordeal was to go to the seaside to wash off the filth, then he seized a fishing boat and rowed out toward the open sea.

Beneath the starry sky, gazing at the receding beach, Yamamoto thought of his friend who had died miserably, and of his father and elder brother who had perished in the Battle of Noryang. He clenched his jaw so hard that the muscles of his face trembled and his veins bulged.

"Father, elder brother, Hirata. Rest assured—I, Yamamoto Ichiro, will surely avenge you. I swear by the sea of stars, staking my samurai honor!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen