Chapter 161: Snowy Night, Evil Ghost

Qian Zhong was both furious and indignant, pointing at Bailangzai, momentarily unable to speak.

He looked into the distance again — the splashing ripples where Little Xu had gone under were now completely out of sight.

Qian Zhong had no choice but to gnash his teeth and say, "Fine, you bastard. What official post do you hold?"

"No post, no rank. I'm a household soldier of the Regional Commander." Bailangzai said it as lightly as a passing breeze.

Qian Zhong felt the helpless frustration of arguing with a fool, and said coldly, "Fine, boy. I'll remember you."

"Oh. You should get back to your cabin too — the deck is dangerous. Wouldn't want the next wave to knock you overboard as well." Bailangzai stared at Qian Zhong. "Even if you are the supervisor, once you're in the water, no one can save you."

"Are you threatening me?" Qian Zhong's face changed. "You dare threaten me? Do you believe I'll—"

Qian Zhong suddenly realized that aboard a ship at sea, everything he possessed had lost its power.

His status and position as supervisor — no one cared.

Writing letters to Wei Zhongxian to tattle — the letters couldn't even be sent.

Ordering the crew around — the crew simply wouldn't listen to him.

He wanted to turn and leave, but all around him was nothing but ocean.

"Turn the ship around! I want to go back to shore!" Qian Zhong suppressed his rage with effort — once he got back on land, this household soldier and Ma Chenglie would be putty in his hands.

"I only take orders from the flagship." Bailangzai repeated mechanically again.

Qian Zhong flew into a rage: "Then send word and ask for instructions!"

"The five-colored flags exist only on the flagship. We can only obey orders, not request instructions." This was, of course, a lie Bailangzai told Qian Zhong.

But Qian Zhong knew nothing of seafaring and had no idea how to refute it.

He looked left and right: "Whoever can carry my orders to the flagship gets a hundred taels of silver."

No one answered.

"A thousand taels!" Qian Zhong raised the price.

The crew looked at him as if he were an idiot.

Qian Zhong's face flushed red with utter fury, and the big lump on his head throbbed with dull pain.

Another swell struck, and Qian Zhong staggered, lurching toward the starboard side, barely catching the bulwark — nearly following Little Xu's fate.

He collected himself and looked ahead — his eyes were filled with nothing but deep blue sea! He flinched back as if stung.

He looked again at Bailangzai and the other crewmen — they barely held onto anything, their legs planted on the deck as if rooted, their upper bodies utterly still.

The old saying from the Three Kingdoms tales — that northerners are no good at naval warfare — was made flesh before his eyes.

Everyone looked at Qian Zhong the way one looks at a toddler learning to walk.

Panic seized Qian Zhong's heart, and he scrambled back to his cabin on all fours.

For the better part of a month afterward, this was Qian Zhong's daily life — seasick every day, vomiting until the world went black, nearly throwing up his very guts.

The food on board was coarse and poor, and even sleeping at night was a jolting ordeal.

The ship's latrine hung off the side of the hull, and Qian Zhong, haunted by the shadow of Little Xu's drowning, dared not use it — so he relieved himself inside the cabin instead.

This made the cabin stink to high heaven, and opening the porthole to air it out never quite cleared the smell.

Trapped in that space, it was truly worse than being in prison.

Qian Zhong couldn't eat and couldn't sleep, lost a full circle of flesh, grew gaunt and haggard, and was tormented to the brink of collapse.

When he saw Bailangzai now, his arrogance was gone, replaced by fawning flattery.

But whether he asked when they would return to shore, or where the sea bandits were, or where they currently were —

Bailangzai's answer was uniformly "Don't know."

None of Qian Zhong's instructions or requests were ever carried out; Bailangzai's only reply was always "I only take orders from the flagship."

Qian Zhong truly wanted to cry but had no tears.

Boarding the Changfeng had been his own choice, and driving away Ma Chenglie had been his own doing.

Ma Chenglie had even warned him about the poor communication between the two ships.

Having sunk to such a state now — he truly had only himself to blame.

If he could go back in time, Qian Zhong would only want to slap himself twice across the face.

His only daily hope was that they would soon find that sea bandit fleet, finish the fight quickly, and return to shore — if this torment went on much longer, he feared his life would be cut short.

The twenty-fifth day of the tenth month, the second year of Tianqi.

Dan Island, forty-five nautical miles southeast of Hirado.

Dan Island was a barren islet west of Nagasaki, very small in area, about eight li from shore, with few fishing boats passing by.

It was not far from the Hirado shipping lane, and the island had hills — perfect for concealing five cannon ships and five Sea Wolf ships behind them.

Ever since the merchant convoy had arrived at Hirado, the ten warships had been anchored here, communicating daily by hawk boat.

Today, a Type II hawk boat with its Bermuda sail hoisted high sliced through the waves, racing from south to north at thirteen knots to reach the shore.

After anchoring, its crew leaped onto the beach and ran to the camp, shouting excitedly.

"Fleet Commander! The helmsman's fleet is less than three days' sail from here!"

By the campfire, Bai Qing stood up: "Finally, that day has come. If the helmsman didn't show up soon, our bones would have rusted solid."

At these words, the crewmen around him all felt a pang of shared sentiment.

Though food and supplies were fully stocked and liquor was unlimited, waiting idle for seven months was no easy ordeal.

After a moment of shared sighs, Bai Qing said, "Switch to the hard sails. Head to Hirado and pass the news to Lü Zhou and the others."

Three days later, Hirado Harbor.

Li Dan stood on the hilltop, gazing coldly down at the harbor.

In the harbor, the Chaozhou fleet was inspecting rigging, counting personnel and cargo, preparing to set sail.

Hirado in October was already very cold; light snow drifted from the sky, dusting the harbor white with a distinctly Japanese charm.

Li Dan had no mood to enjoy the snow; his gaze was fixed on the Chaozhou fleet, filled with hatred and resentment.

He had been waiting for this day for seven months.

Over the past seven months, the Chaozhou fleet had been freely peddling goods in Hirado, causing supply to surge and the prices merchants paid for goods to plummet.

Raw silk suffered the most.

What was infuriating was that the Chaozhou fleet had entered port early, so when they sold their goods, prices were at their highest—they themselves were unaffected by the price drop.

The losses from the falling prices were all borne by Li Dan and the other Ming smugglers, whose profits were thirty to forty percent lower than in previous years.

Even more infuriating was that Li Dan's earlier attempt to chisel through a warehouse roof—only to lose the bait along with the chicken—had been turned into a joke by the Chaozhou fleet and used to mock him.

If he swallowed this insult, how could he, Li Dan, continue to hold his head up in Hirado?

The Chaozhou fleet thought they could make Li Dan suffer this loss in silence through cheap tricks—they had underestimated this overlord of Hirado.

Li Dan stood on the hilltop for nearly an hour, watching the Chaozhou fleet slowly weigh anchor and depart through the wind and snow.

"Guozhu, aren't we setting out yet?" Behind Li Dan, Yan Siqi asked anxiously.

"Uncle, no rush. The Chaozhou fleet has many ships; we need to wait until they reach the open sea before making our move."

The speaker was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a square scholar's cap and a straight-cut long robe, of medium build and somewhat lean, with firm muscles and an upright posture. A smile played at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, but his eyes were sharp as blades, carrying a considerable air of composure.

This man was Li Guozhu, Li Dan's eldest son.

He had lived on ships since childhood—while other children played in the mud, he was handling sails and rigging, playing with blades and spears.

Young as he was, he had already earned countless merits and defeated more sea bandit forces than could be counted.

The Yingzhou Fire-Sail Battalion was personally founded by Li Guozhu, who had purchased Western cannons and ships himself.

In Hirado territory, even the Spanish and the Dutch would show Li Guozhu a measure of respect.

Li Dan instructed: "In this operation, I care not how many ships you capture—just make sure not a single Chaozhou merchant vessel gets away."

As for gold and silver wealth, Li Dan had long since filled his coffers to overflowing.

His move against the Chaozhou fleet was to salvage his pride, to make the Ming common folk and officials alike show him at least a modicum of respect.

It had been too long since he last displayed his power—some people had likely already forgotten the fearsome name of the overlord of Hirado.

Li Guozhu smiled confidently: "Rest assured, Father. There are eighteen merchant ships in total, and I will bring back every single one of them. Whatever the Chaozhou people have stolen from us father and son, I'll make them spit it all back out with interest."

Li Dan broke into a smile: "Go, then."

Li Guozhu clasped his hands in salute to the two elders and withdrew.

Li Dan stood alone on the hilltop, gazing into the distance, until the Chaozhou fleet gradually vanished at the edge of the sky.

About two hours later, a massive fleet of three-masted Fujian junks appeared on the sea south of Hirado.

Their sails were all painted red with red earth and tung oil, spreading across the sea like a vast expanse of burning clouds.

At the very front of the Fire-Sail Battalion, aboard the flagship Zhenhai.

Li Guozhu raised his telescope and peered into the distance—there was no sign of the Chaozhou fleet in his field of view.

He was not at all flustered; after all, this was exactly the effect he wanted. If they shadowed the fleet too closely, it would easily alert the Chaozhou fleet.

Moreover, this stretch of sea lay between Hirado Island and Kyushu Island, where the waters were narrow—once battle was joined, there was no room to maneuver, and the Chaozhou fleet could easily escape to shore.

In addition, this area sat on the shipping route. If he led the Fire-Sail Battalion into action here, and Ming merchants heading home saw it, the impression would be poor.

The best place to strike was the waters southwest of Nagasaki—there the sea was open, and the distance from Hirado was neither too near nor too far, saving travel time while making it hard for other sea merchants to witness the attack.

The Fire-Sail Battalion sailed south for three hours, already well beyond the bounds of Hirado Island, yet still there was no trace of the Chaozhou fleet.

Some of his subordinates grew restless and came over to ask: "Captain, should we head southeast and take a look?"

Li Guozhu smiled slightly: "Continue sailing due south."

Ming sea merchants unfamiliar with the local waters would, after leaving Hirado Island, mostly turn southeast and sail along the coast of Kyushu, all the way down to the southern tip of Kyushu, then return to the Ming along the Ryukyu Islands.

The Fire-Sail Battalion, however, was sailing due south, taking the open-sea route to intercept the fleet west of Nagasaki ahead of time.

Although both the Fire-Sail Battalion and the Chaozhou fleet used Fujian junks, the Chaozhou fleet's ships were laden with cargo while the Fire-Sail Battalion sailed empty—there was naturally a difference in speed.

On top of that, the Fire-Sail Battalion could take a shortcut.

This was why Li Guozhu was confident that, though setting out later, they would arrive first.

At midday, Li Guozhu leisurely ordered the ship's cook to prepare fine dishes for his meal. At the current speed, they would reach Nagasaki in another hour or two.

With the raid imminent, he had to replenish his strength.

During lunch, Li Guozhu was relaxed, laughing and chatting freely with the crew.

Someone voiced concern: "In winter, it gets dark early. If we engage in battle this afternoon, nightfall will come before long—that may work against us."

Li Guozhu tossed away a mackerel pike backbone, sucked his fingers, and said confidently: "Don't worry. A dozen or so merchant ships—it'll be over in two hours. It won't drag on until dark at all."

He had been through countless sea battles of all sizes; raiding a dozen merchant ships was hardly a grand affair.

The rest of the crew was infected by his demeanor and let go of their tension.

In the early afternoon, the Fire-Sail Battalion arrived at the waters southwest of Nagasaki.

Li Guozhu ordered the fleet to spread out across the sea and keep watch on the shipping lanes.

This time he had brought a full five Fujian junks and thirty Haicang ships—nearly half of the Fire-Sail Battalion's main strength.

He had accounted for every possible contingency and given the Chaozhou fleet ample consideration.

With such a massive fleet scattered across the sea, not even a mosquito could fly past.

Time slipped away minute by minute, yet the northern sea remained silent and still.

His subordinates were growing restless, but Li Guozhu was confident and paid it no mind.

That was because the Fire-Sail Battalion's current position was southwest of Mount Gongen, at the tip of the Nagasaki peninsula—if the Chaozhou fleet was hugging the coast, this was a place they had to pass.

And since Li Guozhu had taken the open-sea route all the way without encountering the Chaozhou fleet, it meant the Chaozhou fleet must have chosen, like other Ming merchant ships, to hug the coast.

Li Guozhu felt like a spider that had woven its trap, calmly waiting for its prey to fly into the web.

After a long while more, a crewman pointed at the distant sea: "Look!"

Li Guozhu maintained his composure and followed the sound, spotting a slender single-masted boat on the sea surface.

The boat's sail had a strange shape, resembling the triangular sails of the Dutch.

Someone else said, "There's another one over there."

Li Guozhu looked toward the sea ahead to the right and indeed saw an identical single-masted boat.

Li Guozhu had a vague sense of foreboding—he had heard his uncle Yan Siqi mention that the Ming army possessed a type of fast vessel with triangular sails.

But deep down, he didn't quite believe Yan Siqi's words.

A man who could say things like "the evil ghosts bombarding Huigang," "the vengeful spirits of the Eastern Barbarian Strait," and "the specters demanding lives on snowy nights"—his credibility in Li Guozhu's eyes had long since been greatly diminished.

Moreover, the Great Ming and Hirado were separated by thousands of li—how could Ming imperial troops possibly show up here out of nowhere?

These two small boats must be new Dutch vessels; judging from their sail shapes, they matched the appearance of barbarian ships.

Thus, when his subordinates asked Li Guozhu how to handle the situation,

Li Guozhu merely said with an air of calm confidence, "No need to pay them any mind."

Sure enough, just as he had said, before long the two single-masted boats sailed north and disappeared from view.

But the Chaozhou fleet still had not appeared.

A subordinate urged, "Shipmaster, should we send vessels to search north and south?"

Li Guozhu only laughed: "You don't trust me?"

The subordinate choked on his words: "What the shipmaster predicts is naturally correct, but could the Chaozhou fleet have sailed directly southwest and crossed the Eastern Sea?"

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Li Guozhu was exceptionally certain.

The route across the Eastern Sea wasn't nonexistent, but that was the route taken by Zhejiang merchants.

From a geographical standpoint, Chaozhou merchants would definitely take the Ryukyu route—that was as certain as a nail driven into a board.

After Li Guozhu spoke, no one dared to question him further.

The Fire Sail Battalion continued to wait bitterly at sea for a long while.

Just as the crew's patience was wearing thin, someone finally shouted in surprise, "Ships! Ships are coming!"

Li Guozhu pulled out his telescope and looked north, indeed spotting a fleet emerging between the gray sea and sky.

A rough count showed about a dozen or so incoming vessels, matching the expected number.

Li Guozhu lowered his telescope and shouted with a savage grin, "Business has arrived! Brothers, blow on your match cords and raise the sails!"

"Aye!" All the crew members roared in unison, their voices shaking the heavens.

"Course due north, hoist sails!"

"Wing warships close in, form a wild goose formation!"

Li Guozhu's orders were transmitted through the fleet via signal flags and drum music—seemingly chaotic, but in truth quite methodical.

The Fire Sail Battalion was well-drilled and quickly formed their battle array, pressing forward toward the enemy fleet.

"Wind from the northwest, port side to windward, mind the sails." The navigator on board shouted loudly.

"Enemy fleet at two thousand paces." The lookout reported the distance.

Li Guozhu raised his telescope and saw that the Chaozhou fleet was still maintaining its original course, as if they hadn't noticed the Fire Sail Battalion at all.

For over a decade, the waters near Hirado had been governed by his father, and sea bandits rarely appeared anymore—so much so that passing merchant ships had lost all vigilance. Truly laughable.

Today, Li Guozhu would make these Great Ming merchants recall the terror of being dominated by sea bandits!

"Enemy fleet at fifteen hundred paces."

The navigator shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed at the sea, gradually furrowing his brow: "Shipmaster, their sail shapes don't look right."

Li Guozhu looked through his telescope and saw that the leading vessels all bore soft sails of a uniform type, and their hulls were also of barbarian design.

Behind the tall hulls of the barbarian ships, he could glimpse the sails of Fujian junks and Haicang ships.

The Chaozhou fleet was in league with the Portuguese—having Portuguese warships as escort was only to be expected. Li Guozhu had long been prepared for this.

He looked toward the bulwark beside him, where an eight-pound cast-iron cannon sat, with six gunners holding torches standing at the ready.

Such cannons numbered twelve in total aboard the ship, all uniformly of Dutch make.

The other vessels were also equipped with heavy Ming Folangji cannons, Japanese kunikuzushi cannons, and other firearms.

The Fire Sail Battalion's individual ships might not match the firepower of a Dutch jacht, but with many ships fighting one, they could absolutely achieve firepower suppression.

Thus, upon seeing the Portuguese escort fleet, Li Guozhu not only felt no fear but was secretly somewhat excited.

Perfect timing—the Portuguese and the Chaozhou merchants could all be dealt with together!

"Enemy fleet at one thousand paces."

"Listen up, everyone—after we defeat the enemy warships, we'll immediately grapple alongside the merchant vessels. Have your blades ready, and don't let the gunpowder smoke dull your wits!"

The navigator loudly repeated the battle plan.

"Draw your blades! Blow on your match cords!"

On deck, the crew members drew their swords one after another, confirming they came out smoothly before sheathing them again.

This was preparation for the upcoming boarding action—every time they boarded, someone always had his sword stuck in its scabbard and got cut down by the enemy.

"Enemy fleet at eight hundred paces."

At this distance, the Chaozhou fleet gradually shifted formation, arranging itself into a line.

Li Guozhu's mouth twisted to one side. A line of battle—the standard barbarian tactic.

Having spent so long in Hirado and fought countless naval battles both large and small against the Portuguese, he was all too familiar with this tactic.

He immediately ordered, "Split left and right, pincer the enemy!"

Instantly, the drumbeats on the ship changed and signal flags flew.

The wild goose formation split from the middle, dividing into two columns that drove toward the enemy fleet's flanks.

By barbarian standards, the Fire Sail Battalion's gun ships were small vessels hauling big cannons—engaging in a line-of-battle exchange would put them firmly at a disadvantage.

Only by exploiting the small boats' agility could they overcome the enemy.

Unexpectedly, seeing this, the Chaozhou fleet also split into two groups.

This momentarily surprised Li Guozhu—it was the first time the barbarians had flexibly adjusted their tactics.

"Enemy ships at four hundred paces!"

Li Guozhu said in a low voice, "Hold course. No rush to turn the rudder."

"Enemy ships at three hundred paces!"

Li Guozhu: "Steady!"

By now, the enemy flagship had already lowered sails and slowed, turning the rudder to starboard and exposing its port side—it seemed they could no longer hold back and were preparing to open fire.

Li Guozhu revealed a smug, cold smile. At this distance, hitting the Fire Sail Battalion's three-masted Fujian junk was a real stretch. All he had to do was absorb a few rounds of cannon fire, then seize the windward position, and then—

"Boom boom boom!"

The enemy flagship fired first, the cannon thunder rolling across the sea like muffled peals, shaking men's hearts with dread.

Immediately after, the two great warships behind it also opened fire in turn.

The cannonade rang out unbroken, like a string of firecrackers.

Li Guozhu's ears were filled with the whistling shriek of cannonballs streaking past.

Waterspouts splashed up all around the Zhenhai, the sea boiling over like a pot set to flame, columns of water rising and falling one after another.

Icy seawater drenched the deck, as if a torrential downpour had descended.

Li Guozhu was stunned—how could this volley be so devastating? How could the enemy ships carry so many guns?

He immediately raised his telescope to peer at the enemy vessels, but the three firing warships were all obscured by gunsmoke, and he could not see them clearly at all.

Just as he was adjusting his telescope—

Two rows of red muzzle flashes lit up in sequence through the smoke, and in that instant another dense hail of cannonballs came smashing down head-on.

"Watch out!" the navigator bellowed.

In the next moment, waterspouts churned up around the Zhenhai once more.

"Protect the matchcord—don't let the water put it out! Everyone get down! Don't—"

Before he could finish speaking, a cannonball struck the deck dead center.

The bulwarks and decking along its trajectory were utterly destroyed, as if raked by the claws of a vicious flood-dragon.

The navigator who took the hit didn't even let out a scream before he was mixed into the splinters, reduced to a spray of flesh and blood cast out over the sea.

By the time Li Guozhu came to his senses, all that remained on the deck was scattered wreckage and three or four wounded crewmen crying out in agony.

The veins at Li Guozhu's temples throbbed violently. The power of this shot far exceeded his understanding of eight-pounder cannons—it was even greater than a twelve-pounder.

Just what were these enemy ships?

"Return fire!" Li Guozhu roared, and at the same time singled out a trusted man: "You take over as navigator!"

Soon, the six cast-iron cannons on the Zhenhai's port side let out their fury, and the ships of the Fire Sail Battalion following behind fired in succession.

Being on the leeward side, their line of sight was blocked by gunsmoke, and they could not see where their shots landed.

Still, from the dense exchange of cannon fire, one could at least tell that both sides were trading blows.

Suddenly, a tremendous boom came from behind the Zhenhai.

The new navigator turned to look and instantly went pale with fright, his voice trembling: "The Nuhai has been hit—"

Li Guozhu snapped at him: "What are you panicking for!"

He turned back to look as well and froze—a great hole had been punched clean through the middle of the Nuhai's hull, nearly a full chi in diameter!

This was absolutely not something a twelve-pounder could have done.

Just as he stood there dumbfounded, a ricocheting shot skimmed across the sea surface and slammed straight into the Nuhai's waterline.

Against solid iron shot, the hull was like paper—it split at the slightest touch. Another hole a chi wide!

Seawater gushed into the hold through the breach, and the Nuhai began sinking at a visible rate, water surging up over her deck.

Though watertight bulkheads kept her from going under immediately, with two chi-wide through-holes in the middle of her hull, the ship was beyond saving.

Mustering the last of her power, the Nuhai turned her rudder to starboard, pulled out of the fleet formation, and cleared the channel.

"Boom boom boom!"

The enemy's cannon fire still rang unceasingly in their ears.

Great sheets of water splashed up along the Zhenhai's port side again, and as the columns fell, some of the shots had not dropped into the sea but had skipped back up, turning into ricochets.

The Fire Sail Battalion's three-masted ships were small with low freeboards, and normally not easy to hit.

But the enemy vessels aimed specifically at the waterline, and with their guns' immense power, the Fire Sail Battalion's three-masted ships could not withstand more than a few shots.

What a fearsome tactic!

The foes he usually crossed swords with in the waters off Hirado were all Portuguese armed merchantmen, or else the Dutchmen's yachts.

None of them were the barbarians' mainline naval warships.

Li Guozhu's heart seized with alarm—was this the true strength of the barbarians' regular navy?

After seven or eight exchanges of cannon fire, the Fire Sail Battalion and the enemy fleet had drifted apart.

Li Guozhu looked on in horror—in the distance across the sea, another Fire Sail Battalion fleet was already riddled with holes, utterly pitiful, fleeing northeast to break away from the battle, with four or five enemy ships in hot pursuit.

Once a Fire Sail Battalion vessel was caught, it would be subjected to a saturation strike from the enemy's broadside guns, given no chance to board at all—they were determined to sink the ship with solid iron shot, nothing less.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Listening to the thunder rolling across the distant sea, Li Guozhu's heart quailed.

Dusk was approaching, night was at hand, and suddenly his mind flashed to his uncle's terrified expression and those words—"the snow-night demon."

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen