Chapter 213: The Sea Mad Dog Has Arrived

From the twenty-first of the first month to the end of the second month, large-scale matchmaking was underway on Nan'ao Island.

As Nan'ao Island lacked women, the matchmaking gatherings extended to Zhangzhou, Quanzhou, and Fuzhou.

Of course, constrained by Confucian propriety, women could not personally inspect suitors on shore—only matchmakers could serve as intermediaries.

Thus, during this period, matchmakers in Fujian saw booming business.

On Nan'ao Island, wedding feasts were held almost daily, with gongs and drums sounding from morning till night.

In this era, there was no such thing as free love—even men and women meeting each other was impossible. As long as families were well-matched in status, character and appearance were suitable, and a matchmaker arranged the union, marriage could be concluded—highly efficient.

Moreover, Ye Zhen had carefully selected women from literati families, each one proper in appearance and virtuous in conduct.

Lin Qian's sworn brothers and his subordinate officers thus all found their matches.

As a result, Lin Qian had been attending one wedding feast after another without pause.

Entering the third month, in late spring, even the warm breezes of Nan'ao Island carried the fragrance of azalea blossoms.

In his study, Lin Qian was reviewing the proof sheets of the latest issue of the Nan'ao Times.

He currently had too few literati under his command, so he still had to personally oversee the propaganda work.

Lin Qian focused on the commentary articles, and seeing no problems, signed "Approved" and set the sheets aside.

His peripheral vision caught the front-page headline—it reported on the war situation in the Joseon Kingdom.

Since Hong Taiji's invasion of Joseon in the twelfth month of the fifth year of Tianqi, the Jianzhou barbarians had swept forward with unstoppable momentum, and by early in the second month, they had besieged the Joseon royal court at Namhansanseong.

The two sides concluded a treaty at the foot of the city walls.

The agreement stipulated that the Later Jin was the elder brother and Joseon the younger brother.

At the same time, Joseon severed its tributary relationship with the Great Ming and cut off all land-based support to Mao Wenlong.

They were also required to open frontier trade markets, pay annual tribute, and present war horses—among other terms.

The above was roughly the content of the Capital Gazette; the details had been learned through reconnaissance sent by eagle ships to Ganghwa Island.

In winter the weather was bitterly cold, and the sea north of Dengzhou often froze over, so only after the ice melted in late spring could the latest war news be published in the paper.

One could imagine that when Ye Xianggao saw this news, he would not know how many more sighs to heave.

This year the north suffered extreme cold, and Liaodong faced a severe grain shortage—many Jianzhou barbarians should have starved to death. But by taking Joseon, the Jianzhou barbarians not only recovered but also greatly weakened Mao Wenlong.

Even more terrifying was that, according to historical records, in the first month of the sixth year of Tianqi, Nurhaci should have staked everything on an attack on Ningyuan, only to be severely wounded by Yuan Chonghuan's cannons.

Yet by a twist of fate, Hong Taiji's meteoric rise among the Jianzhou barbarians had already altered the course of the war, transforming what had been Nurhaci's blunder into a killing stroke. On the Ming side, without the achievement of the Battle of Ningyuan, Yuan Chonghuan would likely find it difficult to be promoted in the future.

Meanwhile, Yan Mingtai's shrine had been built to proper standards, and with his shameless flattery of Wei Zhongxian—"the people's hearts turn to him, thus Heaven's will follows"—he would probably hold his post for a long time to come.

With these shifts of fortune, the Jianzhou barbarians only grew stronger while the Great Ming grew weaker. The changes of the world were truly hard to predict.

The great trends of the realm could indeed not be reversed by a single battle or campaign.

Moreover, because of the winter cold, the Bohai Sea had frozen over, making it difficult for ships to travel.

Thus, even when Lin Qian learned of Hong Taiji's invasion of Joseon, he was powerless to help even if he wished to.

Besides, considering the distance between Joseon and the Jianzhou barbarians, along with the Great Ming's national strength and policies, Joseon's conquest by the Jianzhou barbarians was only a matter of time.

Lin Qian could help once or twice, but he could not help every single time.

Lin Qian summoned his subordinates and sent the newspaper proof sheets to the printing house.

Timeliness was paramount for newspapers; they had always been circulated immediately after approval, without the slightest delay.

The next document was from the Xiamen shipyard—another six whale ships had been launched.

At the same time, the shipyard had encountered a new difficulty: a shortage of timber.

The nine whale ships built so far, along with several ahat-class ships, had exhausted all the large timber stockpiled previously in Nan'ao, Dongning, Yuegang, and Fuzhou. To build new ships, they would either have to wait for a new batch of large timber to air-dry naturally, or they would have to buy or seize it.

The Ming government's official shipyards, however, due to the decline of the shipbuilding industry, did not proactively stockpile timber—they only allocated fresh materials from official channels on a per-project basis, so even seizing was not an option.

Buying large timber was also essentially impossible, as the Great Ming's commodity economy had not yet developed to that level.

Throughout the entire Great Ming, the only places with ready supplies of dried timber were cities like Yuegang, where both shipbuilding and commerce were highly active.

Guangzhou, for example.

Guangzhou had been a shipbuilding center since ancient times. Western Guangdong abounded in "ironwood," and the Guangzhou ships built from it were far more durable than Fujian junks.

Moreover, due to the prevalence of tributary trade and smuggling, the region also served as a major timber distribution hub.

Lin Qian had originally planned to use institutional means to bring Guangdong into his fold.

Unfortunately, with the stubborn and unyielding Hu Yingtai holding the post there, Lin Qian's influence could not penetrate in the slightest.

Add to that Wei Zhongxian's growing power—looking across the realm, Lin Qian was now the only thorn in his side left openly in the entire Great Ming.

The situation was now perfectly clear: once war broke out with the Great Ming, Lin Qian would have to take Guangdong first.

To take Guangdong, he would need a land army.

The new-style army that Lei Sanxiang was drilling had not yet completed even half a year of training and was not yet combat-capable.

So, for the moment, the only option was to lie low.

Fortunately, even without large timber for whale ships, the remaining smaller timber was more than sufficient for building Fujian junks.

No matter how many oceangoing vessels one had, small ships were still needed for short-haul transshipment between ports.

Lin Qian finished writing his endorsement and picked up the next document.

This one was written by Lei Sanxiang, reporting on the training status of the new army.

Ever since Lin Qian had spurred him on with the old story of Regional Commander Du, Lei Sanxiang had become a changed man, throwing himself wholeheartedly into training.

Even his cultural literacy had improved—the number of wrong characters and typos in his official reports had decreased, and even his handwriting had become considerably more presentable.

According to Lei Sanxiang, thirty three-pounder cannons had arrived at Fenshui Pass in early March. He was training the artillery crews while also assigning men to develop firing tables. Additionally, the new army had completed drill in formation and commands, and was now focusing on marksmanship training.

As for tactical formations, they used the Ming version of the Gustavus square—one squad leader commanding one hundred fifty men, arranged in ten ranks, employing "rotational volley fire." In plain terms, after the first rank fired, they retreated to the last rank to reload while the second rank fired, and so on in sequence.

The purpose was to maximize the advantage of firepower and maintain fire density.

This was a compromise solution among tactics such as linear volley fire, the Spanish tercio, the mandarin duck formation, and the war-cart formation.

In terms of era, it was also the closest to the present moment.

To devise the current tactical formations, Lei Sanxiang had racked his brains, trying every other approach.

For instance, why use rotating volley fire instead of the three-rank volley?

Because testing revealed that the matchlock musket was slow to reload, making it difficult to maintain the rhythm of the three-rank volley, and kneeling to reload made soldiers prone to fumbling and igniting the gunpowder.

Another example: why use squad leaders as the basic command unit instead of Company Commanders?

Because the reverse-march rotating fire method required a great many verbal commands; one hundred fifty men was about the limit that could be reached by shouting orders. Beyond these choices, there were also countless fine details—for instance, if soldiers stood too close together, they risked being affected by their comrades' match cords.

If they stood too far apart, the formation became too thin, orders could not propagate, and they could easily be overrun by the enemy.

There were also the problems of infantry-artillery coordination, encampment and marching, and accompanying supplies.

All sorts of miscellaneous matters, a mountain of things.

Some of these Lin Qian could solve—for example, fitting socket bayonets to the matchlock muskets. This demanded high precision in the barrel structure, but as long as silver was spent it could be manufactured, greatly strengthening the melee capability of the matchlock infantry.

But many things Lin Qian could not solve—the development of the flintlock musket, for instance.

The flintlock mechanism required the forging, cutting, and assembly of precision miniature metal parts, and neither the Ming blacksmiths nor the craftsmen of the Bocarro cannon foundry possessed such capability.

Moreover, the Great Ming lacked good-quality flint. Flint in Yunnan, Guizhou, and Sichuan was difficult to mine and transport; flint in the middle and lower Yangtze was mostly distributed in riverbeds and inconvenient to collect; and flint in Fujian and Guangdong was scattered extremely sparsely.

And all of the above flints had extremely low ignition rates.

Their ignition rate was like the ancient fire-steel and flint commonly seen in television dramas—strike it a dozen times before it catches fire once.

In a battlefield environment, a flintlock musket with an ignition rate below 20% might be less useful than a spear.

Thus, equipping flintlock muskets still had a long road ahead.

Technological progress had no shortcuts—only constant trial and error, testing one type of stone after another. After exhausting the Great Ming's flint, they would test the flint of neighboring countries. If no suitable flint could be found in the end, they would ultimately have to import from the English.

However, the flintlock musket was not the most pressing problem for the new army. In his official report, Lei Sanxiang stated that the greatest difficulty at present was the shortage of horses. Oxen and mules could haul supplies, but they were too slow for hauling artillery—even if the new army did not establish cavalry, the cannons still had to be pulled by horses.

As a field gun, if the three-pounder could not maneuver in sync with the infantry, it lost its meaning as field artillery.

Because of the cannon's decisive role on the battlefield, solving the problem of artillery mobility might be more important than inventing the bayonet.

Fortunately, horses were easy to solve—Lin Qian had long since figured out where to get them.

Lin Qian wrote his instruction on the official report, telling Lei Sanxiang to intensify training and quickly bring the new army to combat readiness—by no later than the fifth month, they were to fight their first battle. The new army's horses would have to be seized by the new army itself!

In late April, the merchant convoy returned from Hoi An.

By estimate, this voyage's trade revenue was six hundred thousand taels. Adding the income slowly realized by the Hirado trading post during this period, and subtracting expenditures such as the purchase of goods for the Hirado trade, the public accounts showed a surplus of over one million taels.

Much earned, much spent—once army wages and ammunition and cannon expenditures were deducted, the fiscal surplus would quickly fall below one million taels. Faced with this situation, the trade volume with Hirado had to be increased again this summer.

Six whale ships were dispatched directly, with total cargo capacity over a thousand dan more than last year.

Among the goods, raw silk decreased while finished silk fabrics rose sharply in proportion, and the share of white sugar and rock sugar also skyrocketed.

After arranging the trade matters, Lin Qian said, "After the convoy unloads at the Hirado trading post, load the empty ships with fodder and sail to Jeju Island." "Yes!" The convoy members replied with clasped hands.

In early May, Jeju Island was plagued by unending overcast rain—humid and hot at noon, damp and cold at dawn and dusk.

Looking out across the island, all one could see were red pines and bamboo—scarcely a single decent flower bloomed.

Animals on the island were even scarcer; besides the Jeju horses that covered the mountains and fields, there were only wild rabbits and rats—not even any sizable game. Since the first year of Tianqi, natural disasters had struck Jeju Island without cease, and official oppression had not stopped either. The people on the island lived in misery and fled in droves.

This in turn forced the authorities to tighten control and extortion further—a vicious cycle.

As a result, the islanders lived in extreme misery and poverty, almost no different from the common people of the Great Ming.

Even the lives of the island's gentry and officials could only be described as barely getting by—far from respectable.

Yang Liu and Yang Qi, the brothers serving as Governor-General of Jeju Island for the Great Jin, had initially thought they had received a tremendous official post and were overjoyed. Only after several months did they realize with a shock that they had simply been exiled here.

The two had originally been subordinates of Li Dan. In the fourth year of Tianqi, they had followed him in an attack on Fuzhou, only to be met with a crushing blow from the Nan'ao naval forces.

In the chaos of battle, the two fled north with their men, pursued all the way by the Nan'ao navy. Their ships and men were nearly all destroyed or killed, and they barely escaped with their lives. With Li Dan defeated, their path back to Hirado was cut off as well.

Adrift at sea, they looked around in utter bewilderment.

The two had made their living by murder and arson; to reform themselves now would be less satisfying than slitting their own throats.

But looking around, there was nowhere in the world that would take them in.

Yang Qi proposed going south to the Nanyang to throw in with the Dutch—never mind that the open seas were treacherous with wind and waves, supplies were insufficient, and it was a journey with nine deaths in ten.

Merely the thought of sailing south through the Nan'ao navy's defense zone was enough to make one's heart tremble with fear.

The Fire Sail Battalion had clashed with the Nan'ao navy several times, suffering crushing defeat every time—this last one being the worst, nearly wiping them out entirely.

The two of them were truly terrified.

Thus they could only head north. To the north there were three powers: the Great Ming, the Joseon dynasty, and the Great Jin.

The Great Ming hated sea bandits the most. With only one broken ship and a little over twenty men, going to the Great Ming would not be called surrender—it would be walking into a trap.

The Joseon dynasty was weak and declining, and as it regarded the Ming as its suzerain, it was equally sanctimonious.

So the two brothers discussed the matter and ultimately decided to defect to the Great Jin.

At that time, a little over a year had passed since the Battle of Fuzhou. The Great Jin had been beaten to a pulp by the Nan'ao navy and was burning with vengeful fervor, trying every means to build up a navy. Thus, when the two arrived, they received a warm reception.

But upon learning that the two had only one ship, and that it only carried tiger-crouch cannons, the Great Jin envoy's face changed immediately.

Fortunately, the two brothers had some rough knowledge of shipbuilding techniques. They helped the Great Jin build ships and thereby saved their own lives.

Later, they offered counsel in the Battle of Liuhe, sinking ships to block the mouth of the Liuhe River and capturing the Ming army's Juehua Island naval forces. This earned them praise from Hong Taiji, who promoted them and kept them in the army for service.

In the tenth month of the fourth year of Tianqi, through Joseon maritime merchants, they inadvertently learned of a tremendous upheaval in Hirado.

Large numbers of samurai had gone bankrupt, and the number of ronin had surged dramatically. Many were preparing to head south to serve as mercenaries for the Dutch.

The Yang brothers again offered counsel to Hong Taiji, proposing to recruit ronin for service.

The Great Jin's finances were limited, and they did not trust ronin. Hong Taiji was initially unwilling to agree—but once he inquired about the price, his interest was piqued.

It truly was good quality at a low price.

According to the Joseon maritime merchants, Hirado was being plagued by a great monster called the "Ninth Heavenly Demon of Silk," wreaking havoc everywhere.

Many samurai, in order to resist the monster, had sold off their family property and been left with nothing. Forced by circumstance, they had to sell their martial services at rock-bottom prices.

This bullshit story was incoherent from start to finish, but at least it provided an excuse for cheap military force.

So Hong Taiji ordered the formation of a ronin legion of over three hundred men.

Among the Great Jin generals, none understood the Japanese tongue, so the burden of commanding the ronin fell to the two brothers.

Fortunately, the Joseon army was feeble, and the ronin won the brothers no small number of military merits.

After the Great Jin and Joseon signed a treaty at the city walls, the two brothers were appointed Governor-General of Jeju Island, and the ronin legion was stationed on the island as well. Before their departure, Hong Taiji said to the brothers: "Liaodong has seen years of bitter fighting, and our warhorses have suffered heavy losses, gradually exceeding our ability to replenish them.

Since the time of the Great Yuan, Jeju Island has been a horse-breeding land.

This time we conquered Joseon, but I fear they are only outwardly submissive while inwardly defiant, so I send you two to govern Jeju Island.

First, to oversee horse administration for our Great Jin; second, to guard against surprise attacks by Ming troops.

The Ming navy is formidable, but their land forces are weak. Once you two are on the island, stay far from the coast and strengthen the garrison of inland fortresses.

With sturdy walls, fire lances, and the bravery of the ronin, you should be able to hold this island.

When our Great Jin iron cavalry enters the passes, you brothers shall be credited with great merit!"

At that time, Hong Taiji had just conquered Joseon, and his prestige within the Great Jin was at its zenith—his succession to the Khanate was all but certain.

A promise of "great merit" from such a figure truly set Yang Liu and Yang Qi's blood boiling.

But after spending a long time on the island, the two realized that guarding it was truly a bitter assignment.

Though the brothers bore the titles of First and Deputy Governor-General, in reality they had less authority than a county magistrate of the Great Ming.

Aside from Jeju horses and a small amount of citrus, the island truly had nothing—they couldn't even bribe the Great Jin officials who came to collect horses. That evening.

Yang Qi moved a stool and sat atop the city wall, holding a slingshot, one eye squeezed shut. He released, and the stone shot out.

"Swoosh-thwack!"

The stone struck a passing commoner square in the back, making him cry out in pain. His hands instinctively went to cover the wound, but he couldn't reach his back, so he could only hop around in place in a comical posture.

"Hahahaha..." Yang Qi laughed heartily. Then he picked up another stone and drew back the slingshot.

With a swoosh, this shot struck the man's calf.

"Get lost, now!" Yang Qi cursed with a laugh.

A Joseon government interpreter standing nearby translated his words.

The man who had been struck trembled at the scolding, bowed repeatedly, and limped away.

Where Yang Qi sat was the west gate of Jeju City—evening was exactly when the horse grooms passed through this gate on their way home.

Yang Qi had timed it precisely, lying in wait here.

The grooms bore heavy workloads and dared not waste time, so they couldn't take a detour and had to steel themselves to pass through.

Yang Qi drew his slingshot, loaded stones, and hit his mark every time, sending the passing grooms into successive screams of pain.

Some of the ronin beside him praised his accuracy, while others said the slingshot was boring and that he should use a great bamboo bow instead.

The Joseon interpreter beside them said carefully: "Gentlemen, the grooms are all worthless wretches. Beating or killing a few would be no trouble, but the horse farms are already short-handed. If too many are injured, it may well..."

"Hm?" Yang Qi was displeased. He aimed the slingshot at the interpreter, sighting directly at his eye, the rubber band stretched taut.

The interpreter was scared out of his wits. He hurriedly lowered his head, covered his face with his hands, and begged: "This humble one will fetch the bamboo bow for you gentlemen."

"Scram." Yang Qi laughed and released the slingshot.

A moment later, the interpreter climbed the city wall carrying a bamboo bow and a quiver of arrows, handing the bow to Yang Qi.

The bow was long at the top and short at the bottom, measuring a full seven chi in length—a typical Japanese bow design.

Yang Qi didn't know how to use this kind of bow. He took it and loosed an arrow; the arrow flew weakly and landed on the ground after a dozen or so paces.

A nearby ronin watched with itching hands, reached for the bow, then took an arrow and removed its head.

He drew the bow, nocked the arrow, took aim, and released. The arrow flew like a shooting star, striking a groom twenty paces away dead center.

The arrow hit the groom square in the chest. He clutched his chest, his face twisted in agony, but no sound came out. A moment later he collapsed to the ground, his chest stained crimson. The surrounding ronin cheered in approval, and the interpreter's cheers were the loudest of all.

Just then, a rider came galloping from within the city. The ronin immediately drew his bow, but Yang Qi stopped him: "That's my brother!"

Yang Liu rode up close, glanced at the groom collapsed to the side, and shouted: "Stop playing around. The Beile has sent someone."

"Coming."

Yang Qi tucked the slingshot into his belt, jumped down from the city wall, and mounted his own warhorse.

The wall wasn't even one zhang tall—for someone of Yang Qi's skill, it was like flat ground.

The two brothers rode side by side toward the north of the city.

By the time they reached the north gate, darkness had fully fallen. Almost no light shone anywhere in all of Jeju City—only moonlight illuminated it, making it seem like a ghost city. Three li outside the north gate.

The Jurchen envoy had been waiting there for some time. The island's buildings were dilapidated, so every time the envoy came to the island, he preferred to stay on his ship rather than enter the city.

The two brothers dismounted, approached, and knelt in obeisance, saying: "We pay our respects to the Master."

The Jurchen envoy laughed and said: "The Master is in good health, but you two have not yet joined the banners, so you may not call him 'Master.' You must call him 'Beile.'" "Yes." The two brothers replied.

Yang Qi muttered inwardly: "These Tartars have so many damn rules. Even rushing to be their slaves isn't good enough."

The Jurchen envoy pointed behind him: "I've come this time on the Master's orders, to take another batch of warhorses."

Yang Liu looked toward the distant docks, where over a dozen ship lights were faintly visible. Most of these ships had been captured from the Juehua Island navy; a few had been built with the help of the Yang brothers.

Yang Liu asked: "May I ask how many warhorses the Beile requires this time?"

The Jurchen envoy said: "Fill every ship."

Yang Liu was startled and said with concern: "The previous trips took over two thousand warhorses in total. Not many remain on the island.

If we keep shipping them out like this, I fear the Jeju horse population will take a long time to recover, which will affect future output."

"Heh heh. The Beile is wise and mighty and has his own judgments. You need only obey and do as told."

Having delivered his instructions, the Jurchen envoy declined Yang Liu's invitation to rest in the city and turned back toward the docks.

Watching the envoy's retreating back, Yang Liu felt that although the Jurchen treated them brothers courteously, they never truly regarded them as their own people.

There was nothing to be done—who could say there was a worthy sovereign anywhere under heaven? With the brothers' abilities, they could only languish on a desolate island, spending their days in the company of horse dung. "Brother, why is the Beile in such a hurry for horses?" Yang Qi asked.

Yang Liu gazed at the dock and said, "There's definitely going to be another war. I wonder if this time they'll strike Ningyuan or the Mongols."

"Besides... this is also to guard against the Nan'ao naval forces."

"Better to move the horses early. If the Nan'ao navy does attack, we won't suffer too heavy a loss."

Yang Qi spat and said, "I thought this Hong Taiji of theirs was some great figure, but it turns out he's just like us — he's afraid of Lin Qian too!"

"Watch your tongue!" Yang Liu glanced around worriedly, then lowered his voice: "The Tartars fearing Lin Qian — that's our opportunity, brothers. Once the Great Jin enters the pass, we'll offer our counsel to the Beile, volunteering to make contact with the Dutch in the south, borrowing the Dutch navy to strike Lin Qian from both sides." Yang Qi's eyes lit up. "Great plan, brother! Why wait for them to enter the pass? Let's go now."

Yang Liu's expression was resolute: "Idiot. With the Great Jin's current finances, they can barely afford to recruit a few ronin — how could they possibly win the Dutch over? Relax. The Great Jin grows stronger by the day, while the Ming is riddled with treacherous ministers, barely clinging to life. A change of rule over the realm is only a matter of time."

"The day we brothers turn our fortunes around is coming soon!"

"Come on, let's go back and rouse the grooms. Prepare the horses through the night — we must not delay the Beile's great affair!"

The brothers walked side by side toward Jeju City. Just as they were about to mount their horses, they heard a rumbling thunderclap from behind.

Yang Qi looked up at the sky and thought to himself, "Where did this thunder on a clear day come from? Why does it sound like cannons firing?"

He saw his elder brother standing frozen, lips stammering: "They're... they're..."

Greatly puzzled, Yang Qi turned around and saw the dock area in utter chaos, faint flames beginning to rise.

Then, out on the distant sea, points of red light flared up, and thunderous cannon fire rolled across the water.

The dock erupted in another wave of panic. A ship's lantern shot up into the sky, spun as it fell, and set the pier ablaze.

Yang Qi felt as if he'd been plunged into an ice pit, recalling that afternoon at the mouth of the Min River, when the Nan'ao navy had hunted them down.

Someone came running from the dock, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Yang Qi looked closely — it was the Jurchen envoy.

All his earlier composure was gone. His face was twisted with terror, his arms flailing wildly as he screamed, "Back to the city! The mad dogs of the sea are coming!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen