Chapter 279: Buddhist Chant and Buddha's Light

Three days later, at dusk, atop West Mountain, the setting sun hung like blood.

In the harbor, sailors were making final preparations before departure; over a hundred warships rose and fell between the crimson sea and sky.

Zhejiang Regional Commander Wang Yi watched the sunset and recited: "Sunset rouge-red, the Dipper's breath like a blade; clouds halt and fog rises, three days of cold wind wails." This was the weather rhyme of the Zhoushan sea lanes; fishermen and naval officers in the surrounding waters used it to judge when a cold snap would arrive.

Now, seeing with his own eyes the sunset glow so red it seemed almost demonic, Wang Yi finally understood why the demon monk insisted on setting sail tonight.

He turned to look at the monk Kongji standing beside him. The demon monk held one palm before his chest while his other hand worked the prayer beads, murmuring incantations. Sunlight spilled across his moon-white kasaya, gilding his silhouette with a layer of Buddha's light, making him seem all the more solemn and majestic.

"Demon monk!" Wang Yi cursed in his heart.

Wang Yi had commanded troops here for years and knew the waters of eastern Zhejiang well; he could also use the weather rhyme to predict a cold snap one or two days in advance.

How had this demon monk predicted it three days ago? Did the man truly possess divine power?

"Commander, the men are ready. Please board the ship." Someone jogged over and reported.

The speaker was Ningshao Vice Regional Commander Xu Jian, stationed at Dinghai Garrison. He had recently been sent to reinforce Zhoushan but was ambushed halfway by rebel troops—and it was this very man who ordered no resistance and an immediate retreat.

Zhoushan fell under the Ningshao Vice Regional Commander's jurisdiction. If Zhoushan were lost, the primary person responsible would be Xu Jian, which was why he was extremely eager for this battle.

Of course, the secondary person responsible was Wang Yi; he could not stand aside either.

"Let's go!" Wang Yi resolutely boarded the flagship Yuehai, a first-class Fujian junk fitted with ten red barbarian cannons. Kongji the demon monk followed behind Wang Yi.

Ningshao Vice Regional Commander Xu Jian boarded the Yongjing, also a first-class Fujian junk with ten red barbarian cannons.

Zhejiang was a major tax-paying province, and being close to Nan'ao, it had to be ready for naval combat at all times; its ship modifications were naturally deeply influenced by the Nan'ao navy. Wang Yi took one last look at the blood-red sunset and gave the order in a low voice: "Course due east—set sail!"

Five-colored flags waved to pass the order, and the navigator shouted: "Set sail!"

Over a hundred ships cut through the red-gold waves, gradually heading into the distance.

Today was the second day of the eleventh month—the time of the Qiantang River's great spring tide, when sailing was extremely dangerous. But the Zhejiang navy was not anchored in Hangzhou city; it was at Haining Garrison, north of the Hangzhou trumpet mouth. This place was not impassable at all times—during slack tide there was a brief window for sailing.

The Zhejiang navy seized this opportunity to set out, certain that the rebel Lin could never guess their move.

Barely an hour out, the sky was fully dark. Chilly winds blew across the sea, and the temperature seemed to be slowly dropping.

Aboard the Yuehai, Wang Yi gazed at the northern sky. There was no moon tonight; the starry river blazed in full splendor. But in the northwest sky, streaks of black clouds blocked the starlight.

This was the "Dipper's breath like a blade"—two lines of the weather rhyme had already come true.

The fleet had already left Hangzhou waters. Wang Yi looked at the sea and saw the waves were gentle, indicating the wind was not strong.

Once the "clouds halt" condition was met, fog would not be far behind.

When the cold snap struck suddenly, the entire sea surface would steam with fog, as if the seawater were boiling and giving off hot vapor. The fishermen called this "sea boiling"—one of the great wonders of the Zhoushan waters.

Few ships would choose to sail in such heavy fog, but the Zhejiang navy knew the waterways well and could risk it.

As for the Nan'ao rebels, lacking cotton-padded clothes, with temperatures plunging and thick fog spreading, they would surely huddle in port and not move—the perfect opportunity for a surprise attack. If all went smoothly, he, Wang Yi, would not only recover lost territory but would be the first man in all the southeastern provinces to defeat the Nan'ao navy!

With such a military achievement, he would surely advance further in officialdom—perhaps even be enfeoffed as an earl.

Just as he was lost in reverie, the navigator suddenly said: "The wind has shifted—northwest wind. Change the sails!"

The sailors on deck all moved at the order to adjust the sails.

By now the wind on the sea was extremely weak; only hard-sailed warships could make use of such faint wind to sail—a decked ship would probably come to a dead stop. If the breeze could hold steady, the Zhejiang navy would be certain of victory. Unfortunately, after about the time it takes a meal, the wind gradually strengthened.

The navigator leaned close to the commander, pointing at a patch of pitch-black shadow on the distant sea: "Commander, that's Daishan Island. We'll go around through the channel between Zhoushan proper and Daishan."

"Mm." Wang Yi acknowledged.

Another hour of sailing, and the northwest wind grew ever colder. Even with the Zhejiang navy all wearing padded jackets, they could not withstand it—the cold wind slipped through collars and sleeves, drilling straight into the bones.

All the sailors not handling the ship curled up, using their backs to block the wind, hands tucked into sleeves, chins buried in their collars. Wang Yi, as Regional Commander, could only grit his teeth and endure, secretly hoping the sea would get even colder—the colder it got, the greater the sea boiling, the thicker the fog, and the more likely the Nan'ao rebels would stay holed up in their naval stockade.

He glanced sideways at the demon monk beside him. The monk's moon-white robe was pressed tight against his body by the sea wind. The demon monk seemed utterly unaffected by the cold, standing upright in the biting wind, chanting scriptures.

Wang Yi could not help but feel a grudging admiration, thinking that even if it were an act, it was remarkably convincing.

That day at the Governor's yamen, the Governor had asked the demon monk what strategy he had to repel the enemy.

The demon monk had only maintained an air of mystery and refused to answer, while the Prefect kept assuring everyone that the demon monk was truly a man of great power.

The Hangzhou Prefect had once been to Mount Putuo and witnessed the demon monk's various supernatural feats with his own eyes; since then he had believed in the demon monk without question.

To be safe, the Governor had ordered Wang Yi to bring the demon monk along on the expedition, but stressed repeatedly that whether it was the monk's Buddhist dharma or his sorcery, it must not interfere with normal combat operations—only if the navy suffered a great defeat could he be allowed a tentative attempt.

Wang Yi scanned the surroundings and saw a layer of fog already forming on the sea. Throughout the entire voyage, no enemy lookout boat lights had been sighted. The mission was surely as good as accomplished—whatever tricks the demon monk had, he would have no chance to use them.

The navigator stood at the starboard side and suddenly shouted: "Half rudder to starboard—enter Lotus Flower Ocean! Sailors, change the sails!"

His shout echoed layer upon layer across the sea.

Wang Yi said with displeasure: "Keep it down!"

The navigator himself found it strange that his voice had suddenly grown so loud, and nodded in acknowledgment.

In the Lotus Flower Ocean waters, Zhoushan proper lay to the west and Mount Putuo to the east. Though the ocean was vast and the shores sparsely populated, it was nighttime after all—if sound carried too far and gave away their position, that would be very bad indeed.

The temperature continued to drop; with each breath, his nose ached from the cold.

Wang Yi saw frost already hanging from the navigator's mouth and nose.

Someone at the stern cried out in alarm: "The sea is boiling!"

"Shut up!" someone snapped.

Wang Yi looked over the side of the ship and saw that the sea surface truly seemed to be steaming. Wisps of fog rose in threads, curling around the fleet—not especially thick at first—but soon the ships ahead of the fleet grew hazy, swallowed by the mist, and vanished from sight.

The navigator said: "Light the ship lamps!"

"Light the ship lamps!"

"…ship lamps…"

His order was passed from ship to ship, like others repeating the command, or like an echo.

After a long while, dim orbs of light finally appeared ahead of the fleet—like ship lamps, or perhaps just a trick of the eyes.

The navigator felt a chill run down his spine and frowned: "Commander, there's something uncanny about this fog!"

"Amitabha. Benefactor, simply continue sailing." Kongji pressed his palms together.

Wang Yi shot him a glare, then asked the navigator in a low voice: "Well? Can you still find the course?"

"Rest assured, Regional Commander, I've sailed this route for over twenty years—I could find it with my eyes closed." The navigator said with full confidence, "The rest of the fleet has ship lanterns to guide them and won't get lost. It's high tide right now, so running aground isn't likely either."

Wang Yi felt reassured and asked again: "How much farther to the Shenjiamen naval stockade?"

The navigator replied: "About an hour's sailing."

Wang Yi looked up at the sky—every direction was the same hazy blackness, and he could only roughly guess it was the fourth watch. That way, they would attack the naval stockade just before dawn.

The good news was that it was exactly when the enemy would be most drowsy; the bad news was that with the sun not yet risen, the fog would be slow to disperse.

Wang Yi could only console himself inwardly—limited visibility and difficult command cut both ways, and an enemy caught by surprise would only be more panicked.

And if by some chance... if they couldn't win, with the thick fog, escape would be easier.

In the dense fog, one's sense of direction and time gradually grew disordered, and with the cold, gloomy sea surface, patience wore even thinner.

After what seemed like a long while, Wang Yi asked: "How much farther?"

The navigator's expression grew tense as he said: "About an hour."

After another long while, Wang Yi asked: "Are we almost there?"

Sweat dripped from the navigator's brow: "Soon, we'll be there soon..."

At this moment, Kongji suddenly spoke: "Benefactor, this journey is to suppress rebellion, not to seek the Buddha—you should head west."

"What?" The navigator took out his compass and confirmed the heading was south by west, holding steady in the middle of the open sea with no problem.

Kongji intoned another Buddhist invocation and repeated himself.

The navigator said: "To the west is Zhoushan's main island—if we turn abruptly, the entire fleet will run aground!"

Kongji said: "Ahead lies Damoshan."

The navigator's face was full of distress, unable to make up his mind.

Wang Yi said: "Listen to him—turn west!"

The navigator shouted the order: "Rudder right, sail west!"

The bow gradually turned, the navigator's eyes fixed dead on the compass, and the moment the bow faced the correct heading, he immediately ordered the rudder amidships.

After who knew how long, a sound came through the fog: "Enemy contact!"

"Enemy contact ahead!"

"Enemy contact ahead!"

The navigator let out a long breath—the Shenjiamen naval stockade had been found after all.

But Wang Yi's heart was uneasy—if they were making contact with the enemy, why were there no battle cries or cannon fire?

The flagship was still sailing on, and two enormous shadows appeared in the mist.

The navigator said: "Regional Commander, those are Zhujiajian and Zhoushan's main island—the Shenjiamen naval stockade lies in the waterway between them!"

The flagship sailed to the entrance of the waterway, and still no sound came from anywhere.

A moment later, someone in the fog shouted something, the sound echoing endlessly, completely impossible to make out.

Only after each ship relayed the message in succession did Wang Yi manage to hear it clearly.

"It's an empty stockade!"

Wang Yi's heart suddenly leaped with alarm, and he immediately ordered: "The whole force withdraws—return the way we came!"

The navigator said: "Regional Commander, the fog is too thick right now—better to wait until it clears before leaving."

"You fool!" Wang Yi cursed loudly, "Don't you understand yet? We're still alive only because the ambushing troops got lost too. If we don't flee while the fog lasts, we're waiting to die—retreat now!"

The navigator shouted the order, and the signalmen struck the bronze gong.

The fleet closed in toward the flagship Yuehai, turned around, and headed back.

All that trouble that night had won no merit, but at least it was better than total annihilation.

After sailing for about two hours, they returned to the waterway between the main island and Daishan Island.

The sky gradually brightened, but the sea surface only grew colder—icicles formed on the bulwarks. Still, the fog had thinned considerably, and the fleet could be seen clearly again. Wang Yi did a quick count: there were still over a hundred warships, almost none lost or run aground. He secretly breathed a sigh of relief and was just congratulating himself when a patch of black shadow vaguely appeared in the mist ahead, followed by a flicker of red light within the shadow.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

A volley of thunderous cannon fire rolled in, and Wang Yi saw a small black dot rapidly growing larger before his eyes.

"Ah!" Wang Yi cried out, instinctively crouching down. The next moment, a whoosh passed over his head—a cannonball flew over the Yuehai, plunged into the water, and made a great splash.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" The entire fleet erupted into chaos in an instant.

Wang Yi, still shaken, stood up and ordered: "The whole force—charge forward!"

The enemy blocked the Zhejiang Navy's retreat route, and this was open sea—turning back now was already too late. They had to gamble everything.

Fortunately, the fog had not fully dispersed, making it hard for the enemy's decked ships to aim, which gave the Zhejiang Navy a chance to close and board.

On the flagship Yuehai, the great horn sounded, its pitch high and piercing, like the clash of weapons.

The Zhejiang Navy formed a wild-goose wing formation and charged at the enemy.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Along the charge, cannon fire continued without cease. The red glow of muzzles lit up a vast swath of the fog, like crimson lightning bursting among the clouds.

A Fujian junk off the Yuehai's forward port side took a hit—the cannonball struck the mainmast, and the thick mast snapped clean through with a thunderous crack, crashing down with its sail onto the deck. Severed rigging released its tension and lashed about the deck like steel whips; anyone struck screamed in agony with broken bones and torn sinews. Sailors had nowhere to hide and could only leap into the sea. The Fujian junk lost all propulsion, its ropes snapped, its fore and aft sails flapping wildly, the hull spinning endlessly on the water.

Wood splinters blasted from the gun ports flew high and far, raining down onto the surrounding sea.

The fleet gradually closed the distance, and then from within the mist came a volley of sounds slightly softer but extremely dense—the noise of Folangji cannons mixed with matchlock muskets.

Warships on both wings of the wild-goose formation kept taking hits. Small cannonballs streaked through the air with shrill whistles, dense shot leaving afterimages as they slammed into the wing warships like hail.

Crewmen struck by grapeshot burst into misty sprays of blood—some were cut clean in half, others were blown completely apart. Flesh and blood mixed with wood splinters sprayed across the decks in every direction.

The Zhejiang Navy's imitation Sea Wolf ships also opened fire in response. From Wang Yi's position, the enemy ships couldn't be seen—only the cannonballs vanishing into the fog. Soon enough, the Nan'ao force's Folangji cannons fell silent one after another.

Before Wang Yi could even rejoice, he saw firelight flickering beside that sea-monster-like ship silhouette, and a hail of solid iron shot came crashing down on the imitation Sea Wolf ships.

Water columns erupted all around without cease. One imitation Sea Wolf ship took over a dozen hits in succession—its hull planking shattered together with a startling crackling sound, wood planks and splinters flying everywhere. The stern cabin, deck, hull, and waterline were all struck. Seawater surged in through the hull's breaches, and the ship soon pitched sharply forward, its Folangji cannons rolling off the deck and into the sea.

"Rudder left—return fire with the red barbarian cannons!" Wang Yi shouted the order.

As the Yuehai turned, the Yongjing had already begun its bombardment—a series of thunderous roars that left ears ringing.

The recoil pitched the Yongjing slightly to port, thick gunsmoke shrouding its side. A dark silhouette pierced the dense fog, slamming into the distant ship. Faint cracks of splintering hulls could be heard in the distance.

Red flashes flickered through the mist, cannon thunder making the sea itself tremble. A volley of shells screamed in, geysers of water erupting endlessly around the Yongjing—even aboard the Yuehai, cold spray drifted down.

The enemy shells skipped across the water like stones, targeting precisely the Yongjing's waterline.

It was impossible to count how many hits the Yongjing had taken; all one could see was its starboard side shattering piece by piece, shells punching through and bursting out the port side. Seawater poured in, and the Yongjing slowly settled.

"Boom! Boom! Boom…"

Aboard the Yongjing, crewmen bailed water with one hand while stubbornly firing back with the other. This time, the seawater ballast kept the Yongjing from listing.

But the earlier bombardment had left hairline cracks in the bulwark. One red barbarian cannon's recoil tackle snapped the bulwark clean through—with a sharp crack of splintering timber, the cannon slammed backward, crushing a gunner with broken bones and torn sinews. He collapsed to the deck, spat blood, and lay still.

"Fire!" the Company Commander aboard the Yuehai bellowed.

The Yuehai's starboard red barbarian cannons roared as one. The hull let out a violent groan, with faint sounds of planks splitting. Wang Yi shouted desperately: "Don't fire in a full broadside—the ship can't take it!"

Red light flickered through the fog again, followed by another volley. The Yongjing took another heavy blow—one shell struck a red barbarian cannon dead-on with a deafening clang. The carriage shattered on the spot, the barrel toppled across the deck, smashing through several planks. The impact and friction threw off sparks, igniting a powder keg.

A massive explosion erupted from the Yongjing's deck, blasting a huge hole through it. Flames licked the ragged edges, and even half a panel of the mainmast sail was blown away.

Black smoke billowed upward as debris rained down crackling onto the sea around—shreds of soldiers' flesh.

At the Yongjing's stern deck, Xu Jian was hoarsely screaming for soldiers to extinguish the flames and fire back.

Wang Yi's heart was filled with shock. Everyone knew the Nan'ao naval force was strong—but no one knew how strong.

Wang Yi had assumed that since the Ming's number-one large Fujian junks were also equipped with red barbarian cannons and Folangji breech-loaders, an exchange of fire wouldn't put them at a disadvantage.

He never expected that in the time it took the Yongjing to fire one round, the Nan'ao fleet could fire two!

It was as if we loosed one arrow and the enemy loosed two; we struck one blow and they struck two!

How could this battle possibly be won?

Even more terrifying: the Nan'ao ships were large while the Zhejiang ships were small. In the thick fog, the Ming forces could make out the enemy's silhouettes, but the enemy could barely see them—yet the Nan'ao fleet could locate them by cannon sound and muzzle flash, returning fire as if locating by ear, and with remarkable accuracy.

A thread of fear crept into Wang Yi's heart. If this dragged on, the Zhejiang fleet would surely be doomed.

"Boom boom boom…"

Then the Nan'ao Sea Wolf ships' signature rapid-fire cannonade sounded again. The Zhejiang warships that had pushed to the front took another brutal beating, and soon several Cangshan ships were wreathed in roaring flames.

Damn it! These rebel bastards have no padded jackets yet they fight like this—aren't any of them afraid of the cold?

Wang Yi raged inwardly.

"Commander, please withdraw into the Lotus Flower Inlet," the monk Kongji suddenly said with urgent tone.

"What did you say?" Wang Xu was furious—this demon monk dared to meddle in military affairs? Did he think Wang wouldn't dare cut him down?

But Kongji stared at the sky, his voice extremely urgent: "Commander, give the order at once—withdraw into the Lotus Flower Inlet. This old monk has a way to break the enemy!" Wang Yi had already been thinking of retreat, and with this demon monk speaking so confidently, he decided to trust him once. After all, their route was blocked—even if he wanted to flee back to Hangzhou, he'd have to pass through the Lotus Flower Inlet first, going around the south side of Zhoushan Island.

With that thought, Wang Yi said in a low voice: "Sound the retreat!"

"Clang! Clang! Clang!" The signalman struck the bronze gong urgently—a deep, penetrating sound that carried far across the cannon-thundering sea.

The fleet drew together toward the Yuehai.

Wang Hu said: "Turn about—back to the Lotus Flower Inlet!"

The navigator shouted: "Hard aport—heading for the Lotus Flower Inlet!"

By now it had been daylight for some time. The fog had thinned considerably, visibility over the sea improving—but the mist higher up had grown thicker, and with the overcast day, the sky was a uniform gray.

The Zhejiang fleet fled at full speed for the time it takes to eat a meal, until the navigator ordered a turn to starboard, entering the Lotus Flower Inlet.

At the moment of turning, Wang Yi saw five or six Nan'ao eagle ships burst out of the fog, clinging like restless spirits to the Zhejiang fleet's tail, firing red signal flares into the sky without cease.

To evade pursuit, the Zhejiang fleet was forced to hug the shallow waters, twisting and dodging constantly.

The navigator glanced back at the mist and said: "Good thing the wind is light today—those galleons won't catch up so easily."

Before he even finished speaking, he was staring blankly into the fog, transfixed.

Wang Yi sensed something amiss and turned to look as well. A chill shot through him from nose and mouth, freezing his very organs.

There, faintly visible in the distant fog, were several enormous shadows, each the size of a small hill. If those were sails, they were nearly twice the size of a normal galleon's!

Were these Lin Qian's ships?

Wang Yi snapped back to his senses and urgently urged the navigator to speed up.

The navigator said with a mournful face: "Commander, this is already top speed. To go any faster, we'd have to throw the cannons overboard."

Wang Yi fell silent. Leading the fleet out and suffering such a crushing defeat was already a grave crime. If he sank the cannons on the way back, even if he made it to shore, he'd hardly escape execution.

He turned to the monk Kongji beside him and asked: "Master, is there any plan to escape?"

Kongji acted as if he hadn't heard, one palm raised before him, the other hand working his prayer beads—seemingly reciting sutras.

"Master?" Wang Yi called again, suppressing his temper.

The demon monk remained motionless, as if in deep meditation. Wang Yi flew into a rage: "Bald donkey, you seek death—men!"

The navigator suddenly blocked Wang Yi, his expression deeply conflicted. His voice trembling, he said: "Commander, listen—something doesn't seem right…"

"What's not—" Wang Xu stopped mid-sentence, his face shifting from confusion to growing alarm.

From within the fog came the faint sound of sutra chanting.

Unlike the loud, resonant chanting heard in ordinary temples, this voice from the mist was very low and extraordinarily ethereal, as if someone were whispering right by one's ear. Wang Yi looked around—the sound seemed to come from every direction at once, its source utterly untraceable.

"…How are the Buddhas, the World-Honored Ones… manifested in the world? The Buddhas, the World-Honored Ones, wish to cause all beings to open the Buddha's knowledge and vision… manifested in the world…" Wang Yi's gaze slowly returned, settling on the monk Kongji, and his eyes gradually filled with terror.

As he listened, Kongji's voice seemed to merge with the chanting in the fog—clearly reciting the very same sutra passage!

Cold sweat broke out on Wang Yi's back in an instant.

"M-Master…" he stammered.

Kongji still did not answer. His chanting voice rose slightly, and the sutra sound in the fog grew clearer in tandem—even faint Buddhist music drifted through the air. Now it wasn't just Wang Yi who heard it; every soldier of the Zhejiang fleet heard it too. The men looked about in panic, faces pale with fear.

Mount Putuo was the sacred site of Guanyin Bodhisattva, and the people of Zhoushan were deeply devoted to Buddhism. Incense burned thickly on the mountain year-round. It was said that in these waters, the Bodhisattva was extraordinarily efficacious, often manifesting divine powers.

The entire Ming realm, from top to bottom, believed devoutly in gods and Buddhas—and those who sailed the seas were the most superstitious of all. Sailing now beside a holy Buddhist site, hearing with their own ears this miraculous sutra chanting—how could they hold firm?

Many soldiers immediately knelt down, facing the direction of Mount Putuo, pressing their palms together in worship, muttering repeatedly: "Amitabha, may the Bodhisattva protect us..."

As the sound of chanting in the fog grew louder, its eerie quality gradually faded, becoming instead increasingly grand and holy.

And the scripture turned into Sanskrit mantras: "... Sarva-pāpavighna......"

"Quick, look — what is that?"

Among the prostrating believers, someone pointed at the sky and cried out in shock, and soon more and more people saw the strange sight. All of them froze as if their souls had been snatched away — some wept uncontrollably, some wore faces of terror, some broke into smiles. Without exception, every sailor knelt facing the direction of Mount Putuo.

Even on the fish-stinking deck, the navigator of the Yuehai also knelt, kowtowing without pause.

Wang Yi stared blankly toward the west. In the misty sea, a halo of light blazed forth — extremely soft, making half the fog around it shimmer like crystal. At the brightest point of the halo was a distinct silhouette, and from its outline... it seemed to be a person... Guanyin, the Great Bodhisattva!

This was Buddha's light!

Wang Yi's heart pounded violently; he was stunned on the spot, feeling his limbs and bones go weak. By the time he came to his senses, he was already kneeling on the deck, not a single distracting thought rising in his mind.

The Sanskrit chanting and scripture recitation reached their peak, merging with the sound of the tides, nearly drowning out every other sound in the world.

"Om mani padme hum! Om mani padme hum!"

"That is Guanyin's Six-Syllable Great Mantra!" a soldier who was a believer cried out in shock, and some had already begun reciting along.

In the mist, the sailors aboard the Lingcang also witnessed the scene — all of them dumbfounded, their movements coming to a halt.

On the gun deck, a gunner shouted through the gun port: "Buddha... Buddha's light!"

He was about to kneel when his collar tightened — someone yanked him bodily upright.

The chief gunner cursed: "Buddha your mother's head! Fire the cannon for me!"

The gunner said in a trembling voice: "Sh-shoot the Bodhisattva?"

The chief gunner slapped him across the face: "Have you lost your mind? Shoot the enemy ship!"

At the same time, the boatswain's roar came from the deck: "The commander has ordered — anyone who dares kneel and worship Buddha will be dealt with by military law!"

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen