Chapter 569: Landing at Ha Long Bay

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July 18, 1631, 8:00 AM, Annam, Ha Long Bay.

Dense rain shrouded the bay. Between heaven and earth, only the sound of the tides and the mist seemed to remain — a boundless haze, like a fairyland.

Ha Long Bay lies in the middle of the Beibu Gulf, at the estuary downstream of the Red River Delta where Hanoi (Shenglong Prefecture) is located.

During the French colonial period, Hongji City emerged around the coal mining industry at Ha Long Bay. Later, Hongji City was renamed Ha Long City and placed under the jurisdiction of Quang Ninh Province.

People from later generations have no moral qualms about place names. Generally speaking, unless the Transmigrators in charge feel like indulging some mischievous whim, they mostly stick to the names familiar from their past lives for the locations in this plane.

So the fleet anchored at the mouth of Ha Long Bay today was about to land at Hongji Port.

Hongji Port is situated at the pincer-shaped western entrance of Ha Long Bay.

During the French colonial era, Hongji Port was a typical mining harbor. The French built it back then to export coal. Later, on that foundation, as time passed and society developed, Hongji City gradually took shape.

Of course, in the seventeenth century where the Transmigrators now found themselves, the so-called Hongji Port was still a stretch of pristine estuary — desolate, wild, and utterly uninhabited for miles around.

Unlike the developed coastal regions of later ages, in the medieval era productivity was low. Any coastal area was certain to face specific calamities: salt-alkali soil, flooding, seawater backflow, and pirate raids.

So the zones closest to the shore were often uninhabited wastelands.

"Gotta say, the scenery's not half bad."

Shao Qiang, clad in a gray Rains-brand raincoat and holding a Sony digital camcorder, stood at the bow, sweeping his lens in all directions.

In later times, Ha Long Bay was a Beibu Gulf tourist destination, famed for its beautiful seascapes and mountains, bearing the title of one of the "World's New Seven Natural Wonders."

Over two thousand limestone islets and islands are scattered throughout the bay. These emerald-green stone peaks jutting from the sea stand in dense, starry profusion. Combined with the distinctive yellow-green natural palette of the semi-tropical region, and the drifting rain-mist and coiling white vapor, they make any visitor feel transported to a fairy realm within moments.

That was why Shao Qiang was braving the rain right now, standing at the bow filming away.

Sha Zhengming, who was directing the landing, however, had no such leisure.

Most of Annam's territory falls under a tropical monsoon climate, characterized by high temperatures, heavy rainfall, and a distinct division between dry and wet seasons. November through April is the dry season; May through October is the rainy season, with frequent heavy downpours and storms, high heat, and extreme humidity.

The time Shao Qiang and the others arrived was July, squarely in the middle of the rainy season. Rain drifted unceasingly over the Ha Long Bay area. For the twelve-ship fleet currently anchored outside the harbor, this weather was hardly welcome news.

Yet no matter how foul the weather, the landing operation had to proceed. What was the alternative? Wait aboard the ships until October?

The one saving grace was that, apart from the rain, the other landing conditions were fairly good. At the moment, the wind was light and the sea calm, and there were no hostile wild tribes ashore... After all, this was Ha Long Bay Beach, not Omaha Beach.

Soon, on Sha Zhengming's order, a group of small boats lowered from the merchant ships set out.

Each small boat carried over a dozen members of the advance team. These men were uniformly dressed in canvas raincoats, with wide, self-produced waterproof goggles on their faces and high-top cowhide boots on their feet. Wielding an assortment of cold weapons and firearms, they were armed to the teeth.

Wu Meng, Third Lord Wu, straightened his back, craned his neck, and swept his gaze left and right.

The view through the lenses was a blur; all he could see was sea mist and rain. Barely a dozen meters away, he could no longer make out Young Master Yusheng's face. Yet Third Lord knew that Yusheng Shaoye, along with the other half of the squad, was in the small boat beside them right now.

Though the sea swell was low, for a small boat whose occupants were straining at the oars, the rocking remained relentless.

One hand gripping the hilt of the knife at his waist, Wu Meng braced himself against the lurching and grabbed the icy gunwale with his other hand... Having long since ceased to be a big boss, he suddenly recalled in this moment the days when things had gone wrong at Zhang Sutan and he'd had to flee. That had been a similarly damp, cold, rainy morning; he had been sitting in a small boat just like this, hand on his knife hilt, heart full of panic, terrified that the gunmen sent by Master Xiong would catch up and end his life.

"Wonder how Master Xiong's been running my Zhang Sutan — must be raking in a fortune by now!"

The next moment, watching the shore draw nearer and nearer, Third Lord Wu, cold rain lashing his face, pulled his thoughts back to the present.

After the fall of Macau City, every member of the Pioneer Army who had fought received a handsome sum of reward silver. Following a period of rest and reorganization, Third Lord Wu and his men had enjoyed a stretch of rather pleasant days. Their daily work consisted of simple public-order maintenance and internal study sessions; in their spare time, they could stroll around Macau City, spend a little money, and help boost the local economy's recovery.

But the good days didn't last long before the tone shifted. Internal study time increased, and the content was all about the local customs and geography of Annam. Third Lord Wu's squad, long familiar with the Crossing Faction's internal operating procedures, promptly began cramming on their own initiative.

Sure enough, after a period of crash training, Wu Meng's squad, as an elite advance unit of the Pioneer Army, was reassigned to a transport ship bound for Qiongzhou. A few days after reaching Qiongzhou, following yet another oath-taking rally at Baisha Military Port, six transport ships, escorted by six warships of the Southbound Fleet, set sail.

And so it was that Third Lord Wu and the twenty brothers under his command found themselves today aboard two rocking small boats.

The seven or eight small boats advancing side by side, propelled by the strenuous rowing of their occupants, soon crossed the shallows and reached the shore of Hongji Port.

"Off the boats — move, move, move!"

What Third Lord did not know was that his act of being the first to leap from the boat carried profound significance. That one small gesture marked the first time in two hundred years — since the Great Ming abolished the Jiaozhi Provincial Administration Commission in 1428 — that Han forces were, in a true sense, expanding the frontier once more.

Dozens of well-trained advance team members quickly jumped from the small boats, waded a few steps through knee-deep seawater, and climbed onto the beach.

In the drifting rain, Third Lord sprinted a few steps across the muddy sand, then swept his gaze left and right. Following the drills they had practiced on the Qiongzhou beaches, he began assigning tasks for the sector his squad was responsible for. To ensure his men didn't mishear over the noise of the tide and rain, he shouted orders while extending his arm, fingers spread flat, giving tactical hand signals.

"Biandan — forward!"

"Xinhui Lad — right flank!"

The orders went to the point men, He Biandan and another dark, wiry, tough-as-nails Xinhui lad. Both were experts with cold weapons. Under these punishing conditions, they were the only two in the entire squad who still wore half-body steel armor beneath their raincoats.

The next moment, He Biandan and Xinhui Lad, long swords in hand, began advancing in the directions Third Lord had assigned to search. Behind them, Third Lord's group fanned out into a scattered skirmish line.

Bringing up the rear was Young Master Yusheng. The dense rain drastically reduced the ignition rate of firearms, so Yusheng stayed back with four firearm soldiers to hold the line.

The Annam coast, with its tropical climate, was still different from the Great Ming coast up north. After Wu Meng's squad and the other squads had advanced less than fifty meters together across the beach, sparse vegetation began to appear before them. Another fifty meters on, all manner of tropical plants abruptly burst forth. Including a few scattered mangrove patches, within two to three hundred meters the vegetation swiftly swallowed the search teams' line of sight.

Seeing the dense vegetation ahead, Third Lord, a veteran of many battles, judged that one should not enter a forest lightly. He raised his right fist high and bellowed: "All units, halt! Establish local security!"

At once, a runner sprinted back to the signalman, who was surrounded by Yusheng and the other firearm soldiers.

The signalman cut a somewhat comical figure: on his chest, a compact military radio wrapped in waterproof canvas; on his back, a propped-up folding square umbrella to shield against the rain.

Upon receiving the message brought by the runner, the signalman promptly used the radio to transmit the forward situation back.

Under the current visibility conditions, the fleet far out at sea could not see what was happening on shore and could only wait for word from the front. So once the radio signal was received, the small boats, which had already turned back, quickly delivered a second wave of personnel to the shore.

Since sentries were already posted on the beach, the second wave of small boats was packed a bit tighter. After two rounds of transport, 200 advance team members had completed the landing operation.

After this, every small boat in the fleet was lowered. The overall dispatch quickly arranged the lanes, and several dozen small boats began shuttling back and forth in an endless stream, ferrying workers and tools ashore.

Up to this point, though the landing operation was proceeding smoothly, Fleet Commander Sha Zhengming still glanced at his watch repeatedly: everyone knew that the first 24 hours after an opposed landing were the most critical — it was a matter of whether they could secure a foothold.

Although intelligence indicated that the Northern Vietnam army of the seventeenth century would most likely not appear at Ha Long Bay, Sha Zhengming dared not take the slightest risk. The so-called intelligence was merely some historical data and simple pre-operation reconnaissance by boats observing from near shore. The old man had no Beidou system overhead right now — who the hell knew whether Northern Vietnamese soldiers might come charging out from behind that lush vegetation the very next moment?

Preparedness ensures success; failing to devise contingency plans for the worst-case scenario would be a dereliction of his duty as a soldier.

The Northern Vietnamese soldiers of this era were quite formidable in combat — Sha Zhengming had absolutely no doubt about that piece of intelligence. After all, Vietnam had long since entered a mode of north-south civil war during this period. Unlike the internally peaceful Great Ming, it was impossible that Northern Vietnamese soldiers couldn't fight.

An unfamiliar enemy nation, an unfamiliar coast, dense vegetation, plus rain and fog with extremely low visibility, and rifles with reduced effectiveness... This kind of wretched environment was practically the standard setup for the weak to slap the strong in the face.

Even a power as mighty as America had once broken its sword and sunk its ships on this very land. Sha Zhengming now had no idea whether these hastily trained "Colonial Militia" could hold the beachhead in an emergency.

The construction workers, sensing the tense atmosphere, dared not pause for a moment after coming ashore. After advancing a stretch inland, they swiftly selected positions, began digging drainage ditches, and then started erecting tents.

Another group grabbed tools and charged toward the vegetation line that blocked their view: visibility was where the strong held the advantage, and it had to be cleared at the first moment.

Theoretically speaking, dangerous and low-level work like this should all be left to slaves. But right now there were no slaves, so the "regular workers" had to go desperately clear the vegetation themselves.