Chapter 69: Drawing Near

Xia Xianze was so dizzy he couldn't eat a thing. After lying there groaning for a while, he had someone fetch his private stash of coffee from his personal luggage and brew it up — which leader doesn't have a few quirks, right? By the time everyone else sat down to eat, General Manager Xia had already downed two cups of a murky, unidentified coffee-colored liquid rich in chlorine dioxide, dissolved cave minerals, and trans fatty acids. After this, the man finally settled down, lying on a ground mat that didn't rock, and drifted into a stupor.

The Old Chief was down, but the others still had work to do. Though the sea wind was growing fiercer by the minute, Tao Zheng still led men up to the hilltop in the gale, set up the folding antenna, then powered on the radio and began transmitting.

Tao Zheng's trade was working as a mechanic at a 4S dealership, with amateur electronics enthusiast as his secondary skill. After crossing over, with no cars to fix for the time being, he'd settled in with the Navy and taken charge of communications.

Thanks to this world's pristine electromagnetic environment, Tao Zheng could normally use a Type 60 vehicle radio to achieve voice communication within a 50-kilometer radius around Hangzhou City with ease. Now, however, that wouldn't work: the straight-line distance between Xuan Shan Island and Tangzhuang Base far exceeded 100 kilometers, and critically, the mountain ranges near Ningbo lay in between, blocking the signal. So for now, he could only use Morse code to relay the situation to Tangzhuang Base.

Fortunately, technology in this day and age was advanced — no need to train a dedicated telegraph operator. Tao Zheng connected his laptop to a digital radio and a Morse code converter the size of a cigarette pack, then typed the Chinese characters into the translation software. With a tap of the Enter key, the computer automatically converted the text into Morse code and sent it out.

While directing the crewmen to rotate the antenna back and forth, he typed on the keyboard. Tao Zheng repeated the transmission of two signal groups. Before long, amid the beeping and tapping, the reply from Tangzhuang Base appeared on the laptop's liquid crystal screen.

Seeing the reply "Family safe and sound, wishing you good fortune," Tao Zheng immediately began calling everyone to pack up and retreat. The sea wind was already quite fierce by now, and the unbroken black clouds seemed to press right overhead — truly a case of dark clouds bearing down on the city. Though the torrential rain hadn't started yet, the signs were already unmistakable.

Aside from the crewmen hurriedly lashing down the deck supplies, most of the Navy Faction stayed on board the ships — a batch of "Class C Laborers" was still locked in the lower holds, and someone had to supervise these people taking turns on the generator pedal bikes. With the ships currently at anchor, this was the perfect time to charge the batteries, not to be missed.

Around three in the afternoon, the storm finally arrived. Fortunately, the intensity of the incoming air mass wasn't high, barely reaching tropical storm level; moreover, its center was headed toward Fuzhou, so the Zhoushan area only got grazed.

The expedition members stayed inside the dry cave, eating hot meals and taking turns going to the cave mouth to watch the wind and rain. The rest and reorganization turned out to be quite effective.

By the time the storm subsided, night had already fallen. After discussion, the fleet ultimately decided to wait until dawn the next day to set out again — they were already delayed, so a little more time wouldn't matter. Better to let those suffering terribly from seasickness get a few more hours of rest.

The next morning, when the eastern sky showed the first hint of white, the expedition fleet finished replenishing its fresh water, weighed anchor, hoisted sail, and set out on the journey once more.

After the fleet set sail again, it seemed the Lord's strength test had finally ended. What followed was clear skies after rain, calm seas with no waves, and the voyage began to go smoothly. Sailing along the established course for another four days, by that evening, those on board could already gaze into the distance at the beautiful coastline of Taiwan Island — bright blue, pale green, trimmed with white edges.

The expedition fleet's course defied the coastal navigation traditions of this era. Relying on the precise real-time positioning of the electronic sextant, the fleet essentially drew the shortest diagonal line straight from Zhoushan to Taiwan Island.

Once past Zhoushan, it was a vast, boundless sea — no landmark references, and none of the fishing ships, merchant ships, or pirate ships commonly seen along the mainland coast. It could be called a lonely stretch of journey. Now, finally catching sight of Taiwan Island in the distance, the fleet's morale soared considerably for a time.

Keeping a careful distance from the shore, the two sand ships slowly sailed southward along the coastline — in this era, Taiwan's northernmost tip had neither the Fugui Cape Lighthouse, and the winding, reef-strewn coastline was completely different from that of later generations.

The transmigrators dared not be careless, meticulously surveying the hydrological conditions along the way. By the time the next day's rising sun was in the east, they had already left Taipei behind and arrived off the coast of Hsinchu.

If they could maintain the current approximate speed of 4 to 6 knots, the fleet would reach Tainan by the afternoon of the following day. In light of this, some pre-battle preparations could now begin.

The passengers below deck were brought up to the deck in shifts for fresh air, far more frequently than in the previous days. To the naked eye, their spirits seemed quite good — thanks to sufficient food, critical fresh water, and each day's rotation on the "Iron Mule," which was actually pedaling stationary bike generators fixed to the deck, the laborers' physical fitness generally remained above acceptable levels.

Electricity not only powered the electronic instruments in the cabins, but the portable seawater desalination equipment from Australia in another spacetime also required electrical power to produce fresh water. A single suitcase-sized desalination unit, using an electric pump and reverse osmosis membrane, could produce a ton of fresh water per day.

Beyond drinking, those in the hold could even luxuriously use fresh water for a simple wash-up, and then scrub away vomit and the filthy deck boards. All of this, plus disinfectant spray, kept the expedition fleet's sanitary conditions at a barely acceptable level at all times.

The crew members were also summoned over in succession. These fellows, essentially still sea bandits at heart, had only been told simply before departure: "This time we're going to pull off a big job."

Now, there was no need to keep it secret any longer. Upon learning that tomorrow they would "attack a Red-haired Pirate stronghold," the crew all expressed emotional stability. The sailors, long accustomed to having AKs backing them up, felt no aversion to robbing the Red Hairs — in fact, they were rather looking forward to it.

Wei Yuan and Han Bo leaned against the gently undulating starboard side, cheerfully watching several "Army" colleagues bustling around a machine gun.

Even in later generations, people with Wei Yuan's build were still rare — 1.9 meters tall, weighing over 100 kilos, with shoulders, back, and legs so broad and thick he looked ready to burst through a doorframe at any moment.

Having once drifted through multiple security companies in Africa, his face all scowling ferocity and his body reeking of blood, Wei Yuan had been locked away in Tangzhuang's backyard and kept out of sight from the moment of crossing over. There was no helping it — this Servant was simply too conspicuous. Even if Hangzhou City had a few tall, strapping sons of wealthy families, in breadth and thickness they still fell far short of this fellow. Letting him out would be a disaster, because he'd draw a crowd of onlookers.

Wei Yuan had no choice but to hole up in Tangzhuang, where he and people like Han Bo who'd spent time in the military spontaneously formed an instructor corps, spending every day bored out of their minds teaching others to shoot. They'd barely waited until the Company seized Moyun Temple before everyone was packed off there one after another, and Wei Yuan was reassigned on the spot as Field Marshal. Before he'd even gotten the feel of being Himmler, the expedition fleet was heading south, and the whole lot of them had escorted the laborers onto the ships overnight.