Chapter 78: Japan

After the boats docked, everyone disembarked, and the Dutch were no exception — in one of the three skiffs, five extra Red Hairs had been stuffed inside.

Cai Feiming, an AK slung across his back, led a group of crewmen up to the five uneasy Dutchmen. First, he bounced up and down twice facing inland toward Taiwan, craning his neck to peer around as he jumped, then he let out a hehe chuckle and said to the Dutchmen, "Gentlemen, do you see that forest?"

The Dutchmen looked where he was pointing and made out, far in the distance beyond the wild grass and shrubs, the faint outline of a stretch of woods.

Seeing the Dutchmen nod, Cai Feiming snapped his fingers with a crack. The next moment, several oilcloth-wrapped torches and a pouch of the fire steel commonly used by Ming people were tossed at the Dutchmen's feet.

"Burn all the grass and shrubs, between us and that forest."

After waiting a few seconds to confirm these Red Hairs had understood, Cai Feiming turned around and strode off with his men.

"But sir, we have no weapons — this is very dangerous! And how do we get back?" one Dutchman shouted at Cai Feiming's retreating back.

"You'll be left one boat. Work hard and you can still make it back for supper, gentlemen. As for the danger — God will protect you."

Without turning his head, a certain someone waved a hand and walked off with his men in long strides, leaving the five pitiful Dutchmen standing there staring at each other.

The Tainan plain is crisscrossed with streams and warm year-round, so the vegetation holds a lot of water. After Cai Feiming and his group had walked a stretch, black smoke from incomplete plant combustion began rising behind them, and by the time they neared the Japanese stockade, roiling beacon-smoke filled the sky at their backs.

Against a backdrop of surging black clouds, faces masked by netting, the slowly approaching ill-omened guests appeared like demons out of legend, bearing misfortune as they entered the sight of the Japanese behind the stockade wall.

The Japanese stockade was small; its walls were bound together from dense, bowl-thick raw logs, with a walkway behind them. As the squad drew near, a dense mass of heads and weapons silently appeared atop the stockade wall.

Wang Xiaohui walked to just over a hundred meters from the stockade, then raised a hand to halt the squad: he had observed that the Japanese wall now held at least three types of firearms, among them heavy Spanish muskets — what Great Ming called turtle-dove arquebuses. This gun had lethal force at a hundred meters; its drawback was its weight, making it a defensive strongpoint.

The red-and-white ultimate tool for mystifying and intimidating — the electric megaphone — was brought out again. Cai Feiming stepped forward two paces, pulled up the netting from his face, and began shouting into the megaphone: "You morons inside, listen up! You have half an incense stick's time to come out and pay respects to the Ming lords. Once time is up, every last one of you dies!"

By the second repetition of the shout, there was clear agitation atop the wall. Very soon, the stockade gate, made of raw logs, opened a crack, and three men walked out before the gate swiftly shut again.

The three Japanese envoys approached in a triangular formation. The one in the lead wore a topknot that the Transmigrators found somewhat ridiculous, a blue Japanese wide-sleeved short robe, with only a short chest armor over his upper body, no shoulder guards or skirt armor, a tanto thrust through his waist sash, and wooden clogs on his feet.

When the envoys reached ten meters from the squad, they were halted by a shout from the electric megaphone. Only after they had reluctantly thrust their tantos into the ground were they permitted to approach the Ming lords.

It couldn't be helped — the Ming lords had all grown up hearing tales of the Feast at Hongmen, where smashing cups on the negotiating table to signal a hidden attack, that kind of bottom-feeding behavior, was usually presented as a positive example in history books and stories. So the Ming lords understood the Japanese temperament — big brother knows little brother. Look at the Dutch, they didn't understand, and that's how Hamada Yahyoe dealt with them.

When the Japanese man reached them and everyone got a look, this gentleman's height was not as short as they had imagined — he was a good 1.68 meters at least. His defining feature was a long face, a terribly long horse-face — though he himself did not seem to find his face long. He came before them and delivered a vigorous bow: "Kyoto Chaya Family samurai, Dongye Shangche, pays his respects to the Ming lords!"

To reel off such a string of titles using Chinese word-order conventions — this was already very Sinicized, one could say thoroughly prepared. Regrettably, the Transmigrators did not register this. What did somewhat shock the lords from the superior country was this fellow's spoken language: nothing special, just absolutely authentic. From the mouth of the horse-faced Japanese samurai Dongye came a perfectly enunciated, standard Nanjing Mandarin. The lords who claimed to hail from Ming were in that moment utterly exposed, as awkward as a Southern redneck coming face to face with an Asian speaking in a London accent.

Fortunately, Cai Feiming, a longtime traveling merchant, had long cultivated the art of remaining unperturbed. He gave a dry cough, put on a stern face, and asked with authority, "From Kyoto, eh? Why did you not come to the Shang Hall this morning to register?"

"Hai! The villagers have disappointed the great lords! We originally assumed the lords would depart after completing their plunder." Dongye Shangche bowed once more. "The village has prepared some valuables. Please do not stand on ceremony — after all, making the trip here is quite arduous."

Cai Feiming nearly laughed from sheer disbelief when he heard this. He turned his head and exchanged a glance with Feng Jun, and found the latter with his mouth half open, equally dumbstruck.

"You think you're fobbing off beggars? Do you not know that from this day forward, the Ming lords will personally govern this land?"

"Ah! In that case, we shall be neighbors from now on. That sounds like a most wonderful thing. Please be sure to believe that the villagers will come bearing gifts to pay their respects to the lords!"

"I'm just floored. You moron samurai, playing dumb with me, is that it?" The invaders finally dropped all pretense. "You listen well: one incense stick's time. Everyone comes out to register and be documented. Weapons and armor are forbidden. Merchants will collect permits and henceforth pay taxes according to regulations. All remaining villagers report to the Shang Hall and await work assignments. Do you understand me clearly?!"

Dongye Shangche straightened up, his horse-face lengthening slightly. "The Dutch probed this, but it is intolerable, because the merchants will not pay taxes to latecomers!"

Cai Feiming let out a scoff at these words. "The Dutch need to trade at Nagasaki, so they let you off the hook here. You think your tax exemption was won by throwing your weight around?"

"In fact, the merchants have toiled here for many years. In that regard, the lords who have come from Ming are also latecomers. I must ask you, please, to desist! You must know, this is also a place that General Daren holds in regard."

"Pah! You still dare to trot out your General?" Cai Feiming rolled his eyes. "That old fox Tokugawa Ieyasu, without so much as a word a year ago, dared to send men to seize this ground. Eleven years ago, on the verge of kicking the bucket, he still didn't forget to dispatch the Nagasaki Daikan to extort deerskins from our Great Ming's good citizens. We haven't even settled those two accounts with your General yet, and you've got the gall — you still dare bring him up?"

In that moment, Dongye Shangche trembled from head to toe, teeth bared and eyes bulging, his long face twisted into the shape of a bricklayer's trowel, all traces of his earlier humility gone. The veins on both hands bulged as he clenched them forcefully on empty air, as if dual-wielding tantos.

The next instant, the Ming men, who had been emphatically reminded before departure to be ever ready for the cup-smashing signal, leveled their weapons at the three Japanese men's heads.

Dongye Shangche had the muzzle of a bird blunderbuss pressed to his left temple and an AK to his right, yet he acted as though he felt nothing, glaring at Cai Feiming and roaring, "Even if you come from Ming, to speak of General Daren in such terms is far too discourteous!"