Chapter 945: Find a Ship

Kuang Ping’s room was spartan, containing only a bed, a desk, and a few chairs; against the wall stood a bookshelf, beside which were three or four crates filled entirely with books and various documents.

The desk was also piled high with documents; he had intended to put them away immediately, but remembering Pan Yun’s abilities—now the silver refining workshop used techniques they had provided—he abandoned the idea, shoved the clutter aside, cleared half the desk, and invited Pan Yun to sit.

He brought over a teapot of cold water, set down three bowls, poured each a bowl of chilled boiled water, and said, “The mountains are humble; Your Imperial Master, don’t mind.”

Pan Yun drank her water in one gulp without hesitation and signaled for another bowl.

Kuang Ping paused, poured her another bowl, and his tension eased; the two seemed to have returned to how they were before she became Imperial Master.

Kuang Ping asked, “Your Imperial Master, why visit so late at night?”

Pan Yun: “No urgent matter—only that I leave the harbor tomorrow morning to return home, and I felt some matters needed discussing with you.”

Kuang Ping paused, then asked, “Is it about the conflict at Qiwei Harbor?”

Pan Yun said, “Last year, the late Emperor perished; the Japanese navy attacked the southeast coast. Are you aware?”

Kuang Ping rubbed his hair and said, “Of course I know—they even surrounded Dasen Village. We thought we’d die for the nation.”

After a moment of silence, Kuang Ping, eyes red, looked at Pan Yun: “How did His Majesty… perish?”

Pan Yun fell silent, then said, “Border strategy failed; frontier generals deceived the court; intelligence was blocked; and the Emperor stubbornly followed only Wang Zhen’s advice—a eunuch who failed the imperial examination, who knew nothing of warfare, relying solely on guesswork—how could he possibly defeat the well-prepared Oirat army?”

Kuang Ping wiped his eyes and asked softly, “What of the new Emperor?”

“At least he listens to his ministers’ counsel.”

Kuang Ping looked skeptical: “Then how did you become Imperial Master—announced to the realm the very next day after his ascension?”

Only heaven and he knew how shaken and terrified he had been when he received news of both the new Emperor’s ascension and the appointment of the Imperial Master on the same day.

Pan Yun glanced at him: “Kuang Da Ren, don’t cling to stereotypes. Others may, but you and I have worked together—how can you fear the state will collapse just because a Daoist became Imperial Master? Am I some demonic priest?”

Kuang Ping shifted uncomfortably and whispered, “People change.”

Pan Yun said, “We Daoists value steadfastness of the Dao-heart above all—so rest assured: even if you change one day, I will not.”

Kuang Ping immediately smiled and poured her another bowl: “Your humble servant judged you by petty standards—I apologize.”

He returned to the topic: “Japan must suspect there’s silver here, but they don’t yet know the scale—and Japan is currently in turmoil.”

Kuang Ping said, “The Embroidered Uniform Guard gathered intelligence: local daimyo defy the shogun’s rule. After the late Emperor’s death, a Japanese man named Oda Nobu traveled widely, persuading daimyo to rally behind the shogun and launch a naval attack on Ming. After defeat, their alliance collapsed, and they turned on each other—giving Dasen Village breathing room.”

Pan Yun tapped her fingers lightly on the table and said gravely, “Japan’s chaos has its advantages, but its harms are equally great.”

Kuang Ping nodded: “The harms are real. When they commit crimes and attack us, we don’t even know who to complain to—the shogunate can’t control the daimyo, and the daimyo can’t control their subordinates.”

Kuang Ping said, “We bought this land; now the Yamana clan wants to renege and has sent many men to Dasen Village, pressuring the Masuda clan to send troops and labor—but the Masuda clan cooperates closely with us and refuses to obey Yamana’s orders.”

If Japan were unified and authoritative, the Yamana clan’s betrayal could be reported to the shogunate;

but Japan is fractured, and this era’s Japan resembles the Warring States period.

Each daimyo is like a feudal prince, ignoring imperial commands.

From top to bottom, the shogun cannot control the daimyo, and the daimyo cannot control their own retainers.

Kuang Ping: “I’ve thought long and hard these days—I believe Japan should be unified. Otherwise, Han people traveling here face different rules in every place, making life extremely difficult.”

Pan Yun: “Japan is a vassal state of Great Ming, yet it lacks the deference and loyalty of Ryukyu and Korea—it ignores the Son of Heaven’s edicts.”

Pan Yun frowned slightly: “Moreover, their wolfish ambitions have never faded—do you truly believe they’ll communicate with us once unified?”

Kuang Ping’s expression shifted: “Then we should…”

He made a hand gesture.

Pan Yun shook her head: “This is their internal affair. As long as they don’t attack Great Ming or its vassal states, let them resolve it themselves. The Dao has its own rules.”

Kuang Ping: “So what is Your Imperial Master’s intention?”

“They have no concept of nationhood, nor the Han obsession with unification. Since we’ve settled here, drinking its water, tilling its soil, we must treat its people well.”

Kuang Ping’s eyes flickered; he leaned forward: “Your humble servant understands—we will protect Dasen Village, Onsen Jintinggang, Qiwei Harbor, and all who live here, whether Han, Japanese, or Korean.”

Pan Yun’s lips curved slightly; she rose: “Then I won’t disturb your rest, Kuang Da Ren.”

Pan Yun stepped out; the Embroidered Uniform Guards waited until she was far away before entering to find Kuang Ping.

Kuang Ping sighed: “Recall the letter. Let Japan remain chaotic—we won’t interfere.”

The Embroidered Uniform Guards agreed and left to retrieve the letter.

Sea vessels set sail early, departing before dawn.

Because a Japanese naval attack on Great Ming had occurred just before the New Year, costing several merchant ships, for the past six months, all ships traveling to and from Japan preferred to sail in convoys.

Besides Wang Cong’s three ships and the court’s five, numerous merchants had formed a fleet totaling twenty-four vessels.

Once underway, the fleet was vast and imposing, resembling a military expedition.

Pan Yun took Wang Cong first to Qiwei Harbor to retrieve the ashes, delivered him aboard, then departed ahead with Miao Zhen and the other two.

Wang Cong watched them vanish into the horizon, filled with envy.

Too bad he had to escort the fleet—he couldn’t follow.

Yet Pan Yun and the others didn’t return directly to Great Ming; instead, they flew along their route, exploring nearby islands.

Primarily to eliminate threats and scout the surrounding maritime environment—if fortune favored them, they might find Wang Cong a suitable ship.

Unfortunately, pirates seemed terrified by last year’s great battle; though small bands of pirates peeked out, none dared attack.

Moreover, their ships were beneath Pan Yun’s notice, so she let them pass.

Indeed, seeing the twenty-four-ship convoy behind them, escorted by Ming naval forces, the small pirates dared not move.

Pan Yun flew south until she found Chen Wen.

Chen Wen had been promoted to Assistant Regional Commander of the Quanzhou Naval Office; his troops had grown.

He had just finished drill and opened the door, tense, hand on his waist saber.

Pan Yun smiled lightly: “General Chen, long time no see.”

Chen Wen recognized Pan Yun, eyes brightening; he immediately knelt on one knee: “Your humble subordinate pays homage to the Imperial Master.”

Reunited, Chen Wen willingly stepped back, clinging tightly to Pan Yun’s coattails.

He had no patron; last year’s battle against Japan, their battle merit had not been stolen—he was promoted smoothly to Assistant Regional Commander, and his men were promoted too.

After a little inquiry, Chen Wen understood: someone above feared the Imperial Master; hearing of his close ties to Pan Yun, they dared not seize the merit.

Thanks to Pan Yun, Chen Wen experienced fairness in the military for the first time.

He asked for little—only fairness. The merit due them, he took; what wasn’t due, he refused. Armaments requests granted, pay delivered on time—that was his greatest wish.

Now, leaning on Pan Yun, half his wish was fulfilled.

How could he not kneel?

Pan Yun quickly helped him up.

After brief pleasantries, Pan Yun inquired about ships.

Chen Wen said, “The naval office lacks funds, but the court has opened six ports and repeatedly reduced maritime restrictions, increasing defense pressure—current ships are insufficient. The naval office has already pre-ordered from shipyards; timber is fetched by garrison soldiers. Conservatively, this batch won’t enter service for at least two years.”

“Your Imperial Master wishing to jump the queue—this will be difficult. This matter falls under the Ministry of War’s Armaments Bureau; I have no say.”

Pan Yun: “I don’t intend to jump the queue.”

Chen Wen stared: “Then does Your Imperial Master plan to seize our ordered ships? This, this…”

Pan Yun rolled her eyes: “I became Imperial Master, not a different person—why do you all assume Imperial Masters are state parasites?”

Pan Yun said, “I only wish to ask: what became of the Japanese pirate ships seized last year?”

Chen Wen paused, then said, “Your Imperial Master is too late—the naval office already disposed of them.”

Pan Yun: “Disposed of—to whom?”

Chen Wen hesitated.

Pan Yun waved her hand: “Don’t worry—I’m not assigning blame. Those were your naval office’s spoils. If you hadn’t handled them, the Ministry of War would have. Who profits matters little? You earned them—you deserve some benefit trickling down to your soldiers.”

Chen Wen relaxed, smiling: “Your Imperial Master, those ships were broken—few were usable. They’ve been sold for months; I suspect they’ve been dismantled.”

Pan Yun: “Not necessarily. You yourself said shipbuilders are overwhelmed—they can’t even find workers to dismantle them. Give me the list—I’ll find them myself.”

This time Chen Wen didn’t delay; he went to retrieve the list.

When he returned, he held not only a sheet of paper but also a food box.

He handed Pan Yun the list, set out wine and dishes, and asked, “Is Master Wang seeking to expand the Wang Merchant House?”

Pan Yun grunted, eyes on the list: “He wants to venture southward.”

“Form a new merchant fleet?” Chen Wen mused: “The South Seas have many spices, gems, and local products—far more profitable than Japan or Korea—but…”

Pan Yun looked up: “But what?”

“But those ships can’t sail to the South China Sea—they’re riddled with sword and knife marks; two even have cannon holes in their hulls.”

Pan Yun tapped the list: “They’re inferior to our Ming warships, but the timber is good. With skilled craftsmen, they can be repaired.”

Chen Wen: “All shipwrights are now conscripted by the court—either in Quanzhou or sent to Suzhou and Tianjin. Since the imperial decree lifted maritime restrictions, they haven’t seen their families—how could they take private jobs?”

Pan Yun smiled: “I won’t seek them. I’ll seek craftsmen among the people.”

“The people?”

Pan Yun said, “Don’t underestimate common folk. Tell me—since maritime restrictions, how many fishermen flee annually to the South Seas? Where do their ships come from?”

Chen Wen fell silent.

“Without good materials, give them materials—I believe they can build ships equal to state shipyards.”

Chen Wen: “The people are uneven—many aren’t even registered artisans. How can we trust them?”

Pan Yun said, “Not registered as artisans doesn’t mean they aren’t craftsmen. Those registered aren’t necessarily skilled.”

Pan Yun noted the list and gave Chen Wen two addresses: “If you need me, send letters to these two addresses—one will always reach me.”

Chen Wen eagerly agreed.

Pan Yun said, “Japan’s ambitions remain unextinguished—remain vigilant, train your troops diligently. Once maritime trade flourishes, you’ll be needed everywhere.”

Chen Wen agreed.

Pan Yun found Miao Zhen and the other two, who were fortune-telling and treating illnesses on the street, and led them from village to village along the coast.

Searching, searching, they finally reached Da Cen Village, once a pirate stronghold.

Cen Dachuan had joined Chen Wen during the campaign against pirates; many villagers had been labeled as accomplices, but Chen Wen protected them and concealed the truth—only some family members were enrolled in military registers and taken to sea.

More people hid within the village, while others fled straight into the mountains.

Only last year, after news of the imperial court lifting the maritime ban reached them, did they dare emerge from the mountains—and every household pushed their hidden fishing boats into the sea.

When Pan Yun and the other three arrived at Da Cen Village, women and children by the shore were drying woven fishing nets, while elsewhere, men gathered, hammering away at a ship.

Pan Yun stepped forward to look; everyone watched her warily. “Who are you? Where are you from? You look kind of familiar.”

“I think I recognize you too.”

Miao He muttered under his breath: “Little Master, won’t we get beaten if we reveal our identity?”

Pan Yun’s lips moved slightly; her voice was barely audible: “I was disguised back then, and now I’m wearing a Daoist robe—they won’t recognize me.”

Pan Yun looked at Tao Yanbai.

Tao Yanbai, quick-witted, stepped forward at once: “We’re here looking for shipwrights. Seeing you building a boat, we came over to take a look.”

“You? Build ships?” the fishermen asked, turning their gaze away. “What kind of ship do you want? There are many types of fishing boats.”

Tao Yanbai: “We want to build a large vessel—one capable of sailing out to sea to transport goods.”

The fishermen laughed and waved them off: “Go away, go away—we can’t build ships that big. You’ll need to find a shipyard, professional shipwrights.”

Pan Yun smiled and asked: “I have blueprints, and I’ll provide the timber—still, you can’t build it?”