Chapter 284: Great Ming Territory

…

The exploration continued for half a month.

The result drove everyone crazy.

At the foot of that mountain range, within a radius of a hundred li, exposed veins of ore were everywhere.

The copper ore's grade was astonishingly high; any piece you picked was a green, glossy malachite.

Iron ore stretched for dozens of li, and reddish‑brown rock covered the entire hillside.

There was even more coal; the open‑pit coal seams could be mined directly.

There were also tin, lead, and zinc ores… all kinds of associated minerals, everything one could imagine.

"Lord! This is a gift from Heaven!" Zhang Wu shouted, his words incoherent with excitement.

Zhu Yong stood on the hillside, watching the busy craftsmen and captives, while his mind was on something else.

If this mining area were fully developed, its output would suffice Great Ming for several hundred years.

But the prerequisite is having enough manpower.

Over twenty thousand captives sounds like a lot, but spread over such a vast mining zone, it's like a handful of sand tossed into the ocean.

Moreover, these people need food, supervision, and measures to prevent them from escaping or rebelling.

"We need Father to send more people, at least fifty thousand, even a hundred wouldn't be too many," he muttered softly.

However, over at Yingtian Prefecture, the first batch of ore had only just been shipped back, and the second fleet wouldn't arrive until as early as March next year.

In the coming months, he must explore as much as possible, ascertain the ore veins' direction, scale, and grade, mark the locations, and prepare for subsequent large‑scale extraction.

And the natives, too.

More than twenty thousand people, their daily grain consumption alone is an astronomical figure.

The river beside the camp teemed with fish, and the forest had plenty of kangaroos, but for so many, hunting and fishing alone are insufficient.

They must be made to farm for themselves.

Zhu Yong found a few elderly natives and, through a translator, asked whether there were any edible plants on this continent.

The natives pointed to a distant hillside and said there was a grass whose roots were edible, and a tree whose fruit could also be eaten.

Zhu Yong sent people to investigate.

The grass's root is a tuber resembling a yam; once boiled, it's edible and tastes decent.

The tree's fruit is a wild fig, sweet and juicy, beloved by children.

"Send the order down: have the women dig up those tubers and pick those fruits, and dry any surplus for storage."

…

The days passed one by one.

The camp grew larger and more bustling each day.

Every day new ore was extracted and piled beside the camp.

Every day new captives were escorted in to replenish the mining workforce.

Every day new animals were captured and locked into the hastily built animal pens.

Kangaroos, rhea, mole‑rats, various parrots… the pens were nearly full.

Zhu Yong visited the mine each day to check the progress and observe the miners.

The native miners' eyes shifted from fear to numbness.

Only a few occasionally flashed a hint of hatred in their eyes, but they quickly lowered their heads, daring not to stare.

Zhu Yong knew they harbored hatred.

If the roles were reversed, he would also hate.

But he didn't care.

Let them hate; as long as they work, that's enough.

…

The fifteenth year of Hongwu.

New Year's Day.

The sky was still dark when Zhu Yong awoke.

It wasn't because of firecrackers; this cursed place had none.

It was that voice in his head.

"Ding… the fifteenth year of Hongwu sign‑in is now open, would you like to claim the reward?"

He lay on the bed, looking at the tent ceiling, a faint smile curling his lips.

Another year has passed.

"Claim."

"Congratulations, host, you have obtained: a formula for preventing miasma (including herbal recipe, decoction method, and detailed preventive measures)."

Zhu Yong closed his eyes as a flood of information surged in his mind.

Names of various herbs, their proportions, decoction methods, dosage…

Also numerous anti‑miasma measures, such as not drinking raw water, not spending nights in damp places, bathing with water boiled from certain herbs…

He opened his eyes, stared at the tent ceiling, and remained silent for a long while.

Miasma.

This thing is deadly in the south.

In Yunnan, the Two Guangs, Annam and similar regions, miasma runs rampant, killing countless soldiers and civilians each year.

With this formula, at least several hundred thousand lives can be saved.

"Send the order down: everyone assemble, there's an announcement."

……

Half an hour later, over two thousand people stood neatly on the open ground at the center of the camp.

Zhu Yong stood on a hastily built wooden platform, holding a stack of papers in his hand.

"This morning, the White-bearded Old Man gave us something again."

He raised the papers, "The prescription for preventing the miasma starts today; everyone must follow it."

The audience was quiet for a moment, then erupted into cheers.

Miasma.

On this continent, the greatest enemy is not the natives, not the beasts, but the miasma.

The poisonous miasma deep in the dense forests can kill a person within days.

Already dozens of soldiers and craftsmen have died from the miasma.

Now that we have the prescription, many more people will survive.

"Silence," Zhu Yong raised his hand.

The cheers gradually subsided.

"Some of the herbs in the prescription we know, some we don't; from now on, assign specialists to find them, dig them up when found, and dry them for later use."

"The preventive measures: no drinking raw water, no overnight stays in low, damp places, bathe with water boiled with herbs; everyone must remember this. Anyone who dares disobey will be dealt with by military law."

"Yes!"

……

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in the camp became noticeably more relaxed.

With the prescription and the herbs, the threat of the miasma was greatly reduced.

When soldiers patrolled and explored, they also carried extra water boiled with herbs to prevent poisoning.

Zhu Yong still visited the mines each day, but also took time to look at the animals.

The kangaroos had become accustomed to life in the pens, lounging lazily each day, eating when fed, sleeping when not.

The rhea remained nervous; anyone approaching caused it to dash around the pen.

The needle mole curled into a ball all day, motionless.

The parrots, however, thrived, chattering nonstop each day, and had even learned a few lines of Great Ming official speech.

"Meal time!"

"Hello!"

"Prince!"

Every time Zhu Yong passed by, he couldn't help but smile.

……

In late February, the first batch of ore was loaded onto ships.

A total of fifty ships carried eight million jin of high-purity copper ore, along with large samples of iron ore and coal.

Zhang Wu stood on the dock, his face beaming, and said, "Prince, how many years will this shipment of ore last for the Ministry of Works?"

Zhu Yong looked at the ships and was silent for a moment.

"Zhang Wu, you take the fleet back,"

Zhang Wu was startled and asked, "Prince, aren't you going back?"

Zhu Yong shook his head, "There are still matters unfinished here; you go back first to report, tell His Majesty that Australia's mines are countless, and ask him to send at least fifty thousand more people."

"Fifty thousand people?" Zhang Wu inhaled a cold breath.

"Yes, fifty thousand; even a hundred thousand wouldn't be too many. This region is vast, with too many good resources; twenty thousand people are simply insufficient. Great Ming intends to incorporate this territory into Great Ming's lands,"

Zhu Yong looked toward the distant continent and said.

Zhang Wu was silent for a moment, then nodded heavily and said, "Understood, commander."

"Also bring these animals—the kangaroos, rhea, needle mole, parrots—back for His Majesty and the Crown Prince to see. Especially the parrots that can speak official language; His Majesty will surely like them," Zhu Yong said, pointing at the animal pens being loaded onto the ships.

Zhang Wu smiled, "Yes, I will certainly bring them,"

Zhu Yong said again, "Also select a thousand obedient captives to accompany the fleet back, so His Majesty can see what the Australian natives look like."

"Yes!"

February 23, early morning.

Fifty steamships slowly left the coast, disappearing into the vast ocean.

Zhu Yong stood on the beach, watching the fleet sail away.

Behind him, over ten thousand captives and more than two thousand soldiers and craftsmen stood, waiting quietly.

"Let's go, continue northward,"

He turned and strode forward.

A deep trail of footprints was left on the sand.

In the distance, the mountains of the Australian continent were faintly visible in the morning light.

There were more mines, more natives, more unknowns waiting for him there.

The wind blew, bringing the salty scent of seawater and the distant aroma of eucalyptus.

Zhu Yong inhaled deeply, a slight smile curling his lips.

He has not yet traversed even half of this continent.