Chapter 406: Brothers' Reunion

The fleet has been away from Yingtian Prefecture for seven days.

Zhu Yong stands at the bow of the "Wu Wang" ship, gazing at the boundless sea ahead.

A salty, briny sea breeze slaps his face, rattling the dark Great Cloak on his back.

Behind him, the smokestack belches thick black smoke, and the steam engine's roar never ceases, like a tireless beast panting.

Five days ago the fleet sailed out of the Yangtze River Estuary into the East Sea.

Three days ago it passed through Wa Country waters, where the outline of the coastline could be seen in the distance.

Now the fleet has entered the deep Pacific Ocean, water on all sides, blue to the point of black, stretching beyond sight.

Fifty thousand troops, divided among 120 steamships, spread majestically across the entire sea.

The flags on the masts flap in the sea wind, red field with a golden dragon, fangs bared, exuding overwhelming grandeur.

"Prince, it's time to eat," Wang Gui steps out of the cabin, carrying a tray with a bowl of rice, a dish of pickles, and two pieces of marinated meat.

Zhu Yong takes the tray, sits beside a wooden crate on the deck, picks up his chopsticks and scoops a mouthful of rice.

The rice is a bit hard, due to the ship's stove being ineffective.

The marinated meat, however, is flavorful and perfectly salty.

"Wang Ge, how many years have you been with me?" he asks while eating.

Wang Gui squats beside him, thinks, and says, "Prince, I have served you since the Hongwu Third Year, seventeen years now."

"Seventeen years, time really flies."

Zhu Yong picks up a piece of marinated meat, chews two bites, swallows, and says, "Back then in General Chang's army, I was just a raw youngster, newly enlisted, and you, Wang Ge, taught me a lot."

Wang Gui grins, "Prince, those two hammers of yours, my subordinates can't help but teach! Prince eats five people's worth in one meal, scaring Lao Zhang of the Firehead Soldier enough to choke."

Zhu Yong's mouth corners lift slightly.

At that time he had just left Fengyang Mountain Village, starving to the point his chest pressed his back, wanting to eat anything he saw.

Thinking back now, those days were hard but simple.

Unlike now, his mind is filled with countless matters, impossible to pause.

"Lao Zhang? Still in Yingtian Prefecture…"

"He is. He left the Firehead Soldier last year, opened a small restaurant south of the city, business is good. Before your campaign, Prince, he asked someone to tell you that when you return victorious, he'll invite you to dine at his place," Wang Gui says with a smile.

Zhu Yong nods, saying nothing more.

After finishing his meal, he hands the bowl and chopsticks to Wang Gui, stands, walks to the ship's rail, and leans on the railing to look out.

The sea surface sparkles, and occasionally a few seabirds swoop by, emitting sharp cries.

Farther away, several steamships are changing formation, shifting from vanguard to two wings, shielding the transport ships in the center.

This is the formation General Chang taught him, usable even at sea.

Vanguard scouts, wings guard, central army holds the rear hall; advance to attack, retreat to defend.

Decades of hard‑won experience, it works at any time.

Footsteps come from behind.

Zhu Yong turns back and sees Zhu QiongJiong emerging from the cabin.

The twelve‑year‑old boy wears a half‑worn sturdy outfit, a short sword at his waist, and carries the Wolf Fang Club that never leaves his side.

He walks to his father's side, leans on the rail, and gazes at the distant water.

"Father, how much longer until Australia…?"

"Almost there, another ten or so days."

Zhu QiongJiong nods and asks, "Father, those French machines, do they really have three heads and six arms?"

Zhu Yong gives his son a glance, his mouth corners lifting slightly.

This kid, ever since boarding the ship, has been babbling about fighting; seven days and still not enough.

"They don't have three heads and six arms; they're just like us—two arms, two legs. But they're filthy, never bathe, their hair is full of lice. When you fight them, keep your distance, don't get infected."

Zhu QiongJiong grins, showing a mouth missing a front tooth.

Zhu Yong looks at his son, suddenly recalling his own twelve‑year‑old self.

Back then he was still in Fengyang Mountain Village, hunting wild boars and chasing rabbits daily, gaunt from hunger, never imagining that one day he would lead a great army to invade Europe.

A person's fate truly cannot be predicted.

"Prince, the Fourth Prince and Fifth Prince's fleets have arrived," the lookout on the mast shouts.

Zhu Yong looks up toward the distance.

To the northwest, two fleets appear on the sea.

The left fleet bears a "Jin" flag, brought by Zhu Gang from the Eastern Sea.

The right fleet bears a "Yan" flag, brought by Zhu Di from the Western Regions.

The two fleets, one ahead of the other, are converging toward here.

Leading Zhu Gang's fleet is a massive ship, its hull painted with a huge "Jin" flag.

Leading Zhu Di's fleet is a slightly smaller vessel, but faster, its steam engine roaring louder than the others.

Zhu Yong watches the two approaching fleets, mentally tallying the forces.

He commands fifty thousand Longxiang Army, Zhu Gang brings ten thousand from the Eastern Sea, Zhu Di brings twenty thousand from the Western Regions, plus Zhu Shuang's thirty thousand from Australia, and Mu Ying's five thousand navy from the South Sea, totaling over one hundred ten thousand troops.

One hundred ten thousand men against the French machines is enough.

But the French machines are only the first stop.

After the French machines, there is Spain, England, France, and the Holy Roman Empire.

With so many European nations, fighting them one after another, less than two hundred thousand troops simply won't suffice.

He withdraws his gaze and turns toward the cabin.

"Father, where are you going?" Zhu Qiong Jiong shouted from behind.

"Write a petition and ask your elder brother to redeploy troops."

Zhu Yong walked into the cabin without turning his head.

The cabin was small: a table, a chair, a bed.

On the table lay a sea chart drawn by Ministry of Works staff based on European merchants' descriptions, marking the locations and approximate territories of European nations.

Frangji lay at the far west, by the sea, a small nation with advanced shipbuilding, expanding outward in recent years. Spain lay beside Frangji, larger and more populous.

Further north was France, further east the Holy Roman Empire, and further north England, separated by the English Channel.

Zhu Yong sat at the table, picked up a pen, and began writing.

"Elder brother, seeing these words feels like seeing you in person. The fleet has entered the deep of the Great Ocean; all goes smoothly. Fourth and fifth brothers' fleets have already joined me, and third brother awaits us in Australia.

Regarding the Frangji, I plan to first strike their stronghold, cut off their retreat, then turn back to deal with the scattered troops. Europe has many nations and vast territories; 110,000 soldiers are insufficient. Please, elder brother, redeploy another 50,000 troops, hand them to Brother Mu Ying, and have him send them to Australia.

As for Tie Mu Er's estate, have Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng keep a close watch, lest any troublemakers arise. Brother Zhu Yong bows.

After finishing, he folded the letter, slipped it into an envelope, and left the cabin.

Wang Gui was still on the deck, speaking with several Imperial Troops.

Seeing Zhu Yong emerge, he hurried forward to greet him.

"Lord Wang."

"Send someone to deliver the letter back to Yingtian Fu, and hand it to the Crown Prince."

Wang Gui took the letter, turned, and left.

Zhu Yong stood on the deck, watching the two fleets drawing nearer.

Zhu Gang's "Jin Wang Hao" was already close enough to see the person standing on the prow.

Zhu Gang, clad in iron armor with a sword at his waist, waved at him.

Zhu Yong also waved.

Zhu Gang's ship came alongside, and a gangplank was set between the two vessels.

Zhu Gang strode over, followed by several Imperial Troops.

He was a bit darker and sturdier than when they last met; the eastern sea wind had weathered him like an old bark.

"Second Prince!" He stepped before Zhu Yong and offered a clasped‑fist salute.

Zhu Yong nodded, glanced him up and down, and said, "You're here, why are you still thin..."

"The food over in the eastern lands is light; I still haven't gotten used to it," Zhu Gang grinned.

Zhu Di's ship also came alongside.

He stepped across the gangplank, dressed in a half‑worn sturdy outfit, a short sword at his waist, moving with a breezy stride.

He had spent several years in the Western Regions, tanned darker than Zhu Gang, yet his spirit was vigorous, his eyes shining like a blade.

"Second Prince..." He clasped his fists.

Zhu Yong looked at the two younger brothers, feeling a sudden surge of emotion.

Back then in Yingtian Fu, Zhu Gang had skipped school to fight crickets, was slapped on the hand by him, and cried with a nose full of snot and tears.

Zhu Di stood nearby, wanting to laugh but not daring to.

In the blink of an eye, they had both grown up: one guarding the eastern lands, the other the Western Regions, each a major figure capable of handling affairs alone.

"Let's go inside to talk..." He turned and headed toward the cabin.

Zhu Gang and Zhu Di followed behind.

The cabin was small; the three sat down, feeling a bit cramped.

Zhu Yong spread the sea chart on the table and pointed to Europe's location.

"Frangji is here, by the sea, a small nation; their fleet sets out from here, rounds Africa, reaches India, then the South Sea, and finally Australia.

This route spans tens of thousands of miles; their ability to travel so far shows their shipbuilding and navigation are not lacking."

Zhu Gang looked at the chart, frowned, and said, "Second Prince, you said we should strike Frangji, but Frangji lies at Europe's far west; to reach them we must go around Africa. How long would that take?"

"No need to go around Africa. From Australia head east, cross the Pacific, then east again to America; from America eastward lies the Atlantic, and beyond the Atlantic is Europe." Zhu Yong's finger traced a line on the chart.