Chapter 408: Arrival in America

The fleet departed New City Port in Australia, and it has been exactly twenty days.

Zhu Yong stood on the prow of the "Prince Wu" vessel, looking out at the boundless sea ahead.

The water's color shifted from light blue to deep blue, then from deep blue to ink blue.

Zhu Yong thought of ending this battle soon, then returning to Yingtian; his third child had just been born, and he hadn't even held the baby much.

The sun rose in the east and set in the west, day after day; aside from the water, it was still just water.

Behind them, the smokestack belched thick black smoke, and the steam engine's roar never ceased.

One hundred twenty steamships covered the entire sea surface, their flags on the masts fluttering in the sea breeze.

Zhu Gang emerged from the cabin, his complexion a bit pale.

He had spent a few years in the East, believing he was accustomed to the ocean's wind and waves, yet this voyage still gave him a hard time.

"Second Prince, how much farther…" he said, walking to Zhu Yong's side, gripping the rail and taking a deep breath.

"Almost there; in about ten more days we'll see land," Zhu Yong said, glancing at his younger brother.

Zhu Gang nodded and said nothing further.

In those years in the East, his temper had changed a lot; he was no longer the restless person he once was, and his speech had become steadier.

Yet the rebellious streak in his bones remained, only now he had learned to conceal it.

Zhu Di came up from behind, holding a sea chart in his hand.

He had spent a few years in the Western Regions, sun‑tanned dark, but his spirit was strong, and his eyes shone like blades.

"Second Prince, at our current speed, in twelve more days we'll reach the western coast of America; the Ministry of Works says there are several natural good harbors there that can serve as supply points."

Zhu Yong took the chart, glanced at it, and nodded.

America, that continent he had seen and heard about countless times in books and on television in his previous life, but he had never seen it with his own eyes.

He also knew of the slaughter the Europeans had wrought upon America; although his current mission was similar, he was far better than those people and would never resort to plague.

In this life, he would set foot on that land himself.

Zhu Shuang stepped out of the cabin, carrying a bowl of hot tea.

He had spent five years in Australia, tanned darker than Zhu Gang, but had become much more composed; his gait was neither hurried nor slow, and his speech was clear and orderly.

"Second Prince, have some tea; the sea wind is strong, don't catch a chill."

Zhu Yong took the tea bowl and took a sip.

"Lao San, have the matters in Australia been fully settled?"

"All settled; we left twenty thousand troops at New City, and Brother Mu Ying watches over the South Sea, so nothing major can happen," Zhu Shuang said calmly.

Zhu Yong nodded and asked no further.

Zhu Shuang handled the affairs; now he felt at ease.

The four brothers stood on the bow, each lost in thought.

Zhu Gang thought of the East, Zhu Di of the Western Regions, Zhu Shuang of Australia, and Zhu Yong of Europe.

Four brothers, four directions, four ships, yet all on the same path.

"Father!" a voice came from behind—Zhu Qiongjiong.

The twelve‑year‑old boy emerged from the cabin, dressed in a half‑worn battle outfit, a short sword at his waist, and clutching the Wolf Fang Club that never left his side.

He walked to his father's side, perched on the rail, staring at the distant water.

"Father, how much longer until we arrive?"

"Almost there, about ten days."

Zhu Qiongjiong nodded and asked, "Those French machines really live in latrines?"

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched into a slight smile.

The child had been babbling about this ever since boarding, for twenty days, and still hadn't had enough.

"Roughly, they never bathe; they wash only three times in a lifetime, some not even three, their bodies reek, lice grow in their hair, and their teeth turn yellow like corn."

Zhu Qiongjiong grinned, "Then wouldn't we be suffocated to death?"

Zhu Yong said nothing in response.

He recalled a joke he had seen online in his previous life.

In medieval European cities, streets were littered with excrement and trash, and nobles invented high heels so their skirts wouldn't get soiled.

Perfume was also invented then, not for fragrance but to mask one's own odor.

Thinking of it now, it truly was a regrettable chapter of history.

But it's fine; Great Ming has arrived, and these filthy, chaotic places ought to be properly cleaned up.

"Second Prince, what are you laughing at?" Zhu Gang asked beside him.

Zhu Yong shook his head and said, "Nothing, just thinking that when we reach Europe, we should first boil a few pots of hot water to get those French machines clean before we speak."

Zhu Gang was stunned for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.

Zhu Di also laughed, and Zhu Shuang laughed as well.

The brothers' laughter drifted across the sea, carrying far.

Twelve days later, the fleet arrived at the western coast of America.

From afar the coastline came into view, verdant and brimming with life.

A group of people stood on the dock; they were sent by the Ministry of Works and had built a supply point here.

Leading them was an official in his early forties, surnamed Qian, a senior officer of the Ministry of Works.

He knelt on the dock with his men, trembling all over.

"I, your servant, present myself to Prince Wu, to Prince Qin, to Prince Jin, to Prince Yan!"

Zhu Yong waved his hand, signaling him to rise.

Chief Qian, how's the situation here?

Chief Qian got up, speaking cautiously: "Your Highness, everything here is fine; we have built a pier and a warehouse, and also cleared several plots, planting some vegetables and grain."

At first the local natives were somewhat hostile, but later I had people send them some Cotton Cloth and grain, and they became obedient.

Zhu Yong nodded.

He had read about the natives of America in books in his previous life: the Maya, the Aztecs, the Incas, each with their own civilization.

But in this era, their technology is still relatively primitive; they don't even have iron tools.

Those natives, have they caused any trouble?

"No, no, I have people watching them; they don't dare," Chief Qian hurriedly said.

Zhu Yong said no more and walked toward the camp with a few younger brothers.

The camp wasn't large, but it was kept clean.

A row of wooden huts, a warehouse, a well, and several vegetable plots.

The vegetable plots grew beans, pumpkins, and corn, and they looked good.

Zhu Qiongjiong squatted at the edge of the plot, staring at the corn with eyes wide open.

"Dad, this corn is even larger than Great Ming's."

Zhu Yong glanced at it; indeed, the American corn variety yields more than the native Great Ming crop.

He turned back, ordering someone to gather some seeds and bring them back for Sixth Prince to study.

They rested in the camp for two days, replenishing fresh water and food, and the fleet continued eastward.

After passing the western coast of America, they entered the Atlantic Ocean.

The land of America now has a supply point; from now on they can simply bring troops here to occupy it, since the army he now leads is destined to attack Europe, and this territory can later be claimed by sending a letter to have his own forces occupy it.

The natives here will also be incorporated into Great Ming.

The color of the sea changed again, from ink‑blue to deep blue, and from deep blue to light blue.

The wind and waves on the sea grew stronger; several small boats were tossed violently, and the soldiers vomited profusely.

Zhu Gang got seasick again, leaning on the rail and vomiting until his face turned pale.

Even after so many voyages, he still gets motion sickness; after all, his fief is in East Japan, and every time he returns to the capital he has to travel by ship.

Zhu Di stood beside him and handed him a Water Bag.

"Fourth Brother, have a sip of water."

Zhu Gang took it, rinsed his mouth, and vomited again.

"Damn it, why is this sea so vast," he muttered angrily.