Chapter 510: Land

Zhu Ji Xi fishes at the stern every day.

He got a fishing rod and sat on the stern deck, sitting for half a day at a time.

He caught only a few fish, but he claimed that fishing cures seasickness; as he fishes, the nausea disappears, though he isn't sure if it's true or false.

Li Jinglong reads in the cabin every day.

He brought a chest of books: military treatises, histories, and several poetry collections.

He is Li Wenzhong's son, raised in Yingtian Fu since childhood, studying more than training, yet his martial skill is not lacking; in the last camp contest he sliced a Wooden Stake in two with a single slash, startling all the generals present.

Zhu Gaoxu is the youngest among them and also the most boisterous.

He suffers the worst seasickness, vomiting for three days and nights until his bile comes up; on the fourth day he suddenly stops, feels revived, and starts running around the ship.

He alternates between climbing the mast to view the scenery, slipping into the cabin to watch Zhu Qiong Jiong training, and racing to the stern to see Zhu Ji Xi fish, never staying idle for a moment.

"Gaoxu, can you settle down for a bit?" Zhu Shangbing's eyes swirled from his antics.

"Can't, I feel uneasy when I'm idle." Zhu Gaoxu squats on the deck, holding a stick and drawing something on the ground.

"What are you drawing?"

"A map—of Africa."

Zhu Shangbing walks over and sees crooked lines marked with place names: Xiu Da, Dan Ji Er, Fei Si.

"How do you know these places?"

"Chi Er said; he showed me a sea chart, and I memorized it." Zhu Gaoxu doesn't even lift his head.

Zhu Shangbing glances at him and says nothing more.

This fifteen‑year‑old boy watches the commotion, knowing exactly what's going on.

The fleet sailed for half a month and passed the Taiwan Strait.

After another five days they crossed the South Sea.

Fewer ships remain on the sea; occasionally a fishing vessel appears, steering far away from the massive fleet.

Zhu Xiongying stands at the bow, holding a sea chart, silently calculating the distance.

At the current speed, another ten days will let them round the Malay Peninsula and enter the Indian Ocean.

After entering the Indian Ocean, twenty more days will bring them to Africa's coastline.

"Elder brother, there's a ship ahead," the lookout on the mast shouts.

Zhu Xiongying lifts his head and looks where the lookout points; silhouettes of several ships appear on the distant sea.

The vessels are small, bearing triangular sails and white‑painted hulls that stand out brightly in the sun.

"It's an Arab merchant ship," Zhu Gaochi steps out of the cabin, holding a telescope for a moment.

"Should we intercept it?" Zhu Shangbing asks.

"No need, let them go." Zhu Xiongying shakes his head.

Their target is Africa, not Arabia.

No need to create unnecessary complications on the way.

The Arab merchant ship evidently spots the massive fleet, panics, turns around, and heads west.

Zhu Xiongying ignores it and continues studying the chart.

The fleet sails another ten days, rounds the Malay Peninsula, and enters the Indian Ocean.

The sea's color shifts from deep blue to ink blue, and the wind and waves grow rougher.

Zhu Gaoxu gets seasick again, leaning over the rail and vomiting profusely.

Zhu Ji Xi stops fishing, crouching in the cabin with a pale complexion.

Even Zhu Shangbing feels uneasy, but he holds it in and does not vomit.

Only Zhu Xiongying, Zhu Gaochi, and Zhu Qiong Jiong are fine.

Zhu Xiongying isn't seasick, Zhu Gaochi isn't either, and Zhu Qiong Jiong is even less; finding the ship's sway insufficient, he ties a rope in the cabin, suspends himself mid‑air and swings back and forth, claiming it's balance training.

"Brother Qiong Jiong, is his brain messed up?" Zhu Gaoxu asks from the rail, weak and breathless.

"Don't talk nonsense." Zhu Xiongying glares at him.

"Then his hanging and swinging—if it's not a brain issue, what is it?"

Zhu Xiongying says nothing.

He also thinks Zhu Qiong Jiong's method is a bit absurd, but he doesn't want to admit it.

The fleet has been on the Indian Ocean for twenty days.

Days at sea are long and monotonous, the same scenery every day: sky merges with sea, sea merges with sky.

Occasionally a few seabirds fly by, and occasionally a few fish leap from the water.

Zhu Xiongying stands at the bow each day, studying Africa's terrain and enemy situation.

He has surveyed the Marlin Dynasty's troop deployments, city distributions, and commander details, gaining a solid grasp.

Zhu Gaochi tallies accounts daily in the cabin: Grain and Fodder, fresh water, ammunition, medicines—each item precise to the unit.

His ledger grows thicker, yet his handwriting remains neat and orderly.

Zhu Qiong Jiong trains martial arts daily in the cabin: lifting iron blocks, doing push‑ups, practicing sword techniques, unwavering as thunder.

His strength grows; the iron blocks increase from 100 jin to 150 jin, then to 200 jin, and he lifts the 200‑jin blocks as if playing.

Zhu Shangbing practices swordsmanship on the deck daily, brandishing a Long Sword with fierce vigor.

His sword style was taught by Zhu Shuang, whose style was taught by Zhu Yong.

Zhu Yong doesn't use a sword; he wields a hammer, yet his knowledge of swords rivals anyone's. Back when he was in Australia, Zhu Shuang wrote asking about sword technique, and Zhu Yong replied with a long letter that explained the essence of the art in crystal‑clear detail.

Zhu Ji Xi starts fishing again.

He switches to a thicker line and larger hook, saying he wants big fish; he catches few fish but lands a sea turtle.

Zhu Gaoxu was lively again, hopping about; after being seasick for half a month, the nausea suddenly ceased, his spirit returned, and he started running around the ship.

This time he stopped drawing maps, switched to practicing sword techniques, and clung to Zhu Shangbing for instruction.

Li Jinglong reads in the cabin every day, and occasionally steps onto the deck for some fresh air.

He doesn't speak much, isn't close to anyone, yet he's not reclusive.

Zhu Xiongying sometimes strikes him up for a chat; he can exchange a few words, then returns to his reading.

Everyone's impression of him is "bookish, like a scholar."

No one knows that he once split a Wooden Stake in two with a single slash.

April 18.

The thin morning mist hadn't yet lifted, and the sea surface was a grayish haze.

Zhu Xiongying stood at the bow, holding a telescope and looking west.

The outline of land appeared in the telescope.

Gray and hazy, it flickered in the morning mist, like a sleeping giant beast lying on the sea.

"Brother, is that land?" Zhu Shangbing crawled out of the cabin, rubbing his eyes.

"It's land..."

Zhu Shangbing leaned in, squinting for a while, saw nothing, lowered his hand, and stopped looking.

Zhu Gaochi stepped out of the cabin, holding a sea chart, glanced at the distant land, then glanced at the chart again.

"It should be the North Africa coastline; Hsuda is right ahead."

Zhu Qiong Jiong crawled out of the cabin, dressed in a dark, sturdy outfit, a short sword at his waist, and a Wolf Fang Club in his hand that never left his side.

The twenty‑one‑year‑old youth was sun‑tanned dark, his arms full of muscle; standing there his back was perfectly straight, and a cold, fierce aura radiated from him.

"Brother, have we arrived?" he asked.

"Arrived..." Zhu Xiongying nodded.

Zhu Qiong Jiong grinned, hoisting the Wolf Fang Club onto his shoulder.