The South China Sea is dotted with countless islands, big and small, scattered like stars. If you set out southeast from Putian, you’ll soon reach the famous Treasure Island—Taiwan. Back in the Southern Song, folks from the heartland barely knew Taiwan; it was lumped together under the vague idea of "Ryukyu"—considered a wild, uncivilized place, home to outsiders. But in this timeline, Zhao Song’s relationship with history is a bit quirky. Thanks to booming fisheries, trade, and shipping, all the islands of the South China Sea have landed squarely in Zhao Song’s sights.
Just over a hundred kilometers southeast of Putian sits a primordial island.
This island is basically a mountain rising out of the sea, with a natural, hidden harbor tucked into its hollow. The locals call it Lost Vessel Island. At first, it was just a spot for fishermen to dodge storms and cast their nets. But thanks to its prime location, pirates soon made it their headquarters. With Lost Vessel Island as their base, the pirate gangs grew bolder, raiding merchant ships from all over Southeast Asia and making life miserable for coastal folks.
But now, atop the island’s peak, stands a middle-aged scholar with his hands clasped behind his back. He looks no older than forty, dressed in the plain garb of a bookish type, but the air of authority around him is almost tangible. The sea breeze tosses his robe, and his narrow eyes half-open, half-closed, deep and unreadable. He surveys the horizon from the summit, as if he could pierce through the endless waves with a single glance.
With steps so light they’re nearly silent, a sharp-looking scholar climbs to the summit. It’s the Dean of Wenchang, who made an appearance back in Xiangyang. He stops a step behind the middle-aged man—just enough to show respect and keep his place. Even though he’s a master in his own right, he wouldn’t dare cross that line. It’s not just etiquette; deep down, the Dean feels genuine awe in the presence of this scholar.
The middle-aged man’s name is Fang Zheng, an honorary scholar of the Dragon Library—Dr. Long Fang. The title is mostly for show, a badge of honor with no real power attached. Dr. Long Fang doesn’t hold any actual office. By rights, he should be a background figure at court, just another face in the crowd. But reality couldn’t be more different: even Jia Sidao, who’s got power to burn, wouldn’t dare mess with this so-called minor scholar.
Dr. Long Fang’s standing has nothing to do with official titles.
He might look forty-something, but in reality, he’s at least eighty years old.
"Look, another boat," Dr. Long Fang says without turning, his tone easy and slow. "These days, you can’t count how many ships have come to these waters. Now even a tiny fishing boat or a handful of wandering martial artists dare set sail, gambling with the heavens for their lives. Greed really does make people lose their minds."
The Dean hears this and squints into the distance. But with sky and sea stretching on forever, there’s nothing to see at a glance. He quietly channels his energy, focusing it into his eyes until they glow with martial power. Only then does he barely catch a glimpse of something far off. He can just about tell there’s something out there on the water, but as for what kind of boat it is or how many people are aboard, that’s anyone’s guess.
The measure of one's skill is seen in the eyes; skill is the true mark of strength.
The Dean of Wenchang bowed his head respectfully, saying, "Teacher, your wisdom truly moves heaven and earth, shaping destiny itself. Out here on the vast ocean, there's nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. This mission will surely crush the traitors and wipe them out. However, I have one thing I don't understand, and I beg your indulgence. You ordered me to spread the rumor about the 'Mystic Isle opportunity.' At first, I thought it was just a trick, a mere rumor. But the more I investigated, the more complicated it became, and now I can't tell what's true or false. Teacher, your knowledge is as deep as the heavens. Could you enlighten me?"
Dr. Long Fang didn't seem surprised by the question. He nodded calmly and replied, "There are indeed ancient records about it."
"Wait, what?" The Dean was stunned. He thought he was sowing rat poison, but it turned out he'd scattered gold fertilizer instead. Now he was completely confused.
Dr. Long Fang remained unfazed: "If you believe everything you read, you might as well not read at all. How could we forget the words of the sages? (Mencius, also called the Sub-Sage, is one of the Four Sages of Confucianism.) The ancient records exist, but those who wrote them never saw it with their own eyes, so exaggerations are nothing special. Besides, with all you esteemed officials and scholars present, does it really matter if it's true or not? If it's fake, we follow the plan anyway. If it's real and we gain some fortune, all the better. If Heaven offers it, we accept gladly; if not, there's no need to fret."
Dr. Long Fang sounded so open-minded, but the Dean couldn't shake a strange feeling. After a moment, he realized the source of his discomfort and grew serious: "But if the ancient texts are true, and the Mystic Isle is about to appear, it could happen at any time. And right now, His Majesty just so happens to be in Putian, and today is the day of the Fengshan ceremony. If a tsunami really hit..."
He suddenly couldn't continue. It dawned on him that maybe His Majesty's arrival here wasn't just a coincidence.
The Emperor's whole southern tour, his itinerary and route, was arranged by the officials. And because it involves ceremonies for spirits and gods, Jia Sidao's influence is limited. In the end, the Emperor being here at this time can't be separated from Dr. Long Fang's shadow. Dr. Long Fang must know the ancient records inside out, and since he started the rumor, there's no way he doesn't know the details. So, thinking it over...
The Dean suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
Dr. Long Fang smiled—a tiny, subtle smile, still calm, stern, and timeless. But what he said was shockingly blunt: "If the angry sea stirs up disaster, it's an act of Heaven. If His Majesty is disturbed by such a calamity, that's fate. Remember: The people come first, the nation second, the ruler last."
The Dean was left speechless, his jaw hanging open.
Since the South China Sea coast is often battered by typhoons, houses are built on high ground. Even in flat, low-lying areas, there are seawalls. But then he remembered—the newly built Lady Mother Temple was 'coincidentally' placed on a peninsula jutting deep into the sea, right at the edge. If a tsunami hit that spot, everything would be wiped out.
Now, who would still believe in 'coincidence'? Only a fool.
In that instant, the Dean's mind was torn between duty and doubt. But after a moment, he made his decision. He bowed deeply, "The people come first, the nation second, the ruler last. Teacher, I understand."
Dr. Long Fang said nothing more, just nodded slightly. At that moment, an armored officer rushed to the mountaintop, cupped his fists, and reported, "Sir! All pirates and villagers—old and young—have been captured, a total of six hundred and twenty-four. We've also tallied the supplies and the ships..."
The officer hadn't finished when Dr. Long Fang raised a hand to stop him: "If the meat isn't square, don't eat it; if the mat isn't straight, don't sit on it. As for the pirates and bandits—execute them all. Destroy and burn the ships, leave nothing behind."
"Yes, sir!" The officer turned and left, his armor clanking. He didn't care about those pirate ships at all—his own side was way too strong to bother with such rabble. Looking down from the peak, the officer was full of pride. In the hidden bay below, there were eighteen massive Dragonfang warships, bobbing on the waves like sea monsters. The creaking of the wooden hulls sounded just like the monsters breathing.
Each ship was armed with Huihui cannons—seriously powerful stuff. Plus, there were eighteen Confucian scholars commanding from the ships, all top-tier experts. Over four thousand soldiers stood in perfect formation, disciplined and ready. With all this, who needs to recruit those ragtag pirates?
Kill them all—pirates or fishermen, leave none alive!
Let loose your wild side—make this a savage celebration to kick off the campaign!
Up on the mountaintop, Dr. Long Fang suddenly looked up at the sky. He frowned slightly and said, "The wind has stopped."
Meanwhile, under the blue sky and over the emerald sea, a fast boat sped along smoothly.
With two splashes, Howard Hopeless and Duke Simon Duan burst out of the water and landed on the deck. As soon as they got on board, they checked what each was holding, then looked at their own catch, and finally shouted in unison, "Mine's bigger!" "Nonsense, mine's bigger!" "You're the one talking nonsense—don't try to argue, mine's clearly bigger!"
Don't get the wrong idea—they'd gone fishing underwater. Sent off to do grunt work, but these two had to turn everything into a contest, even fishing. Both were stuck just short of breaking through, their internal energy about the same. So they held their breath, dove down, and tried to see who could catch the bigger fish.
"Mine's two feet three inches!" "Mine's three and a half!" "Yours just has a long mouth—how does that count?" "Everything counts, even the hair!"
They were still bickering when a huge shadow approached the surface. As they tensed up, there was a thunderous crash—a giant whale leaped out of the water, soaring skyward. Everyone on board who'd never seen a whale before was stunned. Every mouth hung open as they watched the nearly twenty-meter-long behemoth arc through the air, blast out a massive spout, then crash back into the sea.
Splash! Scalding water droplets rained down like a downpour, soaking Howard and Simon in pure whale breath. With a smack, the giant tail hit the sea, sending waves rolling and the little boat rocking wildly. Maggie Monroe stomped her foot, and with a thud, steadied the boat.
"Sea... sea monster! It's a sea monster!" Howard Hopeless drew his sword with a clang, on high alert.
"Good grief, creatures like this really exist? Is it some kind of spirit beast under the Sea Dragon King?" Duke Simon Duan had lost all royal composure.
Faced with Earth's biggest beast—tens of tons, easy—the two had zero confidence.
Soon enough, the giant whale surfaced again, charging over like a moving island. Howard and Simon were at a loss when they noticed someone sitting on its head—wait, that dazzling hair was unmistakable...
"Hey—!" Yang Qi waved from afar. "Maggie, Joan, I found something awesome!" She patted the whale's head and pointed at the boat. The whale actually understood, flicked its tail, sent waves rolling, and swam right up to cruise alongside the fast boat.
The whale swam up, its massive body casting a shadow over the boat. The crew stared in awe as Yang Qi sat atop its head, grinning ear to ear.