Cursed Forbidden Seas and Mountains
In the twenty-eighth year of the Zhizheng era, the Emperor ascended the throne and issued a decree: No one may set sail! No one may set sail! No one may set sail! In the fourth year of Xiaokang, the spectral coffin of the Turbid River leapt against the current at Dragon Gate, taking with it all the corpse fishers of the Turbid River. In the eighth year of Xuande, the treasure fleet returned to Liujia Port, but not a single soul remained onboard... Leafing through the annals of history, the waterways of the world and the vast ocean to the east always evoke fear and awe between the lines. Fortunately, in the first year of the Han era, the celestial aura descended and forged a pact with humankind, establishing the Three Officials Alliance. With the Sovereign of the Realm, the True Dragon Emperor, as its highest authority, the worship of the Heavenly, Earthly, and Water Officials became the orthodox rites, forming a divine bureaucratic system that encompassed every sect and guild, both internal and external: mountain-walkers and water-gatherers, fire-leaders and tomb-raiders, sheep-herders and monkey-tamers, craftsmen wielding blades, gold-tipped orchids... all manner of professions. Thus, for a millennium, the Three Officials presided over each year, casting spells to forbid the mountains and seas. Wang Cheng arrived in this world bearing a Four Seas Treasure Coin, only to open his eyes and find himself bound to a royal vessel about to be sacrificed. To his astonishment, as the orphaned heir of the East Sea King, the leader of the Maritime Alliance, he had already stepped into the whirlwind of a thousand-year upheaval spanning the East Sea, the Southern Seas, and the entire world. (The author’s previous works include the acclaimed "Extraordinary Age of Sail," the masterpiece "Fruit of the Dao of Killing," and the widely celebrated "Pirate Kingship"—a guarantee of quality.)
Cursed Forbidden Seas and Mountains
Great Zhao, Minzhou Prefecture, the lower reaches of the Jiulong River.
The river glimmered with the last light of dusk, its surface reflecting the blood-red remnants of the setting sun.
A deep, sonorous horn sounded.
At a riverside ferry, a throng had gathered, so dense it stretched as far as the eye could see. The blasts of ritual conch shells echoed over the water, while the thick blue smoke from burning incense and candles shrouded half the river.
“The king’s barge departs! The sea sacrifice begins! Escort the Lord and the Heir on their journey through the River of the Dead!”
Suddenly, an exuberant cry jolted Wang Cheng from his stupor.
He slowly opened his eyes, only to find himself seated on a grand, dragon-painted barge, resplendent in its magnificence.
Three great masts, fitted with rigid sails, caught the wind, propelling the ship down the wide, endless river.
As he drifted farther from the shore, the tumult of voices—tinged with a strange sense of relief—receded into the distance.
Wang Cheng had no idea what had happened to him. Disoriented, he glanced around:
“Didn't I drown after falling into the sea while delivering customs paperwork? Where is this? And what does it mean to ‘send off the king’s barge’?”
No one answered him on the vast expanse of the river.
The ship was deathly silent; evidently, he was the only living soul aboard.
Laboriously, he raised his head and saw that the ship bore three towering masts, each flying a colorful banner inscribed with: “Imperial Inspector b
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