Chapter 51: The Overlord Lifts the Cauldron, Suddenly Ambushed

The next day, the twenty-first of the twelfth lunar month in the thirty-ninth year of Shaozhi’s reign, marked the second day of awaiting the “Firmness in the Depths of Water” omen.

Snowflakes still danced relentlessly over the sea, with no sign of ceasing. Apart from the deep blue ocean, all else was blanketed in silver.

Early that morning, Han Shushu arranged a circular altar aboard the Han Xingfa, using porcelain salvaged from a shipwreck. After bathing and changing clothes, she lit an incense stick—the Celestial Wish—then informed her uncle far away in Yuegang, her spiritual guide “River-Turner” Han Zechang, to begin the formal invocation.

She placed upon the altar the three sacrificial offerings she had long prepared: pork, fish, and chicken. At sea, these three types of offerings were frequently used; incense attendants aboard typically kept a small flock in the hold, slaughtering as needed.

Of course, compared to their Western counterparts who kept sheep in their ship holds, this practice lagged behind by more than a generation—and would likely never catch up. The main reason was the profound sense of shame and morality among the people of the Great Zhao, which put them ahead in other ways.

At such a critical moment, Wang Cheng would not be absent. Today, he neither joined the pilots heading out to sea nor continued examining his unexpected spoils. Though he was eager to return and confirm the intelligence with Axiao, seeking a way to break the deadlock, he was entrusted with this mission and would not begrudge a little time.

With his thirty-some men fully armed, he boarded the Zhang Fushun and stood guard beside the Han Xingfa. Although the seas had been calm lately, now was not the time for carelessness; vigilance was still necessary, especially with so little left to chance.

He hesitated but ultimately did not board the other ship. The Han Xingfa’s crew were all seasoned hands dispatched from Han Zechang’s own vessel; their loyalty was unquestionable, many being hereditary retainers of the Han family. Wang Cheng, after all, was an outsider. He dared not give cause for suspicion; if anything went wrong, it would be difficult to explain himself.

He cast an extra glance at Hou Yong, the reservist known as “Monkey Handler,” who was assisting Han Shushu with the preparations.

“All this time, Zhang Wu and Zhang Wen have been taking turns trailing him, but this ‘Monkey Handler’ has shown no abnormal behavior—besides being hard to read. Maybe I’m just overthinking.”

Still, he did not completely relax and positioned himself where he could intervene most quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed several sizable red fish shadows darting beneath the Han Xingfa, vanishing as quickly as they appeared.

“The auspicious hour has come! The ancestral master returns—!”

Monkey Handler Hou Yong glanced at the solid gold pocket watch in his hand, called out loudly, and presented his young mistress with a purple-lacquered, mother-of-pearl inlaid box adorned with aquatic motifs.

When the box was opened, it revealed the Han family’s ancestral talisman—a relic that radiated a blue-green glow.

Wang Cheng peered curiously in that direction.

Among the thirty-six water division ranks, all who received their investiture drew upon the same celestial energy—the “Golden Toad Vital Breath of Celestial Water,” representing the Water Lord Sovereign.

In theory, the closer the talisman on the altar aligned with the official’s rank, the more effective the ritual. However, by the principle that “money opens all doors,” items like gold, silver, copper coins, and jade scepters served as universal talismans, usable by any division.

Once the celestial energy descended, it would transform according to the season, the rank, and the wording of the petition, manifesting as different investitures for each recipient.

The Han family, with its long lineage, naturally possessed the most fitting relic for a salvager. Inside the box lay a gleaming white phalange, lustrous as jade.

“What is that?!”

Wang Cheng, seeing the bone and its information revealed by his discerning eye, was startled.

A wondrous relic: “Strength to Move Mountains, Dominance Over All—The Conqueror’s Remnant! A treasure of the province…”

No need to read further; the name alone was testament enough.

No Li surpassed in governance, no Wang in power—save Xiang Yu, the Hegemon of Western Chu, the only non-emperor enshrined in the annals as a peerless hero, whose martial might was unmatched through the ages.

Legend held that after Xiang Yu took his own life at Wu River, Han soldiers fought over his remains, with five generals each securing a portion: Wang Yi claimed the head, while Yang Xi, Lü Matong, Lü Sheng, and Yang Wu took limbs and torso. Emperor Gaozu kept his promise, dividing the promised “thousand gold and ten thousand households” among them, making each a marquis. Yang Xi, who seized the thigh, became Marquis of Chiquan—and ancestor of the illustrious Hongnong Yang clan, so renowned that even Emperor Yang Jian of the Sui Dynasty claimed descent.

Such is the true meaning of “clinging to a powerful thigh”—one stroke of fortune blessing descendants for generations. Even a mere phalange, passed down to this day, was a talisman beyond price, second only to the Buddhist relics venerated by great temples.

As for its true power, it was hard to discern at such a distance, but Wang Cheng guessed it likely bestowed strength and prosperity upon its bearer.

With the illustrious Hongnong Yangs as precedent, it was little wonder that “River-Turner” Han Zechang seemed to have five brothers, each presiding over affairs across the land, their influence formidable.

Wang Cheng marveled at the Han family’s good fortune.

Han Shushu had already accepted the Conqueror’s Phalange, placing it squarely upon the altar. She lit incense and bowed, chanting:

“Heaven assists without partiality, the celestial pattern reveals the subtle. No darkness, no hidden matter, no feeling escapes knowledge. Bearing the talisman, divine arms answer the call. My sovereign, exalted in the celestial capital—by decree!”

The blue smoke vanished into the void, building a spirit path. From the depths of the leaden clouds above, a shimmer of crimson glow, guided by Han Shushu’s heart’s light, thundered down and entered her brow.

The girl staggered back a step, resisting the impact.

In an instant, a strand of the “Golden Toad Vital Breath of Celestial Water” descended, weaving together the world’s spiritual faith into a flowing, dragon-script investiture.

The “Firmness in the Depths of Water” omen signified the most unyielding state of water—when the yang energy had not yet arrived, and the east wind was absent, the marshes stood frozen and strong. The spiritual response granted to the official was “Shouldering the Cauldron”!

Relying on their own power to salvage sunken ships, these salvagers were each stronger than the next, owing their might to this very spiritual investiture.

From this day forth, Han Shushu’s mastery of feats like moving mountains and filling the seas would be greatly enhanced; even her war hammer could be replaced with a larger one.

Wang Cheng thought the ritual would conclude without incident—but then, the lookout in the crow’s nest suddenly cried out.

“Bow ahead—there’s a ship approaching!”

He hurriedly raised his brass spyglass, peering into the snowstorm at the approaching ships.

“Five Peaks Banner?! And it’s a main sail warship? The entire Five Peaks Banner fleet numbers in the thousands, but these imported Western-built warships are rare. Which of the Twenty-Four Commanders does this belong to?”

The blizzard had so reduced visibility that, by the time they spotted the warship, it was already within firing range.

No need for Wang Cheng to wonder whether they were friend or foe.

Thunderous booms erupted as a row of orange-red muzzle flashes lit the warship’s broadside, cannon after cannon firing in sequence through the open ports. The blazing shells tore through the snow, hurtling toward them.

Fortunately, these cannons were no more accurate than those used by the sea-phantoms they’d previously encountered. Though their range could reach a kilometer, accuracy was only guaranteed within thirty zhang—about a hundred meters. Beyond that, it was blind bombardment.

The cannonballs sent up massive plumes of seawater but failed to hit the Zhang Fushun, which was positioned on the outer defense.

“Enemy attack—!”

As the alarm bell rang, the crew aboard Zhang Fushun, with Wang Cheng in command, remained calm.

On the Han Xingfa, however, Han Shushu was still undergoing the final stage of spiritual transformation. Her fate was in violent flux; only when her energy turned a vivid crimson would she truly become a seventh-rank official salvager.

Without her leadership, the rest of the crew grew anxious.

“The young lady cannot be disturbed now—everyone, hold your positions! Raise the sails, we’re retreating at once!”

Monkey Handler Hou Yong, the deputy, never left Han Shushu’s side, his monkey always with him. He ordered the crew to steady themselves.

But suddenly, the monkey on his shoulder leapt to the deck and dashed straight toward Han Shushu in the midst of her spiritual transformation.

It snatched the golden circlet from its own head and made as if to place it upon hers.

Hou Yong’s face changed dramatically.

“Monkey Two, what are you doing? Get back here at once!”