I, Emperor Chongzhen, have extended the life of the Ming Dynasty by five hundred years.

The hold of the treasure ship was hot and humid, with only two oil lamps swaying on the wooden beams.

Dozens of missionaries sat around a pile of goods, while Ferdinand Verbiest sketched a route map on a wooden board with a charcoal pencil.

"Malacca is our first stop!"

Ferdinand Verbiest traced the charcoal lines with his fingertip and said, "To avoid attracting the attention of the Ming court, we split into three groups there: the Portuguese and Spanish took the Macau route, the French and Italians took the Annam route, and the others took the Siam route."

The bearded missionary nodded: "I have an old friend in Macau who runs a silk business; he owes me a favor."

"very good!"

Ferdinand Verbiest drew a circle next to Macau and continued, "We need at least three different identities to cover our tracks: merchant, sailor, and scholar."

"I can pretend to be a wine merchant!"

At this point, a French missionary with a high nose bridge interjected, "My father does indeed own a winery in Bordeaux."

The freckled missionary excitedly raised his hand: "I knew some Siamese merchants when I was in Hangzhou; their headscarves and baggy trousers were so easy to imitate!"

Ferdinand Verbiest noted down the suggestions with satisfaction and continued, "After entering the Ming Dynasty, we must contact the informants left behind by Father Johann Adam Schall von Bell as soon as possible. Manager Zhang, the silk merchant in Guangzhou, Mr. Li, the bookseller in Nanjing…"

As he spoke, his charcoal pencil left black dots on the wooden board.

"Through these Han Chinese, one can get close to local officials and then, in turn, make contact with officials in the capital."

The bearded man asked, "Bribe them? But those Han Chinese have huge appetites, and we don't have that much silver right now..."

Ferdinand Verbiest suddenly revealed a sly smile and said, "Besides silver, we need to prepare enough opium!"

The white-haired priest suddenly coughed violently: "Lord, you are plotting evil!"

The lower deck fell silent instantly. Ferdinand Verbiest took a deep breath, walked to the old priest, and knelt on one knee: "Father Antonio, do you remember the Knights Templar? When they defended their faith with their swords, did they ever hesitate? Now we face far more powerful weapons. They possess technology and knowledge beyond our comprehension, surpassing the swords of the Knights Templar. If we acquire this knowledge, we will become the creators of order. We will be the ones judging the sins of others; no one will be able to judge us!"

The old priest made the sign of the cross with trembling hands, and ultimately said nothing more.

Ferdinand Verbiest returned to the wooden plank and continued, "Regarding the targets for bribery, do any of you have candidates in mind?"

"I know an official from the Ministry of Works who is obsessed with alchemy. Perhaps I can make a deal with him using alchemy."

The freckled missionary suddenly clapped his hands: "That's wonderful! My uncle is an alchemist; I have a few recipes I can give him!"

The crowd continued their discussion, chattering away. Nan Huairen felt a dryness in his throat, grabbed the teacup next to him, poured himself a cup of cold tea, and gulped it down.

"Water! Water!"

At that moment, a terrified scream suddenly came from a corner of the lower deck.

Ferdinand Verbiest waved his hand impatiently: "If you want water, pour it yourself. What are you yelling about..."

"No, water, water!"

"What kind of water..."

Nan Huairen's words came to an abrupt halt. In the flickering light, he saw a thin stream seeping from the gaps in the cargo container, meandering into a shimmering creek on the uneven deck.

"My Holy Mary!"

A French missionary jumped up and discovered that his boots were soaked.

Ferdinand Verbiest threw down his teacup and rushed to the leak. After pushing aside several cargo boxes, he gasped in shock. He saw a crack about two fingers wide running across the deck, and seawater was visibly rushing in.

"Everyone on deck! Notify the sailors!"

"Father Antonio, take everyone upstairs! Juan, Luis, come with me to find something to plug the leak!"

The lower deck erupted into chaos. The old priest, trembling, raised the crucifix and began to pray, while some of the young missionaries jostled for the ladder, while others stood frozen in place. Juan, with his large beard, kicked open a wooden crate beside him and tore several robes into strips.

"It's no use! We need planks and nails!"

Ferdinand Verbiest took off his coat and stuffed it into the crack, but it was immediately washed away.

The seawater quickly rose past my ankles, sending a chill down my spine.

The sailors on deck finally rushed down, and the leader, upon seeing the crack, turned pale: "Damn it! It's the keel joint!"

He turned to his companions and yelled, "Go get the pump! Everyone grab the buckets!"

Missionaries and sailors lined up in three rows to pass water buckets. Two burly sailors frantically cranked the old hand pump, while Ferdinand Verbiest and Juan tried to plug the leak with planks and strips of cloth. However, the seawater surged up more and more, soon reaching their calves.

"This won't do!" Ferdinand Verbiest wiped the seawater from his face and shouted to the sailor's captain, "Do we have tar? Canvas?"

"There's half a barrel of tar in the cargo hold!" the sailor gasped, "but it needs to be heated before we can use it!"

"Go get some more pieces of iron!" Ferdinand Verbiest turned to the old priest who was praying. "Father Antonio, please lead everyone to help scoop water! The Lord needs our hands, not prayers!"

The old priest opened his tearful eyes, silently put away his cross, and joined the line of people passing the water bucket.

The freckled missionary and an Italian found some wooden basins from somewhere and began frantically scooping water out of them.

When the sailors returned carrying steaming barrels of tar, the sea was already knee-deep. Ferdinand Verbiest used iron plates to weigh down the canvas and poured the scalding tar around the cracks. Acrid smoke immediately filled the hold, and several missionaries began to cough.

The sailor shouted, "Hold on! Keep holding on, don't let go!"

Ferdinand Verbiest pressed down hard on the iron plate, the scorching tar burning his palms through the canvas, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure it.

Just when everyone thought the crisis was over, the ship was suddenly lifted up by a giant wave. With a terrifying sound of wood snapping, the crack widened into a huge gash. The scalding tar was instantly dispersed, and Nan Huairen was swept away by the current, barely managing to grab onto a crossbeam to avoid being swept away.

"Abandon ship!" the captain shouted desperately. "All men to deck! Prepare the lifeboats!"

The seawater was already waist-deep, and the cargo containers began to float and collide.

Suddenly, someone cried out in despair, "The lifeboats are broken!"

Ferdinand Verbiest struggled to his feet and then saw Father Antonio sitting in a lifeboat, slowly sinking.

He quickly retrieved another lifeboat, only to discover a large hole in the bottom of the boat.

Suddenly, a terrifying thought popped into his mind.

The cabin was leaking and all the lifeboats were broken. Was it just a coincidence?

He was terrified and slowly turned his head to look at the land.

The night was like a ferocious beast, devouring everything in the world, including this treasure ship.

Seawater was rushing into the ship's hull when, with a deafening roar, the keel broke!

Ferdinand Verbiest roared, "Damn Han Chinese! Damn them! They deserve to die!"