A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

The grain ships burned for an entire night.

The news of the burning of the grain ships caused an uproar among the pirate fleet.

Ke Zhenchuan stood on the flagship's deck, looking at the distant flames.

The sea was bathed in a crimson glow, with shimmering light dancing on the waves, as if someone had lit a thousand lamps underwater.

He didn't speak.

The lieutenant behind him had run up three times, but each time he was blocked by raising his hand.

My lips were trembling when I came up for the fourth time.

"General, all three grain ships are destroyed. The backup grain silos have also been ignited by sparks and cannot be extinguished; the fire is only intensifying when it comes into contact with water..."

Ke Zhenchuan remained silent.

He stared at the three black dots on the distant sea that were no longer visible.

The Clippers. The Clippers are even faster than his boat.

Two weeks ago, he dispersed his fleet, dividing it into three groups to threaten the coast, thinking he had the rhythm under control.

Ten days ago, he wrote a letter to Liu Jingshuang, calculating that the food supply for the people on the shore would not last long, and thought he had the lifeline in his hands.

As a result, they even changed their boat.

He knew very well that those three ships were not converted from Xinwu's original warships.

The draft was too shallow, the speed was too fast, and the sail ropes were tied incorrectly.

This is something someone specifically studied by observing his ship and then built to specifically counter him.

Who?

He didn't know the name, but he knew that the person who could modify the boat in ten days was no ordinary craftsman.

The firelight gradually dimmed in the distance. It wasn't extinguished, but rather almost completely burned. From mast to keel, not even ashes remained of the three grain ships.

The lieutenant leaned over again. This time, he didn't wait for Ke Zhenchuan to raise his hand before speaking.

"General, we're out of food. The dry rations on the ship will only last seven days at most, and fresh water is even scarcer. If we keep going like this..."

"I know."

Ke Zhenchuan finally spoke. His voice was soft and easily dispersed by the sea breeze.

He turned around and glanced at the coastline to the southeast.

He had been monitoring that line for three years.

From the first time he led his men to explore the beaches of Mingzhou, to the later thorough investigation of the three prefectures' coastline, he knew better than the local officials on the shore which ports were poorly defended and which villages had roads that allowed them to bypass the inland.

Three years of hard work.

He mentally processed those words, and his mouth tasted bitter.

"Retreat south."

The lieutenant was stunned.

Ke Zhenchuan raised his hand and pointed south: "Go around the Qiongzhou Strait and rest on the islands in the South China Sea."

The lieutenant's face immediately changed: "General, we have no supplies or outposts over there. It's a deserted island, and even finding fresh water is difficult—"

"It's better than waiting to die here."

When Ke Zhenchuan squeezed those words out of his throat, he felt a dryness in his throat.

He wasn't afraid of death.

A man who has spent several years at sea would have gone ashore to farm long ago if he were afraid of dying. What he fears is being humiliated.

Locked out of the harbor for half a month, unable to go ashore, unable to seize food, and even the hearts of the people were bought off by that woman surnamed Liu, bowl after bowl of porridge.

Now even the grain ships have been burned.

A former naval vice admiral of the previous dynasty, reduced to this state, what difference is there between him and a stray dog?

But he couldn't say these things out loud.

More than 10,000 lives were in his hands.

The food is gone, and the water is almost gone too.

If supplies cannot be found within seven days, there's no need to use new weapons; the ship itself will mutini.

"Send word: weigh anchor tonight. All ships that can move should follow; those that cannot, leave them here."

The lieutenant gritted his teeth. "Yes, sir."

The orders were passed down through the ranks, and the entire fleet began to move.

The sails on the mast rose one by one, and the ropes creaked as they were pulled.

Several small boats had their anchor chains rusted and couldn't be pulled up no matter how hard they tried, causing the people on board to curse in frustration.

Ke Zhenchuan ignored it.

If you can leave, then leave; if you can't, then abandon it.

He doesn't have time to feel sorry for those dozen or so small boats right now.

In the latter half of the night, the wind was blowing from the south.

The fleet sailed south with the wind, its mast lights all extinguished, relying solely on the moonlight for navigation.

Ke Zhenchuan stood at the bow of the flagship, his face stiffened by the sea breeze.

He turned back for one last look at the sea to the north.

Three years ago, he came from that direction, with the idea of ​​"separating the southeast" in his heart, feeling that the world was vast and there was always a place for him to stand.

Now he's walking in this direction.

Only one thought remained in my mind—I will come back.

As for when he will come back and how he will come back, he hasn't figured it out yet.

But he knew that as long as he had one boat and ten men, he would not give up.

The previous dynasty is gone. But Ke Zhenchuan is still here.

……

By daybreak, Liu Jingshuang was already standing on the seawall.

She didn't sleep.

She had been waiting for news ever since Shang Wanqing's ship returned.

As dawn broke, a sentry ran over to report that the shadows of ships on the sea were receding southward.

She raised her binoculars.

The densely packed ships in the open sea were indeed moving, heading south-southwest at a moderate speed, but their formation had broken up.

Several small boats that had fallen behind were still circling in place, as if they had been abandoned.

This was even more noticeable near the shore. A dozen or so small boats were stranded near the shoals, some with their anchor chains still dangling in the water, and others with their sails still unfurled.

The captain beside him caught up, his voice brimming with excitement: "General, the pirates have escaped!"

Liu Jingshuang put down her binoculars without laughing.

"They weren't running away. They went to replenish their blood."

The captain's smile, still on his face, froze instantly.

Liu Jingshuang turned around and looked at him, her tone as if she were saying that the weather was nice today.

"Ke Zhenchuan won't scatter after a defeat. He'll find a place to hide, heal his wounds, gather enough food, repair the ships, and then come back. Last time he was scattered, he still managed to gather more than ten thousand men. Do you think he'll come back with fewer next time?"

The captain opened his mouth, but didn't dare to answer.

Liu Jingshuang didn't expect him to answer. She was calculating in her mind.

The grain ships were burned. How many ships did Ke Zhenchuan have left?

The sentry reported that more than seventy ships had headed south. After deducting the old, weak, wounded, and small boats that couldn't keep up, there were probably only fifty or sixty usable ships. Assuming each ship could hold more than a hundred people, the number of ships retreating south was roughly over seven thousand.

Seven thousand people.

It's not a large number, but it's certainly not negligible. These people have been with Ke Zhenchuan at sea for several years; they've all been through the wringer. If they really recover, the southeastern coast will be in turmoil again.

She stood on the seawall for a while, then turned and walked back to the camp.

"Have someone prepare paper and pen."

Back in her tent, Liu Jingshuang sat down and picked up her brush.

She wrote very quickly, her handwriting wasn't pretty, but just like last time, every stroke was solid.

"Ke Zhenchuan led his remaining troops south to the Qiongzhou Strait, numbering about 7,000. After their grain ships were burned, they set sail overnight, abandoning more than ten small boats near the shore, which have already been recovered by personnel."

She paused, twirling the pen between her fingers halfway.

How should I say the following sentence?

Ke Zhenchuan's escape does not mean that the southeast is safe.

This person has roots at sea, respect, and intelligence.

Give him three months to catch his breath, and he will be able to assemble another fleet from the islands in the South China Sea.

She continued writing.

"This man is no ordinary pirate. He was a former deputy naval commander of the previous dynasty, known for his strict discipline and ambition to establish a separatist regime. His southward escape is not a defeat, but a temporary refuge. I request Your Majesty to instruct the navies of the southern prefectures to strengthen coastal defenses, and to increase the number of patrol boats along the Qiongzhou Strait. If he can return once, he can return a second time."

My pen stopped writing here.

She remembered the way Shang Wanqing jumped off the speedboat.

His trouser legs were covered in rust, his fingers were burned by a fire tumbler, his hair was a mess like a bird's nest, and the smell of tung oil on his body could be smelled from three steps away.

But the woman had a smile on her face.

It wasn't a smug smile, but a sense of satisfaction that came from knowing the work was done.

Liu Jingshuang added a line at the end of the letter.

"Furthermore: Shang Wanqing launched a night raid on the pirates' grain ships with three modified fast boats, burning all the enemy's grain with oil, which was a great achievement. It is recommended that she be richly rewarded."

After she finished writing, she looked at it and felt that something was missing.

The words Shang Wanqing said before boarding the ship came to mind again.

"I haven't given birth to a child for Wei Zhao yet, I won't die."

Liu Jingshuang's lips curved slightly.

She picked up her pen and added a small line at the end of the letter.

"I also suggest that Your Majesty take the time to let her conceive. That way, she won't risk her life for military merit again next time."

After writing it, she herself felt that what she said was not very serious.

But after thinking about it, I still didn't cross it out.

Wei Zhao either laughed or cursed upon seeing this.

Either way, it's better than him brooding over military reports in the imperial study.

She dried the letter, folded it, sealed it in an oilcloth, and summoned her personal guards.

"To the capital. Urgent."

The guard took the letter and ran out.

The tent fell silent immediately.

Liu Jingshuang leaned back in her chair, finally relaxing her shoulders that had been tense for more than ten days.