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

As dawn breaks, the deepest darkness before daybreak is torn apart by a faint glimmer of light on the eastern horizon.

On the ridge north of Black Shark Island, eight thousand black figures, like ghosts emerging from the ground, silently scaled the ridge.

The horses' hooves, wrapped in thick cloth, made only a dull thud as they stepped on the damp mud.

Liu Jingshuang took the lead, not wearing the cold iron armor, but only a neat plain-colored outfit.

When she reached the highest point of the ridge and looked south, the entire harbor of Black Shark Island unfolded before her like an unsuspecting Sleeping Beauty.

Inside the harbor, nearly twenty warships and supply ships of varying sizes, like a flock of fledglings huddled in a nest, were densely moored beside the simple wooden pier.

On the shore, there were rows of low barracks and kitchens with smoke rising from them.

Ke Zhenchuan's more than two thousand garrison troops were mostly concentrated near the harbor's only outlet to the sea. They had obviously discovered the twelve uninvited guests at the northern entrance of the strait and were frantically building defensive fortifications.

Their attention was entirely focused on the sea.

"General, shall we charge down? Before they can react, one wave can break through their coastal defenses!"

A lieutenant lowered his voice, his tone filled with barely suppressed excitement.

Liu Jingshuang did not answer.

Her gaze swept past the chaotic ships and crowds, landing on the eastern side of the harbor, a secluded area separated from the docks and barracks. There stood a dozen enormous warehouses built of massive stones and timber, with a few soldiers patrolling the entrances.

It is a granary.

She knew very well that what Wei Zhao wanted was not just a victory, but a complete South China Sea base that could be used by Xinwu.

This grain is more valuable than the two thousand heads of Ke Zhenchuan.

"No rush."

Liu Jingshuang finally spoke, her voice as cold as unmelted snow on a mountaintop: "Let them keep busy for a while longer."

She turned and gave a brief order to the messenger behind her: "Send flag signals to inform the people at sea."

A bright red flag was raised high on the ridge, waving three times in succession against the morning breeze at a specific frequency and angle.

Flag signals have complex meanings, but they are also quite clear.

With ships densely packed in the harbor, the oil could be used to its fullest potential.

However, the grain warehouse on the east side must be preserved to prevent the fire from spreading.

I'll handle the land entrance.

Almost simultaneously, at the northern entrance of the strait, at the bow of the flagship "Breaking Waves," Shang Wanqing clearly captured the eerie red hue on the mountain ridge through a monocular telescope.

She put down the binoculars, a cold smile playing on her lips.

Liu Jingshuang was a woman with a more meticulous mind than she had imagined. She had even considered the location of the granary.

"She trusts my accuracy."

Shang Wanqing muttered something to herself, then turned around and waved her hand sharply at the six assault ships that were already waiting behind her.

"Order! Ships one, three, and five, advance on the left flank! Ships two, four, and six, provide support on the right flank! Target: all the sailing logs in the harbor! Burn them!"

Her voice was filled with an almost frantic excitement, like a child who had finally received their beloved toy.

"Remember! Only burn the ships, don't touch the warehouses on the east side! Anyone who misses the mark can come back and jump into the dock as firewood!"

Once the order was given, the six black speedboats, like six arrows released from a bow, instantly broke free of the blockade. Their sails were filled with wind, and they cut fiercely into the harbor entrance from both sides at a tricky angle!

"Enemy attack! It's Shinmu's speedboats! They're attacking from the sea!"

The pirate guards at the entrance to the harbor were instantly thrown into chaos.

They never imagined that while their attention was completely drawn to the massive cavalry force on the ridge, the real killing blow would come from the sea!

But it was too late for them to react.

"Throw!"

The cold command rang out simultaneously on all six speedboats.

The sailors, who were already prepared, vigorously hurled lit oil canisters one by one.

Hundreds of fireballs traced deadly arcs in the dim morning light, passing over the panicked crowd on the shore and striking the huddled, immobile boats with pinpoint accuracy, like hailstones.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The earthenware pot shattered, spilling kerosene, which instantly ignited upon contact with an open flame.

The sails of one ship were lit first, and the flames spread along the tung oil-soaked canvas and ropes, turning the entire ship into a giant torch in the blink of an eye.

Then came the second and the third.

The flames spread rapidly in the narrow harbor, and as ships collided, the fire spread to each other.

Thick black smoke, mixed with the crackling of burning wood and the mournful screams of sailors, shot into the sky, turning the just-dawn sky into an apocalyptic, hazy yellow.

Just as the harbor turned into a sea of ​​fire, on the mountain ridge, Liu Jingshuang slowly drew the sword from her waist.

The blade reflected her cold face in the morning light.

"All troops, dismount and advance!"

The eight thousand cavalrymen did not utter any shouts. They simply dismounted silently, holding the reins in their left hands and long swords or spears in their right, forming a huge and imposing square formation. Step by step, they slowly pressed down from the mountain ridge towards the completely chaotic harbor below.

That wasn't a charge.

It was a silent, suffocating crushing.

The sound of horses' hooves striking the ground was no longer a thunderous roar, but a dull, muffled sound, like the beat of funeral drums.

The dark, imposing lines of troops, like a slowly closing black curtain, carrying the shadow of death, inch by inch, devoured the last psychological defenses of the pirate defenders.

On Ke Zhenchuan's flagship, he personally beheaded two leaders who tried to jump ship and escape, but he still couldn't stop the entire situation from collapsing.

He stood at the bow of the ship, looking at the chain of burning ships in the harbor, and at the garrison on the shore, which was being forced back step by step by the silent infantry and cavalry and was already in complete disarray. He knew that it was all over.

The exit was blocked by Shang Wanqing's speedboat, like several cold-blooded gatekeepers.

Inside the harbor, burning ships collided with each other, blocking all passable waterways.

He was trapped in his own lair, which he had built up over many years, trapped in the fire he himself had started.

He had been fighting water battles for half his life, but he never imagined that he would lose so thoroughly and so humiliatingly in this way.

The sun finally rose completely above the eastern horizon.

Golden sunlight pierced through the thick smoke, illuminating Ke Zhenchuan's ashen face.

He remained silent for a long time, and the adjutant beside him thought he was about to draw his sword and commit suicide.

Then, he slowly turned around, looked at his old subordinates who had followed him for many years and whose faces were now filled with despair, and said something in an unusually hoarse yet terrifyingly calm tone.

"Lower the flag."

The large banner that had just been raised on the flagship, bearing the words "Restore Wei," slowly, bit by bit, fell to the ground under everyone's watchful eyes.

On the sea, Shang Wanqing saw the flag fall. She didn't order anyone to continue setting fires, but instead ordered the fleet to retreat, clearing the harbor exit, as if giving a defeated king the last bit of dignity.

On the hillside, Liu Jingshuang's cavalry formation also stopped, regrouping around the harbor, their swords and spears like a forest, waiting silently.

Ke Zhenchuan stood on the flagship's deck, looking to his left at Liu Jingshuang's black steel forest and to his right at Shang Wanqing's twelve ghostly speedboats.

He did not draw his sword, nor did he look at his subordinates who were weeping bitterly.

He simply straightened his fairly neat general's robe, and then, addressing the people below the ship, issued his final order as "General Who Restores Wei."

"Put down the planks."