Ōkuji listened to the Japanese men’s account and asked for more details before dismissing them with a wave of his hand. He sat there, studying the map of Beihai spread before him while stroking his chin in thought.
Hearing that Sōka Kotobuki had died at the hands of a beautiful woman, Ōkuji’s mind immediately went to the Prince of Huaiyang’s stunningly beautiful wife. Given that woman’s alertness and archery skills when facing the Western mirror, it wasn’t surprising that Sōka Kotobuki had fallen to her.
However, upon further consideration, he felt his thoughts were absurd. Han Chinese Confucian etiquette was strict, and noble wives had their code of conduct. It was unimaginable for a princess to personally seduce bandits. This was inconceivable to anyone with even a basic understanding of Great Yan customs.
So Ōkuji quickly dismissed the idea.
Ever since the Prince of Huaiyang arrived in Beihai, things had not been going well for Ōkuji. Recently, the prince had been training his navy and patrolling the coast, seemingly planning to attack Ōkuji’s stronghold across the sea.
Ōkuji knew he had to strike first, eliminating the Prince of Huaiyang before they could make their move. To achieve this, knowing both himself and his enemy was crucial.
In truth, Ōkuji’s long-standing presence in Beihai was due to his connections within the Great Yan court.
When Great Yan conquered the northwest, they negotiated with the barbarian tribes and acquired an iron-rich mine. However, the court strictly prohibited the export of iron ore. To profit from this, a smuggling route was necessary. Ōkuji’s numerous fleets provided a channel for corrupt Great Yan officials to make money.
Now, lacking information about Cui Xingzhou, Ōkuji called his capable subordinate, Inooka, instructing him to lead a team to make contact with their informants and gather intelligence on the Prince of Huaiyang.
Inooka, fluent in the Great Yan official language, disguised himself as a Yan citizen and infiltrated the capital. Besides discussing recent iron ore business, he was tasked with investigating Cui Xingzhou, who had been disrupting the peace in Beihai.
At a teahouse, Inooka soon met with his contact – none other than Shi Wen, the steward of the Shi household.
When Cui Xingzhou conquered the northwest, he reaped the benefits of others’ efforts. At that time, both Prince Sui and the Shi family had their eyes on this prize, competing openly and covertly to claim the iron mines. Unfortunately for Prince Sui, Cui Xingzhou uncovered evidence of his private iron ore sales.
In the end, Shi Yikuan outmaneuvered them both, placing his confidants in the northwest to manage the iron mines.
To maximize profits, Shi Yikuan turned to smuggling iron weapons and chose Ōkuji in Beihai as his partner, knowing these weapons would ultimately be reforged into arms.
Hadn’t Prince Sui been caught by Cui Xingzhou while operating within Great Yan’s borders? Learning from Prince Sui’s mistakes, Shi Yikuan decided to sell his iron ore further afield, to the East and South Seas. With vast oceans separating the buying countries from Great Yan, he could keep his secret money-making operation well hidden.
However, Shi Yikuan never anticipated that Ōkuji, once a mere thug from the East, would prove to be so ambitious. Profiting from the smuggling trade, Ōkuji recruited soldiers and established a foothold in Beihai, constantly probing inland to carve out a piece of Beihai for himself.
Ōkuji had previously expressed his intentions to Shi Yikuan: the East was too small, and his people yearned to live on the mainland. If Minister Shi were willing to help him claim a part of Beihai, it would be ideal.
After all, Beihai was of little value to Great Yan, far from being a blessed land.
Shi Yikuan was surprised by Ōkuji’s ambitious plans. He wanted to back out but found it difficult to cut ties with his long-time business partner.
However, Ōkuji’s conflict with Cui Xingzhou presented Shi Yikuan with a rare opportunity.
With Prince Sui’s downfall, Emperor Liu Yu’s power had consolidated. This wasn’t particularly good news for Shi Yikuan.
A stronger imperial authority meant it would be harder to be a minister.
Moreover, Cui Xingzhou was not his ally. Recalling how Cui had rejected his youngest daughter’s marriage proposal and severely damaged his face, Shi Yikuan felt a surge of resentment.
But now, with Cui Xingzhou in Beihai to eliminate the pirate threat and directly confront Ōkuji, Shi Yikuan stood to benefit regardless of who perished!
In Shi Yikuan’s view, if he had to prioritize, he’d prefer Cui Xingzhou to die first.
After all, if the Prince of Huaiyang’s power grew too much, it would become increasingly difficult to bring him down.
As for Ōkuji, he merely coveted Beihai. Letting him succeed wasn’t an urgent matter…
With this plan in mind, Shi Yikuan organized the military intelligence he had gathered on the Prince of Huaiyang and passed it on to Ōkuji. He intended to employ the same strategy he had used when watching Cui Xingzhou clash with Prince Sui – sit back and watch the snipe and the clam fight while the fisherman reaps the benefit.
When the intelligence about Cui Xingzhou reached Ōkuji’s hands, he skimmed through it quickly, but paused at the section about the Prince of Huaiyang’s wife, Lady Liu:
“Liu Miantang, daughter of a criminal official, rumored to have been a bandit leader in Yangshan. She allegedly had a private relationship with the current emperor and used the alias Lu Wen. Her cunning is said to match that of the Prince of Huaiyang.”
Ōkuji grew increasingly alarmed as he read, hardly believing his eyes. How could such a delicate woman possibly be… a bandit?
Meanwhile, in Beihai, following Cui Xingzhou’s proactive encounter with his troops in villages frequently ravaged by the Japanese, the seas had become considerably calmer.
If not for the Japanese taking advantage of their favorable position on an offshore island, coupled with the recent strong winds and waves unfavorable for surprise attacks, Cui Xingzhou might have launched a full-scale assault on Pirate Island.
However, Cui Xingzhou knew that naval battles were highly unpredictable. The Japanese, having lived at sea for years, were well-versed in naval warfare. Most importantly, their ships were covered in spikes, making them difficult to board, and they were incredibly agile.
In contrast, Great Yan’s warships were extremely cumbersome. In a direct naval encounter with the Japanese, they would likely be at a significant disadvantage.
So while the Japanese temporarily refrained from coastal harassment, the Great Yan military urgently needed to build better ships. Only by reclaiming Pirate Island could the threat to Beihai be eliminated.
To this end, Cui Xingzhou paid handsomely to hire several craftsmen from Nanyang to modify Beihai’s warships.
In the blink of an eye, several months had passed since the Prince of Huaiyang arrived in Beihai. During this time, he had launched attacks in various locations, dealing heavy blows to the Japanese pirates, who hadn’t dared to come ashore to plunder for some time. The Marquis of Zhennan had also been working tirelessly to aid the people, greatly improving the public’s perception of the Prince of Huaiyang and the Zhenzhou army. Local young men were now eagerly enlisting in the army.
With the warship blueprints finally completed, the Prince of Huaiyang immediately began preparations for ship construction while training the navy. He spent most of his time at the naval camp, his skin darkening from the sun.
Every day, Miantang prepared Cui Xingzhou’s favorite dishes, packing them in a large food box and taking a carriage to the naval camp to deliver his meals.
On this particular day, a thick fog had settled over the sea, obscuring everything in sight.
In the distance came the creaking sound of oars pushing through water. As the noise grew louder, a small boat gradually emerged from the dense fog, revealing the shadowy figures of several people dressed in local Beihai attire. After a while, the boat reached a secluded, uninhabited spot and docked. Several men disembarked, led by none other than Ōkuji.
The Japanese stronghold on the small island was easy to defend but difficult to attack. It was also barren, with most daily necessities obtained through plunder. Due to the Prince of Huaiyang’s strikes, the Japanese hadn’t been able to come ashore for some time. Their resources were dwindling, and they would soon run out of food.
Ōkuji, always daring, had calculated the weather conditions and taken advantage of the heavy fog. He led a few subordinates ashore, disguised as merchants, to purchase some food and gather intelligence.
After disembarking, Ōkuji, in disguise, first led his men to the naval camp. They chose a hidden spot to carefully observe the camp’s layout and the navy troops training inside.
A few days earlier, a Great Yan spy had specifically informed him that the Prince of Huaiyang had begun building warships. Unfortunately, the ships were being constructed in secrecy within the camp, and he couldn’t catch a glimpse of them despite watching for a long time.
However, they couldn’t risk moving any closer.
At that moment, a carriage arrived at the camp entrance. The curtain was lifted, and a stunningly beautiful woman gracefully alighted, followed by a maid carrying a food box.
Due to the recent continuous rainfall in Cangwu County, Miantang wasn’t wearing silk shoes. Instead, she had taken off her shoes and socks and was wearing wooden clogs suitable for walking on muddy ground. Her dress was in the popular Beihai style, with a thin skirt that revealed her ankles, short sleeves, and a low neckline, perfect for the cool weather and accentuating her slender figure.
Ōkuji’s heart raced with excitement. Although he was too far away to see the woman’s face clearly, he guessed from her graceful bearing that she must be the Princess of Huaiyang who had shot him with an arrow and left such a lasting impression.
He looked up at the sun, carefully raised his Western mirror to avoid reflecting light, and examined her closely. Indeed, it was Liu Miantang, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time. Her cloud-like hair was piled high, revealing her slender white neck, and her every movement exuded elegance.
Today, the woman seemed even more enchanting than before, making his heart pound uncontrollably.
Coincidentally, the sole survivor of Sōka Kotobuki’s incident was with him. Ōkuji handed the mirror to this man, asking if he recognized the woman.
The Japanese man took one look and put down the mirror, his face pale. He told Ōkuji, “It’s her… This woman personally beheaded Leader Sōka.”
Although Ōkuji had suspected as much earlier, hearing his subordinate confirm it still made his heart skip a beat.
It was hard to imagine how those delicate hands that had once taken his pulse could wield a sword and behead a man…
Unaware of being observed, Miantang held her sister Cui Fu’s hand and said, “Sister, be careful walking. It’s even muddier inside the shipyard. Mind you don’t slip.”
Cui Fu had been vomiting frequently in recent days. After Zhao Quan checked her pulse, it was discovered that she was two months pregnant.
Li Guangcai was overjoyed at the news, almost confining Cui Fu to bed to prevent any accidents.
However, like the Prince of Huaiyang, he had been away from home for several days, supervising the warship construction. So this time, Cui Fu accompanied Liu Miantang to bring some food to their husbands.
Zhao Quan, acting as their protector, followed along, fanning himself with one hand while holding an oil-paper umbrella for the two ladies with the other.