The storm had passed, leaving behind a battered but still floating vessel. The once-violent waves had calmed into rhythmic swells, and the morning sun peeked over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow on the damp deck. Though the sea breeze carried the familiar scent of salt, the lingering stench of blood, sweat, and damp wood served as a stark reminder of the previous night''s chaos.


    Zhao Ming stepped onto the deck, stretching his sore muscles as he took in the state of the ship. The sails were torn in multiple places, the ropes frayed and barely holding together. Some of the railing had been damaged, and there were signs of cracks along the mast. Yet, despite the damage, the ship had endured.


    The crew moved with sluggish determination, their exhaustion evident in the way they dragged their feet and rubbed tired eyes. Some men slumped against the railing, gulping down fresh morning air as if cleansing themselves of the previous night’s terror. Others were already working to secure the sails, cutting away torn sections and reinforcing knots.


    A middle-aged sailor, his face weathered with experience, approached Zhao Ming. His uniform marked him as one of the senior deckhands.


    "Brother Zhao, we did a full check of the ship at first light," the man reported, his voice rough but steady. "The damage is manageable, though we’ll need proper repairs once we reach Beihai. The sails took the worst of it, and we lost some supplies when the storm hit. But the ship will hold."


    Zhao Ming nodded, his expression calm but serious. "Good work. How’s the crew holding up?"


    The sailor exhaled, glancing at his exhausted men. "Tired, but relieved. No one''s slacking off—everyone knows we’re not out of danger yet. With the captain still unconscious, we’ve been relying on the more experienced men to keep things running."


    Zhao Ming crossed his arms, deep in thought. "Who’s stepping up to lead?"


    Another sailor, a younger man with sharp eyes and a strong build, approached and answered before the older man could. "That’d be Chen Laoshi. He’s been giving orders and keeping the deck organized."


    Zhao Ming turned to see Chen Laoshi, a seasoned sailor in his late thirties, directing a group of men near the mast. His voice was firm but not harsh, and the crew followed his instructions without hesitation.


    Zhao Ming approached him. "Chen Laoshi, I appreciate you taking charge."


    The man wiped his brow before responding, "Someone had to. Captain''s not waking up anytime soon, and the First Mate is out cold. We couldn’t just sit around and wait."


    Zhao Ming nodded approvingly. "Keep the ship steady until we reach Beihai. If there are any problems, let me know immediately."


    Chen Laoshi smirked, a hint of confidence returning to his tired eyes. "Aye, I can handle it. Just make sure you’re ready to deal with whatever awaits us at Beihai."


    Zhao Ming glanced toward the horizon. The port city was still a few hours away, but with the storm behind them and the crew rallying together, they had a real chance of making it there in one piece.


    For now, that was enough.


    <hr>


    Zhao Ming carried a wooden tray carefully as he approached Murong Xue’s quarters. The scent of warm rice porridge mixed with the tangy aroma of pickled vegetables filled the air. The storm had passed, and the ship was slowly making its way to Beihai, but before facing whatever lay ahead, he wanted to check on her.


    Inside the cabin, Murong Xue sat up against the headboard, her complexion still a little pale, but her expression calm. She had already freshened up, though her movements were still slow and careful due to her injuries.


    Seeing him enter, she straightened. “You did not have to trouble yourself.”


    Zhao Ming placed the tray down beside her. “You have suffered wounds. Without proper nourishment, how will you regain your strength?” He took a seat at the edge of the bed, unwrapping a steamed bun filled with dried meat for himself.


    Murong Xue glanced at the simple meal and smiled faintly. “Porridge and pickled vegetables… You seem to have learned my preferences.”


    “One does not need great wisdom to notice such things.” Zhao Ming shrugged, taking a bite of his bun.


    She picked up her spoon, stirring the porridge absentmindedly before taking a small bite. The warmth spread through her, soothing her tired body. They ate in comfortable silence until she spoke again.


    “What do you plan to do once we reach Beihai?” she asked, looking at him curiously.


    Zhao Ming sighed, setting his bun down. “I am uncertain. I cannot return to Zhou County.”


    Murong Xue frowned slightly. “Why?”


    “Previously, I had a conflict with certain government officials. It would be unwise for me to set foot there again.”


    She hesitated before asking, “Then… what if you came with me?”


    Zhao Ming looked at her, slightly surprised.


    Murong Xue continued, lowering her gaze. “Once I recover, I shall lead the disciples back to the sect. You are skilled, and I am certain my sect would accept you if you wished to join.”


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    Zhao Ming chuckled softly. “Not at this time.”


    She looked disappointed but nodded. “I had a feeling you would say that.” After a moment of hesitation, she bit her lip before glancing at him shyly. “Then… what are your thoughts about me?”


    Zhao Ming tilted his head slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. Seeing her hopeful yet nervous expression, he smiled. “You are a fine woman.”


    Murong Xue lowered her gaze, gripping the edge of her blanket. “I hold you in my heart.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she feared his response.


    Zhao Ming looked at her seriously. “My feelings are the same.”


    For a moment, she smiled brightly, but then her expression dimmed slightly. “But you will remain in Beihai…”


    He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “If fate allows us to meet again, I shall court you properly.”


    Murong Xue’s eyes widened before a delighted smile spread across her face. “Do you swear it?”


    “I give you my word.”


    She reached into her robes and pulled out a delicate jade pendant, placing it in his hand. “Then take this. A token of my trust.”


    Zhao Ming glanced at the pendant before sighing. “I have nothing of equal value to offer in return.”


    Murong Xue giggled. “Silly. Have you already forgotten? I still wear the bangle you gave me.”


    Zhao Ming chuckled, shaking his head.


    Murong Xue smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. “If you fail to establish yourself in Beihai, do not think you can escape. I shall take you in and make you a proper, obedient henpeck husband.”


    Zhao Ming laughed heartily. “And if I achieve great success, then you should be prepared to accept a few sister-wives in the future.”


    Murong Xue''s smile froze for a brief moment before she pouted, narrowing her eyes at him. “Hmph. We shall see who tames whom.”


    Though her tone was defiant, the warmth in her gaze betrayed her true feelings—contentment and quiet joy.


    As the ship continued toward Beihai, the two sat together, enjoying the fleeting peace before they walked separate paths.


    <hr>


    The ship drifted into Beihai’s harbor, its damaged sails barely holding together as it bumped against the dock. A collective sigh of relief swept through the crew.


    From the deck, Zhao Ming surveyed the bustling city. Merchants shouted their wares, dockworkers hauled cargo, and armed patrols kept watch over the harbor. Unlike the smaller ports he had passed before, Beihai exuded an air of organized authority.


    As the gangplank was lowered, a group of harbor officials and soldiers approached. Their leader, a middle-aged official in dark blue robes, studied the battered ship with a sharp gaze. Beside him, a grizzled officer—likely in charge of the local garrison—rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.


    “This ship looks like it sailed through a battlefield.” The officer’s tone was half-curious, half-suspicious. “Who’s in command?”


    Chen Laoshi stepped forward, wiping sweat from his brow. “Quartermaster Chen, sir. Our captain is injured and unconscious.”


    The official’s expression tightened. “And the battle damage?”


    Chen Laoshi exhaled. “We suffered a mutiny. The First Mate led a rebellion against the captain and crew, attempting to take control of the ship.” He gestured toward the bound and unconscious First Mate, who was tied like a hog on the dock.


    The official’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the scene. “A mutiny, is it? What about the dead man?” He pointed toward the hooded corpse, its mouth still twisted in agony, the poison’s foul stench lingering in the air.


    Zhao Ming spoke calmly, stepping beside Chen Laoshi. “He was the First Mate’s accomplice. They were after something on the ship—perhaps the cargo. When we captured him, he took poison to prevent interrogation.”


    The officer crouched near the body, his expression darkening at the corroded wood beneath the corpse. “This poison… whoever he was, he didn’t belong to an ordinary gang of thieves.”


    At that moment, a soldier nudged the First Mate’s limp body with his boot. The man groaned before his swollen eyes flickered open, confusion and pain evident on his face.


    The officer straightened. “Good. He’s alive. Let’s hear what he has to say.”


    Two soldiers hauled the First Mate up, forcing him to kneel on the dock. His face was battered, his lip split, and one eye swollen shut, but he still had the nerve to glare at his captors.


    <hr>


    The official folded his arms. “What is your name?”


    The First Mate spat blood onto the dock. “Why should I tell you?”


    The officer’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You led a mutiny, endangered lives, and now stand accused of conspiring with criminals. If you don’t cooperate, we will treat you as an enemy of Beihai and execute you on the spot.”


    The First Mate’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent.


    Zhao Ming stepped forward, his tone cold. “You are no longer in a position to act tough. Your accomplice killed himself rather than speak. Do you think whoever hired him will let you live?”


    The First Mate flinched slightly but quickly masked his fear with defiance.


    Gao Ren leaned in, voice low and menacing. “Right now, you’re useful. If you speak, maybe they’ll only hang you. If you don’t, they might give you to the mercenaries, who have far less patience than we do.”


    The First Mate’s breath hitched slightly, but he forced a smirk. “You think I’m scared of death?”


    Zhao Ming studied him, then suddenly spoke with quiet certainty. “You aren’t one of them.”


    The First Mate stiffened.


    Zhao Ming’s eyes narrowed as he continued. “No… you were a disposable pawn. The real players were the hooded men. You were just a greedy fool who took their silver.”


    The First Mate’s hands clenched into fists, his teeth grinding together.


    The officer caught the reaction and pressed further. “Tell me, did they promise you a reward? A new ship? Power? And yet, here you are—discarded like trash.”


    For the first time, doubt flickered in the First Mate’s eyes.


    Zhao Ming delivered the final blow. “You think they’ll let you live? Even if we let you go, their people will find you. Do you really think they want a loose end wandering around?”


    The First Mate’s breathing grew uneven.


    Silence stretched for a moment. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply.


    “They told me to create chaos,” he admitted, voice hoarse. “They said the captain was in the way and that this ship carried something important. I wasn’t supposed to ask questions, just stage a mutiny and make sure we never reached Beihai.”


    The official frowned. “Who were ‘they’?”


    The First Mate hesitated, then muttered bitterly. “I don’t know their names. Just hooded men who paid in silver. They came to me weeks ago, saying it was an easy job.” He laughed weakly. “Easy, my ass.”


    Zhao Ming pressed further. “Were you supposed to kill the crew?”


    The First Mate hesitated before shaking his head. “They only said to take the ship. But if we couldn’t… we were to sink it.”


    The officer’s expression darkened.


    Zhao Ming exchanged a glance with Gao Ren. So the attack wasn’t just about theft—it was about ensuring the ship never reached its destination.


    The official nodded to his soldiers. “Take him away. He’ll face judgment in Beihai.”


    As the First Mate was dragged off, Zhao Ming turned back to the harbor official. “What happens now?”


    The official sighed. “Your ship will require repairs before it can sail again. The authorities will take custody of the prisoners. If you require treatment or lodging, report to the administration office near the central district.”


    Zhao Ming inclined his head in thanks. “Understood.”


    As the crew dispersed, tending to their own duties, Zhao Ming cast one last glance at the calm waters of Beihai’s harbor.


    They had made it to the city—but their troubles were far from over.