When a certain devilish grand admiral from the East crossed the Strait of Gibraltar with her so-called "devil fleet" and plunged into the Mediterranean bathtub, ready to stir up trouble, on the other side of the Atlantic, the head of the Li Family Trading Company, Admiral Li Huamei, who had sailed west all the way from the Ming, and her fleet of a dozen or so ships—made up of medium and large fuchuan, some common Mediterranean and North Sea vessels, and even a military escort ship—finally arrived safely at the port of Saint John in the Caribbean after nearly two months of arduous sailing.
"We're finally here..."
"So this is the legendary New World?"
"Hey~?"
"We've finally made it here."
"More than two hundred years ago, when Zheng He sailed west, the farthest he reached was the eastern coast of Africa, all the way to Mogadishu. Then he never went any farther, because they thought that was the end of the world, and that there was no benefit in continuing..."
"But now, we've made it here, to the place Europeans call the New World, a place even the greatest Ming navigator, the eunuch Sanbao, never reached!"
"This place..."
"Maybe this really is the 'end' of the world, the final stop on our voyage?"
Gazing out at the bustling port on this "New World" island, Li Huamei sighed with emotion. Her ships were already docked, and Charles Howson and the others had finished negotiations and paid the steep port and docking fees.
When she thought of the past year, of how they had set out from Hangzhou in the Ming, down the Qiantang River, sailed through the South Seas, around India, past the Cape of Good Hope, and into the depths of the Mediterranean, before sailing across the frozen waters of