Allen the Prodigal

Allen the Prodigal

Measuring or determining the Earth's dimensions required a marine chronometer, but Ximan finally admitted that there were things even he could not make. He simply could not make one. There were clocks in this world, but they were extremely cumbersome and not particularly accurate. Even those were secret techniques passed down within the Western Continent Blood Race; clocks made by others were absurdly inferior in both size and accuracy.

The Blood Race excelled most at crafting intricate mechanical items. The most renowned clockmaking houses were the Baidafeili, Laolaishi, and Cardia Families of the Western Continent. Their clocks kept precise time and boasted exquisite, luxurious appearances, worthy of being called works of art—but they would never sell them to ordinary people. They were generally kept within the Blood Race, or purchased only by great figures of other races.

Qin Mo's head spun as he listened to Allen's account. Isn't this a limited edition? Which transmigrator went to the Western Continent and invented such an advanced marketing concept?

Since ordinary clocks could not reach the standard of a marine chronometer, he might as well do without one for now. When he had a chance to sweet-talk a master clockmaker over, he could throw out the concept of the tourbillon. Wouldn't that make those so-called masters' jaws hit the floor?

When the Black "Current" neared the Fusang continent, it split into two branches. One turned toward the southern coast of Goryeo, while the main current ran along Fusang's eastern shore to Edo before turning again and flowing east into the Pacific Ocean. If Qin Mo wanted to go to the Americas, he could follow the Black "Current" all the way to North America. Of course, once it entered the Pacific Ocean, the Black "Current" was called the North Pacific Current.

Qin Mo had already received word that recruitment in Nagasaki and Hirado had brought in more than three thousand soldiers. In the interest of mutual balance, the remaining recruits would be enlisted in Edo. Thus, fifteen of the nearly thirty ships would head to Hirado to carry the men back to Jinmen of Great Xia, while he would lead the remaining dozen or so ships to Edo.

Qin Mo had gathered every large oceangoing vessel he could find and still only managed to scrape together fewer than thirty ships. Though cramming more than two hundred people onto one ship was cruel, if a storm struck while one was aboard a small oceangoing vessel, the outcome would be even crueler.

Following the Black "Current," the ships maintained speeds of roughly ten knots. On the eighth day, the fleet approached Fusang and split in two. On the morning of the tenth day, Qin Mo's galleon sighted Edo Bay. His flagship had not traveled at full speed along the way, but now there was no longer any risk of the fleet being scattered. Qin Mo felt a surge of excitement and ordered all sails raised.

Every sail on the galleon was hoisted to its peak. The vessel seemed as if a giant had given it a shove; its bow lifted slightly as it accelerated away from the fleet. Qin Mo smugly gestured at Allen behind him, clearly meaning, I'll be going on ahead, brother. You can take your time strolling along.

The Elven Race Moon Ship behind them also raised all its sails and picked up speed, but Qin Mo's galleon had the advantage of a head start. Its masts were also clearly taller than the Moon Ship's, and its sails larger. The distance between the two ships grew wider and wider. Qin Mo proudly let out a clear whistle from the stern, its sound carrying for miles.

Then... then a pale green light glimmered beneath the Moon Ship's masts, bathing its white sails in an eerie glow. The Moon Ship's bow rose high, and its speed more than doubled, swiftly catching up to Qin Mo's galleon.

Qin Mo first stared dumbfounded, then burst into curses, utterly devoid of noble bearing.

"With fair wind and smooth waters, why the hell are you activating a Wind-Gathering Formation?! ... Is my gold and silver really that easy to earn?! ... You wastrel elf..."

Allen stared directly at Qin Mo from his own ship. His face, whose expression had remained unchanged for ten thousand years, actually carried a trace of mockery and mischief, sending Qin Mo into a towering rage, flames of fury shooting from his heart.

The Elven Race's shipbuilding and navigation arts stood at the very pinnacle of the Western Continent. They excelled at engraving all manner of formations to deal with the sea's complex conditions, and the Wind-Gathering Formation was among the most common. It allowed ships to travel normally against the wind or in windless conditions, making it a favorite of adventuring and exploration fleets.

If one always sailed with fair winds and smooth waters, then the wind and currents would always carry ships into fixed areas. Without sextants and accurate nautical charts, if one wanted to thoroughly search and survey a stretch of sea, sailing against the wind and current became inevitable. At such times, the usefulness of a Wind-Gathering Formation multiplied without limit.

But... the materials for formations consisted of refined gold, mithril, and many rare materials, all extracted from ordinary gold and silver. They were far too costly. Under normal circumstances, when there was no need, no one would use formations for sailing. Once the formation exhausted the energy stored within it, it had to be engraved anew, consuming a fortune beyond measure.

Watching Allen use his money to uphold the Elven Race's dignity made Qin Mo's anger flare. Isn't it just about saving face?! Did he have to take it so seriously? Couldn't he let me win just once?

Even after they disembarked in Edo, Qin Mo ignored Allen and went alone to Edo's Chinese Quarter to find Lin Yongqian. Allen, meanwhile, stayed close at his side as though nothing had happened.

Once they reached Edo's Chinese Quarter, Qin Mo quickly found Lin Yongqian. Since Qin Mo had told Lin Yongqian that he planned to do maritime trade, after arriving in Edo, Lin Yongqian had shed his former miserly ways and directly leased a street-facing residence at a high price. The front served as a shop, while the rear held warehouses and a large residential courtyard.

Qin Mo did not even need to ask anyone to spot Lin Yongqian's shop. It was impossible to miss—the area around it was packed with queues three layers deep inside and three layers out, so crowded that no one could squeeze through.

"Don't push! One at a time! We're recruiting many warriors. As long as you're skilled, we'll take as many as you bring—but let me say this first: you bear the risks yourselves. This is work that costs lives!" a Fusang clerk shouted at the entrance. One look told Qin Mo that he was a new clerk Lin Yongqian had hired specifically for his booming voice.

"We're not afraid of dying. But is your compensation for death real or fake?"

"Who are you calling fake? Look at what I'm wearing! Songjiang Cloth! Would a prince of Great Xia swallow up your little bit of money? If you're worried, then don't line up here. Go find work elsewhere!"

The loud-voiced clerk was plainly unhappy. He had landed this job thanks to his authentic Great Xia accent. Food, lodging, and clothing were all provided, and the pay was high. The Great Xia lord was practically his own father. You suspect my father doesn't have money? I ought to spit in your face—I'm wearing Songjiang Cloth and eating white rice!

Though the clerk's words had turned unpleasant, the crowd did not disperse. Rather than becoming angry, they pressed together even more tightly. Everyone wanted to get inside sooner, take the test sooner, escape poverty sooner, and let their families eat their fill and dress warmly.

Seeing that he probably could not squeeze his way in anytime soon, Qin Mo found a seat in a teahouse diagonally opposite, drinking tea and eating pastries as he watched the recruitment across the street.

It had to be said that the Fusang people were very orderly. Though everyone pressed forward, not one person cut in line. Qin Mo was quite pleased by this. People with high obedience could develop decent combat strength after simple training. Though he planned to use them as cannon fodder, if they could display the value they ought to have, then keeping a mercenary force under his command to do the dirty work would not be a bad idea.

The Fusang people entered one by one through the side door beside the shop, apparently going directly into the rear courtyard. Loud roars occasionally rang out from within, only to quickly fall silent. Then a bedraggled samurai would emerge with his head lowered, covering his face as he left.

Every now and then, someone emerged beaming with joy, utterly delighted. They had clearly been accepted. Those waiting in line would call out loudly to ask, and after receiving a positive reply, they offered sincere blessings. Qin Mo could not help but wonder, Are these really those utterly vile Japanese devils?

Just as Qin Mo watched this group of short people bless and encourage one another, full of doubts, shouts of rebuke rose from the distant end of the line. The voices grew louder and louder, until they finally became a disturbance.