The Man Best Suited to Sail

The Man Best Suited to Sail

Lin Bo and Allen were both delighted. As the sole heir of the Heng Prince's line, Qin Mo's safety concerned the very lives and livelihoods of retainers like them. If the family head were gone, they would be rootless duckweed, drifting wherever the current took them.

"Since that is the case, Allen should not put to sea for the time being. Let Xirui remain in the city as well. If anything happens to the Young Lord again, he can be treated nearby." Lin Bo looked at Qin Mo with concern as he discussed it with Allen.

"I agree. I will protect His Highness the Heir until His Highness fully recovers. I shall now return the sea chart. Please inspect it, Your Highness and General Lin." Allen removed a silver metal tube engraved with exquisite patterns from his back and solemnly handed it to Lin Bo. Lin Bo opened the tube, drew out a rolled parchment, and spread it open before signaling Qin Mo to inspect it.

Qin Mo vaguely remembered that this was a necessary procedure. It seemed this sea chart had been obtained by his cheap father from the Great Xia imperial family, making it exceedingly important. After Allen's repeated voyages and explorations, it had been altered beyond recognition, becoming a one-of-a-kind sea chart in this age.

To a fleet, a sea chart was the guarantee of life. To a maritime trading family, it was wealth—the foundation of the family. It was absolutely forbidden to show it to outsiders. Everyone who came into contact with the chart had to swear a solemn oath never to divulge its secrets, much less copy it. Whenever Allen was about to set sail, Lin Bo and Qin Mo had to hand the chart over to him together. When Allen returned, he would hand it back to Qin Mo for storage in the secret chamber.

Qin Mo found the whole process somewhat excessive and rather lacking in human feeling. Was this not a sign that they did not trust each other? Yet seeing how solemn the two men were, he could only put on an act, lean forward, and prepare to give it a cursory glance.

But... Qin Mo kept looking for a full quarter of an hour without raising his head. Only when sweat dripped from his face did Lin Bo and Allen realize something was wrong. They hurriedly helped him onto the room's only chair that was still more or less intact.

What is this?... What exactly is this? Qin Mo kept muttering to himself inwardly, completely oblivious to Lin Bo and Allen calling out to him.

Qin Mo had only intended to take a casual look, but the moment his eyes fell upon it, he was dumbstruck. Though the continents and archipelagos on the chart were distorted beyond shape, and its scale was impossible to determine, Li Zimo recognized it at a glance: this was a map of Eurasia plus half of Southeast Asia—the very Eurasian continent map from the Earth where Qin Mo had once lived.

Is this Earth? Then did I travel through time and space? But how could there be elves on Earth?

Allen was right there in the room, plainly visible to Qin Mo. If this truly was time travel, then what era was it now?

There had never been any record of the Elven Race on Earth. Could it be the year 2500 AD?

And if this was not his original Earth, then... Qin Mo thought of a possibility that made cold sweat pour down his back.

That was—this was a god-created world. In the vast starry sky, there were countless identical Earths. They were all the gods' playthings, all the gods' yo-yos. Humanity had always considered itself the ruler of all things, but what did that make mankind?

"Young Lord... Young Lord... Your Highness the Heir..."

The urgent cries roused Qin Mo. Seeing the terror on Allen and Lin Bo's faces, he suddenly felt that he had been worrying over nothing.

He would always be himself. His cheap father had left him loyal retainers, as well as territory of his own for him to do as he pleased. He lacked neither food nor clothing, and if he wanted to make something of himself, he had an excellent foundation to build on. Why should he ponder questions meant for philosophers?

"I'm fine. When I saw the sea chart just now, the mark in my body seemed to react. We may not need to laboriously search anymore. Perhaps I can find suitable sea routes." Qin Mo explained to them. If his guess was correct, then he truly was the man best suited to sail in this world.

Qin Mo sat in the room at the top of the castle tower. This had once been his favorite place to stay. Looking out through the open window, he could take in all of Tamsui City on Dayuan Island at a glance. If he gazed into the distance, he could see specks of white sails upon the sea.

Dayuan's ships all possessed a distinct elven style, their two ends curving sharply upward, their hulls carved with ornate patterns of utmost beauty.

The expedition ships Allen and the others used to search for the Sea Folk had even been inscribed with elven arrays using refined gold and mithril. They could withstand violent storms and traveled at astonishing speed. Their construction and upkeep costs, however, were outrageously expensive. Otherwise, they would not have emptied Qin Mo's territorial treasury.

According to Allen, the Elven Race's shipbuilding and sailing techniques were unmatched in the world. Ximan had only learned the barest smattering as a child, yet he had still helped Dayuan build a respectable fleet. Both its vessels and sailors were quite outstanding.

Seeing all this, Qin Mo could not help but smile bitterly. In his previous life, he had been a technician at a state-owned steel mill. He had had a fairly promising future, but fate had played a cruel joke on him—he became obsessed with sailing. The raging waves of the Atlantic Ocean, the setting sun over the Pacific Ocean, and the crystal-clear turquoise waters of the Caribbean all fascinated him beyond measure.

Watching television programs where warriors sailed alone around the world, or where packs of men and women teamed up to cross oceans under sail, Li Mo had sworn unwillingly, "If you are a man, then sail the seas. In the ocean's depths, mermaids sing for you; if you are a man, then sail the seas. At the ends of the world lie your endless dreams."

Li Mo found a large group of sailing enthusiasts online who shared his interests. He began learning everything related to sailing: currents, monsoons, sea charts, supply ports. Once everything was ready, a band of "Caribbean pirates" struck countless poses on the dock, posted half a circle of social media updates, and only after reaping a flood of 666s did they board their ship and set sail.

Just before boarding, Li Mo's only supportive best friend gave him a dull gray pendant. He said it was a family heirloom, able to ward off evil and keep him safe, and that it was incredibly efficacious. Li Zimo was deeply moved and swore that he would bring back a tear from a mermaid for him.

He never saw even a shadow of a mermaid, but stormy waves arrived without warning. Everyone else hid in the cabin, but Li Mo was seized by hot-blooded fervor and insisted on experiencing the thrill of battling a raging sea. A single wave crashed over him, and he instantly sank to the bottom, vanishing without a trace.

Then Li Mo became Qin Mo. He possessed a fleet of his own and could set sail at any time. He could even use his advanced maritime knowledge to forge an "empire upon which the sun never sets" for himself.

Qin Mo had already observed the Big Dipper and the North Star. In other words, everything on this planet was the same as the Earth where he had once lived. He no longer agonized over whether this was a parallel space or the same plane of existence. All he considered now was how to make the fullest use of his advanced knowledge and experience.

Qin Mo had already begun fantasizing that, once he completely resolved the problems with his body and figured out the distribution of powers in this world, he would embark upon his great age of sailing.

First, he had to resolve the financial issue. Without money, it would be impossible to build a powerful navy. Any power without a navy would forever remain merely a regional power and could not be considered a world power.

Second, he needed enough loyal subordinates, even if they were mercenaries. He could not possibly let natives manage his colonies for him, could he? He would need to station troops throughout the world. This was what gave Qin Mo the greatest headache: Dayuan's population was severely insufficient for his grand plans.

As for the most important home base, Dayuan could barely handle the role. As the prosperous curved island from Qin Mo's previous life, he had countless ways to turn it into a solid base.

Qin Mo even wondered whether his sailing dream had been fulfilled a little too perfectly.