The moment the giant pincer came crashing down, Wan Zhong’s single arm yanked hard on the capstan chain. His empty left sleeve snapped wildly in the gale, while the veins on his remaining right arm bulged as he wound the chain --- thick as a bowl rim --- around his waist, forcing the tilting hull back half an inch. “Form the iron-chain formation!” Wan Zhong’s roar shook the deck. Twenty sturdy soldiers immediately threw themselves forward, hammering the barbed hooks at the chain’s end into the ship’s side posts. When the giant pincer, carrying the power to shatter mountains, slammed against the chain, Wan Zhong’s knees buckled, his boots plowing two deep grooves into the planks. The metallic tang rising in his throat he forced back down. “This beast’s pincers can split metal and stone!” Wan Zhong glared at the cracks rapidly spreading along the chain. In a sudden burst of strength, he yanked the chain sideways. The pincer missed the mast by a hair, smashing a hole more than...
At this moment, Li Guanglong’s fleet was sailing through the fog belt in the depths of the Eastern Sea. The leaden-gray clouds pressed low overhead, and even the salty sea breeze carried a metallic, rust-like stench. He stood on the main deck of the Surging Wave , rolling a white jade chess piece between his fingers, staring at the horizon swallowed by mist. Three escort ships that had gone ahead to scout the route had been out of contact for half an hour, and the “safe channel” marked on the sea chart now lay as silent as a bottomless well. “Your Highness, the water patterns are wrong.” The old helmsman beside him suddenly pressed down on the compass. The copper needle trembled violently, a layer of white frost forming on the rim. “This fog… it’s alive.” Before his words faded, a harsh splintering sound came from the west. From within the thick mist, a column of water shot upward. Through it, the half-wrecked hull of a ship could be glimpsed tumbling in the waves. Lanterns o...