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...