The sea breeze, carrying a salty tang and the smell of gunpowder, filled every crevice of the sailboat.
This was an old merchant ship purchased from Liuqiu, made of South Seas hardwood, capable of carrying over thirty people.
Li Yan stood at the bow, the Broken Dust Blade Scabbard lightly tapping the deck.
Behind him were the members of the Twelve Yuan Chen Squad.
Wang Daoxuan sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, the Turtle Shell Compass resting on his knees; Sha Lifei was cleaning the barrel of his flintlock gun; Lv San squatted beneath the mast, playing a bone flute teasing a sea bird; Kong Shangzhao was leaning over the ship's side, comparing the sea map with the stars...
The Night Crying Man was not in good condition, sometimes foolish, sometimes frantic.
