The Dutch soldiers turned their heads toward the strange object that had landed on their deck, still trying to figure out what it was, when a thunderous explosion erupted with a deafening boom, instantly blasting another group of black slave soldiers off their feet.
Shi Lang pumped his fist with a grin. "Oh yes!"
Zheng Sen, not to be outdone, quickly grabbed a grenade of his own, lit the fuse, and hurled it with all his strength toward the enemy ship. Unfortunately, being able to throw sixty meters was clearly not a universal skill. His grenade arced through the air with determination, only to fall short at around fifty meters before plopping into the sea and vanishing beneath the waves with a series of helpless bubbles.
"Damn it!" Zheng Sen slapped his thigh in frustration, nearly breaking it in the process.
Still, a commander's throwing distance did not determine the outcome of a battle. What mattered was the collective. Behind him, dozens of sailors raised their arms in unison, and a storm of grenades flew across the gap between ships. They struck the enemy deck with a chaotic rhythm, metal clanging against wood in a rapid chorus.
It was like pearls of all sizes scattering onto a jade plate.
Then the plate shattered.
Explosions chained together in rapid succession, tearing across the deck, sending bodies flying in every direction. Some spun wildly in the air, others tumbled overboard, while weapons and shields scattered like discarded toys. If this were a staged performance, this would be the moment for dramatic slow motion.
Naturally, someone was already thinking along those lines.
On board the Wanli Sunshine, the war correspondent girl shouted over the noise, "When you edit this later, slow down the part where they get blown into the air. Make it dramatic, got it?"
The trainee reporter nodded frantically. "Got it! Whoa, an arrow just flew over my head!"
"Pathetic," the reporter girl snapped. "You are embarrassing the entire Journalism Division. Remember this. Our department was personally trained by Dao Xuan Tianzun. We do not panic. We do not flinch. If you disgrace yourself, how will you face him?"
As if the battlefield itself had a sense of humor, a musket fired from the Dutch side at that exact moment. The bullet whistled through the air and struck the flagpole beside her, just a few centimeters away. The pole trembled violently, and the Five-Colored Banner fluttered wildly.
Her face turned pale.
Yet she stiffened her neck and forced out, "I am not afraid. Not at all."
By this point, the combined suppression of muskets and grenades had already crushed the Dutch deck. Hardly anyone remained standing. Those who were still alive had taken cover wherever they could, abandoning any semblance of formation as the ships continued to close the distance.
That was when Yao Xingjuan's men made their move.
Grappling hooks shot out through the air, iron claws biting into the enemy ship's rigging with sharp metallic snaps. In an instant, several ropes stretched tight between the vessels, forming crude but effective bridges.
Then came the charge.
Veteran pirates surged forward, gripping ropes with one hand and clutching curved blades in the other, their voices rising in wild, fearless cries as they swung across the gap.
"We're boarding!"
"Get up there!"
"Move, you dogs!"
"Stop calling us pirates, we are militia now!"
But their blood still remembered the sea.
These men were hardened by countless battles, each one accustomed to living with death hanging just a breath away. Fear was a luxury long abandoned. If they were not dead, then they were merely scratched.
The first pirate landed on the Dutch deck, only to be ambushed by a black slave soldier who had been playing dead. The man sprang up and slashed downward with his blade.
There was a dull thud.
The strike failed to penetrate.
The pirate grinned, baring his teeth. The Jiangnan rattan armor he wore absorbed the blow effortlessly, its lightweight structure providing both protection and buoyancy. It would not drag him to the bottom if he fell into the sea. Instead, it would keep him afloat like a lifeline.
He retaliated instantly, cutting the attacker down.
Another enemy rushed forward, a white Dutch soldier wielding a curved blade. The two clashed, steel ringing against steel as they exchanged blows. After several strikes, the pirate landed a clean hit, only to feel his blade slide uselessly aside.
He paused in surprise.
Looking closer, he saw the torn fabric of the man's coat revealing chainmail beneath.
So that was it.
"Damn you," the pirate muttered, immediately adjusting his approach.
They fought their way toward the edge of the deck, blows echoing between them. Then, with a sudden feint, the pirate shifted his weight and drove his foot forward, kicking the Dutch soldier clean overboard.
The man splashed into the sea, his armor dragging him down.
The pirate leaned over the railing, laughing loudly. "Let's see how well you swim in that!"
The soldier struggled briefly before disappearing beneath the surface.
By the time the second wave of Gao Family Village sailors boarded, the battle was already tipping beyond recovery for the Dutch. Their deck had been shattered by continuous ranged suppression, their forces scattered and disorganized. No defensive line could be formed.
Control of the deck was lost in moments.
Grenades were tossed into the ship's interior, explosions echoing below as screams followed.
The remaining Dutch ships attempted to close in, but each one met the same fate. Muskets opened fire first, tearing into their ranks, followed immediately by grenades that cleared whatever resistance remained.
Five ships against three might have seemed like an advantage on paper, but numbers alone could not compensate for the overwhelming difference in systems.
Speed, positioning, and technology had already decided the outcome.
The Dutch line collapsed.
What followed was nothing more than cleanup.
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, the battle had ended.
Yao Xingjuan stood once more on the beach, watching as Alami, the ruler of the Dadu Kingdom, emerged from the forest with his people. Their eyes widened at the sight before them.
Three strange, powerful ships rested along the shore.
Five more lay captured.
Cheers erupted from the crowd.
Alami spoke excitedly in his own language, his meaning clear even if his words were not. Joy needed no translation.
Yao Xingjuan had his men bring out several barrels of bread taken from the Dutch ships. The hard, brick-like loaves were unappealing to the refined tastes of Gao Family Village, but to others, they were treasure.
He handed them over.
"These are yours."
Alami's face lit up with gratitude. Food was food, and this was more than enough.
Yao Xingjuan gestured toward the sea, then toward the forest, speaking slowly, making sure the meaning carried through.
"Our reinforcements have arrived. We no longer need to hide."
He pointed toward the shoreline.
"The supply port will be built there."
After much gesturing and repeated attempts at communication, the message was finally understood.
Alami raised his staff and shouted commands.
The people moved at once.
From the forest, they carried out tools, wood, and stone, bringing everything to the open coastline.
This time, there was no need to conceal their presence.
The first true base of Gao Family Village on Yizhou Island began its construction under the setting sun.