Inside Fort Zeelandia, the Dutch governor of Formosa, Peter, stood with a deep frown, anxiety creeping across his face as he waited for news that stubbornly refused to arrive.
Several days earlier, the Dutch fleet had sailed out from the fort, heading north to link up with the Spanish and jointly deal with that irritating Ming naval force. It should have been a simple operation, nothing more than a short trip to the northern part of the island, yet days had passed, and the fleet had vanished as if swallowed by the sea itself.
Not a single message had come back.
This was not some long-distance voyage across unknown oceans, so why had there been no contact for so long?
An uneasy feeling began to take root in Peter's chest.
Still, he refused to believe the fleet had been wiped out. Five large warships, combined with Spanish support, even if they could not defeat those strange Ming vessels, surely at least a few ships would have escaped and returned.
So the silence must mean something else. Perhaps a storm had forced them to take shelter in some bay.
"Couldn't even send a small boat back with a report," Peter muttered in irritation.
At that moment, a mid-ranking officer rushed in from outside, shouting breathlessly, "Sir! The natives of the Dadu Kingdom are attacking again."
Peter blinked in mild surprise, then actually laughed.
"The natives are attacking our fortress? Did they take the wrong medicine?"
The officer hesitated before replying, "This time the scale is large. It looks like a full assault. There are several thousand of them."
"What?" Peter jolted, genuinely startled this time. "Several thousand?"
He hurried out of the hall and climbed up onto the city walls.
From there, he could clearly see waves of warriors pouring out of the surrounding forests. The soldiers of the Dadu Kingdom surged forward in a chaotic mass, without formation, without siege equipment, without any real strategy. They simply charged as one.
Peter barely spared them a glance.
Enemies like this posed no threat at all to a proper fortress. Even if there were thousands, what difference would it make?
"Send the musketeers," he ordered lazily. "A couple of volleys will make them run."
Lines of musketeers quickly moved into position.
Fort Zeelandia stood as a massive red stronghold, its thick walls rising high, lined with firing ports. At Peter's command, long gun barrels extended outward from every opening.
Outside the walls, Ganza Xia Alami raised his vine staff high, his voice booming with confidence as he invoked the sacred F2A.
"Charge!"
The warriors surged forward, clutching their primitive weapons, rushing straight toward the towering walls.
They had no idea how to actually breach such defenses. Their king had ordered a charge, so they charged.
Gunfire erupted.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The front line of warriors fell almost instantly, several men collapsing before they even understood what had happened.
"Ahhh!"
The formation broke into chaos. The warriors howled, confusion spreading rapidly as they realized their attacks had no effect. They could not climb the walls, they could not break them, and every attempt was met with deadly gunfire.
After a brief, chaotic rush, they retreated just as quickly, dragging their wounded comrades back with them.
More than three thousand warriors had surged forward, and in the blink of an eye, they were back in the forest, standing before Ganza Xia Alami with baffled expressions.
"Sun King, how do we attack this city?"
Alami pointed at the towering walls. "Climb up."
"We can't climb it! They shoot us before we even get close."
"Yes, we get shot halfway up!"
"O wise Sun King, what should we do?"
Alami slammed his vine staff against the ground. "Let me think."
His face grew serious.
Then suddenly—
Something seemed to spark in his mind.
His eyes widened, and he let out a sharp "Ah!"
The people around him lit up with excitement.
"Sun King, you've thought of a solution?"
Alami shook his head. "No, not yet."
Everyone froze.
"Then why did you react like that?"
Alami scratched his head and said honestly, "I suddenly want to eat spicy strips again."
"…."
Up on the fortress wall, Peter burst into laughter.
"See? These primitive fools. No matter how many come, they will never take this fortress."
Just as Alami stood there completely out of ideas, the fleet of Gao Family Village finally arrived.
From the sea, a massive formation of ships came into view, sails filling the horizon in dense layers.
Peter's laughter froze instantly.
"So many ships?"
In the forest, however, Alami's spirits soared.
"Our friends have arrived," he said with renewed energy. "Let us watch carefully how they deal with this fortress. We must learn."
One of the tribal chiefs hesitated before speaking. "Sun King, didn't you say we would take the lead and show our strength to our friends? But now…"
Alami casually pulled out a spicy strip and waved it. "Want one? It's really good."
"…."
With no better option, the warriors of the Dadu Kingdom could only stand aside and watch.
From the sea, Zheng Chenggong's voice rang out. Holding a metal loudspeaker, he called toward the fortress in a steady, commanding tone.
"The Great Ming always values courtesy before force. We do not seek needless bloodshed. Therefore, we offer you one final chance. Surrender now, withdraw from our treasured island, and you may yet live. If you resist, we will not guarantee your safety."
Peter immediately ordered all the soldiers to shout back in unison.
"Bullshit! This is a barren island. How does it belong to your Ming? Whoever arrives first owns it!"
Zheng Chenggong replied without hesitation, his voice calm yet sharp.
"Oh? If first come means ownership, then this island belongs to the Dadu Kingdom. You came here, slaughtered their people, and drove them into the mountains. What logic is that?"
Peter froze.
The colonial logic he relied on was never truly about fairness. It was simple. When stronger, take what you want.
All that talk of who came first was nothing but convenient nonsense.
Peter clenched his teeth and shouted back, "Don't think we're afraid just because you have more ships!"
Back in 1622, the Dutch had already fought a major war with the Ming at the Penghu Islands. The Ming had sent hundreds of ships and over ten thousand men, yet it still took seven months to defeat the Dutch stronghold.
So Peter was not intimidated.
Even if a battle broke out now, he was confident he could hold the fortress for months.
Formosa was not Penghu. The strategic importance was entirely different. When the Dutch lost at Penghu, they still had Formosa as a fallback, which was why they chose negotiation over a desperate fight.
But if they lost here, they would lose all footholds along the southeastern coast of Ming territory. There would be nowhere left to retreat.
The Dutch East India Company would definitely send reinforcements. And if they joined forces with the Spanish and Portuguese again, what was there to fear from the Ming?
Peter raised his voice and roared, along with all his soldiers,
"Come on then! Try and kill us!"