Chapter One: Sending Off the King’s Boat, Filling the Ocean’s Eye

Great Zhao, Minzhou Prefecture, the lower reaches of the Jiulong River.

The river glimmered with the last light of dusk, its surface reflecting the blood-red remnants of the setting sun.

A deep, sonorous horn sounded.

At a riverside ferry, a throng had gathered, so dense it stretched as far as the eye could see. The blasts of ritual conch shells echoed over the water, while the thick blue smoke from burning incense and candles shrouded half the river.

“The king’s barge departs! The sea sacrifice begins! Escort the Lord and the Heir on their journey through the River of the Dead!”

Suddenly, an exuberant cry jolted Wang Cheng from his stupor.

He slowly opened his eyes, only to find himself seated on a grand, dragon-painted barge, resplendent in its magnificence.

Three great masts, fitted with rigid sails, caught the wind, propelling the ship down the wide, endless river.

As he drifted farther from the shore, the tumult of voices—tinged with a strange sense of relief—receded into the distance.

Wang Cheng had no idea what had happened to him. Disoriented, he glanced around:

“Didn't I drown after falling into the sea while delivering customs paperwork? Where is this? And what does it mean to ‘send off the king’s barge’?”

No one answered him on the vast expanse of the river.

The ship was deathly silent; evidently, he was the only living soul aboard.

Laboriously, he raised his head and saw that the ship bore three towering masts, each flying a colorful banner inscribed with: “Imperial Inspector by Heaven’s Mandate,” “Protector of the Realm and People,” and “Favorable Winds and Rain.”

Gold melons, silver scepters, spears, sabers, swords, and halberds—ritual implements of office—were arrayed across the prow and sides. On deck, hundreds of paper effigies representing all manner of attendants and soldiers stood in neat formation.

Provision officers, cooks, path-clearers—every conceivable role was represented. The hold brimmed with bundles of firewood, rice, oil, and salt.

As for Wang Cheng himself, he wore a black, python-embroidered robe signifying a prince, seated upright on a gilded throne placed on the aft deck.

Behind him stood a parasol, a feathered fan, and a banner inscribed “Heir Apparent.” Before him, the table bore a censer, candlesticks, and offerings of fruit.

“None of this looks like it’s meant for the living!”

A shiver ran through Wang Cheng’s heart. Glancing ahead, he saw another, even grander barge festooned with lanterns and banners—far more imposing than his own “Heir’s Barge.”

That, truly, was the King’s Barge.

Upon closer inspection, a great black royal standard fluttered in the wind, bearing the words: King of Sea-Pacification, Zheng!

“King of Sea-Pacification... Zheng...?”

A thunderclap exploded in Wang Cheng’s mind. Memories—of past and present lives—rushed forth in a torrent.

A mysterious golden gleam by the shore, the sudden surge of the tide and a rogue wave as he investigated, the searing pain in his lungs as he drowned, then the long darkness...

And now, as he looked back, he found himself reborn as a sixteen-year-old youth, waking from a dream to live anew...

In this world, so reminiscent of an ancient dynasty, yin and yang had always intertwined, and every thing possessed a spirit.

Spectral armies marching, the dead knocking at doors, sheep bones gaining sentience, candles snuffed to steal lifespans—such tales were legion, and he had witnessed more than a few himself.

Fortunately, the founders had forged a pact with the Three Officials of Heaven, Earth, and Water, whose spiritual power manifested in the world, establishing an all-encompassing system of divine offices spanning every profession and walk of life:

Mountain-walkers, water-drawers, fire-masters, sheep-herders, monkey-tamers, gold-spotters, orchid-pickers... nothing was left out.

The three classes of officials revered the “Patron of Earth and Grain, the True Dragon Emperor,” who harmonized yin and yang according to the “Twenty-Four Solar Terms.”

Over time, this world of myriad spirits evolved into a realm where mountains were yang, waters were yin, and land and sea formed the natural boundary.

Any proximity to water meant grave peril.

Even with countless generations of water officials suppressing evil and disaster, the common folk still found it nearly impossible to eke out a living on the water.

To make matters worse, in the Great Zhao dynasty, which ruled over the twenty-four prefectures of the realm, Emperor Han Lin had, since the founding, decreed a ban on the mountains and seas—the strictest maritime prohibition in history!

Anyone daring to go to sea—be they merchant, sailor, or fisherman—was branded a pirate.

For the coastal people of Great Zhao, whose lives depended on the sea, this was a bitter fate. Water officials, already of low standing, gradually slid into the ranks of the despised.

Two hundred years had passed under this regime...

Now, the fragments of Wang Cheng’s memories—across two lifetimes—fused together in a dizzying whirl.

At last, the mystery of his rebirth fell away, and he understood the peril he now faced.

Seeing the King’s Barge ahead, he could not help but cry out in grief:

“Submission—submission—what submission is there to be found? Father, how could you be so blind?!”

In truth, this bizarre “King’s Barge” ritual was a direct result of the Great Zhao dynasty’s maritime ban.

Despite the strict edict, Wang’s family—descended from generations of water officials and practitioners—was born in Minzhou, a place where “eight parts mountain, one part water, one part field” left them unable to survive without the sea.

From the lowest rungs of society, their family had long inherited the Water-Drawing Arts, serving as water officials for generations.

As a result, most Wang clansmen met violent ends on river or sea.

His father, Wang Zheng, unable to endure poverty in his youth, flouted the ban and, with a handful of kin and villagers, secretly went to sea to trade, founding the Wufeng Banner maritime merchant group.

From humble beginnings on the twin isles—once the world’s smuggling hub—he rose through the ranks: fire-chief, bursar, shipmaster, watch captain. With extraordinary skill and the official title of Whitewater Lord, he rapidly amassed power through trade across the Eastern Seas and Southern Isles, eventually becoming the supreme leader of all southeastern sea merchants.

He even established his own maritime kingdom, the Eastern Sea State.

On land, he might be called Master Wang, the Ship-Lord or the Bursar, but beyond the seas, he was a king in his own right—ruling the thirty-six islands of Yingzhou, commanding thousands of warships and tens of thousands of followers: the mighty King of Sea-Pacification.

Yet, defying expectation, despite breaking the ban, this greatest of water officials never once raided the coast of Great Zhao.

Instead, every year he sent envoys with lavish gifts to the local officials, promising tribute with the seasons.

If only the court would lift the maritime prohibition, giving sea-dwellers a path to survival, elevating fishermen, river-workers, sailors, boat-dwellers and the nine surnamed fishing clans from their despised status, he would accept any condition as King of the Eastern Sea.

His greatest wish was to be accepted by the court.

Thereafter, he championed the “open market” faction among water-dwellers, even helping the authorities suppress the “raider” pirates who colluded with outsiders and left trails of blood and fire.

For three years, he assumed de facto command of the sea defenses of Wu and Min, ensuring peace on the Eastern Sea, with not a single major incident.

Maritime commerce flourished; from laborers to magistrates, all prospered. He truly “shared profit with the people and defended the frontiers for the nation.”

Until, just a month ago, this “open market” leader joined imperial forces to wipe out the notorious pirate leader, General Xu Hai, submitting a weighty token of loyalty to the court.

At last, he was granted an imperial pardon.

Alas, all that fervor to become a loyal subject of Great Zhao was repaid with treachery—a trap and slaughter.

Three days ago, having landed with only a few guards, the King of Sea-Pacification was not only denied safe passage but, in his naivety and misplaced trust, doomed his entire household.

Only his sole son, Wang Cheng, survived—by chance, and only for the moment.

Looking back on all that had happened, Wang Cheng could not suppress his indignation:

“Why were you so obsessed with the pardon and lifting the ban? You were King of the Eastern Sea, not some Rainmaker of the moment!”

And the court’s response was deeply troubling.

Those high officials were all cunning veterans, rising through the civil service examinations. Did they not realize that killing a rule-abiding, ever-loyal King of the Eastern Sea would not pacify the region, nor halt maritime trade, but instead create countless new pirate lords?

Once his foster sons, generals, and captains of the thirty-six islands—all skilled in strange arts and crafts—claimed independence, they would never again heed the court’s rules or believe a single promise. They would fight to the bitter end.

Beyond the Wufeng Banner, untold numbers of merchants and water-dwellers would abandon hope, turning from open-market supporters into hardened raiders.

Now, the coast of Great Zhao truly faced disaster. What, in the end, did those lofty officials intend?

But Wang Cheng no longer had the right to worry about others.

With memories of both lives joined, he understood all too well what it meant to “send off the King’s Barge.”

In the southeast of Great Zhao, waterways sprawled endlessly, breeding pestilence, evil spirits, and monsters of every kind.

The “Sending Off the King’s Barge” ritual, held at year’s end, required a water-official spirit—“King” or “Elder”—to preside, escorting the five regional plague gods, demons, and evil spirits from the land into the eastern sea.

Heaven’s inspector, protector of the realm!

Now, Wang Cheng and his father’s corpses each sat upon their own King’s Barge.

The realization drained all color from his face. He clenched his teeth in fury:

“To kill a man is one thing, but to use his corpse for this—how cruel these scholars’ hearts are!”

Immortals ascend in daylight; gods are worshipped after death.

In this world, immortals were but legend. Those who walked the path of the gods—the three classes of officials—dreamed only of being honored as local deities after death.

By the rank, deeds, and influence of the Sea-Pacification King, he was certain to be enshrined and worshipped—a fate not an end, but a new beginning, allowing him to continue protecting his homeland and kin.

But to be sent off on the King’s Barge was a different matter entirely.

“A blessing for the people—a deadly trial for the spirit. During the ritual, the ‘King’ must suppress all the demons and plague-spirits of the region. If he fails...”

At that moment, the last rays of sunlight vanished behind the mountains.

A strange, chaotic slapping echoed from beneath the black water; something was dragging at the hulls of both barges.

A fetid stench, thick with the scent of blood, rose up, making Wang Cheng retch.

He felt his vessel dip, its speed faltering.

A cold terror seized his heart.

“If he fails, the ‘King’ and ‘Elder’ will be dragged down by countless ghouls and demons—to fill the abyssal eye of the Eastern Sea.

In that case, they will be no different from the evil spirits, doomed never to be reborn.”