Chapter Five: The Phantom of the Sea Isle, Five Peaks Banner

“What?!”
At the mention of the Sea Ghosts, everyone on board—from the lowliest boatmen to the brothers Zhang Wu and Zhang Wen—was thrown into chaos, panic-stricken and helpless.
Wang Cheng, however, remained relatively composed. He noticed several crude homemade bamboo bows hanging on the cabin wall, took one, and slung a quiver of arrows at his waist.
These improvised bamboo bows were little more than soft bows, meant merely for self-defense at sea, not true weaponry.
They paled in comparison to their Western counterparts, whose armed merchant ships often casually mounted cannons, not to mention colonial and pirate ships or warships.
Following the Zhang brothers out of the cabin, Wang Cheng saw a sailing boat emerge from behind a deserted island, bearing down with aggressive intent.
A flag hung from the main mast, bearing the image of a blue-black demon face with two sharp horns atop its head. His expression grew grim:
‘It truly is the elite Sea Ghosts, the core force under Xu Hai, the “Heavenly Appointed Admiral of the Seas,” leader of the pirate faction.
Weren’t they scattered and destroyed by the Five Peaks Select? How have they surfaced again so quickly?’
Zhang Wu assumed Wang Cheng, the scholar accustomed to life on land, was unfamiliar with the Sea Ghosts’ ferocity and hurried to explain in hushed tones:
“Brother Wealth, on the northern island of Yingzhou there are sixty-six countries, whose inhabitants are generally short in stature and known as the Wa people. The Han dynasty once bestowed upon them the ‘Golden Seal of the King of the Han Wa Slave Country.’
I hear it’s now their Warring States period, with constant warfare and many defeated samurai turning to piracy at sea.
Many of these ronin have pledged themselves to Xu Hai, the ‘Heavenly Appointed Admiral,’ who has trained them in strange tactics, forming his loyal temple army—the Sea Ghosts.
Their combat strength rivals the Five Peaks Select of the Sea King, and for years they’ve committed every atrocity—arson, murder, pillage—raiding the coast repeatedly.
But...”
Zhang Wu’s face was full of doubt and confusion as he spoke:
“For the past three years, we’ve had the Sea King’s protection here in Minzhou, so they haven’t dared show themselves.
A month ago, Xu Hai was slain by the Sea King, and most of the Sea Ghosts were killed by the Five Peaks Select. How could they have the audacity to show themselves now? Do they have a death wish?”
The others on the boat were equally baffled, though their hands worked quickly. Zhang Wen immediately pulled out a flag from the cabin and swiftly hoisted it on the mast.
As the flag unfurled in the sea wind, it revealed an emblem of five ocean peaks—the banner of the Sea King, the Five Peaks Flag!
Seeing the flag, Zhang Wu let out a deep sigh of relief and assured Wang Cheng, thumping his chest:
“Brother Wealth, don’t worry. This is the banner of the greatest waterman of our era, the Sea King. He’s benevolent and has freely given it to us, his fellow Tanka people.
In the Eastern Sea, this flag is more effective than the imperial command banner of the Grand Dynasty. Whether the Eastern Sea is peaceful or chaotic, it’s the Sea King who decides.
Now that even the Sea Ghosts’ master Xu Hai is dead, they would never dare challenge the flag!”
His words were filled with reverence for the legendary waterman.
The Grand Dynasty, after two hundred years of storms, had long succumbed to corrupt governance, with soldiers constantly fabricating achievements and killing innocents to pad their numbers.
The court even decreed: “When reporting victories at sea, a thorough examination is required; only those whose scalp and jaw are tight and hairless are genuine Wa.” This was to prevent soldiers from substituting commoners’ heads.
To the people, both soldiers and pirates were equally fearsome.
Those living off the sea like the Tanka never expected help from the authorities, and habitually regarded the Sea King, leader of the mutual trade faction, as a hero.
“This...”
Wang Cheng, who had hoped Zhang Wu had some clever plan to repel the enemy, saw the familiar Five Peaks Flag and felt a wave of dread. He blurted out:
“When you went fishing this time, you’ve been out at sea for at least four days without returning to port, haven’t you?”
Hearing this, the Zhang brothers were astonished:
“I hear Confucian scholars are adept at divination—the ‘Brother Wealth,’ this is uncanny!
We went fishing five days ago, got caught in a storm, hid on an island for two days, and indeed haven’t been back for a while.”
Wang Cheng thought to himself, Just as I suspected.
The court had rushed the process to send him and his father as sacrificial offerings to fill the sea, paying no heed to the safety of those at sea, seeing them as unruly troublemakers.
As a result, the fishing boat Zhang Fushun nearly fell prey to evil spirits, and its crew had no idea that the Sea King’s hard-won order in the Eastern Sea had collapsed overnight, and the Five Peaks Flag was now just a rag.
‘With my father gone, the chaos in the Eastern Sea has come even faster than I expected!’
But then he noticed something amiss:
“From the initial surrender and ambush to the sacrificial voyage, it’s only been a few days. Even sending messages takes time, and even at full sail, these boats are slow.
How could these fugitive pirates react so quickly, unless they never truly left the coast of the Grand Dynasty...”
Before he could finish the thought, the pirate ship—having seen the Five Peaks Flag—showed no sign of slowing or retreating. Instead, they revealed their onboard firearms.
Two heavy bronze cannons, four blunderbusses, and several rough-looking matchlocks.
Among the Franks, these are called “fire rope guns,” while the sixty-six countries of Yingzhou call them “iron cannons”—but they’re essentially the same thing.
Boom! Boom!
Thunderous explosions rang out, white water plumes rising beside the fishing boat.
The boatmen, unaccustomed to such scenes, trembled in terror, flattening themselves on the deck.
“How can they not fear the Five Peaks Flag?!”
“Help, don’t kill me!”
But to Wang Cheng, these weapons were more intimidating than lethal.
His father, an arms smuggler, had told him that even the largest red-barrel cannons in the Grand Dynasty were only comparable to the Franks’ 18-pounders.
The so-called heavy bronze cannon could only fire 3-pound balls, barely able to damage proper warships.
In the West, not only the navy but even pirates were phasing out such antiques.
Wang Cheng didn’t even bother to duck.
His mind was clear: they were all in the same boat, literally and figuratively; none could escape alone.
A direct fight was hopeless. The only option was to find a way to escape from these Sea Ghosts.
He grabbed the Zhang brothers from the deck and barked:
“Don’t be afraid—get up! Cannons on ships hit fixed and moving targets with equal ‘accuracy’—it’s all luck, not skill.
My ancestors were naval households at Yue Port; follow my orders. Zhang Wu, steer the ship. Zhang Wen, burn incense for the ship god.
Everyone else, if you don’t want to die, raise the sails and run for your lives!”
“Oh, oh...”
Everyone, including Zhang Wu, instinctively obeyed the scholar’s command.
Zhang Wu climbed to the helm, gripping the rudder.
The deckhands worked the windlass, using ropes and spars to unfurl the three hard sails on the fore, main, and aft masts.
Wang Cheng, bamboo bow in hand, calmly directed the four main crew roles—helm, windlass, watch, anchor—each to their task.
Whoosh—!

The fishing boat accelerated amid the cannon fire.
The Grand Dynasty’s Fu boat was easy to handle, requiring far fewer crew than the fully rigged carracks and galleons of the Franks, and except for headwinds, could easily catch the breeze from any direction—a perfect fit for the variable coastal winds.
Zhang Wu had inherited the Zhang Fushun from his father not long ago, and the responsibilities of the bowman were a daunting trial for a youth of eighteen or nineteen.
His mind was almost blank, simply following Wang Cheng’s commands by rote.
Yet he was a true “born workhorse,” executing orders with absolute fidelity, and soon the boat was pushed to its theoretical limits.
Unfortunately, the pirate ship—specially modified—was still faster, and with each passing moment, the gap between them narrowed bit by bit.
The Sea Ghosts aboard shouted in unintelligible gibberish, clearly demanding they stop.
Their matchlocks fired wildly, even punching a hole in the Five Peaks Flag hanging from the main mast.
Apart from Wang Cheng, despair was written on every face.
Zhang Wu, an ardent devotee of the Sea King, was furious—not only were the Sea Ghosts pursuing them, they had desecrated the Five Peaks Flag, which hurt him even more.
But the situation would not bend to their will.
Now, as the distance closed enough to see each other’s faces, the primitive cannons might lack precision, but with boarding imminent, the dozen or so fishermen were no match for the Sea Ghosts.
All they could do now was—pray.
The water talisman that had saved them last night was stuck between the two dragon eyes at the bow, in hope it might work again.
Of course, there was no ordained officer aboard; to activate the water talisman’s full power required the ship god’s blessing, which was the incense worker’s duty.
Suddenly, Zhang Wen, burning incense at the shrine, cried out:
“We’re doomed—the incense path has broken.
The enemy isn’t just Sea Ghosts; there’s an ordained officer working foul magic!”
Wang Cheng rushed over, and saw that the smoke—which should have risen straight up three feet—had barely reached one before dissipating, unable to reach the gods.
The three sticks of incense burned at an unnatural speed, finally curling left with the ashes, while the other two arched together.
Wang Cheng, though untrained in the water arts, had solid foundational knowledge and had studied the basics of all three officer ranks.
Just like casting divination cups before the gods, the three incense sticks were a means of communication with the deities, each with its own meaning.
This one had burned into the ominous “Demon Incense.”
The incense manual said: “Demon Incense means evil spirits arrive; within seven days, disaster will strike!”
Indeed, without the ship god’s power, they wouldn’t need seven days or even seven hours—seven, six, five, four... disaster was upon them.
“Let me try.”
Wang Cheng knew now was not the time to hide his abilities, ignoring the skeptical gazes of the boatmen.
With a thud, he prostrated himself before the shrine of the Heavenly Empress.
He had little real confidence—his only advantage was... he had connections above!