Life in Jiangxia was, by all accounts, comfortable. Gan Ning ate well, slept on a soft bed, and drank as much wine as he wanted. If he had a single regret, it was the particular indignity of being grounded.
Every morning, he stood on the wooden docks, watching the new prototype warships bob in the current. These were the vessels equipped with those terrifying striking poles. The enormous wooden drop arms haunted his dreams. He wanted to feel those ships moving beneath his boots. He wanted to order a boulder dropped just to hear the wood splinter.
He submitted formal requests to pilot the prototypes, but the shipyard officials rejected him every time.
"Nope. You are a guest," the official said. "Guests do not touch military hardware."
The constant denial felt like an itch he could never scratch. It left Gan Ning restless, simmering with frustration.
Fortunately, he found familiar faces to distract him. The garrison at Jiangxia did not just house the immaculate and perfectly polite General Zhao Yun. The medical tents near the barracks held a collection of wounded and exhausted soldiers, men who had stayed behind when Captain Gan Gui sailed back out to sea. Among the recovering troops was a small detachment of grizzled veterans, men who had once belonged to Gan Ning's legendary original 800 jinfan pirates.
Gan Ning bought them wine. He sat beside their cots. He listened to his old subordinates talk. Through their gritty, unpolished stories, he finally pieced together the exact details of his son's relentless campaign across the continent over the past year.
The veterans spoke with their eyes shining. They detailed the brutal fighting in Jingzhou and Xiangyang. They described how Gan Gui led a suicide naval run straight up the Yu River, punching through enemy blockades just to deliver vital grain to General Guan Yu. They talked about this year's operations. Gan Gui launched a lightning raid against the Jiangdong forces. He besieged a stronghold, all to draw enemy reinforcements into a meat grinder. That single move completely shattered the pressure on the city of Jiangling.
The veterans also mentioned the downtime between these huge battles. During the quiet months, Gan Gui ordered his men to return to their home villages along the river. He forced them to honor their ancestors. He commanded them to report their safety to their families.
Then came the strangest order of all. Gan Gui issued a strict military mandate. Every single soldier in his vanguard had to learn how to read. They were expected to set an academic example for the rest of the fleet.
"The captain said we needed to read characters for..." The veteran paused. He wore a thick linen bandage over his left arm. He had originally intended to complain about holding a calligraphy brush.
Now, his face twisted in frustration. He had completely lost his train of thought.
"Wait, General... Hmmm... Why can't I remember? Hmmm... Damn. For what was it again?"
"To read the Ocean Geography Texts," Gan Ning said quietly. He took a sip of his wine. "So you can become the elite vanguard of Lord Liu Bei's new ocean fleet."
"Ahh... Yes... Yes, that's it! Exactly!" The bandaged veteran slapped his knee with his good hand. His face lit up with relief. He stumbled over the pronunciation. "Ocean Geography Texts. I can never remember that damn phrase."
The veteran suddenly stopped smiling. He looked at his former boss with deep curiosity.
"Wait. General, how did you know about that?"
Of course Gan Ning knew about it.
His original goal in traveling to Jiangxia was simple. He wanted to see his son. He wanted to tell the boy he had survived the assassination attempts in the south.
However, the prototype ships at the Jiangxia shipyards had successfully hijacked his attention. He spent days harassing the local shipwrights, trying to squeeze them for technical secrets. The engineers kept their mouths shut about military schematics. But during a casual drinking session, one of the master builders let a specific detail slip.
That single sentence permanently lodged itself in Gan Ning's brain.
The master shipwright had worn a look of pure, starry-eyed wonder. The old man claimed Lord Liu Bei planned to establish huge naval shipyards down in the eastern territories. The goal was not to build riverboats. The goal was to construct leviathans. They were going to build ocean vessels measuring 30 zhang in length. These ships would withstand the monstrous gales of the open sea. Lord Liu Bei wanted the sons of the Han Dynasty to sail beyond the sight of land. He wanted them to ride the tidal waves and chart the true edges of the world.
Gan Ning was no stranger to the ocean. He had just spent over a month fleeing from the Jiangdong assassins on the open water. He understood the terrifying scale of the sea. The violent ocean swells made the Yangtze River look like a calm puddle in a muddy street.
Because of this terrifying reality, Gan Ning initially dismissed the shipwright's story. He assumed it was political propaganda, a beautiful lie designed to keep the shipyard workers motivated.
Think about the math.
30 zhang.
The standard assault ships used by the Jiangdong navy measured roughly 8 zhang. The enormous, terrifying fortress ships currently commanded by his son measured 13 zhang. Those ships already looked like floating mountains.
Gan Ning literally could not visualize a 30-zhang ship. His brain rejected the scale. More importantly, he could not figure out the tactical application. If you build a ship that enormous, who are you planning to fight? Sea monsters?
The burning question bothered him for days. Eventually, he found himself sitting in Zhao Yun's office. He used his signature loud, obnoxious pirate charm to steer the conversation toward naval plans. He presented the rumor of the giant ships as a ridiculous joke. He waited for Zhao Yun to laugh.
General Zhao Yun did not laugh.
The man known for his rigid discipline and stoic demeanor completely dropped his guard. A look of profound reverence washed over Zhao Yun's face. He looked past Gan Ning, staring at a horizon only he could see. He delivered his answer with bone-chilling certainty.
"We build the ocean ships, and we raise the ocean vanguard, for one purpose alone. We will measure the vastness of heaven and earth."
That suffocatingly serious response immediately killed Gan Ning's pirate humor. He sat without saying a word.
He listened as the white-armored general outlined the grand strategy. Zhao Yun calmly explained the preliminary blueprints drafted by Liu Huangshu and his inner circle strategists. Gan Ning finished his cup of tea. The liquid was completely cold by the time he stood up and respectfully took his leave.
Now, sitting in the medical tent, he heard his old subordinates mention the Ocean Geography Texts again.
A complex mixture of emotions tightened in Gan Ning's chest.
Back in Jiangling, he had traded witty insults with Lu Su. He had laughed out loud when Lu Su suggested the world would soon forget the father and only fear the son. He projected an aura of total, carefree confidence.
Deep down, the reality terrified him. Gan Ning despised the idea of coasting on someone else's glory. He absolutely refused to become a man known only as Gan Gui's father. He possessed far too much pride to accept such a miserable fate.
He had come to Jiangxia hoping to find a battlefield. He wanted to carve his own name into the history books. He had even rehearsed speeches in his head. He practiced exactly how he would politely decline if the local governor begged him to lead a strike team against his former masters in Jiangdong.
He had been thinking far too small.
He realized now that the strategists serving Liu Bei did not care about the petty river borders of Jiangdong. Their gaze had already crossed the eastern shores. They were looking toward the endless, terrifying expanse of the dark ocean.
Gan Ning thought about his old grudges. He thought about his anger toward Sun Quan. He thought about the political quicksand of the eastern courts.
He let out a very soft, very dismissive sigh.
They are nothing but dry bones in a graveyard. Why should I waste my energy caring about them?
"General? General?"
The wounded soldier waved his good left hand directly in front of Gan Ning's face. The motion snapped the pirate out of his deep philosophical trance.
Gan Ning offered a self-deprecating smile. Since when had he become as overly emotional and dramatic as Lu Su? He was the Brocade Sail Thief. He needed to act like it.
The arrogant, predatory grin returned to Gan Ning's face. He leaned back on his wooden stool. He kicked his boots out and settled into a comfortable posture.
"What were you just saying?" Gan Ning asked.
The wounded soldier suddenly looked embarrassed. A faint blush crept up his neck. He lowered his voice to a nervous mumble.
"I was just asking... is the General planning to go out to sea? Because if you are, I want to follow you again. I want to come back to your unit."
Gan Ning stroked his chin. He analyzed the request.
The psychology of his old veterans was easy to read. They did not harbor any actual hatred toward young Gan Gui.
In reality, these 800 hardened killers had practically raised the boy. They had watched him grow up on the riverbanks. They had taught him how to curse. Now, they were taking direct military orders from him. Despite their loyalty, a subtle, unspoken barrier existed between the men and their young commander. This awkwardness had amplified significantly when Gan Ning officially severed his ties with the Jiangdong regime.
Furthermore, Gan Gui was writing his own legend. He had fought 2 huge, flawless campaigns. His battlefield resume was currently shining just as brightly as his father's old records. The boy possessed genuine, terrifying authority.
From a strict military perspective, Gan Gui needed to capitalize on this momentum. He needed to forge a new personal guard. He needed young, hungry soldiers who answered only to him. He needed a unit that functioned as a direct extension of his own will.
Having his father's old drinking buddies lingering around the command tent did not help that process. These veterans lacked the academic vocabulary to explain the political nuances, but they possessed lethal street smarts. They could smell the awkwardness. They wanted an out.
Gan Ning did not need to think about it for long. He looked at the nervous faces of his old crew. He flashed a brilliant, dangerous smile.
"That is a very simple matter. Of course you can."
He reached out and slapped the wounded soldier firmly on his uninjured shoulder.
"And it is not just you. Any of the old brothers who want to return to my banner are welcome. The door is wide open."
The wounded man let out a heavy breath. The other veterans sitting on the nearby cots visibly relaxed. Joy spread across their scarred faces.
Then Gan Ning delivered the killing blow.
"Once we get the old crew back together, I am going to personally supervise your study sessions. Every single one of you is going to learn how to read. You are going to memorize those Ocean Geography Texts. We are going to beat my son to the open water!"
The joy instantly vanished from the tent. The veterans froze in place. They looked at each other with pure horror. Bitter, desperate expressions warped their faces.
Gan Ning threw his head back and unleashed a booming laugh.
He knew his old crew perfectly well. They were lazy. They hated discipline. Their desire to transfer out of Gan Gui's unit was definitely motivated by their intense hatred of writing brushes. They thought returning to their old boss meant an end to the academic torture.
They thought wrong. Gan Ning had zero intention of letting them off the hook. He planned to use vastly more aggressive methods to force these killers to learn their characters. He needed a literate crew if he wanted to steal the ocean vanguard position from his own son.
Ambition, cold and sharp, settled into his bones. His posture straightened.
If Lord Liu Bei can sit in the dusty plains of Guanzhong and plot the conquest of the distant eastern seas, then why can't I do the same? The world will learn to fear the Ocean Jinfan Pirate.
--
While Gan Ning plotted his naval dominance in the east, a very different kind of conquest reached its final stage in the deep southwest.
The city of Buwei stood at the absolute edge of the known world.
General Wu Yi sat on a hastily constructed wooden throne inside the main administrative hall. His legs were splayed wide in a posture of absolute command.
A local tribal chieftain knelt on the stone floor before him. The chieftain pressed his forehead against the cold stone in terrified submission. He raised a piece of silk fabric above his head. The cloth bore his official signature and a bloody thumbprint: a formal document of unconditional surrender.
A terrified teenage boy knelt beside the chieftain.
Sima Yi stood near Wu Yi's throne. He leaned down and whispered into the general's ear. He confirmed that the boy was indeed the chieftain's biological son.
He was the human collateral.
Sima Yi stepped back. He looked miserable. A thick layer of dirt and road dust coated his face and clothing.
After sending Zhang Ni away weeks ago, General Wu Yi had completely ignored Sima Yi's desperate pleas for caution. Wu Yi had ordered an immediate, suicidal march westward from the Dianchi Basin. He drove the army forward like a pack of starving wolves.
The legendary poisonous miasma of the southern jungles failed to stop them. Strategist Zhuge Liang's medicinal powders worked miracles. The deadly fogs that had terrified northern armies for centuries barely caused a cough.
The local indigenous tribes watched the Yizhou army march straight through the poison clouds without dying. They panicked. Their geographical advantage vanished overnight. They had no choice but to scatter into the deep mountains and pray to their forest gods to strike the invaders down.
The gods did not answer.
The combination of Sima Yi's smiling, honey-laced diplomatic promises and Wu Yi's terrifying military brutality proved too much. Tribal leaders slowly crawled out of the jungle. They surrendered. Then they actively guided the Yizhou army to the hidden camps of their rival neighbors.
Buwei City represented the final major population center in the southwestern quadrant of Yizhou. Taking this city meant the entire province was finally whole again. The chaotic, independent era of Liu Yan and his son was officially dead. The territory belonged completely to the Han Dynasty once more.
Wu Yi stared down at the trembling chieftain. He maintained a face carved from stone. He asked a question out of pure habit.
"Tell me. Have your people seen a plant here? One that bears flowers looking like raw cotton?"
Wu Yi had asked this specific question in every village, town, and camp they had conquered. He had never received a positive answer. He expected absolutely nothing this time.
The military translator repeated the question in the local dialect.
The tribal chieftain stopped trembling. He frowned. He thought deeply for a few seconds.
Then the chieftain nodded vigorously.
Wu Yi froze on his wooden throne. The terrifying scowl vanished from his face. A surge of pure, uncontrollable joy exploded in his chest.