From the moment he fled Chang'an in haste, to the time he set foot on Yizhou Island, and now to this day commanding the Duke of Lu's fleet deep in the southern seas, more than a year had passed without Hou Junji truly noticing it. Only when the coastline of the Central Plains had long vanished behind him did the weight of that time finally settle in his mind.
The further south they sailed, the more everything changed. The landscape, the air, even the sunlight itself seemed different, as if the world had quietly shifted into another season entirely.
By all reckoning it was only the middle of the second month. Back in Guanzhong, men would still be wrapping themselves in thick layers, stamping their feet to keep warm even if snow had already melted. Yet here, Hou Junji lounged on the highest shaded deck wearing nothing but a thin silk robe meant for midsummer heat.
The sea wind whipped past him, fluttering the hem of his robe and carrying with it the faint scent of salt and distant rain. He let out a long, satisfied breath, the kind a man only made when the world felt temporarily agreeable.
"This southern sea," he muttered lazily, "really is too comfortable for its own good. If not for the damp, one might even mistake it for paradise."
He meant it. Though the fleet had formally sailed only half a year ago, he now understood why later generations spoke of the ocean with such longing. Lands like Lin Yi, now far behind them, were almost absurdly generous. There was no biting winter, no frozen soil, no desperate scrambling for food. Fruits could be picked almost at will, forests hid strange beasts of value, and the sea itself offered pearls and coral as though it were trying to win human favor.
The only true threats were storms and typhoons. Aside from those, it could almost be called a land made for people to live in.
Well… aside from the fact that it was unbearably hot.
Standing beside him, Wu Ba hesitated before speaking. Normally he would have agreed at once, but months at sea had taught him that the Duke did not dislike honest words as much as other nobles did.
"Your Grace," he said carefully, choosing each word as if weighing it, "perhaps it is precisely because life is easy here that people become careless. When survival requires little effort, men grow idle. When they grow idle, they stop fearing Heaven. And once they stop fearing Heaven… they also stop fearing authority."
Hou Junji turned slightly, intrigued enough to listen.
Wu Ba continued, slower now, struggling to maintain the refined speech he had practiced since childhood.
"My father used to say… even if this land seems rich, the Central Plains are still better. There the seasons are clear and ordered. In spring one admires flowers, in summer one travels afar, in autumn one hunts the fields, and in winter one walks upon snow. That… is what makes a true homeland."
He paused, then added with surprising boldness,
"And if this southern land were truly superior, why is it that for a thousand years it has always been our people marching south to civilize them? Why has no one from here ever marched north to shape China in return?"
For a moment there was only wind and creaking timber.
Then Hou Junji burst out laughing.
"Wu Ba," he asked lightly, "have you ever actually seen snow?"
Wu Ba blinked, then shook his head with complete honesty.
"Never. If Your Grace's heavenly army had not come… I would probably still be serving those local nobles. Or rebels."
Hou Junji nodded, satisfied, then shifted tone with deliberate authority.
"I bear the Emperor's command to manage the southern seas. My voice can reach the Son of Heaven himself. Those who render merit will receive land, houses, horses, and titles. None who deserve reward will be overlooked."
His voice lowered, calm but heavy.
"And those who err will face exile, prison, or the blade. I will show neither softness nor favoritism."
Wu Ba's face went pale. Before he realized it, he had already dropped to the deck in a full prostration, heart pounding like a drum.
Hou Junji stretched leisurely, then bent slightly and spoke in a far gentler tone.
"To govern the southern seas is my duty. But it is also your chance. Do well, and one day we may stand in the same court as ministers."
Wu Ba froze, needing several breaths to understand the meaning. When it finally sank in, his face flushed with joy so intense he could barely form words. He even cursed himself inwardly for not studying refined speech harder in his youth, because nothing he knew seemed capable of expressing what he felt.
To Hou Junji, however, the reaction was entirely expected.
After all, he was a veteran of the Prince of Qin's old household. From the first uprising to the events at Xuanwu Gate, he had survived court struggles sharp enough to skin a man alive. Winning over a half-local interpreter was hardly difficult.
In truth, the reason he had spent effort binding Wu Ba's loyalty was simple. Only after reaching the southern seas did he realize how fractured this region truly was. Dozens of small kingdoms stood side by side, each with its own language, customs, and titles. Without someone who could speak the local tongues, governing here would feel like trying to command troops through a wall.
After reassuring Wu Ba once more, Hou Junji lay back down and waved lazily.
"Tell me again about Zhenla, Funan, and that other state… Duholo."
He then added, more firmly,
"And this time, focus on the flat fertile land they occupy."
Wu Ba had already explained everything many times, pouring information out like beans from a bamboo tube. But since the Duke wished to hear it again, he obediently began once more, detailing the geography, the rivers, and the political tensions of the region.
Hou Junji listened with eyes half-closed but mind fully alert. Every detail Wu Ba spoke had already been marked on the fine map in his cabin, yet he insisted on hearing it again and again, searching for any flaw or missing piece.
From the Han dynasties through Liu Song and the Sui, previous courts had either established prefectures like Rinan and Lin Yi or launched raids before withdrawing north. In practice, Lin Yi had always marked the southern limit of meaningful exploration.
That was understandable. From Jiaozhou to Lin Yi the land narrowed into a long coastal strip hemmed in by mountains, and the further south one went, the more impassable those mountains became. The distance alone exceeded three thousand li. Most envoys and generals probably assumed there was nothing worth pursuing beyond that.
But Wu Ba insisted that if one hugged the coastline and sailed further south, rounding the mountains at the peninsula's end, one would eventually encounter something astonishing.
A vast plain.
Mountains embraced it on three sides, while the fourth opened to the sea. Hundreds of rivers watered thousands of li of fertile soil. The mountains shielded it from violent storms, and food could be gathered almost without effort. A man could lie down on the ground there without fear of freezing or starving.
Using the precise maps he had obtained and the calculation methods he learned before leaving the capital, Hou Junji had already estimated the size of that plain in his cabin.
At least five hundred thousand qing.
Larger even than the Guanzhong Plain.
As for its history, that too was simple. Funan had long been the stronger kingdom, Zhenla the weaker. A few years earlier, a prince of Funan had married into Zhenla and used that connection to seize its throne. Now that same ruler, unwilling to forget his Funan origins, had launched a campaign to swallow his former homeland entirely. The two states were locked in war on the southern edge of the plain, leaving a smaller northern country named Duholo temporarily overlooked.
By the time Wu Ba finished recounting all this yet again, Hou Junji felt the information had settled firmly into memory. Out of sheer boredom, he even began making Wu Ba teach him local phrases. Sea travel, he had discovered, contained long stretches so dull that even a veteran general might go mad if he did not find something to occupy his mind.
Nearly another month passed like this.
At last, the fleet left Lin Yi far behind, rounded the southern tip of the peninsula, and turned westward.
Only then did the mountains along the shore finally recede. In their place, a wide plain unfolded across the horizon, so sudden and expansive it felt almost unreal.
The sense of suffocation that came with endless sea was not Hou Junji's alone. When the other ships spotted open land, cheers erupted across the fleet almost instantly.
Moments later, a lookout on the mast shouted a warning.
"There's fighting on shore!"
As the ships drew closer, Hou Junji no longer needed the spyglass to see clearly.
The battle had already ended. In truth, it hardly resembled a proper battle at all. The combatants could scarcely be called soldiers. Their weapons were crude, their bodies mostly unarmored, and many wore decorations made of feathers, animal skins, and bones rather than actual equipment.
One side sat bound on the ground, heads lowered in despair. Nearly half of them were already dead. The victors were more numerous. Some pointed toward the approaching fleet in confusion, while others continued cutting down prisoners without hesitation.
It was plainly an execution.
Hou Junji frowned.
The Duke of the Tang Empire lifted his hand and gave a short, decisive order.
"We have come to teach the people beyond civilization the rites and righteousness of the realm. Slaughtering prisoners like beasts cannot be allowed."
He lowered his hand.
"Signal them to stop. If they refuse…"
His gaze hardened.
"…then we attack."