The East Sea rises with waves.
In this empire's remotest edges, there are still unique scenes unseen elsewhere; only the vast sea can support such great ships that cleave through the waves, their hulls thirty to forty zhang long, requiring two hundred people on the lowest deck to row long oars just to move ordinarily, but once in motion, their momentum is like a rainbow.
The ship's bow bears a fierce tiger's ram; the treasure ship uses wind power, water power, and manpower to crash forward, smashing anything in front of the ram to smithereens, serving as the premier weapon of sea battles, also the final weapon of desperation.
Now, Shentu Hongye stands on the golden tiger-headed ram, watching as layers of waves are split apart, looking down at the ship on the other side, a layer of indescribable pride rises in his chest. He then pulls out a sharp fine steel short spear from his back, eyeing the big fish swimming beneath the water with a hint of greed in his eyes.
