Chapter 463: Sudden Change

The black veil of night draped over the world, heavy and oppressive. Iron-like clouds pressed down upon the surface of the sea, dense and dark. A furious storm, accompanied by lashing rain, hammered relentlessly against the ship, while towering waves rose and fell like monstrous walls of liquid. The vessel pitched and rocked with each surge, straining against the raw power of the ocean.

“Are you sure the ship won’t capsize?” The little maid, Boazi, clutching a support beam, felt every violent jolt of the vessel and couldn’t suppress her anxiety. Her face had gone pale as dough.

“Of course not.” Zhu Ping’an nodded firmly, his composure unwavering. “The ship we’ve built is over ten zhang long. A little storm like this isn’t enough to tip her over.”

“Th-then… how strong would the wind and waves need to be to actually flip a ship?” The little maid, though slightly comforted by Zhu Ping’an’s calm, couldn’t help but voice her curiosity.

“Tsunami, or—” Zhu Ping’an’s words were cut short by a puzzled interruption.

“Tsu…tsunami?” The maid blinked, confused. “The sea doesn’t have a mouth… how can it smile?” Her expression was adorably blank.

“No, not a smile. Tsunami. It’s caused by undersea earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, or extreme weather, which violently displace the water through seismic energy…” Zhu Ping’an trailed off with a self-deprecating laugh and a shake of his head. “Never mind. You probably wouldn’t understand the technicalities. All you need to know is that a tsunami produces waves tens of meters high—thirty or forty feet. The destructive power is enormous.”

Li Shu, listening as Zhu Ping’an explained, felt a spark of admiration in her eyes. Knowledge of astronomy, geology… this “stinky toad” was impressively capable. Her gaze lingered on his, and they shimmered faintly with intrigue.

“Thirty or forty feet…” The little maid’s mouth dropped open, fear flickering in her eyes. “That… that tall?”

“Will that happen to us?” she asked anxiously. The thought of waves of that magnitude made her tremble.

“Ah, don’t jinx it with your crow’s mouth,” Li Shu scolded, flicking the girl lightly on the forehead with her delicate fingers. “If you summon a tsunami, I’ll sell you to Mother Hua when we get back.”

The little maid, Boazi, clutched her head, shrinking slightly, sticking out her tongue sheepishly. Maybe it had been her unlucky words that stirred the waves.

“All right. It’s getting late. You two should rest. I’ll go back to read before bed.” Zhu Ping’an shook his head lightly, rising to bid Li Shu and the little maid farewell.

Indeed, time had slipped past them. Hours had passed since dinner. Li Shu and the maid were likely ready to sleep, and Zhu Ping’an himself had books waiting to be read—books he hadn’t yet touched since boarding.

His cabin was just next to theirs. A single step to the left outside the door would bring him there.

“You still want to read? You’ve already passed the imperial exams and secured an official post. Isn’t that enough glory for your family?” Li Shu pouted slightly, displeased that he was leaving so soon.

“I don’t read for exams.” Zhu Ping’an shrugged, smiling faintly. “As for family glory…”

His words froze midair. The smile stiffened on his face, and his eyes widened abruptly.

Qi… luck-energy. He had seen it again. Normally, Zhu Ping’an wouldn’t react so strongly to the sight of qi alone. In the past, whenever he quietly recited thoughts of family glory, qi would appear—it was expected. What shook him now was the shift in Li Shu and the little maid’s qi.

Li Shu’s head was still crowned with radiant purple qi, yet a streak of blood-red qi now descended slowly. More ominously, a massive wave of dark, foreboding qi surged toward her from the void, its speed visibly increasing.

Beside her, the little maid’s white qi column was now shrouded in a layer of inky black qi, edges tinged with a creeping thread of blood-red energy.

Compared to the red streak, the black qi surged far more violently.

Seeing this, how could Zhu Ping’an remain unshaken? From all he had learned about qi, blood-red qi signified imminent calamity or “bloodshed disaster,” while black qi represented deathly energy.

Bloodshed disaster?

They were in the midst of the boundless sea. Ahead, the fleet led by the Marquis of Linhuai guarded them. Bloodshed disaster could not come from the fleet. Apart from Li Shu, her maid, and the housekeeper, the only others aboard were himself and the guards in the lower cabin. With the Marquis present, no one would dare defy orders.

And certainly not him.

If the blood-red qi indicated human peril, the only source could be external.

Pirates! Instantly, the thought struck Zhu Ping’an. Previously, with the Marquis of Linhuai’s fleet escorting them, pirates hadn’t even crossed his mind. Even if the fleet’s size had been reduced due to maritime restrictions, Zhu Ping’an had trusted that the Ming navy could crush any pirate threat, even large-scale encounters with Wokou fleets. The Ming ships’ size and artillery easily outmatched island forces.

Yet now, the red streak of blood qi forced him to consider pirates.

Unlikely in ordinary times… but today, all too possible.

The Marquis’s fleet was far ahead. In this stormy night, if pirates struck, whether the fleet would notice, and whether it could arrive in time, were both uncertain.

But why was the blood-red qi only a single streak? It suggested danger, yes—but one that could pass without incident.

Then why was the black qi rolling in like a tide?

Bloodshed might pass harmlessly, so why did such oppressive death energy surge so violently?

It was contradictory.

Unless… there was another factor.

Zhu Ping’an’s thoughts froze, his face draining of color. The calm, composed mask he usually wore shattered for the first time. Disaster, destruction, calamity—if it wasn’t man-made, it must be natural.

“Ah, Zhu Ping’an! What’s that expression?!” Li Shu had been pleased to see him pause and glance back at her, but suddenly he froze mid-sentence, his face twisting into shock as if confronted by a grotesque demon or a raging tigress.

“You villain! What is that look? Am I so terrifying? I’m not a she-tiger!”

Her face darkened as she pouted, baring her tiny fangs. Her large, shining eyes glared at him, demanding a satisfactory explanation—or else she would not let it go.