"—fall off?" Lady Celia said with a worried expression.
Garrett Buchanan fell silent, his expression grave. Seeing his troubled look, Lady Celia asked, "Brother Garrett, what are you thinking?"
"Actually, Lady Celia, last spring when I followed the campaign against the Muse nation and participated in the naval battle at Tunmen Cliff, I noticed something strange..."
"What strange thing?"
"When the Muse navy's main camp was far from us, and their warships sailed toward us from the distance, I first saw their masts, and only then their hulls. If the earth were flat, I should have been able to see the entire ship at once. This indicates that our position was on a massive curve."
"A curve?"
"Yes." Garrett Buchanan stroked the spherical object. "Just like this map."
Lady Celia was stunned by his words, speechless for a long while. Garrett Buchanan suddenly seized her hand with excitement. "Lady Celia, now that the Muse and Mo nations have both submitted, peace reigns across the land, and there are no more wars. I want to take this opportunity to advise the King of Rong to organize a long-range expedition, departing from Tunmen Cliff, sailing ever forward, to reach the very edge of the sky. If the earth truly is a sphere like this, then I will certainly return to my starting point and arrive back in the great Rong! Lady Celia, will you support me?"
Lady Celia was stunned for a moment, then murmured, "But... our wedding..."
"I will definitely come back! I will definitely come back to marry you. Lady Celia, will you wait for me?"
Lady Celia looked at Garrett Buchanan's eyes, gleaming bright in the candlelight, and she understood—seeking the ultimate truth of heaven and earth had always been this man's consuming ambition. If she tied him down now, he would carry this unresolved longing for the rest of his life. She smiled gently and reached out to softly brush his temple. "Brother Garrett, if there's something you want to do, go do it. I'll wait for you."
3
In the King of Rong's hall, after hearing Garrett Buchanan's request, the King knitted his brow and remained silent for a long time. Garrett Buchanan stood to one side, saying nothing, waiting for the King's final decision.
After pondering at length, the King of Rong finally spoke. "Minister Feng, the sea is treacherous and unpredictable. This voyage—I fear there will be more peril than hope."
"King of Rong, there is no need to worry. Our nation now has ten tower-ships, sufficient to handle all manner of conditions at sea. Moreover, the Muse nation's cartographers are highly skilled, surpassing even our own. For this expedition, we can conscript their services."
"Even so, what about Lady Celia?"
"I have already spoken with her. We have set a pact of five years. If after five years I have not returned, then I must have met with some misfortune, and I beg the King of Rong to betroth her to another."
The King of Rong sighed deeply. "Since you've put it this way, I see your resolve is firm. Very well—I shall issue an edict tomorrow authorizing your voyage."
"Thank you, King of Rong." Garrett Buchanan bowed deeply. "Our great Rong is strong in arms and flourishing in power. This voyage will spread the King's prestige far and wide, inspiring awe throughout the world."
At Tunmen Coast, after extensive preparations, the expedition fleet was fully ready. Ten massive tower-ships lay anchored along the shore, and viewed from afar in the dawn light, they looked like sleeping behemoths, projecting the formidable military might of the great Rong. Garrett Buchanan gazed at the distant, dark horizon, then turned toward his homeland—the place that had borne and raised him. There, whether his wise sovereign or his closest friends, had all blurred into symbols of his life's past, save for one face—that young woman's fresh face, as clear as the candle flame in the Translation Bureau that night, etched vividly in his heart.
"Lord Feng, it is time to set sail," his vice admiral reminded him.
Garrett Buchanan nodded and handed the vice admiral a brocade scroll. "Guard this well. As long as this scroll exists, so does the great Rong."
The vice admiral accepted the order reverently, placing the scroll inside his robes. This brocade scroll recorded the military campaigns of the great Rong's successive rulers, as well as the current King of Rong's glorious achievements. Sixty-one years ago, the first Rong ancestor had risen from the ranks, overthrown the mighty Muse Dynasty with his strategic brilliance and martial prowess, and laid the foundation of the great Rong. Through a generation's effort, the great Rong had become the regional hegemon, forcing two nations to submit and acknowledge suzerainty, thereby unifying the known world—a truly magnificent feat. On this voyage, they were to spread these glorious achievements overseas, to broadcast the might of the great Rong.
Garrett Buchanan waved toward the distant horizon and called out, "Set sail!"
A deep horn sounded. The tower-ships entered the sea one after another, hoisting their sails, beginning their journey into the unknown.
Two years later.
Garrett Buchanan had lost track of how long he had been sailing, or how far from the great Rong. Along the way, they had encountered a massive hurricane—half the ships had capsized and sunk to the ocean floor. Even the experienced naval cartographer had fallen gravely ill and, without proper treatment, had perished. The remaining ships, unable to replenish fresh water and food, were in increasingly dire straits. Yet even in these harsh conditions, Garrett Buchanan's resolve never wavered—in truth, they could not even turn back. According to the few remaining cartographers' estimates, given the distance they had traveled from the great Rong, their remaining fresh water and food were insufficient for the return voyage. So their only hope for survival was to keep sailing forward, hoping to encounter an island or landmass where they could resupply.
One day, while Garrett Buchanan was resting in his cabin, he suddenly heard shouts from the deck. He rushed out to see a massive storm churning the sea ahead, the water surging upward like a wall stretching across the horizon. The cartographer cried out, "This—could this be the legendary edge of the sky? This is the boundary of the world! If we sail in there, we'll fall into the abyss!"
"Nonsense about edges of the sky!" Garrett Buchanan grew excited instead, his eyes blazing with fervent light. He ordered the flag bearer to signal the other ships to charge through the sea wall at full speed, and issued a military command: "Anyone who retreats in the face of battle—execution!"
Led by Garrett Buchanan's flagship, the other ships followed one after another, plunging into the sea wall. For a moment, those aboard felt the seawater pouring over them, the world inverted, completely losing their bearings. They were swept along by the massive current, not knowing where it was carrying them. Garrett Buchanan also slammed his head against a mast and lost consciousness.
When Garrett Buchanan slowly came to, the moon was bright and the stars were sparse—it was night. His subordinates reported that they had made it through the sea wall, but with heavy losses. Only four tower-ships remained, and more than half the crew were lost. Garrett Buchanan rubbed his aching head and stood on the deck, looking out. The sea was calm and gentle, like a maiden, the waves reflecting the bright moonlight. Was this the world beyond the edge of the sky?
His vice admiral stepped forward and whispered, "Lord Feng, much of our fresh water and food was swept away by the current. We've lost more than half. If we don't find supplies soon, I'm afraid we won't hold out much longer."
Garrett Buchanan nodded to indicate he understood. But at this moment, he was also at a loss. After passing through the sea wall, they had lost all sense of direction. They didn't even know where they were—how could they find supplies?
Just then, someone pointed at the sky and shouted, "Look, a flash-meteor!"
Garrett Buchanan looked up and indeed saw a flash-meteor, slowly drifting in their direction. However, this flash-meteor seemed to be on the verge of falling—it wasn't very high above the sea. Its speed increased and its altitude decreased, and before long, the flash-meteor grew enormous, with colorful lights flickering at several points as it soared over their heads, emitting a tremendous rumbling sound.
Everyone on all four ships stared in the direction the flash-meteor had flown, completely dumbfounded. Garrett Buchanan was the first to recover—shouting to his men, "Quick, get the ships moving! Chase that flash-meteor!"
The flagship immediately furled its sails and began rowing at full speed. The other three ships needed no prompting—they followed close behind. When they had sailed nearly until dawn, a dark island appeared before them, and on that island, there were flashing lights—lights hundreds of times brighter than any torch!
The crew hesitated for a moment, but Garrett Buchanan decisively ordered: "Bring the ships to shore. Everyone, land!"
4
Garrett Buchanan led his men ashore, and after advancing several hundred paces, they found the "flash-meteor" they had seen falling from the sky. Now it stood there with enormous wings spread wide, some signal lights still blinking on and off in the night.
"Heavens, so this is what a 'flash-meteor' looks like," one soldier exclaimed, his jaw nearly dropping.
"Look, there's writing on it too—uh... Aviation..."
"There are small windows on top—could there be people living inside?"
"People inside? Did they come from the sky?"