The Lotus Crossing the Sea (1)
The sound of waves rushed in like a roar.
Zhejiang Province, off the coast of Ningbo.
A medium-sized vessel glided forward, slicing through the thick sea fog that blanketed the water.
Deep blue sails billowed above a central emblem: a pure white lotus in full, noble bloom.
It was the mark of the Blue Sea Lotus, a ship belonging to Sea Lotus Transport—the most secretive outfit under the Blue Sea Trading Company.
The enduring bond between the Blue Sea Trading Company, Ningbo’s largest merchant guild, and the Sword Pavilion stretched back more than a century.
Ever since the previous Sword Empress saved the first chairman from drowning in treacherous seas, the company had served as the Pavilion’s hands and shadows, discreetly handling all their worldly affairs. In return, whenever bandits or pirates threatened the merchants, the Pavilion dispatched its disciples to crush the threats, repaying the favor in kind.
Yet this alliance was kept in absolute secrecy.
Part of it stemmed from the Sword Pavilion’s insular ethos, their desire to remain aloof from the grudges and favors of the martial world. But the greater concern was the inevitable hassle that would follow any exposure.
Namhae Bota-am was a sect as ancient and formidable as Shaolin itself, the towering north star of the murim. The moment it became known that a trading company dealt directly with them—despite their apparent detachment from central plains affairs—every major merchant house under heaven would descend like a swarm of bees, begging for the same connection.
The Blue Sea Company, likewise, had no desire to invite needless jealousy or scrutiny by advertising their ties to the most mysterious sect in the world. And so this secret honeymoon endured in the shadows, preserved by unspoken agreement.
That was why the ship’s route and cargo remained classified even within the company itself. Only twenty-four handpicked, thoroughly vetted elite sailors were permitted aboard.
“We’ll make landfall soon. All hands, prepare!”
The grizzled old helmsman at the prow bellowed in a voice like grinding stone.
Their destination was Lion’s Mouth harbor, at the southernmost edge of the Zhoushan Archipelago. Jagged rocks rose from the sea like a lion’s fangs, making the passage notorious for its danger. It was also a restricted zone, strictly off-limits to ordinary travelers.
The helmsman raised his voice again, shouting at the crew.
“The waters ahead are forbidden! One ship swallowed by that fog and every soul aboard becomes fish food! So stay sharp—not even for a second!”
“Yes, sir!”
Beyond the bow, the northern waters of Lion’s Mouth had been devoured by a pale, chaotic haze. A vast white wall of mist erased the line between sky and sea.
It was the Sea Fog Strange Gate Formation, the grand protective array that sealed the Sword Pavilion’s main mountain away from prying eyes.
A formation of no return. No matter how seasoned the sailor, once trapped in that fog, they would never set foot on land again. Even the Blue Sea Lotus was forced to halt at its boundary.
Thud.
The heavy hull kissed the harbor’s weathered stone pier and came to a stop. The moment it did, sailors poured from the ship like water from a broken dam.
Their movements were flawless, synchronized to perfection. Anchors dropped with practiced speed. Soon, mountains of cargo were being shifted onto the pier.
Grain, oil, salt—daily necessities. Precious tea leaves and the finest four treasures of the scholar’s study.
But the items that demanded the crew’s utmost care were something else entirely.
Heavy crates sealed beneath layers of talismans and iron chains. Inside slept the core ingredients for the South Sea Divine Pill, the Sword Pavilion’s secret spiritual medicine. These rare herbs grew only in the deepest reaches of the central plains.
With a final clank, the last crate was set down. A burly sailor swung a thick arm and struck the bronze gong mounted on the bow three times.
Gong—gong—gong—
Three heavy ripples rolled through the fog.
The signal that the job was finished—and the order for immediate withdrawal. The instant they heard it, the sailors moved with frantic precision, preparing to depart again.
Leave the moment the gong sounds.
That was the absolute command they lived by.
“...Huh?”
But today, something none of them had anticipated occurred.
“H-hey! Look over there! Someone’s coming!”
One sailor hauling the anchor chain froze mid-motion. He stared into the mist as though spellbound and shouted.
“What are you yelling about? Seeing ghosts now? Shut up and finish with the anchor!”
“It’s real! Look into the fog! That’s no ghost—that’s a living person’s shadow!”
At the urgent cry, every sailor’s gaze snapped toward the mist. A strange silhouette shimmered within the thick white veil. It was no illusion.
The moment they confirmed its reality, the deck erupted in chaos as if someone had kicked a hornet’s nest.
“Well I’ll be damned. Not a ghost after all. It really is a person.”
“Yeah, definitely human. Looks like they’re alone. Who the hell could it be?”
“Maybe a Sword Pavilion disciple here to collect the shipment?”
“Does that make any sense? The gong just rang—how are they here already? And alone?”
“Sword Pavilion?! You mean those legendary beauties we’ve only heard about in rumors?! Hey, move your fat head! I want to see too!”
“You idiot! Even if we meet them, the higher-ups gave strict orders not to dare look at their jade faces!”
Step. Step.
Even as the sailors’ noisy chatter swallowed the deck, the unidentified figure continued walking slowly through the dense fog, heading straight for the ship.
“It’s… it’s a woman…!”
At last, pure white robes fluttered like butterfly wings between the curtains of mist, and a woman emerged.
An antique sword hung at her waist. A small travel bundle rested in her hand. With light, graceful steps she approached the bow of the Blue Sea Lotus and stopped directly before it.
“Huk…”
“Hooop…!”
The moment she lifted her head, every sailor on deck drew in a sharp breath at once. Her beauty, seen up close, was a heavenly perfection that defied description.
Hair like black silk cascaded to her waist.
Eyes the color of seductive crimson jade, as if carved from blood-red rubies.
A straight nose beneath delicately arched brows, and lips as red and glistening as cherries freshly bitten.
Flawless snow-white skin without a single blemish.
Her cheeks were so smooth they seemed to glow with a faint inner light.
The nape of her neck, revealed between slightly tousled strands, traced an elegant curve like a swan’s. Following that slender white line downward, one caught a dizzying glimpse of delicate collarbones.
Her fingers holding the bundle were so pale and slender that the phrase “slender jade hands” felt inadequate. Her entire figure was so ethereally beautiful it seemed impossible such delicate wrists could even support the sword at her waist.
“....Ah.”
Overwhelmed by that breathtaking vision, the men on deck forgot how to breathe. For one frozen instant they stood like stone statues, utterly entranced, drinking in her appearance with desperate eyes.
In the silence where even breathing seemed to have stopped, the woman’s red lips finally moved.
“Hey. You there. This ship can take me to the mainland, right?”
Her voice rang clear and sweet, like wind chimes swaying in a spring breeze.
But her tone was curt and rough, exactly like a man’s.
“Ah, th-that, uwaah…!”
“Uh… um…”
Despite the jarring mismatch between her heavenly voice and crude speech, none of the men—lost in her beauty—dared point out the flaw.
They simply pressed their lips shut as though by prior agreement, hoping only that she would open those lovely lips once more and grace them with her voice again.
“...These idiots.”
When no answer came, the woman’s brows drew together in a faint frown.
“Hey! Gentlemen?! Did all of you suddenly go deaf?! I’m asking if this ship heads to the mainland!!”
“....”
Her thunderous shout echoed across the shore, yet only the sound of waves and heavy silence answered.
Grind.
Her beautiful brows twisted savagely. The clear sound of grinding teeth slipped from between clenched jaws. Just as she opened her mouth to shout again, a young, hesitant voice came from one corner of the deck.
“Um… p-perhaps…”
It belonged to the youngest crewman aboard, the newcomer called Little Seven. Drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t notice. He simply stared down at the woman with dreamy, spellbound eyes.
“Are you… a fairy from the fairy tales…?”
The absurd question cut through the tension like a bucket of cold water. The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. Forgetting her earlier irritation, she asked back in pure bewilderment.
“What…?”
When she tilted her head, her beautiful hair swayed and scattered through the air with the tiny motion.
Little Seven couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even form words. His eyes followed her every movement as though bound by invisible strings.
The woman stared at his slack-jawed face for a long moment. Then her shoulders began to tremble.
“Kkh… kkhkh….”
She raised a delicate hand to cover her mouth.
But she couldn’t hold it back. Throwing her head back, she suddenly burst into loud, unrestrained laughter.
“Puhahahahahahaha! I can’t— I’m speechless!!! Ahahahahaha!!!”
It was unmistakably mocking laughter, the kind one might use to ridicule a village boy spouting nonsense.
Yet Little Seven didn’t feel insulted. Instead, his heart pounded with a strange, aching sweetness. The cold, haughty woman was looking only at him and laughing with such pure, crystal-clear joy.
Mockery? Ridicule? What did any of that matter? If seeing that brilliant smile cost him his dignity, Little Seven felt he could gladly play the fool a hundred times—a thousand times.
“Heh… hehehe…”
With half-lidded eyes, he laughed along. The fact that he was being laughed at had already evaporated from his mind. He simply grinned like an idiot, drunk on the sight before him.
And the ripple of her laughter did not stop there.
“Hehehehe…”
“Huhehehehe, hahahahahaha…!”
In the blink of an eye, the deck filled with the deranged laughter of half-mad sailors. A bizarre, comical spectacle—as if they had all fallen under a collective hypnosis, intoxicated by spring haze.
That was when it happened.
Thud. Thud. Thud!
Heavy, furious footsteps shook the hull from below deck.
“You worthless, sluggish bastards! The gong sounded—raise the anchor and turn this ship around! What the hell are you all doing sprawled around laughing?!”
With a string of rough curses, the captain of the Blue Sea Lotus stormed onto the deck. His name was Guo San.
A man who had spent his entire life on wild seas, a sailor to his very bones. He prized the ship’s rules more than his own life.
Turn around and depart the instant the gong rings—that was the iron law of this vessel.
Instead of preparing to sail, his crew was laughing like lunatics. No wonder his rage had reached a boiling point.
“Why isn’t that anchor being raised?! Have you all lost your minds, or has some ghost possessed the lot of you?!”
Snorting with fury, he marched toward the bow—only to stop short, brows furrowed.
Normally his roar would have sent them scrambling across the deck like frightened rats. But now every sailor had frozen in place, wearing the same dazed expression and stupid, dreamy smiles.
The sight was so eerie it sent a chill down his spine.
“Wh-what’s wrong with these idiots?”
His gaze landed on Little Seven, the youngest, standing closest. The boy was even drooling from his half-open mouth. Guo San’s face twisted with barely contained fury.
What in the world had they seen to cause this?
Still fuming, he whipped his head toward the harbor where all their eyes were fixed.
“What the hell are you bastards staring at—huk?!”
The words died in Guo San’s throat before they could finish.