Ming East India Company

This was Brant's first time setting foot in Manila, the most central Spanish colonial city in East Asia.

Spanish soldiers in armor and monks in black robes were a common sight on the streets. The towering tower of the colonial governor's palace reached into the clouds, and the bells of Manila Cathedral rang every fifteen minutes. The entire city was shrouded in the iron-fisted control of the Spanish monarchy, and the air was thick with a harsh and oppressive atmosphere. Every soldier and every monk here could be the Grim Reaper who would claim their life.

Sanchez's mansion was heavily guarded. In a secret room, the over-forty-year-old, slightly overweight, and shrewd-eyed Spanish businessman met Brandt for the first time.

Without a word of pleasantries, Sanchez went straight to the point, bombarding Brandt with questions in the Seville dialect at breakneck speed. He questioned him about everything from his birthplace, his parents' names, the captains of the merchant ships he had served on, the details of storms he had encountered, and his experiences in Southeast Asia, to Catholic scriptures, church liturgy, Spanish maritime rules, and even the names of local streets and alleys in Seville, as well as the local customs and traditions. He asked about every single detail.

This is a test for Sanchez. He would never risk his life for someone who can't even pretend properly.

Throughout, Brandt remained calm and composed, showing no sign of panic. He answered questions fluently and accurately in pure Seville dialect. Every detail was meticulously crafted, every answer perfectly suited his persona, his recitation of scriptures flowed naturally, and his sign of the cross was precise and skillful. He handled Sanchez's deliberate provocations and trick questions with composure, revealing not a trace of the Dutchman Brandt.

After half an hour of questioning, Sanchez's tense expression finally relaxed, and an approving look appeared in his eyes.

He had to admit that Adams's work was truly brilliant. The young man before him was, inside and out, a pure Spanish sailor, with nothing suspicious about him.

"Mr. Adams was right after all."

Sanchez raised his glass and gave Brandt a slight nod.

"Juan, your disguise is enough to fool ninety percent of the guards and monks in Manila. But the remaining ten percent are the royal censors and fanatical monks of the Inquisition. We must be absolutely certain."

Sanchez immediately began working on it. Leveraging his power in Manila, he had all of Adams's forged documents officially registered at the Governor-General's Maritime Office and Manila Cathedral, transforming them into verifiable and legitimate documents within the Spanish colonial system. Simultaneously, he added Brant's name to the crew list of his own Manila galleon, the "San Cristóbal," which was about to depart for Lima, Peru.

This ship was Sanchez's private merchant vessel, holding a charter from the Spanish Crown. Most of the sailors on board were Sanchez's former subordinates, and the scrutiny was far less stringent than that of royal merchant ships. It was Brant's safest and most reliable option for traveling to the Americas.

The departure date is set for three days from now.

For the past three days, Brandt had remained secluded in a secret room in Sanchez's mansion, never venturing out, meticulously refining his words and actions, and memorizing every detail of his identity, daring not to relax for a moment. Sanchez, on the other hand, had prepared a complete set of Spanish sailor's attire and personal belongings for him, even the cross, sailor's manual, and a small amount of silver coins in his pocket were all perfectly in line with the equipment of a low-ranking Spanish sailor, without a single prohibited or suspicious item.

On the day of boarding, Manila Bay was bathed in sunshine under a clear blue sky, with a howling sea breeze.

The massive ship "San Cristóbal" was docked at the Royal Pier, its flags fluttering and the Spanish royal coat of arms flying high. The pier was heavily guarded, with fully armed Spanish soldiers standing on both sides. Inquisition monks, clad in black robes, their expressions grim, checked the identities of each boarding passenger, questioned them, and searched them. Anyone found even slightly suspicious was immediately dragged aside for rigorous interrogation.

The area was crowded with Spanish merchants, sailors, and soldiers waiting to board the ship. The atmosphere was oppressive and tense. No one dared to make a sound, and everyone was queuing up for inspection.

Brandt mingled in the middle of the boarding procession, wearing the sailor's uniform Sanchez had prepared for him, a sailor's knife at his waist, and a wooden cross hanging around his neck. His expression was calm and natural, indistinguishable from the Spanish sailors around him. He lowered his breathing, slowly moving forward with the procession, his gaze steady, without looking left or right, showing no sign of nervousness.

Finally, it was his turn.

Two examiners sat at the table: a clerk from the governor's office and a black-robed monk from the Inquisition. The clerk picked up his identification document and checked it against the list one by one—the seals, signatures, and registration numbers—all were verified to be correct. Then, the black-robed monk raised his eyes, his sharp gaze fixed on Brant, and coldly asked in Spanish:

"Name, place of origin, baptismal church, purpose of boarding the ship."

"Juan Carlos Fernández, originally from Seville, was baptized at the San Augustine Cathedral in Manila, and boarded a ship to Peru to make a living and seek employment." Brandt spoke calmly, at a moderate pace, with a pure accent, without the slightest tremor.

The monk stared into his eyes and suddenly launched into a challenge, speaking rapidly: "Recite the entire Hail Mary, word for word."

The surrounding air seemed to freeze instantly.

This is the part most prone to errors, and many imposters have stumbled on the recitation of the scriptures. But Brandt didn't pause for a moment. He bowed slightly, put his hands together, and recited the Hail Mary fluently, accurately, and without a single mistake. His tone was devout, his posture was perfect, and he perfectly replicated the appearance of a Catholic in prayer.

After listening, the monk's sharp eyes softened slightly, and he casually asked a few more questions related to navigation, which Brant answered fluently.

Just as the clerk was about to stamp and release the document, the monk suddenly spoke again, his tone tinged with doubt:

"Your accent doesn't sound like someone who's lived in Manila for a long time; it sounds more like a native Seville accent. Why is that?"

The surrounding soldiers instantly gripped their muskets tightly, their eyes fixed on Brant.

This is the most deadly trap.

Brandt remained calm, his expression still composed, his tone carrying a melancholy befitting his persona, as he answered with composure:

"I have only been in Southeast Asia for three years. I spent the previous twenty years in Seville and on the Atlantic Ocean. My accent has not changed, so there is nothing suspicious about it. I only want to return to the West and go to Peru to make a living. I have no other intentions."

The answer was reasonable and flawless.

The monk remained silent for a moment, then finally nodded slightly to the clerk.

The clerk picked up the seal, stamped it heavily on the document, and let it pass.

Brandt bowed slightly, following the etiquette of Spanish sailors, to the inspector, then turned and steadily stepped onto the deck of the "San Cristóbal".

When his feet touched the wooden planks of a Spanish Manila galleon, the sea breeze blew in his face, and he realized that he had succeeded.

Dutchman Cornelius Brandt completely disappeared from Manila's censorship.

The survivor was Spanish sailor Juan Fernández, who successfully boarded an ocean-going sailing ship bound for Peru in the Americas.

The anchor was slowly pulled up, and the sails were fully unfurled in the sunlight. The "San Cristóbal" turned its bow on the surface of Manila Bay and headed towards the vast depths of the Pacific Ocean, towards the distant American continent, towards the origin of the golden tree, and also towards an even more perilous and unpredictable journey of life and death.

On the dock, Sanchez stood by the window of the mansion, watching the departing sailboats, and slowly put down the wine glass in his hand.

Thousands of miles away in Kagoshima, Adams stood on the deck of the Canglan, gazing at the southern sea, quietly awaiting news of the final outcome of this clandestine journey.

Brant, standing on the deck of the American sailboat, raised his hand and pressed it against the cross on his chest, his eyes resolute.

The road ahead was long and arduous, with the storms of the Pacific Ocean, Spanish control, and the guards of the country of origin all awaiting him. But he eventually crossed the first, and most difficult, life-or-death hurdle.

His mission to uncover the secrets of the Americas has only just begun.

The San Cristóbal sailed across the vast Pacific Ocean for four whole months.

Cornelius Brandt, at this moment, has only one identity: Juan Fernández, a low-ranking Spanish sailor.

He blended in like a drop of water into the ocean, hiding himself completely amidst the Castilian dialect, Catholic prayers, the smell of rum, and rough laughter and curses that filled the ship. He never argued with anyone, never inquired about anything outside the voyage, and never participated in the sailors' mockery and contempt for the Indians. He was diligent in his work, taciturn, and devout in his prayers, perfectly embodying the role of a down-on-his-luck Spaniard who just wanted to make a living in Peru.

During the long ocean voyage, he heard all sorts of news about the golden tree.

This tree species, known to the Spanish as "the bark of life" and "green gold," grows only in the cloud forests of the Andes Mountains in the heart of Peru, at altitudes of two to three thousand meters. The area is damp, cold, and sparsely populated, a land protected by generations of indigenous people. After conquering the Inca Empire, the Spanish colonists immediately monopolized the logging rights of the golden bark, establishing an ironclad rule:

Anyone who illegally harvests ginnet bark shall be hanged; anyone who illegally takes ginnet seeds out of the country shall be burned at the stake; anyone who trades with, communicates with, or transmits messages to Native Americans shall be prosecuted for heresy and treason.

Throughout the Peruvian colony, from the Viceroyal Palace in Lima to the coastal ports, from church monks to mine overseers, everyone was on high alert. Kinna bark was the exclusive property of the Spanish royal family, a source of revenue for the church, and a source of enormous profits for the colonists. It was absolutely impossible for any outsider to touch it, much less for the seed to leave the Americas even a step.

The moment Brandt set foot on Peruvian soil, he knew he was facing not just a checkpoint, but an impenetrable wall of iron.

In late autumn, the sailboat finally entered the port of Lima and anchored on the core coast of the Spanish Viceroyalty of Peru.

Lima was firmly under Spanish control. The cobblestone streets were wide and straight, the governor's palace was magnificent, the cathedral bells rang all day long, and the streets were filled with fully armed Spanish soldiers, arrogant merchants, cold-faced Inquisition monks, and indigenous people who were driven as slaves, dressed in rags and with numb faces.

Following an informant arranged by Sanchez, Brant settled in a sailor village on the outskirts of Lima, officially beginning his search for the seed.

His first step was to secretly purchase a small number of ginnala seeds from Spanish loggers and low-level sailors. He believed that with enough money, there would be brave enough people willing to take the risk.

But reality dealt him a heavy blow.

He cautiously approached three Spanish loggers working in the logging area, but each attempt ended in complete failure.

The first lumberjack, after hearing his request, was initially filled with greed, but accepted the silver coins he had paid in advance and promised to bring the seeds within three days.

Three days later, instead of receiving the seeds, Brandt was greeted by a patrol of Spanish soldiers. The lumberjacks immediately denounced him, accusing him of being a Dutch spy and a heretic. Had Brandt not noticed in advance and fled overnight, his false identity would have been exposed on the spot, and he would have faced the Inquisition's stake.

The second time, he was more careful and only approached quiet, poor, and seemingly honest middle-aged sailors. He didn't pay in advance, but subtly tested the waters. However, when the man heard the words "Ginna Seeds," his face turned deathly pale, he shoved him away, and fled in a panic, reporting him to the church that very day.

Brandt had to move again, change his residence, and hide himself even more deeply, even covering his face when he went out, and no longer daring to easily contact people.

The third time, he almost faced a desperate situation. He found a down-on-his-luck doctor who was ostracized by the Spanish and harbored resentment towards the royal monopoly. Brant thought he had finally met a like-minded person and frankly revealed part of his purpose, offering a large sum of money for the seeds.

But after a night of silence, the doctor ultimately refused him.

"Young man, I advise you to give up as soon as possible."

The doctor's voice was filled with exhaustion and fear.

"The Spanish set up three checkpoints around the logging area. Everyone who entered or left had to be stripped naked and searched. Bark could be smuggled out, but seeds were forbidden. If discovered, not only would you die, but I would be burned alive. No one has ever been able to take away ginna seeds right under the Spanish noses, never."

The doctor told him that the Spanish were far more ruthless and meticulous than he had imagined. They not only strictly controlled the outflow of seeds, but also deliberately burned ginna seedlings outside the logging areas, keeping only the forests under their control. They would even massacre any Indian villages that secretly kept ginna seeds, eradicating them completely.

In just two months, Brandt made three attempts, all of which ended in failure. Twice he narrowly escaped being exposed and facing certain death.

He had less and less silver coins, no one he could trust, and was surrounded by covetous Spaniards, informers, and spies everywhere. He dared not write letters, dared not contact the outside world, dared not expose any trace of his connection with Ryukyu or the Netherlands. Like a wild beast trapped in an iron cage, he charged around, only to be covered in wounds.