Ming East India Company

Brandt gradually came to understand a principle:

Trying to get the Kinna seeds from the Spanish is a dead end.

The only people who could give him seeds were the Native Americans who had been abused and slaughtered by the Spanish.

But what stood before Brant was an insurmountable racial divide.

Decades of massacres and enslavement by the Spanish instilled in the indigenous people a deep-seated hatred and fear of all white people.

When they saw the Spaniards, they either scattered and fled or remained silent and hostile, not uttering a single word, let alone trusting a white man to entrust him with the ginna tree seeds that had been guarded for generations.

Brant tried visiting small Native American villages near the edge of the mountains.

To show goodwill, Brant laid down his weapon and approached empty-handed. But as soon as he appeared, the villagers immediately picked up bows and arrows and stone axes, shouting at him with hatred and vigilance in their eyes. Some even shot arrows at him, forcing him to retreat immediately.

No one listened to Brandt's conversation, and no one believed him.

In the eyes of Native Americans, all white people were demons who burned, killed, and looted, and were murderers who enslaved them; there was no difference between them.

With the arrival of winter, heavy snow fell in the Andes Mountains, closing off the forests and halting logging operations. All roads in Brant were completely blocked.

Hungry and exhausted, Brant lived in a drafty, dilapidated hut, penniless and short of food. He narrowly escaped being exposed several times, was driven away by Native Americans several times, and fell into utter despair several times in the dead of night.

Brandt was gripped by deep fear, feeling that he could never complete the mission and that he might be trapped in this foreign land for the rest of his life, either burned to death by the Spanish or dying of hunger and cold, never to return to Ryukyu.

Just when Brandt was completely in dire straits and almost gave up, fate gave him his only chance.

In the dead of winter, with heavy snow falling, Brant wandered further and further along the edge of the forest in search of food. He slipped and fell down a steep slope, his right leg being cut by a sharp rock, leaving a deep wound that bled profusely.

Brant dragged his injured leg and crawled laboriously through the snow. His consciousness gradually faded, and just when he thought he was going to die in this unfamiliar snowy forest, a steady set of footsteps stopped in front of him.

Brandt struggled to lift his head.

Amidst the snow-covered landscape stood a group of Native American warriors clad in animal skins, wielding spears, and their faces painted with ochre patterns. They were tall, with sharp eyes, exuding the wildness and majesty of the mountains and forests. Leading them was an older, composed middle-aged man wearing a feathered crown and possessing an imposing presence.

He was Manco, the chief of the largest Native American tribe in the nearby cloud forest.

Brandt's heart sank to the bottom.

He was white, a white man with the appearance of a Spanish colonist, and had fallen into the hands of Native Americans who hated white people to the core; his only fate was death. He did not struggle, he did not run away, he simply closed his eyes wearily, and awaited the end of his life.

The expected spear piercing did not occur.

Chief Manko stared at him for a long time, his gaze lingering on the man's seemingly harmless demeanor, his bleeding wounds, and his desperate yet calm eyes. He waved to stop the warriors beside him who were about to attack, and spoke a sentence in a low, guttural Native American language.

The interpreter beside him translated in broken, hostile Spanish:

"You are neither a Spanish soldier nor a villain who cuts down trees. Who are you, and why are you alone in our forest on such a snowy day?"

Brandt was stunned.

This was the first Native American he encountered after arriving in America who did not immediately attack or drive him away, but instead asked him why he had come.

He knew this was his last chance.

Despite his injuries, Brandt struggled to support himself on the ground and, word by word in a calm tone, recounted his entire background and purpose.

He said he was not Spanish, but came from the distant Netherlands and now lived in the Ryukyu Kingdom in the East China Sea;

He said that the Spanish monopolized the bark of the goldenrod, driving up the price and causing countless ocean sailors to die from malaria. His country had no good medicine, and countless people died of disease at sea.

He said he traveled halfway around the world to this land of death, not to plunder, not for wealth, but only for the seeds of the golden tree to go back and save his compatriots;

He said he hated the Spanish monopoly, brutality, and greed, and that he had never harmed the Indians or participated in any of the colonists' evil deeds.

Chief Manco listened quietly without interrupting, his deep eyes revealing a constantly shifting range of emotions.

He had seen countless white men, each one who came to these mountains to plunder the ginna bark, for wealth, and to enslave their people. Not a single white man had ever told him that he wanted these things to save lives.

After Brant finished speaking, he collapsed wearily into the snow, looking at Manco with trepidation.

"I know you hate all white people. I don't expect you to believe me; if you want to kill me, I won't complain. But I just want you to know that I came here to save people, not to plunder. We can be friends."

The snow fell silently, and the mountains and forests were completely still.

Chief Manco remained silent for a very long time.

He turned around and whispered a few instructions to the warrior beside him.

The warriors put down their spears, stepped forward, and carefully helped Brant up. Without binding or harming him, they simply carried him toward the tribe.

Brandt survived.

He recuperated in a wooden hut in an Indian tribe for a full month.

Throughout the month, he always followed the tribe's rules, not wandering around, not touching the tribe's sacred objects, and not asking about things he shouldn't ask. He quietly recuperated every day and took the initiative to help the tribe with what he could, repairing wooden houses, organizing tools, and carrying firewood, always maintaining a respectful attitude.

Chief Manko would visit him every day and occasionally talk to him.

Brant told him about Ryukyu, about the world on the other side of the sea, about the Spanish monopoly and how it caused countless strangers to die of malaria.

He also listened attentively to Chief Manco's story, the tale of how the Indians had protected the ginna trees for generations, and the deep-seated hatred of the Spanish colonists who, after their invasion, slaughtered their people, burned their villages, plundered their bark, and enslaved their compatriots.

Two people from opposite ends of the world, who would otherwise have no connection, forge an incredible bond of trust in the hate-ridden Andes Mountains.

Chief Manco finally realized that the white man before him was completely different from the Spanish colonists who had burned, killed, and looted.

He was sincere and humble; he wanted the seeds of Kinna because he truly wanted to save people, not to plunder wealth.

On the day he recovered from his injuries, Chief Manco led Brant into the heart of the cloud forest deep in the Andes Mountains, a place where outsiders could never set foot.

Here, the mountains and plains are covered with tall and straight ginna trees. Their bark is smooth and their leaves are emerald green. They grow quietly in the clouds and mist. These are sacred trees that the Native Americans have protected for generations. They are the true and most potent native mother trees, far superior to the trees that the Spanish felled.

"The ginna tree is a gift from our gods to this land, meant to save people, not to be exchanged for gold like the Spanish did."

Chief Manco stood in the forest of Kinna, his voice steady, and slowly spoke to Brant.

"The Spanish stole our bark, burned our people, and turned what was meant to save lives into gold for murder. They don't deserve the seeds of the golden palm."

He turned around and looked at Brandt, his eyes filled with approval and solemnity.

"But you came to save people. You respect our land, you respect our people, you hate the brutality of the Spanish, you did not lie, you had no malice."

"You are worthy of the seeds of the Ginkgo tree."

At that moment, as Brant stood amidst the vast forest of ginna trees, his eyes instantly welled up with tears.

Months of setbacks, desperate situations, escapes, despair, and several brushes with death all gained meaning at this moment.

Chief Manco was generous in the slightest. He gathered his tribe members and, in the most suitable season, collected a large number of plump, mature, and highly vigorous native seeds of the Kinna tree. The quantity was enough for large-scale cultivation in Ryukyu, so that they would no longer be subject to the Spanish for generations to come.

The tribesmen carefully dried the seeds and wrapped them in layers of waterproof animal hides to prevent moisture, leakage, and searches, making it easy for Brant to hide and carry them, thus evading the Spanish checkpoints.

On the eve of his departure, Chief Manco and Brant made a pact.

Brant solemnly promised that after the seeds were brought back to Ryukyu, they would only be used for medical treatment and saving lives, and would never be used for monopolistic profit. He also promised never to reveal the location of the Native American tribes to the Spanish, and to respect the land and beliefs of the Native Americans for generations to come.

Chief Manco promised that if Brant or the Ryukyu people ever came to the Americas again, as long as they were well-intentioned and not there to plunder, the tribe would always treat them as friends and provide them with shelter and assistance.

On the day of his departure, Chief Manco personally sent men to escort Brant along a secluded mountain path, avoiding all Spanish checkpoints, patrols, and spies, and safely delivering him to a secret port in northern Peru.

Here, an anonymous merchant ship, pre-arranged by Sanchez, awaits to take him back to Manila and then on to Okinawa.

Before boarding the ship, Brant held tightly the Ginna seeds wrapped in waterproof animal hide in his arms and bowed deeply to Chief Manco.

He traveled halfway around the world, faced death several times, repeatedly encountered setbacks, and reached the end of his rope. Finally, in his desperate situation, he met people who were willing to believe in him and obtained the native Kinna tree species that could save countless lives and rewrite the fate of Ryukyu.

The merchant ship slowly set sail, leaving the Peruvian coast.

……

After bidding farewell to Chief Manco's escort, the merchant ship slowly raised anchor and, taking advantage of the stable reflux currents in the western Pacific, sped back towards Manila, Philippines. Compared to the long and perilous voyage of April to the Americas, the westward journey from Peru back to the Philippines was smooth sailing, aided by ocean currents and monsoons. In just two months, the ship successfully entered the waters off Manila.

As the ship entered Manila harbor, the routine disembarkation inspection was extremely rigorous. Spanish soldiers searched each person and checked each box, leaving no stone unturned, even the sailors' personal clothing, rations, and accessories unchecked. Black-robed monks stood at the checkpoint, their eyes cold and sharp, scrutinizing religious identities and suspicious traces.

Sanchez had already made arrangements with people at the port, secretly smoothing things over with the inspectors, and vouching for him under the guise of being an "old sailor who had been at sea for a long time and was returning to port for rest." Under these layers of cover, Brant passed through smoothly and set foot on Manila soil.

Three days later, late at night, the tide was calm and the wind was still, and the dark waves were silent.

Brant bid farewell to Sanchez, repeatedly thanking the wealthy Spanish merchant for his adventurous assistance, before boarding his secret speedboat alone. The small boat hoisted its low gray sails and, under the cover of night, quietly sailed out of Manila Bay, heading north, avoiding the open trade routes between Ryukyu and the South Seas, instead taking the less traveled side roads of deserted islands and reefs, operating by night and avoiding sentries and checkpoints.

After a full twenty-one days of clandestine voyage, the fast ship finally broke through the heavy blockade of the South Pacific and caught a glimpse of the coastline of Kagoshima in southern Kyushu.

Having endured years of arduous ocean voyages and clandestine maneuvers, he was thin and pale, his eyes showing the weariness of long journeys, yet his gaze was clear and resolute. Before Adams could even ask, he immediately bowed, carefully unwrapped the inner lining, peeled away the outer layer of beeswax and animal hide, and gently held a package of plump, glossy black, and exceptionally high-quality native Kinnera seeds in his palm.

"Lord Adams, the mission is complete. All the native golden tree seeds from the Andes Mountains have been brought back without any loss."

A short sentence, yet every word carries immense weight.

Adams gazed at the handful of seeds that bore witness to countless lives and the fate of nations. His face, tense for a year, finally relaxed, and his eyes welled with emotion and relief. He gently patted Brant's shoulder, his voice deep and resonant:

"You've worked hard. The master has been waiting for you for a long time. Come with me into the city immediately to report back."

The two dared not delay and immediately rode into the city, heading straight for Shirano's residence in Kagoshima.