Ming East India Company

For twenty days straight, the sea breeze in Manila Bay has not brought a single sail of a merchant ship.

This colonial capital, which the Spanish called the "Pearl of Far Eastern Trade," was once the most prosperous transit hub in the entire Pacific Ocean.

But now it's all silent.

Since the Ryukyu Navy burned the Galleon's main battleship and blockaded the entrance to Manila Bay, the city's commercial lifeline has been completely severed, plunging it into an unprecedented state of desolation.

Outside the bay, the Ryukyu navy's galleys patrolled day and night, like a sharp blade hanging overhead. Any ship attempting to enter or leave the port was either sunk on the spot or looted along with its crew and cargo.

Because of the surprise attack, the Spanish Navy now only has a dozen or so Patache boats and four or five galleys, plus some local Campan boats.

Meanwhile, there were more than forty Ryukyu galleys responsible for blocking the port nearby.

In this situation, Acuña could only hope that his homeland and American colonies would send reinforcements.

At the same time, Acuña also sent envoys to the Portuguese in Macau, hoping that they would help him, the governor of the Philippines, out of consideration for the Iberian Monarchical Alliance.

Before the two reinforcements arrived, Acuña decided not to launch an attack. It was already a big mistake for the galleons to be burned by the pirates. If the last defensive fleet were to be lost as well, then Manila might not be able to be saved.

……

The tropical rain seems to never end.

The dockside warehouse district of Manila was shrouded in a damp, cold fog. The salty sea breeze, carrying the smell of mold, seeped into every crevice and into the very bones of Sanchez de Torres.

He had been standing in his own private warehouse for a full three hours.

As the most powerful Spanish merchant in Manila, he was backed by the great nobles of Spain and monopolized the galleon trade between Manila and Acapulco, Mexico.

He acquired silk and porcelain from China and exchanged them for silver from the Americas, amassing a fortune that was considerable. He was a prominent figure in Manila's business circles.

However, this lockdown plunged Sanchez into an abyss of no return.

Just three days before the pirates blockaded the port, he had spent a huge sum of money to buy three ships full of top-quality raw silk and fine porcelain from Fujianese merchants, with a total value of over 800,000 pesos.

Half of this money was his personal wealth, and the other half was a huge high-interest loan borrowed from domestic conglomerates and Spanish banks. He originally planned to load it onto a galleon that was about to leave port and transport it to the Americas for sale, where the profit could triple.

Now, the galleons have been burned, the port has been sealed off, and the three ships of priceless cargo are piled up in the damp dock warehouses.

Located in the tropics, Manila is often rainy and humid. Within just half a month, the raw silk in the warehouse began to mold and clump together, and the brocade was corroded by the moisture, resulting in large patches of mold.

Goods that once fetched exorbitant prices are now depreciating in value day by day.

Even more fatally, prior to this deal, his creditors in China had sent three debt collection letters, demanding that he repay the debt with interest within three months, or they would confiscate all his estates and properties in China, and even send him to the gallows.

Sanchez spent his days in the moldy warehouse, staring at the mountains of scrap, so anxious that his mouth was covered in blisters and he suffered from insomnia every night.

Besides the direct loss of goods and the collapse of his business, what troubled Sanchez even more was the issue of taxes and the royal family's pursuit of accountability.

According to the decrees of the Spanish monarchy, the Manila colonial authorities were required to pay a fixed trade tax to the country every month, the money of which came entirely from the merchants' trade commissions.

Trade has now come to a complete standstill. Merchants have no revenue and are unable to pay taxes. The colonial authorities have not been able to collect a single penny of tax revenue for half a month. Military pay and administrative expenses have all been cut off, leaving them with no choice but to continuously impose taxes and levies on merchants.

On one hand, they were losing all their wealth and capital; on the other hand, the colonial authorities were constantly imposing exorbitant taxes. Squeezed from both sides, the Spanish merchants throughout Manila were filled with immense resentment.

With cold, damp cobblestones beneath his feet and endless piles of goods stretching before him, Sanchez, frustrated and agitated, left the warehouse and ran to a nearby church. There, he devoutly prayed to God, asking that the God he had believed in for decades would bless him this time.

After finishing his prayers, Sanchez returned to his residence.

This is a typical Spanish-style mansion with tall stone walls, a spacious courtyard, and an exquisite living room. It used to be a gathering place for Manila's high society, and was usually bustling with guests.

But today, as soon as Sanchez pushed open the gate, he sensed that something was wrong.

Because there was a Portuguese-style carriage parked in the courtyard.

Feeling puzzled, Sanchez continued walking until he entered the living room.

Sanchez paused slightly as he pushed open the mansion's door.

A tall, handsome young man dressed in a Portuguese gentleman's suit sat on the sofa in the living room, with an exquisite cane beside him. He appeared calm and composed, showing no sign of the unease of his unexpected visit.

Upon seeing Sanchez arrive, the other party exchanged a tacit greeting:

"Hello, Mr. Sanchez. I am Antonio Bucarau."

Sanchez's first reaction was that the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.

Seeing Sanchez's questioning look, Bugalao smiled and said:

"Mr. Sanchez has a terrible memory. Ten years ago, you almost bought my father's arsenal in Macau. Have you forgotten?"

Sanchez then realized that the person in front of him was the only son of the owner of the renowned Macau Bucarau Artillery Factory, which was famous throughout the Far East's arms industry.

Sanchez's face showed displeasure at this moment. After all, he had been commissioned by the then Spanish governor of the Philippines to acquire the Bucarau artillery factory, with the aim of sabotaging the Portuguese arms business in the Far East.

Now that he's down on his luck, and the other party is coming to visit him, it's clear they won't treat him well.

Sanchez suppressed his displeasure, slowly walked into the living room, and, maintaining a businessman's composure, asked:

"Mr. Bugarau, what brings you here from afar?"

Bugalao slowly rose, gave Sanchez a slight bow, his manners impeccable, and his tone calm yet carried undeniable weight:

"Mr. Sanchez, I am here today not for arms deals, but as a neutral envoy appointed by the Ryukyu royal family, to negotiate a mutually beneficial deal with you."

"The Ryukyu royal family?" Sanchez was taken aback. The Ryukyu Kingdom's power had grown rapidly in recent years, and many Western merchants in the Far East had heard of it. However, he couldn't imagine that Manila would have any connection with the Ryukyu people.

"Perhaps you are unaware, but the Ryukyuans are the 'pirates' who are blockading Manila and cutting off your shipping routes," Bugalao explained to Sanchez, noticing the confusion on his face.

"Are you a pirate envoy?"

Sanchez's expression changed abruptly. He then realized that the so-called pirates were merely the main fleet of the Ryukyu Kingdom. Realizing this, Sanchez instantly took a step back, his eyes filled with wariness and anger.

"Mr. Bugalao, you should know that pirates are the enemies of the Spanish Empire and the mortal enemies of Manila. Aren't you afraid that I will hand you over to the colonial authorities for punishment if you act as their envoy?"

"Don't rush, Mr. Sanchez."

Borgara remained calm and unmoved, raising his hand to signal Sanchez to calm down.

"I am a neutral businessman, here only to resolve the deadlock, and I am not biased towards either side. What I bring today is the only way out for you and for all Spanish businessmen in Manila. You might as well listen to it before making a decision."

Sanchez stared at him, his brow furrowed, and after a moment of silence, finally sat down. He was in dire straits, and he was unwilling to let go of even the slightest chance of a turnaround.

Seeing this, Bu Jialao slowly opened his mouth and clearly stated the pirates' conditions, word by word:

"The Ryukyu Kingdom's fleet blockaded Manila Bay only to retaliate against the Spanish colonial authorities for their massacre of Ming Dynasty refugees, not to antagonize Spanish merchants."

Mr. Hakuno, the governor of Ryukyu, asked me to convey a message: if Mr. Sanchez can take the lead in mobilizing all the Spanish merchants in Manila to jointly persuade Governor Acuña to order the deployment of Manila's last naval fleet to take the initiative to set sail and fight the pirate fleet, the pirates will make two promises.

First, if the Spanish fleet wins, the pirates will immediately lift the blockade of the bay, flee the entire army, and never invade Manila again. The port will be reopened to navigation, and all trade will resume.

Secondly, even if the Spanish fleet is defeated, the pirates still guarantee that they will never plunder the residences, warehouses, or assets of any Spanish merchants, and will do everything in their power to protect your personal safety and business foundation. Their target will be the Spanish governor, and they will not harm the merchants in the slightest.

These words, every single one, struck a nerve with Sanchez.

The port reopened, trade resumed, and the usurious loans could be repaid—this was exactly the ending he had dreamed of. But after hearing this, Sanchez showed no joy whatsoever; instead, he slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly:

"Absurd! Utterly absurd!"

Mr. B.G., do you think I'm a three-year-old child who would believe pirates' nonsense?

This is clearly a pirate conspiracy, using me to force Acuña to deploy his last fleet and annihilate the Spanish naval forces in Manila in one fell swoop.

There are at least forty galleys tasked with blockading the outer harbor, while there are only a dozen or so galleys and other warships inside the port. How can they possibly win?

"Mr. Sanchez, I have delivered my message. This is your only way out." Baccarat remained calm despite Sanchez's furious and defiant demeanor.

"You can take your time to think it over. I'll wait for your reply."

After saying this, Bugalau said no more, got up to take his leave, and left Sanchez's residence.

Silence returned to the living room, leaving only Sanchez standing there, his chest heaving.

He slumped back onto the sofa, ran his hands through his hair, and felt his head buzzing.

If he agrees to Baccarat's request, he risks losing everything, the city falling, and his own death; if he doesn't, the port will be permanently blocked, the goods will rot completely, creditors will come knocking, and he will still face certain death.

Both sides are dead ends; advancing or retreating is a dead end.

Sanchez stood up irritably and went straight to his study, wanting to find his account books and recalculate his losses.

But as he walked to the desk, he inexplicably looked at the sandalwood drawer with the brass lock that contained the most confidential documents.

This drawer contains core equity certificates and anonymous investment contracts of his Pacific Ocean Shipping Company, which are top secrets he never easily shows to others.

He took out his key, opened the drawer, and took out a thick stack of documents, spreading them out on the desk, then numbly flipped through them page by page.

Just as he flipped to a yellowed share subscription agreement, his fingers suddenly stopped, his eyes fixed on the anonymous subscriber's signature at the end of the agreement, and he froze on the spot.

The contract clearly stated that his ocean trading company held 20% of the shares anonymously, and the subscriber was a Spanish alias.

But Sanchez knew better than anyone that the real funder behind this alias was the Governor of Manila.

Pedro de Acuña!

This is an unspoken secret.

As a governor appointed by the royal family, Acuña was strictly prohibited from engaging in commerce for profit. However, coveting the huge profits from the galleon trade, he secretly invested most of his life savings and ill-gotten gains from his official career in Sanchez's trading company under the alias of a trusted confidant, reaping substantial dividends every year and making a sure profit.

Of course, the governor's office in Acuña also provided Sanchez's trading companies with a little "small" help in daily law enforcement and trade arrangements.

Only Sanchez and Acuña knew about this matter. If it were exposed, Acuña would be guilty of violating royal laws and abusing his power for personal gain. At best, he would be dismissed from his post and sent back to his country; at worst, he would be disgraced or even hanged.

Previously, Sanchez had always regarded this contract as a link to maintain a relationship of mutual benefit with the governor, and had never had any other intentions.

He delivered the annual dividends that were due to Acuña to the people who had dealt with him without missing a single penny.

But at this moment, looking at this contract, Sanchez's previously irritable and depressed expression instantly changed.

He finally found a way to completely control the situation instead of being led by the nose by the pirates.

He was reluctant before because he had to beg Acuña and take a risk; now, he holds the governor’s fatal weakness, and it is a sure thing for him to force Acuña to comply.

By agreeing to Baccarat's demands, persuading merchants to join forces, and forcing Acuña to send troops, he not only satisfied the pirates' requests but also had the only way to protect his assets and escape his predicament.

Whether they can win or not is up to Acuña.

Having grown accustomed to squeezing every last penny out of Acuña, Sanchez instinctively believed that as long as he applied enough pressure, Acuña could win the naval battle.

Capitalists always habitually believe that all underperformance is due to their employees slacking off, and Sanchez is no exception.

He believed that with his contract as a "driving force," Acunea could transform from a defeated general into Caesar.

Sanchez slowly tightened his grip on the contract, a cold smile curling at the corner of his lips.