Under One Person: The Sea Emperor Who Shattered Heaven and Earth

She even had a truly wicked thought—why not just drug those two and stop them from testing her nerves every day?

"No, I need to calm down." Duanmu Ying took a deep breath, trying to quell her escalating emotions. "Lin Zhu's personality... Jiang Zhen's thought process..."

Although she was trying to convince herself, Duanmu Ying still spat angrily on the ground.

The next morning.

Zhao Yuan walked into the restaurant with high spirits, holding a freshly printed newspaper in his hand.

"Advancement! Great news!" Zhao Yuan's voice boomed, "As soon as the 'High Seas Passage Permit Agreement' was released last night, those established shipping nations were among the first to reply, expressing their willingness to 'engage in in-depth communication.' It seems everyone values ​​'maritime security' very much!"

Jiang Zhen was drinking his porridge, expressionless. He slept very well after his physical examination last night, and felt that his hairline had stabilized considerably.

"Whether you value it or not, the money can't be less."

Zhao Yuan chuckled, leaned closer, and lowered his voice, "There's one more thing. Doctor Duanmu didn't look well this morning. I saw her going around in the corridor asking people, 'Is your lower back weak? Is there a problem?'"

"Sir, did you offend her somewhere?"

"puff--"

Jiang Zhen spat out a mouthful of porridge.

He wiped his mouth and looked out the window somewhat blankly: "No, I was just about to praise her for her excellent medical skills a few days ago, saying she cured my hair follicles. I didn't offend her."

Chapter 120 A Letter from My Hometown

Time flies by.

Since the decisive battle in the Western Pacific, New World Island has become a center of global maritime trade and a world-class scientific research center.

The power system proposed by Jiang Zhen is taking root rapidly in this fertile land far from the hustle and bustle.

"Drink! Ha!"

On the training grounds of New World Island, the disciples are practicing in unison. The "Six Forms" have now been fully implemented within the Canal Gang, transforming from an advanced technique that only a few elites could practice into a basic skill that must be learned upon joining the gang. At the front of each formation stands an old disciple who came from the early Six Forms class as an instructor. Some walk around with their hands behind their backs, correcting postures, while others personally demonstrate the breakdown of the movements.

Although talents vary and abilities differ, the sheer number of talented individuals means that a few exceptional individuals will inevitably emerge.

As for the development of "Haki," thanks to the joint research of several superhumans, some progress has been made. Observation Haki and Armament Haki have been summarized into a set of techniques called "Listening to Breath" and "Condensing Armor," but the mysterious and elusive Conqueror's Haki remains a mystery.

Although Jiang Zhen claimed it was innate, Li Muxuan didn't believe it—or rather, he didn't believe that there had only been one Jiang Zhen in the world for thousands of years.

He has shifted his research focus from "how to cultivate" to "how to detect" and has been conducting secret investigations on the island for several months. Whenever an opponent suddenly goes weak in the legs during a fight, a spectator inexplicably faints during a competition, or someone suddenly starts crying in the middle of an argument, he goes to ask them about it.

Shuiyun's assessment of him was only four words: "Bored out of his mind."

In order to manage the vast sea area, Jiang Zhen reorganized the fleet under the Cao Bang (Grand Canal Gang) into twelve fleets.

The captains of these twelve fleets are now the most sought-after rising stars in the New World.

The captain of the first fleet is Zhao Jie. This guy is a martial arts fanatic, so obsessed with the Six Styles that he forgets to eat and sleep, especially his "Finger Spear" and "Storm Kick," which are widely recognized as the strongest among the Six Styles.

The fifth fleet, Changqing, and the seventh fleet, Shuiyun, are two fellow disciples from the Sanyi Sect who now each lead a fleet.

The Ninth Fleet was led by Li Muxuan. His rise to fleet captain was quite dramatic—he was originally just a nominal instructor on the island, but during a joint exercise, he was temporarily pulled in to fill in, leading a hastily assembled fleet that ended up in fourth place.

After reading the exercise report, Jiang Zhen remained silent for a while, then picked up a pen and drew a long horizontal line under the "Ninth Fleet Captain Candidate" column. Li Muxuan's assessment of his position to this day is: "I was tricked."

But his daughter, Li Chan, had been bragging to her friends at the dock for three whole months—the phrase "My dad is the captain of the fleet" had successfully replaced her favorite sentence to write in literacy class and had become her most frequently used social opening line.

The captain of the 12th Fleet was Bai Fu's own son, Bai Hongyi. This young man inherited Bai Fu's composure, his proficiency in the Six Styles was second only to Zhao Jie, and he was extremely skilled in naval battle strategy.

Twelve fleets would undertake a circumnavigation of the globe annually on behalf of Jiang Zhen. Wherever the fleets passed, it represented the imperial tour of the sea.

Beneath the sacred tree, the sea breeze remains unchanged.

Jiang Zhen lay in the rocking chair, watching the speedboat cutting through the waves in the distance. He touched his forehead; thankfully, thanks to Duanmu Ying's treatment, his receding hairline had finally stabilized.

Footsteps sounded, somewhat heavy, no longer as agile as before.

Jiang Zhen didn't turn around; he could tell who was coming just by listening to the rhythm.

Master Feng, Bai Fu, and Zhao Yuan.

The three men were now extremely old and frail. Although the long sword at Master Feng's waist was still gleaming, the age spots on the back of his hands could not be concealed; Bai Fu's once jet-black hair was now frosty white; and Zhao Yuan's eloquent mouth was now somewhat lisping due to his loose teeth.

In recent years, with the rise of the younger generation, these three have gradually relinquished their power. Unless it involves major events, they rarely concern themselves with specific matters anymore, spending most of their days fishing and drinking tea on New World Island, occasionally gossiping about Jiang Zhen's private life behind his back.

"What brings you three old guys here today?" Jiang Zhen asked, squinting.

The three exchanged glances, and finally Bai Fu stepped forward, his expression somewhat solemn: "Sir, there's been some movement in Shanghai..."

Jiang Zhen stiffened slightly, and the rocking chair came to a stop.

Shanghai, that's the root of the Canal Gang, and also their hometown.

“In recent years, we’ve had less and less contact with them. Telegrams we send often go unanswered, and although we receive the supplies we send, the replies are becoming more and more official and distant,” Bai Fu said in a low voice. “From the messages they’ve been sending back privately, it’s different. It seems like they’re taking action, and the atmosphere is very tense.”

Jiang Zhen was silent for a while, then turned over and sat up, staring at the horizon for a while before speaking: "What's the situation now, brothers?"

Master Feng patted the knife at his waist and said proudly, "With your name resounding throughout the sea, who dares to touch the brothers of the Canal Gang? Everything is fine in Shanghai. Many brothers, seeing that things are not going well, have already brought their families to Shanghai to live."

"That's good." Jiang Zhen breathed a sigh of relief and patted his knee. "As long as everyone is alright."

“There’s one more thing.” Zhao Yuan took out a letter from his pocket. It wasn’t a telegram but a handwritten letter, but it had no postmark, so it was obviously sent via a secret route.

“They wrote you a letter from your hometown…”

Jiang Zhen raised an eyebrow and asked curiously, "A letter? Who wrote it?"

In his opinion, there probably aren't many people from his hometown who would write to him at this time.

Zhao Yuan shook his head, his expression somewhat strange: "It wasn't one person. There are four signatures on the back of the envelope."

Jiang Zhen was stunned for a moment.

Zhao Yuan opened the envelope, just about to clear his throat and read aloud: "The four names at the end are..."

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Jiang Zhen's mind: who would write him a joint letter during such a tense time...?

"stop!"

Jiang Zhen hurriedly waved his hand, abruptly calling for a stop. His heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason.

"No need to read it." Jiang Zhen stood up, snatched the letter from Zhao Yuan's hand, and waved it away without even glancing at it.

A burst of violent shockwave exploded in his palm.

The letter instantly disintegrated into tiny particles in the air, which were then blown away by the sea breeze and disappeared without a trace.

"Your position...you?" Zhao Yuan was stunned, and Master Feng and Bai Fu were also taken aback.

"I won't look. It'll only annoy me." Jiang Zhen turned his back, his tone becoming extremely harsh. "Just forget about it. I've never accepted any letters, and you've never seen any of them."

"Does the gang leader know them?"

Jiang Zhen hurriedly denied it: "Don't talk nonsense. I don't know him, and you are not allowed to know either."

"Then why not reply?" Bai Fu asked tentatively.

"Go back my ass!" Jiang Zhen cursed.

"By the way, collect more grain during this time and send it back to your hometown."

"Why?" The three asked, puzzled, but Jiang Zhen didn't explain further and took his leave.

Once outside the area of ​​the sacred tree, Zhao Yuancai wiped his sweat and whispered to Fifth Master Feng, "Fifth Master, what's going on with Shangwei? It's just a letter, why are they so agitated? And why are they even transporting grain back?"

Master Feng was also puzzled, and could only say in the end, "There is a deeper meaning to rising to a higher position, so let's not overthink it."

Chapter 121 The Storm Sweeping Through the New World (4000 words)

As time went on, the open connections between the New World and the Demon City were completely severed.

The last routine communication between the two sides on the channel was on an evening nearly a year ago, and since then, the radio frequency has fallen into a long silence.

However, through special channels, Jiang Zhen was still able to learn that his brothers in Shanghai were safe and sound for the time being.

Compared to the turbulent international situation, a sudden change one morning has stirred up a storm that could sweep across the entire New World Island.

In the early morning, sunlight filters through the dense wooden shelves of the medicine shed, scattering across the finely chopped herbs.

Duanmu Ying walked over from the experimental area, yawning, with dark circles under her eyes. Recently, Ma Ben, that madman, had been blowing up the lab every few days to test the combat data of the new generation of Divine Machine Hundred Refinement Creation. Duanmu Ying not only had to advance her own research, but also had to use her full skills to perform emergency repairs on the researchers who had lost limbs in the explosions.

Originally intended as a life-saving treatment, it turned into a nightmare for those research fanatics who became increasingly audacious. They watched dangerous experiments up close, and dared to put newly developed drugs into people's mouths without even conducting half a test on animals. They were capable of anything. Duanmu Ying was exhausted and irritable from their antics. Despite her age, she even had two pimples on her forehead that hurt when pressed.

"I'll make myself some herbal tea. If I keep boiling it like this, even my best hands won't be able to save my skin." She muttered as she skillfully pulled open the medicine drawer.

The water had just boiled, and a slightly bitter fragrance wafted from the medicine hut. She had just tossed the prepared selfheal and honeysuckle into the boiling water when she saw a familiar figure swaying as it walked in.

It is Lin Zhu.

Lin Zhu still looked like she hadn't woken up yet, her hair was a mess like a bird's nest, and she was carrying a medicine bag in her hand, grabbing medicine from behind the counter by herself.

Duanmu Ying held the bowl, sipped some cold tea, and glanced sideways at Lin Zhu picking up the medicine.

Lin Zhu moved slowly, his fingers tapping around in the medicine drawer: Angelica sinensis, Ligusticum chuanxiong, Rehmannia glutinosa, Paeonia lactiflora...

Duanmu Ying had only glanced at it casually at first, but as she looked at it, she realized something was wrong. She could recite the prescription for these medicines with her eyes closed.

"Is it a modified version of Buddha's Hand Powder? Or is it based on Wenjing Decoction?"

Duanmu Ying put down her bowl, walked over suspiciously, and touched the medicine packet in Lin Zhu's hand.

"Lin Zhu, the herbs you picked... something's not right. Atractylodes macrocephala, Perilla frutescens, donkey-hide gelatin... who are you preparing this for?" Duanmu Ying stared at the several extremely conspicuous herbs. "These look like they're for preventing miscarriage."

"Which lady on the island has such influence that she wouldn't go to the hospital, but instead get the reclusive Dr. Lin to personally prepare medicine to prevent miscarriage?"

Lin Zhu didn't even look up, her voice as flat as if she were asking what she was having for dinner: "Mine."

"Oh, it's you... cough! pfft—!"

The large gulp of herbal tea that Duanmu Ying had just taken a sip of was suddenly accompanied by a violent cough that sprayed out in a fan shape. She bent over, leaning on the counter, coughing until tears streamed down her face.

The bitter liquid sprayed all over the ground, and a few drops even splashed onto Lin Zhu's clothes.

In an instant, the entire medicine hut fell into dead silence.

The seven or eight apprentice doctors and physicians who were cutting, brewing, and organizing files in the back room, as well as those buying medicine, seemed to have had time frozen. Some held half a ginseng root, others held a pestle, and everyone, in a comical pose, turned their heads in unison towards the counter.

Duanmu Ying, not bothering to wipe her mouth, grabbed Lin Zhu's arm, almost pressing her entire body against his face, her eyes wide open:

"You just... said that belonged to whom?"