Exile in Nanyang? Build an Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets

I traveled through time and became a bastard of a maritime merchant. My family gave me three broken boats and asked me to go to Southeast Asia to die. They don't know that I have the soul of a special soldier living in my body, and a "resource satellite" that can sense mineral veins around the world. There are gold mines underfoot, oil wells on the seabed, and rubber hidden in the jungle—how can this be a desperate situation? This is my perfect place! When the natives charged with spears, my black flag troops were equipped with flintlock muskets. When the Dutch fleet rampaged across Malacca, my steam ironclads had smashed their pride. When the Spaniards showed off their colonies, my dragon dollars had bought up their treasury. From the desert island bastion to the Nanyang Federation, from the armored fleet to the intercontinental railway. The Western envoys knelt down to beg for trade, and the imperial envoys were trembling with fear. The family that spurned me back then is now kneeling outside the palace gate begging me for a surname. "Exile me?" I sat on the Iron Throne and looked at the red world map. "Then I have no choice but to give this world a new owner." Nanyang is just the starting point, and the destination is never set.