In the forty-fifth year of the Jiajing reign of the Ming dynasty, on the eve of the Longqing-Wanli renaissance.
This was the best of times. The Qi Family Army was taking its first steps toward becoming a modern army, while foot-powered spinning wheels worked day and night across the southeast to produce silk. The empire was powerful and prosperous.
It was also the worst of times. Corruption was driving the garrison system toward collapse, land annexation was growing ever more rampant, and ministers fought without end for control of the cabinet. The empire was in decline, nearing its twilight.
As volley guns and cannons thundered across European battlefields, as the Spanish Armada ruled the seas, and as missionaries clutched their Bibles and secret letters while casting covetous eyes on this new continent,
Chen Mu, a junior officer of Qingyuan Guard, wore an iron helmet topped with a broad-brimmed hat, rested a matchlock on his shoulder, and lifted his chin toward the vast sea.
