Chapter One: New World

"Damn! What are you doing?" Franklin Young, strapped to his seat, shouted furiously.

The shuttle, loaded with tens of thousands of tons of cargo, was now tumbling through a torrent of light like a stubborn rubber ball. On the bulkhead in front of him, a beautiful woman's avatar was emitting a completely emotionless electronic voice with her somewhat twisted little mouth: "Spatial storm, system damaged. Spatial storm, system damaged..."

"Huh?!" Boss Young stared at her in astonishment, but unfortunately, the beautiful avatar ignored his gaze and kept repeating those two sentences. Then, just like Grey Wolf shouting 'I'll be back,' she faded out with a lingering echo and the screen went black.

But at the same time, Franklin Young breathed a sigh of relief, because now what appeared before his eyes was a vast blue sea.

"False alarm!" He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and said.

"Huh? Why is it daytime?" He looked blankly at the blue sky and clear sea outside. According to the time, it should be midnight here. He instinctively tried to stand up, but failed, as the metal straps across his chest showed no mercy.

"No way? Hey, beauty! Beautiful lady! Gorgeous big sister! Auntie, dear ancestor! Don't abandon me!" Franklin Young cried out to the bulkhead in despair. He kept shouting for over an hour before the beautiful avatar finally reappeared, though she still looked a bit distorted from time to time.

"Spatial storm caused—"

"Release me first, then talk!" Franklin Young interrupted her without hesitation. The metal straps immediately retracted, and he was so eager to get out that he didn't even listen to what the avatar said next.

"What did you just say?" While standing on the deck, relieving his bladder into the crystal-clear water, he asked the avatar, now moved to his rear, in a cheerful mood.

"The spatial storm caused system damage. Currently undergoing self-repair. During the repair period, the traversal function is suspended, and transformation functions are limited," the avatar said calmly.

"Ah?" Franklin Young shrugged in surprise. This didn't really matter to him. He casually looked up, but then he and his little buddy were both stunned.

Because at that moment, on the distant sea, a gray warship flying the British Navy flag was breaking through the waves—or rather, crawling slowly toward them. To be honest, Franklin Young had seen plenty of warships, but never one this slow. If its speed exceeded fifteen knots, then all his years at sea were for nothing. Of course, that wasn't the most important thing. The most important thing was that this warship looked incredibly strange.

A huge smokestack was belching thick black smoke—obviously coal-fired. There were tall masts at both the front and rear, and the deck layout was a mess. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed odd, with a lingering hint of the age of sail in its overall design. However, the turret at the bow did look quite imposing, though a bit ugly and with a small caliber—probably no more than 152mm.

"Wh-what's going on?" He pointed at the warship, which was clearly not built before 1900, and asked in a trembling voice.

"This is what I was about to tell you. The spatial storm interfered with the traversal path. We are now in an unfamiliar time and space," the avatar said in a completely emotionless tone.

"Are you kidding me? My fortune that rivals nations! My countless wives!" Franklin Young let out a cry of grief and indignation.

"We can still go back," the avatar said.

"How long?" Franklin Young asked viciously.

"I don't know," the avatar replied bluntly.

Fine! What's done is done—no point in saying more. The key now is how to deal with the situation. The shuttle is packed with goods from over a hundred years in the future. Once that warship comes over, they're bound to board and inspect, and then he'll be silenced for sure! Franklin Young had no illusions about that.

He had to sink it! He turned his gaze to the avatar.

"Can we still use the pneumatic cannon?"

"No. Right now, only the simplest, small-scale transformations are possible," the avatar replied.

Franklin Young gave her another wounded look, then hurried back to the cabin and opened the computer to search for the cargo manifest.

Anti-ship missiles? No, can't operate them alone. Tanks? Useless. Armored vehicles? Even more useless. Aircraft? Damn, what a mess! Did I really buy these five Little Deer helicopters too? Franklin Young felt a bit overwhelmed looking at the weapons list among his cargo.

Looks like torpedoes are the only option. He finally found the most suitable weapon: heavy acoustic homing torpedoes.

The avatar could still create a torpedo launch tube on the bulkhead, then use a robotic arm to load a torpedo, close the rear cover, and flood it. As for how to launch the torpedo without a fire control system, that was a trivial matter for the avatar—just an electric start, after all.