Douluo: Things You Live Long Enough to See

"See it with our own eyes?" Bingdi blinked her large eyes and shook her head. "We can't fly that far over the sea. At most, I can fly ten thousand li in one go that's already my limit. If there's no place to land on the ocean, I might get ambushed by sea soul beasts."

Although the ocean could be considered half her domain, Bingdi was still at a disadvantage compared to true sea soul beasts. Continuous flight consumed immense energy, leaving openings for some hundred-thousand-year sea soul beasts to strike.

"Who says we have to fly?" Cheng Ying smiled. "You should know—sometimes, the best solution is the simplest one." With that, he took Bingdi to the riverside.

Here stood his hydro-powered factory complex: water-powered spinning wheels, hammers, lathes, and mills. Before the steam engine was born, almost all mechanical power could be supplied by water.

But this time, Cheng Ying wasn't here to show Bingdi those things—his destination was a nearby shipyard. Inside the massive dry dock, over twenty meters high, enormous timber logs dozens of meters long were being moved in and out.

Thanks to the Star Dou Great Forest, it was easy to purchase ridiculously large logs with diameters over three meters—ideal for constructing main keels and masts, where the bigger, the better.

As they entered the shipyard, they were greeted by the sight of a colossal wooden warship rising from the half-submerged dock. Even with most of the hull below ground level, the two still had to crane their necks to look up at the ship's bow.

The bow, more than fifteen meters off the ground, filled one with awe. The ship stretched 139 meters in length—an absolute behemoth even by oceanic standards.

Its broadsides were lined with forty cannons, each one with a caliber of ninety millimeters or more. A single full broadside could instantly reduce an unguarded Soul Saint to a bloody mist.

"It's huge!" Bingdi's little mouth formed an 'O' shape. The largest soul beast she had ever seen—the Titan Snow Demon King—was only about 100 meters long, and that was the largest land soul beast in existence. She had never imagined that humans could create something even bigger.

"Yeah, it really is huge!" Cheng Ying said. "With this as our platform, doesn't the journey to the world's edge sound a little more doable now?" He jumped onto the deck while holding Bingdi and pointed to three massive indentations on the deck. "Soon, the final masts will be installed. By then, just the part above water will be 50 meters tall.

At that time, we'll sit right here at the bow, feel the sea breeze, and sail toward where the sun sets to see for ourselves whether this world truly has an end."

As he spoke, Cheng Ying held Bingdi and sat atop the ship's massive ram prow, right at the front. Before them lay the wide-open gates of the shipyard, and beyond that, the shimmering river stretched into the distance.

Bingdi didn't quite understand the idea of "romance," but the image painted by Cheng Ying left her feeling strangely satisfied. In her mind's eye, the wide river turned into an endless ocean, the setting sun sank into the sea, and the two of them sailed forward together—fearlessly heading for the edge of the world.

Over the next week, Cheng Ying was practically living in the shipyard, working closely with the shipwrights. Meanwhile, Meng Shu was unceremoniously handed off to Dugu Bo for "education." As for the promised art lessons… Cheng Ying waved it off, saying, "Go draw eggs first. Come back when you can draw two eggs that look exactly the same."

"I swear I'm not slacking!" Cheng Ying defended himself. "This is the same teaching method used to train Da Vinci."

While working in the shipyard, Cheng Ying mainly collaborated with the shipbuilding geniuses to figure out how to mount a steam engine. His design was the classic clunky, oversized type—after all, he only understood the theory. Given the limitations of materials, it was already impressive they could make it this far.

Mounting such a heavy machine at the stern would throw off the ship's balance. Putting it on the side created huge problems with transmission mechanics. The ship engineers insisted it had to go in the middle—otherwise the ship would capsize.

But placing the steam engine midship meant swapping out the screw propeller for a pair of paddle wheels, which Cheng Ying thought looked hideous. Still, with no better option, their first steam-powered ship would have to use this design.

He vowed silently: I will invent a better steam engine—one compact enough to fit at the rear. For now, the engineers went ahead and installed the twin paddle wheels they'd already prepared.

To be fair, despite the initial ugliness, once assembled, the ship actually exuded a kind of steampunk flair—especially the twin rudder-assist paddle wheels at the stern and the submerged stabilizer fins. The wooden battleship had suddenly gained some real character.

The final step was to remove the shipyard supports and install the masts and sails made from massive cured logs. The wood had been soaked in tung oil for nearly a year, so there was no need to worry about water damage or warping once it entered the sea.

Aside from the visually offensive paddle wheels, Cheng Ying was quite pleased with the vessel. He had started preparing for this ship a full year ago, training engineers in hull design, keel structures, and even early galleon-style construction.

The eighty heavy cannons on the broadsides alone had cost him untold effort. Some might ask: "If you can make guns, why not cannons? Shouldn't that be easier?"

But that's a huge misconception.

Gun barrels can be forged or drilled—but cannon barrels must be cast. The earliest method involved clay molds and beeswax, but moisture in the clay often caused air pockets during casting, weakening the cannon's integrity.

If a musket exploded, maybe you'd just lose an eye…

If a cannon blew up—well, let's just say no one would be collecting your body.

If Cheng Ying hadn't personally lit the fuse that one day, the poor soul doing it would've died horribly.

Eventually, Cheng Ying recruited bell and cauldron forgers, taught them how to cast iron cannon blanks, and had Tang Chen personally forge high-strength, heat-resistant magic iron cores. That's how they slowly, painstakingly managed to create these eighty cannons.

After adding rifling grooves, the cannons could fire eighteen-pound solid iron shot. While not super accurate, volleys within one kilometer could easily devastate a fortress. A single broadside could turn most city walls into rubble.

This was Cheng Ying's gift to the sea soul beasts. While ineffective against hundred-thousand-year soul beasts, they were more than enough to put ten-thousand-year ones in their place. Most of those had limited intelligence—after a broadside volley, they'd probably die without even knowing how.

With everything ready, all that remained was to blast open the riverbank and launch the ship.

But over at the manor, poor Meng Shu was suffering.

All he wanted was to learn to draw but instead, he had to sketch eggs day after day. On top of that, Dugu Bo was force-feeding him math and science, calling it "basic knowledge." Now Meng Shu just wanted to rip up his textbooks, screaming at the quadratic equations:

"You call this basic knowledge? I bet fewer than ten people on the entire continent can solve this crap!"

If Cheng Ying were there, he'd probably nod and reply calmly:

"Yes. That's because it is basic knowledge."