This is an excerpt from ® THE MING STORM by Yan Leisheng Publishing in June 2021 and available everywhere in paperbook and ebook formats. Global ebook •978-1-83908-089-0 • 1 June 2021 US/CAN paperback • 978-1-83908-088-3 • 1 June 2021 UK paperback • 978-1-83908-088-3 • 19 August 2021 Aconyte Books An imprint of Asmodee Entertainment Distributed in North America by Simon & Schuster Inc, New York, USA aconytebooks.com // twitter.com/aconytebooks © 2021Ubisoft Entertainment. All rights reserved. Assassin’s Creed, Ubisoft and the Ubisoft logo are registered or unregistered trademarks of Ubisoft Entertainment in the US and/or other countries. Aconyte and the Aconyte logo are registered trademarks of Asmodee Group SA. All rights reserved. We grant you limited permission to repost and share this free sample at our sole discretion and provided the file is not amended in any way. And if you like the sample, you’ll love the book... ® The Ming dynasty becomes a battleground for the Brotherhood of Assassins and the Order of the Templars in this blockbuster action novel from a previously unexplored part of the beloved Assassin’s Creed universe. China, 16th century. The Assassins are gone. Zhang Yong, the relentless leader of the Eight Tigers, took advantage of the emperor’s death to eliminate all his opponents, and now the Templars hold all the power. Shao Jun, the last representative of her clan, barely escapes death and has no choice but to flee her homeland. Vowing to avenge her former brothers in arms, she travels to Europe to train with the legendary Ezio Auditore. When she returns to the Middle Kingdom, her saber and her determination alone will not be enough to eliminate Zhang Yong: she will have to surround herself with allies and walk in the shadows to defeat the Eight Tigers. Prologue The waves blossomed across the sea, whipped up by the wind, like so many flowers of blue-green water on the surface of the swell. Taki Choji admired the marvelous sparkle from his seat upon a rock at the water’s edge, reminded of the canons read during his training as a monk in which the eyes of the Buddha were compared to the lotus flower. Excommunicated at the age of fifteen, he offered his blade in service to a lord before becoming a masterless ronin, then a pirate, and had banished his childhood at the monastery to the depths of his mind to best avoid any form of compassion. What was reviving such old memories now? A white sail caught his attention. Keeping his eyes on it, he called out “Katana! Katana!” A young man ran to him. “Yes, Father!” The young man, still wearing the clothes of a child, was an orphan collected by Taki Choji at the start of his outlaw career. Back then, his band numbered only five and could attack only small, lonely trading vessels, until one day he decided to force destiny’s hand by assaulting a large, stranded ship. He had scarcely boarded the ship when his nostrils were assailed by a terrible stench: the deck was strewn with the bodies of the crew, victims of a previous attack. As Taki Choji searched the vessel for any morsels of value, he discovered a small boy, unable to walk or talk and half dead from hunger and thirst, who weakly waved a katana as he approached. The child had survived five or six days among decomposing corpses, and still seemed determined to face a new pirate attack! This strength of character kindled something in the normally emotionless Taki Choji, and he chose to adopt the orphan, unimaginatively naming him Katana. At barely sixteen years old, he could have been born to sail the sea. His swimming abilities and fierce temperament, forged through their piratical way of life, made him an essential member of his adoptive father’s crew. Taki Choji rose and pointed at the small sail on the horizon. “Katana, that’s likely Chief Sun. Tell the others to get ready.” The adolescent shaded his eyes as he scanned the sea in turn. “Isn’t that Wang’s ship?” “No, Wang’s sails are ashen.” While his men were vagabonds with no attachments or resources of their own, Taki Choji was slightly more educated. He had learned it was in his interest to limit the disturbances he caused at the edges of the Ming empire. To this end, he had concluded agreements with some coastal villages. Each month they supplied him with some of their harvest in exchange for being left in peace. He ended up settling down on a small island with a source of fresh water, and expected Sun, one of the local chiefs, to come to pay him tribute any day now. Best to remain on his guard, nevertheless. Taki Choji had made this island his base for a decade: it was not only home to his crew, but also to a small pier where small boats were safely moored, allowing him to run to sea at short notice. He always watched for imperial troops, who would have no moral scruples with disguising themselves as Chief Sun for a surprise attack. The Wang mentioned by Katana was another pirate haunting the seas between Japan and the Ming empire, counting both bandits and traders in his fleet. Taki Choji dreaded the imminent end of their peaceful coexistence. They had agreed, for mutual prosperity, to avoid interfering in each other’s affairs. Recently he had some minor involvement in business where Wang also had an interest, meaning a future conflict was inevitable. He was reassured that the approaching vessels did not carry Wang’s colors. Taki Choji’s men, around a score of ronin produced by the chaos of the times, spent their time between raids drinking and gaming on the island. They eagerly awaited each delivery from Chief Sun, which would bring tables groaning with food and plentiful alcohol. Anticipating the coming feast, they abandoned their activities and rushed to watch the dock. Eyes fixed on the approaching ship; Katana murmured, “Father, that isn’t Chief Sun.” “Who is it?” Taki Choji asked, his sight no match for his adopted son’s sharp vision. “An old man with pale skin… and no beard.” The pirate captain smiled. If it was an old man, there was nothing to worry about. Perhaps Chief Sun was too busy today and had sent someone else to deliver tribute in his stead. His extensive seafaring knowledge told him that it couldn’t be carrying more than ten people, to judge by the ship’s draft. If the new arrivals had hostile intentions, he and his men would have the advantage of numbers. “We’ll board them and see what tribute they’ve brought,” he announced. Just then the boat docked. The gangplank had barely lowered before Taki Choji, his right-hand man and his adoptive son were mounting it before anyone on board could begin to descend. While he had set foot on Chinese soil fewer than a handful of times in previous years, he had always remained in contact with the coast and had learned to speak fluent Mandarin. It was in this language that he spoke as he arrived on the deck, bowing with hands pressed together in greeting. “May I ask what brings these honorable visitors to our island?” The old, beardless man Katana had spied stood at the prow of the boat. He approached and bowed in turn. “My name is Zhang, and Chief Sun sent me to offer you his tribute. Do I have the honor of speaking to Taki Choji?” Zhang’s attitude was friendly, and while his hair was already white, his clear voice was that of a young man. Putting it to the back of his mind, Taki Choji hastened to respond. “Yes, I am. Thank you, and please convey my gratitude to Chief Sun.” Zhang did not respond and gestured at several of his crew to bring forward a large wooden box on wheels, standing as high as a man and as wide as two. Sun had previously sent meat and grain, but never anything so large as this. “Why has the chief sent this box? Where is our livestock?” Taki Choji asked, surprised. Still beaming, Zhang replied, “Please excuse us. Two months ago, our chickens succumbed to a fever, so all we have to offer are cured meats. We will try to make up for it with the next delivery.” While the box was large, it couldn’t have been heavy as it took only two men to move it. Irritably, the pirate expressed his concern. “Each month Chief Sun is required to deliver four hundred pounds of rice and flour, and two hundred pounds of chickens and eggs. How could all that fit inside this box?” Zhang withdrew a brass key from inside his robes. “Mr Taki may check for himself that the promised amounts are indeed contained inside.” If he had continued to plead their difficulties or tried to get him to understand, the pirate would have soon unsheathed his tachi. But, perhaps calmed by the old man’s placid countenance, he reined in his anger and handed the key to one of his men. “Waretsuku, come check the contents of this box,” he ordered. He turned towards the boat’s captain. “Mr Zhang, I need to stay with you a little while if you don’t mind.” Taki Choji feared that the man would flee if left unattended. He could then later dispute the bandits’ count of the produce, which would force them to end this agreement to avoid losing face.