The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 942 Iron Ox and Silver Wheel!

Singapore, Royal Navy Far East Fleet Command.

Admiral Hu De had just finished his sumptuous lunch and was leisurely sipping his coffee, admiring the bright tropical scenery and bustling scene in the harbor outside the window—several protected cruisers were being repaired in the dry dock near headquarters, and several armed merchant ships were unloading supplies from India. The South Seas Fleet's control of the Strait of Malacca seemed to remain unchallenged.

The adjutant rushed in, his face ashen, clutching a copy of a telegram that had just been sent from Langkawi. He hadn't even bothered to knock.

"General! 'Hound Squadron' - Urgent report! From Langkawi Island!"

Hood frowned, somewhat annoyed. "What's the panic? Did Brigadier General Hawkins report catching those two rats? Or did they escape again?"

The adjutant's voice trembled, each word seeming to be squeezed out from an ice cellar: "No, no, General, it's...it's a disaster. The Sovereign and the Warrior...they've sunk!"

"What?!" Hood suddenly stood up, and the coffee cup in his hand fell to the carpet with a "thud," spilling the scalding brown liquid all over the floor.

He snatched the telegram draft, his eyes quickly scanning the brief message, each word feeling like a stab in the heart: "Encountered one enemy main force, a Qianlong-class and a Jingyuan-class. The Junquan was heavily damaged by the Tianjing and sank at 8:27 AM. The Yongshi was heavily damaged and abandoned, possibly sunk. The 'Hurricane' was heavily damaged and evacuated. The enemy ships are heading northwest, target unknown."

"Hawkins," Hood murmured, uttering his subordinate's name, a wave of dizziness washing over him. HMS Sovereign! One of the Royal Navy's newest and most advanced battleships! Sunk right under Singapore's nose! And HMS Warrior! A powerful fleet almost wiped out!

The telegram slipped from his trembling hand. The sunlight outside the window was still bright, but in Hood's eyes, the whole world was instantly shrouded in a cold shadow.

He abruptly raised his head, his pupils contracting in horror as he stared intently at the vast, now perilous, azure sea west of the Strait of Malacca on the map.

Northwestbound? That's... Indian Ocean commerce disruption?
No further intelligence was needed; over thirty years of naval service had made Admiral Hud instantly understand what the two main warships of the Taiping Navy were planning!
"Hood's voice was hoarse, barely audible, and filled with undisguised fear: "It's...it's blocking my lifeline!"

The lifeline to India is now exposed to the cannons of that steel behemoth!
Without this lifeline, the Malayan Legion would be isolated, and the Singapore Fortress would be a lone city.

The foundation of the British Empire in the Far East was crumbling. A deathly silence fell over the office, save for the sharp gaze of Marshal Nelson's portrait on the wall, which seemed to carry an unprecedented gravity.

"Order!" Less than fifteen minutes later, Admiral Hood made his decision. "All combat-ready ships of the Far East Fleet—'Majestic,' 'Centurion,' 'Indomitable'...all capital ships and armored cruisers! Start fires immediately! High alert! Target—the Indian Ocean! Find it! Sink it! At all costs!"

He turned sharply toward the door and was met by Sir Archibald Campbell, the commander of the Malayan Legion who had rushed there after hearing the news.

Sir Campbell's face still held a hint of excitement before his plan was about to be implemented, clearly for his carefully prepared counterattack.

"Sir!" Hood interrupted the other party's possible remarks without any politeness, speaking rapidly like a machine gun, "A damned, 20,000-ton Taiping Heavenly Kingdom battleship sank the 'Kingdom' and the 'Warrior' just yesterday in the Ten Degrees Strait! It is now heading towards our Indian Ocean shipping lanes! If my fleet does not find it and crush it, then every merchant ship, troop transport, and supply ship flying the Union Jack from Calcutta to Singapore will become a sitting duck under its guns! The entire Far East war situation will completely collapse!"

Sir Campbell's face drained of color instantly, his mouth agape, utterly stunned by this bolt from the blue. His four elite British Indian divisions were already assembled and ready, awaiting the navy to clear the seas and coordinate with him in a thunderous counterattack on Kota Bharu, to avenge their humiliation. And now, the navy was actually… deserting their post?
“But, General Hood!” Sir Campbell finally found his voice, filled with incredulous anger, “My counter-offensive plan is complete! Four divisions! Once the navy has suppressed the enemy, we…”

"There's no more 'as long as'!" Hood waved his hand roughly, his eyes revealing the Royal Navy's deep-seated superiority over the Army and an undeniable air of authority born of his current anxiety. "Hold Singapore! Hold Johor! Concentrate your forces and hold out for reinforcements! Any large-scale counter-offensive before I send that 'hidden dragon' to the bottom of the sea is suicide! Remember, without control of the sea, your Army is just a castle on the beach, collapsing as soon as the tide (the Taiping Army) comes in! Avenge our defeat? Now is not the time to talk about that! Hold on! Wait for me to return!"

Sir Campbell's face turned a deep purplish-red, his fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white. He glared at Hood, his chest heaving, but ultimately, faced with the unquestionable authority of the Royal Admiral and the cold, cruel reality, all his anger and plans dissipated into a suffocating sense of powerlessness. An army general commanding the British Indian Army, faced with decisive naval power and the threat of the empire's lifeline being severed, truly had no say. He could only watch helplessly as Hood grabbed his cap, strode out of the office, leaving behind a mess and chilling orders.

At the same time, in Kota Bharu, the headquarters of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's Southern Seas Army.

The headquarters was filled with the smell of gunpowder after the great battle and a tense excitement. The clicking of the telegraph machine was incessant, and the staff hurried along. On the huge map of Southeast Asia, red arrows representing the Taiping Army's offensive momentum were spreading outwards from Kota Bharu.

Admiral Chen Yucheng stood with his back to the map, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze seemingly piercing through the wall, fixed on the distant south—towards Singapore. Though composed as he was, a barely perceptible anxiety lingered between his brows. Progress on land was exceeding expectations, but the outcome at sea was the sword of Damocles hanging over their heads. Although the Nanyang Fleet had given its all in the battles of the Riau Islands and Kota Bharu, the British Far East Fleet, with its superior resources, still outnumbered the Nanyang Fleet by more than double after these two major naval battles!
"report!"

A young communications officer practically rushed in, his face flushed with excitement, clutching a newly translated telegram tightly in his hand. His voice trembled slightly with excitement: "Admiral! Urgent telegram from the 'Tianjing'! From the Ten Degree Strait!"

The entire headquarters fell silent instantly, all eyes focused on that thin sheet of paper.

Chen Yucheng whirled around and snatched the telegram. His hawk-like eyes swept over the message quickly, and his tightly pursed lips visibly curled upwards, eventually transforming into a smug, menacing smile!
"Good! Good! Good!" he exclaimed three times, his voice booming. He slammed the telegram on the edge of the massive sand table, surveying the officers in the command hall who were holding their breath. Every word struck them like a hammer blow: "'Tianjing' and 'Jingyuan' have achieved a great victory in the Straits! One British 'Monarch-class' battleship sank! One 'Centurion-class' battleship sank! One British 'Whirlwind-class' cruiser was severely damaged! The main force of the British Far East Fleet will soon be rolling out of Singapore to put out fires in the Indian Ocean!"

"boom--!"

After a brief silence, deafening cheers erupted in the command post! The long-suppressed anxiety and anticipation were instantly ignited by this tremendous news of victory! Staff officers pumped their fists excitedly, officers exchanged laughs, their eyes gleaming with fervent fighting spirit. The shackles of the sea had been shattered in one fell swoop by two heavenly warships!

Chen Yucheng's gaze swept past the cheering crowd and landed precisely on Lieutenant General Li Rongfa, commander of the 1st Marine Corps. Li Rongfa had already straightened his back, waiting for Chen Yucheng's order.

"Rong Fa!" Chen Yucheng's voice carried a sharp, metallic quality. "Is your 'Silver Wheel Iron Army' ready?"

Li Rongfa snapped to attention, his voice resolute and sharp as a drawn sword: "Reporting to the Admiral! The entire Marine Corps is fully prepared! Over three hundred 'Red Star Iron Oxen' (steam tractors converted into armored vehicles) are fully fueled and ready for battle! Thousands of 'Silver Wheel Warriors' (bicycle units) are poised for action! The Malayan Righteous People have used their flesh and blood to carve out rainforests and fill swamps for us, opening up several southward routes in places the British considered impassable! Our army's advance can be aimed at Singapore at any moment!"

"Good!" Chen Yucheng slammed his fist on the sand table, making the Singapore model seem to tremble. His eyes flashed with a sharp light, and without the slightest hesitation, he decisively issued the order that had been brewing in his mind for a long time: "Pass on my order! First Marine Corps, all troops—attack! Target: Singapore! Give me a lightning-fast offensive! In the shortest possible time, let the red flag be planted on the top of the Lion City!"

Deep in the dense rainforest, the damp scent of humus mingled with the smells of engine oil and sweat. Towering ancient trees blocked out most of the sunlight, leaving only scattered dappled light on the thick layer of fallen leaves on the ground.

In this green labyrinth, which the British considered an insurmountable barrier, a winding "road" was forcibly carved out. Calling it a road was a stretch; it was merely a passage made of felled trees, cleared vines, and dug with logs and sandbags to fill in the low-lying areas. At this moment, this rudimentary lifeline was being filled by a torrent of steel and flesh.

Leading the charge were squads of silent yet swift figures. Dressed in the distinctive tropical combat uniforms of the Nanyang Army, carrying rifles, and riding heavy bicycles fitted with racks and steel rims—this was the formidable "Silver Wheel Corps" that had instilled fear in the Nanyang region. The wheels crunched over the slippery mud and exposed tree roots, producing a clattering sound. When thousands upon thousands of "silver wheels" rolled together, these sounds merged into a deafening roar, much like the thunderous roar of countless war chariots speeding by.

Following closely behind the "Silver Wheel" was the true source of the earth's tremors. Rows of crudely modified "Red Star Iron Ox" steam tractors, clad in carburized steel plates and riveted armor, resembled steel behemoths transported from a steampunk era. Their massive bodies moved clumsily but resolutely through the narrow forest paths, their tracks crushing thick tree roots, crushing muddy ground, and dragging artillery, ammunition, and supplies.

Their boilers spewed thick smoke and scorching sparks, the steam pistons hissing deafeningly, startling countless birds into flight. On the rudimentary armored turrets, machine gunners vigilantly scanned the dark jungle on either side, their dark muzzles pointed towards any possible hiding threat.

Although these "steam tanks" were slow, prone to malfunctions, and their engine noise could be heard several kilometers away, the fire support they provided and the psychological impact on the infantry were irreplaceable on the rainforest battlefield at that time. With their steel bodies, they cleared relatively safe passages for the infantry that followed.

Guided by the "silver wheels" and covered by the "iron oxen," the main infantry column of the Taiping Army, carrying rifles and machine guns and leading mules laden with supplies and dismantled light artillery, poured in continuously along this "miracle road" forged with sweat, wisdom, and even lives. Among the ranks, one could also occasionally see Malayan Chinese militia members with True Covenant armbands; they knew every inch of this land well and were the legion's most reliable eyes and guides.

In the steam-powered armored vehicle convoy, Lieutenant General Li Rongfa stood atop a slightly modified "Red Star Iron Bull," used as a command vehicle. Holding binoculars, he peered through the gaps in the trees towards the open area faintly visible to the south. There lay the prosperous Johor Plain, the gateway to Singapore! A victorious smile played on his lips.

"Reporting, Commander! The advance 'bicycle' reconnaissance company reports that they have discovered the flank outpost of the British Indian Army's 7th Brigade! Their position has been exposed, and their defenses are lax!"

"Good!" Li Rongfa lowered his binoculars, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "Send orders! First Armored Battalion, advance and provide fire suppression! First and Second Bicycle Regiments, flank them from the left and right, cut off their retreat! Main infantry, push forward head-on! Take them out! Open a breach to Johor!"

The orders were swiftly relayed. The roar of the steam engines intensified abruptly as the bicycle infantry and infantry accelerated. Hours later, on the edge of the jungle, a meticulously planned surprise attack suddenly erupted!

Steel tracks rolled over the last vines, heavy wheels bursting out of the rainforest's shade. Ahead lay the British Indian army camp, caught off guard and thrown into chaos. Further on, beyond the verdant plains of Johor, at the edge of the horizon, on the azure waters where the South China Sea meets the Strait of Malacca, the outline of a massive island guarding a strategic point was faintly discernible in the afternoon sun.

That's Singapore!
(End of this chapter)