The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 944 God Bless Luo Xinhua

The midday sun over Borneo caused a thin mist to rise from the seawater in Brunei Bay, and the scorching sea breeze carried the acrid smell of rust and paint from the shipyard. Admiral Ji Qingyuan of the Nanyang Fleet stood on the terrace of the land command headquarters, his uniform soaked with sweat. He raised a heavy brass telescope, its barrel almost burning hot to the touch.

In the footage, the bow of the battleship "Fujian" is being repaired after a hole is found. More than thirty workers are suspended on scaffolding, the roar of steam riveting guns deafening. The newly installed carburized steel plates gleam with a dazzling blue light in the sunlight, contrasting sharply with the surrounding old armor. On the deck, sailors are using winches to hoist replacement 240mm gun barrels, the thick steel cables creaking on the pulleys.

Compared to the "Fujian," the repair progress of the "Hubei" is much slower. The large hole torn open in the engine room by a 254mm armor-piercing shell looks like a ferocious mouth. A dozen craftsmen crawl like ants over the damaged area, painstakingly removing the broken armor plates. Chief Engineer Major Zhang Dahai stands by the gangway, leaning on his cane, the bandage on his right leg stained red with blood—during the Battle of the Riau Islands, the shockwave from a near-miss shell shattered his kneecap.

The most tragic case was that of the "Hunan". The turret that was directly hit had just been righted by a crane, and the dent carved into the gun barrel was a horrifying sight. The body of Lieutenant Li Weiguo, the deputy artillery officer, was buried on a nearby hillside—the moment the shell pierced the turret, the twenty gun crew members were vaporized by the high temperature in the confined space, and not even a complete skeleton could be found.

"How much longer?" Ji Qingyuan's voice sounded somewhat anxious.

Chief of Staff Liu Buchan handed over the repair report, his cuffs still stained with engine oil: "The Fujian will take at least three days, the Hubei will take at least forty-five days, and the Hunan," he paused, "...the turret ring is completely deformed, and parts need to be transferred from the Jiangnan Shipyard."

Ji Qingyuan's knuckles tapped a dull rhythm on the railing. He turned to look at the bay—three intact "Hailong II" class battleships lay silently anchored like sleeping behemoths, their 16000-ton steel hulls casting imposing shadows on the sea; the three "Jingyuan" class battleships' 210mm twin-mounted turrets exuded menacing power; further away, the four "Zhenhai" class battleships seemed somewhat outdated. In fact, these four 8000-ton armored cruisers were all less than 10 years old; if it weren't for the current era of rapid advancements in naval technology, they could be considered cutting-edge!
These eleven main warships represent all the assets the South Sea Fleet can hold.

Meanwhile, Hood also held twenty menacing steel behemoths in his hands.

The Battle of Malacca is not over until they are defeated!

"Admiral! Urgent telegram from the Tianjing!"

The communications officer practically burst through the command room door, sweat streaming down his temples. Ji Qingyuan grabbed the sweat-soaked telegram; the handwriting was somewhat blurred: Diego Garcia Atoll. Bow breach repairs complete, 1200 tons of fresh water replenished, full coal load, main gun ammunition replenished. Position exposed two hours ago by British Falcon airship – Luo Xinhua.

The air in the command room froze instantly.

"Where are Hood's main forces now?" He sounded as if he were gritting his teeth.

Liu Buchan strode to the nautical chart, his finger emphatically pointing to the location of Ceylon: "Colombo! The Skyhawk 7 confirmed yesterday afternoon that two Sovereign-class, three Majestic-class, three Centurion-class, six Hurricane-class, and six Rafale-class ships are all resupplying in port." He drew a line on the chart with his fingernail. "From Colombo to Diego Garcia—a straight-line distance of 1025 nautical miles. If Hudson sails at full speed of 20 knots, it will take two and a half days!"

Everyone understood what this meant: two isolated ships facing the entire British Far East Fleet, their only fate was to be swallowed by the sea.

"Immediately order the 'Tianjing' and 'Jingyuan' formations to withdraw?" Liu Buchan's voice was tense.

Ji Qingyuan suddenly laughed, a laugh that was almost ferocious: "We won't retreat." He grabbed a red pencil and drew a blood-red arc on the nautical chart. "Order Luo Xinhua: Rest in place for fifty-five hours. Wait until the Hude fleet approaches within one hundred nautical miles before setting sail northeast. Target—the western entrance of the Strait of Malacca!"

"You want to use the Tianjing as bait?!" Liu Buchan was startled by Ji Qingyuan's suggestion.

Luo Xinhua is Luo Yaoguo's eldest son! If he were beaten to death, both he and Ji Qingyuan would be in deep trouble! Even if he wasn't beaten to death, risking the eldest son's life, aren't they afraid of being retaliated against by the Premier?
However, Ji Qingyuan didn't care and used a red pen to draw two more red lines on the nautical chart.

One route winds from Diego Garcia to the western entrance of the Strait of Malacca, marked "Tianjing and Jingyuan, speed 20 knots, distance 1600 nautical miles, 80 hours"; the other route runs from Colombo straight to Diego Garcia, then turns northeast, marked "Hood, main speed 20 knots, distance 2625 nautical miles, approximately 131 hours".

"It won't be easy for Hudson's main force to keep up with the 'Tianjing' at a speed of 20 knots for 131 hours." As he spoke, Ji Qingyuan slammed the tip of his pencil heavily into the Grete Strait near the western entrance of the Strait of Malacca. "This place—between the Grete Strait and the Strait of Malacca—is our decisive battleground!"

Liu Buchan looked astonished: "But we only have eleven ships, and even if we include Tianjing and Jingyuan, we only have thirteen! Hude has twenty."

"Twenty?" Ji Qingyuan sneered. "The 254mm guns of the three 'Majestic' class and two 'Monarch' class ships can't penetrate the main armor of the 'Tianjing'! The armor of the three 'Centurion' class ships is thin, and the armor of the six 'Hurricane' class ships is even thinner and more vulnerable!" He slammed his hand on the table. "In this battle, the 'Tianjing' will be used as an iron shield to draw the main firepower of the British army; I will personally lead four 'Hailong II' ships and four 'Jingyuan' class ships to specifically target the 'Centurion' and 'Hurricane'; the 'Zhenhai' class fleet will provide rear cover and use 200mm guns to wash the deck!"

"This, this, this..." Liu Buchan was completely stunned. He seemed to see himself being kicked by Wang Yan, the Minister of the Navy, to Alaska to become the Admiral of the Arctic Ocean Squadron.
But Ji Qingyuan was full of fanaticism and said to Liu Buchan in a serious tone: "Do you think I would risk Luo Shizi? Don't worry, back when I was on the battlefield of Suoyidu, I saw the Prime Minister descend from the sky in a purple thunderbolt! The Crown Prince is the adopted grandson of the Heavenly Father Haotian Emperor, how could he die at the hands of a mere mortal like Hu De!" November 18, 1883.

The afternoon sun over the Indian Ocean was still scorching hot enough to burn the skin. The newly repaired bow deck of the "Tianjing" was so hot it could fry an egg. Luo Xinhua crouched down, his palm tracing the raised rivets on the newly riveted armor plates. This carburized steel, using Krupp technology, was a product of Xuzhou Iron and Steel Plant's true mastery of Krupp technology, just like the original armor plates on the "Tianjing." Its protective capabilities were exactly the same as the original Krupp steel plates!
"Report! Airship observation post—British reconnaissance airship spotted to the northwest!"

The lookout's shout pierced the silence. Luo Xinhua straightened up and saw that Deng Shichang had already raised his binoculars. Through the lens, three silver-gray spindle-shaped ships were slowly descending from the clouds, the Union Jack emblem on the hull gleaming in the sunlight.

"Hu De's vanguard has arrived." Deng Shichang's voice was somewhat tense. "Shouldn't we be leaving?"

“Wait a little longer.” Luo Xinhua’s voice was as calm as if he were discussing a lunch menu. “Admiral Ji wants us to fish for sharks, not shrimp.” He turned to the gunnery officer and ordered, “Turrets A and B, turn northwest and load training rounds—give our British friends a heads-up!”

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

The four 280mm cannons spewed forth orange-red flames, and the shells exploded a kilometer below the airship, creating three towering columns of water. The British airship hastily climbed up and retreated westward in panic, like a startled seabird.

"They went back to report," Deng Shichang said with a wry smile, putting down his binoculars. "Hude is definitely rushing over at full speed now."

"That's exactly what we want—for him to pounce!" Luo Xinhua looked towards the northeastern horizon. "Send the order: set sail in twelve hours. Tell the cooks to have extra food tonight! Make sure the brothers are well-fed and well-rested—" He grinned confidently, "A tough battle awaits us ahead!"

Four days later, south of the Gretch Strait.

The massive hull of the "Tianjing" cut through the azure sea, its newly repaired bow armor gleaming with a dazzling metallic sheen in the setting sun. Luo Xinhua stood in the bullet-riddled command tower, sweat streaming down his temples. Through his binoculars, the undulating outline of Sumatra was already clearly visible.

"Southwest direction! Smoke column!"

The lookout's roar sent a shiver down everyone's spine. Luo Xinhua abruptly turned his binoculars—on the horizon, dozens of thick, black plumes of smoke, like fingers reaching out from hell, slowly pierced the azure sky. The outlines of the three "Majestic-class" battleships at the forefront gradually became clear, followed by a vast, imposing steel column.

"They arrived very quickly." The voice of the deputy captain, Jiang Zhaoxing, was a little tense.

Luo Xinhua grabbed the megaphone and his voice boomed like thunder: "Attention, bridge! Increase speed to 20 knots and charge at full speed toward the Gret Strait!"

The Tianjing's smokestacks billowed thick black smoke, and it sped alongside the Jingyuan toward the Gretch Channel. Behind them, twenty British warships, like a swarm of sharks smelling blood, accelerated wildly in pursuit.

At this moment——

"Northeast! Signal flare!"

Three red signal flares suddenly rose from the northeastern sea, leaving striking trails in the setting sun.

“It’s the Admiral’s main force!” Jiang Zhaoxing’s voice almost cracked.

Eleven Taiping warships shot out like arrows, escorted by cruisers and destroyers, emerging from the shadow of Sumatra. The spray from their bows slicing through the waves resembled burning flames in the setting sun. Ji Qingyuan, standing on the bridge of the "Fujian," calmly issued orders: "Double column deployment! First armored cruiser squadron, join the 'Tianjing' and 'Jingyuan' to form the left flank and draw the enemy's main force. Second battleship squadron and third armored cruiser squadron, form the right flank. Target—enemy Centurion-class and Hurricane-class destroyers!"

(End of this chapter)