The Qing Dynasty is about to end

Chapter 954 You're going to launch a sneak attack too? I'm going to launch a sneak attack too!
Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Nicaragua.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, the waters off Blenka Bay were already shrouded in a somber atmosphere. The main battleships of the American Pacific Fleet—the two Sea Dragon II-class battleships, the USS California and USS Washington, the two Jingyuan-class armored cruisers, the USS San Francisco and USS Denver, and four older Zhenhai-class armored cruisers—had quietly formed a battle line, their dark cannons pointing directly at the distant coastline.

Vice Admiral Luo Xinhua, commander of the fleet, stood on the bridge of his flagship, the USS California, his gaze cold and stern, binoculars in hand. The salty sea breeze swept across his face, brushing against the scar on his forehead. This thirty-something-year-old, top admiral of the Heavenly Kingdom Navy squinted, carefully observing the fortifications along the coastline.

"12,000 yards away, within main gun range," the gunnery officer reported in a low voice, his voice exceptionally clear in the morning stillness.

Luo Xinhua nodded slightly, not immediately ordering the firing. His gaze passed over the entrance to the lagoon of Blenka Bay and landed on the faintly visible coastal defense batteries—three 254mm heavy guns covering the main channel, with minefields and barbed wire obstacles underwater.

"The Americans certainly built this place quite sturdily," his chief of staff, Major General Deng Shichang, sneered.

Luo Xinhua put down his binoculars and turned to his old classmate and subordinate: "No matter how well the Americans build their fortress, they will not be able to hold it against us! Give the order to deploy the artillery formation, load the main guns with high-explosive shells, target—the coastal defense battery."

"Yes, sir!" Liu Buchan straightened his back, turned around and roared to the messenger: "Attention, entire fleet! Artillery formation, target the coastal defense batteries, load high-explosive shells!"

As the order was given, the turrets of each ship began to slowly rotate, and the heavy gun barrels were raised amidst the hum of machinery.

"Fire!"

In an instant, the eight 240mm main guns of the USS California roared in unison, their blazing muzzle flashes illuminating the pre-dawn sea. The piercing whistling of shells cutting through the air was chilling, followed by deafening explosions on the distant coastline.

Inside the Blenka Bay fortress, three American commanders sat around a sand table in the operations room. A nautical chart lay open on a heavy oak table, next to a half-cold cup of coffee—in fact, they had received reports from reconnaissance airships early the previous morning, knowing that the Western American fleet had arrived.

Rear Admiral William Hudson, a cigar dangling from his lips, tapped the edge of the sand table with his fingers. "Their target is indeed Blenka Bay." He exhaled a perfect smoke ring, revealing a pair of sharp blue eyes beneath his greyish eyebrows.

Brigadier General John McClellan scoffed, his thick fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "They've come here to die. I thought the Westerners would just cower in San Francisco." The Irish-American general had a typical red face and always spoke with a heavy Boston accent.

Commodore Richard Hornby shook his head, his tone calm: "Don't underestimate them. The new Pacific Fleet commander of the American West rebels, Luo Xinhua, is a formidable character. If he dares to come, he must be prepared." As the youngest of the three, Hornby always maintained a calm and restrained attitude.

"Prepare?" McClellan pointed dismissively to the defensive markings on the sand table. "We have coastal artillery, minefields, barbed wire on the beach, ten thousand garrison troops, and a garrison fleet. What can they fight with?" He turned to Hudson. "If you ask me, we should send out the fleet now and teach them a lesson."

Hudson exhaled a smoke ring and squinted his eyes: "What's the rush? Let them crash into the forts until they're bloodied and battered, then we'll send out our fleet to wipe out those damaged battleships and armored cruisers in one fell swoop."

Just then, a muffled cannon shot came from afar, and the glass windows of the operations room shook slightly. Hornby walked to the window and saw thick smoke rising from the coastline.

"It's starting," he said softly.

The three men exchanged smiles, as if victory was already within their grasp. McClellan even hummed a tune and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Meanwhile, 30 kilometers north of Blenka Bay lies Minas Bay.

There were no towering gun emplacements or dense minefields, only a few isolated outposts, a few artillery positions with 6-inch cannons, and a garrison of less than a regiment of American soldiers and two or three thousand Nicaraguan National Defense Force soldiers supported by the British. The morning sea fog shrouded the beach, and a few seagulls rested on the rocks.

The 4th Brigade—an elite force composed of Japanese soldiers—was landing silently. Twenty transport ships were anchored in the nearshore waters, while hundreds of small boats sprinted towards the beach like arrows released from a bow.

Brigade Commander Luo Xinzhong stood on the wing bridge of a Zhenhai-class armored cruiser. He gazed at the village faintly visible in the distance—a Japanese-style village, likely inhabited by Japanese laborers who helped the British dig the Nicaragua Canal in earlier years, and their descendants.

"Those who are not of our kind are bound to have different hearts!" How could the British not understand such a simple truth? As Luo Xinzhong was inwardly mocking the British Empire ruled by the German Queen, his chief divine officer, Daidoji Yumi, approached him: "Report, the advance troops have taken control of the beachhead and have not encountered fierce resistance."

Luo Xinzhong nodded, turning his gaze towards the village: "Have you made arrangements with the shrine maidens of 'True Covenant Shinto Palace'? It's their turn to take the stage."

Daidoji Yumi saluted and turned to speak a few words in Japanese to the communications officer. Soon, several female officers and attendants dressed in civilian clothes boarded the small boat and disappeared silently into the morning mist.

On the nearby beach, soldiers were setting up beachhead positions. Heavy machine guns were mounted behind the dunes, and 75mm field guns were disassembled into parts. A dozen soldiers were carrying them to their designated locations while chanting slogans.

In a Japanese village in Minas Bay, dozens of men dressed in black robes kneel before a statue of the Heavenly King in a large wooden house. Dim oil lamps illuminate their devout faces, and the air is filled with the scent of incense.

"The time has come." The elder at the head of the group slowly rose, his withered fingers tracing the "Heavenly King's Sword" on the shrine. He was a priest of the Shinto Shrine, having infiltrated the area for ten years. "For the new Japan, for the Father Emperor and God, and Amaterasu Omikami—act!" The men in black robes chanted in unison, then quickly dispersed. Moments later, riots erupted throughout the village.

In the fishing port, several "fishermen" pulled out rifles hidden from the bottom of their fishing boats; in the market, vendors overturned their stalls, revealing weapon boxes underneath; even school teachers led their students to rush towards a Nicaraguan National Defense Force outpost.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" A Nicaraguan officer had just grabbed the phone when a dagger pierced his throat. Blood splattered on the wall as he stared incredulously at the usually timid grocer.

Gunfire, shouts, and explosions shattered the morning's tranquility. Japanese immigrants, armed with rudimentary weapons, surged like a tidal wave towards the Nicaraguan army's outpost. Several Nicaraguan soldiers were still asleep when their throats were slit; many more frantically grabbed their rifles, unsure of who to fire at—enemies were everywhere.

When news of the attack on Minas Bay reached Blenka Bay, Hudson dropped his cigar to the ground.

“What?! Minas Bay?!” He grabbed the communications officer by the collar, cigar ash falling onto his gleaming boots, before regaining his composure. “No, it’s alright. There’s a regiment of the army there, and two or three thousand Nicaraguan soldiers. They can hold out until our reinforcements arrive.”

“But, but! At the same time as the American West rebels landed, Japanese immigrants also launched a riot, and at least one brigade of enemy troops has landed!” The communications officer’s voice trembled, and sweat slid down his temples.

"What?!" McClellan's face turned ashen. He slammed his fist on the table, knocking over a coffee cup. "Damn Japanese! Have they forgotten who fed them?!"

This was indeed a bit unexpected! The Japanese immigrants in Nicaragua had always been very obedient and well-behaved, and seemed to have no connection with the American rebels. They simply worked hard to cultivate the land, and even when the Nicaraguan authorities levied high taxes on them, they never made a fuss and were almost invisible.

Hornby jumped to his feet, the chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound: "Quickly! Order the fleet to move out! Attack the rebel landing fleet!"

But it was too late. Rapid footsteps sounded outside the operations room, and an officer covered in gunpowder smoke rushed in: "General! The enemy's capital ships are approaching the coast and have begun a heavy bombardment! The coastal defenses are requesting support!"

At the same time, Luo Xinhua's feinting fleet suddenly intensified its bombardment. A new wave of shells whistled down around the gun emplacements, directly hitting a 254mm gun emplacement, sending steel and flesh flying into the air.

"Generate electricity domestically!" Hudson roared, his wrinkles contorted with rage. "We need reinforcements! Immediately!"

At the same moment, in the northwestern waters of the Hawaiian Islands, the U.S. Pacific Fleet advanced in battle formation on the azure sea. Eight Constitution-class battleships stood in two columns, their steam engines belching long trails of black smoke into the sky.

Fleet Commander Vice Admiral George Dewey stood on the wing bridge of the battleship USS Maryland, holding up his binoculars and gazing at the sky. The sea breeze ruffled his graying temples, and salty moisture condensed into tiny droplets on the binoculars' lenses.

"Airship!" the lookout suddenly shouted, his voice trembling with excitement.

Dewey squinted and sure enough, he saw a Skyhawk-class airship circling in the distance, the sunlight reflecting off its aluminum frame with a blinding gleam.

"Radio signal detected!" The communications officer rushed in, his leather shoes tapping rapidly on the steel deck. "The enemy has spotted us!"

Chief of Staff Williams whispered, "Sir, if their airships can transmit from here, it means their radios are more advanced than our newly acquired 'Marconi Type 1'."

Dewey gave a wry smile and lowered his binoculars. Sunlight cast shadows in his deep-set eyes: "The enemy's stuff is always better than ours." He turned to the navigator, "How far are we from Pearl Harbor now?"

"About 120 nautical miles, sir."

Dewey nodded, his gaze sweeping over the nautical chart: "But it doesn't matter. The Taiping forces at Pearl Harbor must be in a frenzy right now. They have to escort ships, defend the coast, and disrupt commerce. They're so busy they're practically taking off. Where would they find extra ships to go out to sea for a decisive battle?"

"Then we..." Williams hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped himself.

"Order the fleet to turn!" Dewey waved his hand, his voice exceptionally clear in the sea breeze. "Target—Maui!"

The sea breeze howled, and the waves surged. Two fleets, two surprise attacks, began simultaneously.

In Blenka Bay, Luo Xinhua's feinting fleet created a perfect deception. Shells rained down on the coastal fortifications, and the explosions lit up half the sky. Meanwhile, in areas the Americans couldn't attend to for the time being, tens of thousands of Japanese soldiers from the 4th Brigade had already pierced their flanks like daggers.

Meanwhile, in the waters off Hawaii, Dewey's fleet was changing course, the massive hulls of the battleships drawing white arcs across the sea as they headed toward Maui, the second largest island in the Hawaiian archipelago, which was poorly defended. If the US military were to capture this island, the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom's East Pacific Fleet would be in serious trouble!

(End of this chapter)