World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Qiming fell silent. He was young and passionate, but he also understood the weight of the captain's words. This was no ordinary voyage; it was a test—a test of the courage of the Lanfang Navy, a test of the will of this newly formed nation.

"I understand, Captain." He straightened his back. "Whatever lies ahead, we'll face it together."

Forty nautical miles behind the Fuxing, four Bismarck-class battleships were sailing in a single column. To conceal themselves, they didn't even turn on their navigation lights, relying entirely on radar and gyrocompasses to maintain formation in the dark.

On the bridge of the Yangtze, Rear Admiral Zhang Zhen, the fleet commander, is listening to reports from each ship.

"Yellow River reports: all systems are normal, speed 15 knots, heading 025."

"Huaihe reports: no abnormal contact detected by radar, sonar monitoring normal."

"Pearl River reports: Fuel reserves are sufficient to maintain the current speed for 4,000 nautical miles."

Zhang Zhen nodded and walked to the chart table. The staff officer had already marked the real-time position of the Fuxing bullet train, as well as the calculated position of the Japanese submarine.

"At this rate, we'll be able to enter the waters east of Taiwan by noon tomorrow," the chief of staff said. "That's an international shipping lane, and there will be more merchant ships there. Our concealment will become even more difficult."

"Then adjust the formation," Zhang Zhen ordered. "Change to a diamond formation, with the distance between each ship increased to five nautical miles. Disguise yourself as a merchant convoy, and follow the light signal rules of merchant ships when sailing at night."

"yes!"

The order was relayed. Soon, the four giant ships began to adjust their positions, changing from a tight single-column formation to a loose diamond shape. The Yangtze was in the center, with the other three positioned forward, to the left, and to the right. Each ship turned on its navigation lights, conforming to merchant ship regulations—red to the left and green to the right, with white anchor lights on its masts.

From a distance, it looks like an ordinary merchant fleet, albeit a large one.

But beneath the decks of these "merchant ships," the first batch of propellant was already loaded into the barrels of their 380mm main guns, and shells were ready to be unleashed in the ammunition hoists. Fire control radar continuously scanned the surrounding sea, and sonar listened for every suspicious underwater noise. The boilers were kept at 80% pressure, and at a single command, these four "merchant ships" could accelerate to 30 knots within ten minutes, transforming into a formidable battleship formation.

Zhang Zhen stood on the bridge, looking at the camouflaged navigation lights outside. He knew that from now on, every step had to be taken with extreme caution. Any mistake could expose the entire plan.

"Sir," the radar officer suddenly reported, "several surface contacts have been detected to the southwest, at a distance of sixty nautical miles. They are moving very slowly, like a convoy of fishing boats."

"Continue monitoring. Ignore them unless they get within 20 nautical miles," Zhang Zhen ordered. "Tell all ships to maintain radio silence, but increase visual surveillance. Not everyone appearing in this area at this time is a fisherman."

Meanwhile, thousands of nautical miles away, around the Japanese archipelago, twelve submarines lurked like ghosts in the deep sea.

The U-19 submarine was captained by Li Wenbin, a 30-year-old man who was originally a fisherman from Fujian. He later immigrated to Lanfang and joined the navy. At this moment, he was lying face down in front of the periscope, his eyes fixed on the eyepiece.

Outside was the entrance to Yokosuka Port. Even in the dead of night, the port was brightly lit. Several warships were undergoing repairs in the dock, and several destroyers were moored beside the pier. But most striking were the two massive Kongo-class battlecruisers—the Kongo and the Hiei—in their deep-water berths.

"Captain, what did you see?" the first mate asked in a low voice.

"Both the Kongo and the Hiei are there." Li Wenbin didn't look away. "There are a lot of people moving around on the deck, it seems they're moving supplies. The cranes on the dock are also working, hoisting wooden crates onto the ship."

"That's combat preparation," the deputy captain judged. "They're replenishing their ammunition and supplies."

Li Wenbin nodded, raised the periscope slightly, and scanned the entire harbor. It wasn't just the two Kongo-class destroyers; several cruisers and destroyers were also making similar preparations. The atmosphere in the harbor was noticeably different from usual—there were no loitering sailors, no leisurely tugboats; everything was proceeding in a tense but orderly manner.

"Record: At 2:00 AM local time, in Yokosuka Port, the Kongo, Hiei, and at least four cruisers and eight destroyers were observed making emergency departure preparations. A large amount of supplies are being loaded onto the ships, and the estimated departure time is within the next six to twelve hours."

The sonar operator wrote down the notes and then asked, "Captain, should we report this to our superiors?"

"No, it's not time yet." Li Wenbin retracted the periscope, and the submarine submerged to a depth of 150 meters. "Command orders that we can only report after confirming they have truly left port. Continue monitoring, and surface to periscope depth every half hour to observe."

"Yes."

Silence returned to the submarine, broken only by the low hum of the electric motors and the suppressed breathing of the crew.

Li Wenbin walked to the chart table and looked at the navigation chart of Yokosuka Port. U-19 was currently positioned right at the exit of the main channel. No ship leaving Yokosuka Port could escape their eyes.

"Captain," the first mate approached, his voice low, "do you think we really have to fight?"

Li Wenbin glanced at him: "Scared?"

"It's not that I'm afraid," the vice-captain shook his head, "it's just... if we really launch torpedoes here, it's tantamount to starting a war on Japan's doorstep. The consequences..."

"The consequence is that they dare not provoke us easily anymore." Li Wenbin interrupted him, "Vice Commander, you're a veteran of the navy. You should know that sometimes showing your teeth is more effective than reasoning."

He walked to the torpedo compartment and patted the cold torpedo tubes: "These guys are our teeth. If the Japanese don't mess with us, they'll stay here quietly. But if the Japanese dare to make a move, they'll show them—the waters off Lanfang aren't so easy to enter."

The deputy captain fell silent. He looked at the torpedoes, at the cramped space of the submarine, and at the young and determined faces of the crew.

"You're right, Captain," he finally said. "When it's time to show your teeth, you have to show them."

Time passed. In the South China Sea, the Fuxing bullet train continued its northward voyage. In the East China Sea, the Bismarck formation, disguised as a merchant convoy, stealthily followed. Around the Japanese archipelago, twelve submarines lurked like deep-sea hounds.

Meanwhile, in Yokosuka, Kure, and Sasebo, the officers and men of the Combined Fleet were making final preparations. Ammunition was being loaded into the turrets, fuel was being added to the oil tanks, and operational orders were being distributed to every ship.