World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

At 5:40 a.m., at 125 degrees 17 minutes east longitude and 28 degrees 43 minutes north latitude.

A thick fog, like a heavy quilt, covered the sea surface for dozens of nautical miles. Visibility was less than 500 meters, and the seawater appeared a lifeless, leaden gray. The battlecruiser Fuxing slowly moved forward through this milky white labyrinth at a cruising speed of fifteen knots.

On the bridge, Lin Haisheng gripped the railing tightly, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. His eyes were fixed on the swirling mist ahead, as if he could pierce through the white veil and see the Grim Reaper lurking behind it. (Why does "Lin Hai" become "Lin Haisheng" when expanded?!)

"Radar room reporting." He didn't turn around, his voice sounding exceptionally clear in the silent bridge.

Radar officer Zhang Hao's voice came through the microphone, crackling with static: "Bearing 285, distance 12 nautical miles, four large surface vessels in contact, heading 030, speed... 18 knots. Confirmed combat formation."

"Size comparison?"

"The data matches the Kongo-class data in the database 92%. The most significant match is identified as the flagship Kongo."

Lin Haisheng nodded. Everything was proceeding according to plan—the combined fleet had arrived, four Kongo-class destroyers, and their escort fleet. The only question was, how long would this damned fog last?

Zhao Wenyuan walked over to him and handed him a cup of hot tea. The tea was Tieguanyin, sent from his hometown in Fujian, and it emitted a faint orchid fragrance in the enclosed bridge.

"Have a drink, you've been standing all night."

Lin Haisheng took the teacup but didn't drink it. His gaze remained fixed on the flickering dots on the radar screen. "Old Zhao, what do you think Kato Yusaburo is thinking right now?"

Zhao Wenyuan was silent for a moment. "He was thinking that this fog was a gift from Amaterasu. He was thinking that four against one was the easiest prey the Imperial Navy had caught in forty years."

"Prey?" Lin Haisheng finally took a sip of tea, a cold smile appearing on his lips. "Then let him see what kind of teeth this prey has."

Just then, at the observation window on the left side of the bridge, the young signalman Xiao Wang suddenly exclaimed "Huh?"

"What's wrong?" Lin Haisheng immediately became alert.

Xiao Wang pointed out the window, his voice tinged with uncertainty: "Captain...look at that fog, isn't it...a little thinner?"

Everyone looked in the direction he was pointing.

Indeed, to the southeast, the once dense, impenetrable white expanse was visibly thinning and fading. A ray of golden sunlight pierced the mist, casting a long beam of light across the sea.

Navigation officer Zhou Zhiwei strode to the weather instrument, his face paling: "The air pressure is rising rapidly...it's a moving high-pressure ridge! Damn it, the forecast said this fog would last until noon!"

"There's no use talking about this now." Lin Haisheng put down his teacup, his voice suddenly becoming stern. "Entire ship to Level One combat readiness! Load armor-piercing shells into the main guns, and prepare for full-scale firepower from the engine room!"

The order was broadcast to all 3,500 compartments of the ship via the public address system. The sleeping steel behemoth, the Fuxing, was awakened in an instant.

At the same time, on the bridge of the battleship Kongo.

Lieutenant General Tomosaburo Kato was carefully wiping his binoculars with a velvet cloth. It was a custom-made product from the German company Zeiss in 1909, with the inscription "Dedicated to the sharpest eyes of the Imperial Navy" engraved on the lenses. During the Russo-Japanese War, he had used these binoculars to witness Togo Heihachiro's glorious victory in the Tsushima Strait.

"Sir, the fog is starting to lift."

The speaker was Chief of Staff Kameto Kuroshima. This forty-year-old officer had the typical features of a Japanese soldier—a square face, a short mustache, and eyes as sharp as an eagle's.

Kato lowered his binoculars and walked to the porthole. Indeed, the fog was rapidly dissipating, like an invisible hand slowly drawing back the curtain of a stage. The sea surface, which had previously only revealed the spray from the bow of the ship, now allowed the outline of the escort destroyer to be seen two hundred meters away.

"Weather officer!" Kato's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

A young officer wearing glasses jogged over, his forehead covered in sweat: "Sir, it's a sudden high-pressure ridge passing through... our initial weather intelligence was wrong..."

"I don't need an explanation," Kato interrupted him. "Tell me, how long will it take for the weather to completely clear up?"

"Ten...no, at most five minutes, sir! This area of ​​the sea will be completely clear!"

Kato fell silent. Five minutes. Enough time for the prey to see the hunter, and enough time for the hunter to see the prey clearly. A perfect ambush plan, due to a sudden change in weather, turned into a head-on confrontation.

"Sir," Kuroshima said in a low voice, "should we wait until the fog has completely cleared before...?"

"No." Kato said decisively, "Once the fog clears, the Fuxing will see all four of our ships. They're not stupid; seeing four against one, their first reaction will be to run at full speed. The Fuxing is designed for a speed of 32 knots, while our fastest ship, the Kongo-class, only reaches 30 knots (the Kongo-class was only 27.5 knots when it was first built, reaching 31.5 knots after its second refit in 1936). Once they gain the upper hand, it will be difficult to catch up."

He raised his binoculars again, aiming them at the thinnest part of the fog: "Order all ships: the attack will begin when the fog clears. Target: the battlecruiser Lanfang Fuxing. Primary objective: destroy its superstructure and disable its command system."

"Yes, sir!" Kuroshima stood at attention, saluted, and turned to relay the order.

Kato continued to hold up the binoculars, his eyes narrowed to slits behind the lenses. His fingers unconsciously tapped the metal casing of the binoculars, making a soft "tap, tap" sound.

Ten years. From the end of the Russo-Japanese War to now, a full ten years, the Imperial Navy has not experienced a real naval battle. Those young sailors had only fired cannons in exercises; those officers had only practiced tactics on sand tables. And now, they are about to face a modern battlecruiser equipped with eight 381mm guns and twelve-inch thick armor.

"Commander-in-Chief Sukeyuki Ito," Kato murmured to himself, "if you are watching over us from heaven, please bless the Imperial Navy and grant it another glorious victory." (Sukeyuki Ito had only recently died.)

At 6:07 a.m., the fog completely dissipated.

The sun shone brightly on the azure sea, making it sparkle. The visibility was astonishing; from the bridge of the Kongo, the horizon twenty nautical miles away was so clear it looked as if it had been cut with a knife.

Just then, a near-screaming report came from the watchtower:

"Enemy ship spotted directly ahead! Distance... 18,000 meters! Confirmed to be the Lanfang Fuxing!"

Kato immediately aimed his binoculars in that direction. In the viewfinder, a massive, dark gray warship was cleaving through the waves, sailing with an unhurried air. Its thick gun barrels pointed diagonally to the sky; the tall bridge and the honeycomb-shaped anti-aircraft gun emplacements cast long shadows in the sunlight.