World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Bridge of the Yangtze River, 11:00 AM

The rescue operation is basically complete. Most of the people who fell into the water have been recovered. Lan Fang's sailors have been placed in the medical bay.

Zhang Zhen stood on the bridge, watching the last lifeboat being recovered. In his hand was a newly compiled, complete battle report.

The orders were relayed via flag signals and radio. The four Bismarck-class destroyers began to adjust their formation, transitioning from rescue mode to combat cruise. The Omaha formation continued its pursuit northeastward, gradually disappearing from sight.

Zhang Zhen took one last look at the battlefield. Oil slicks continued to spread across the sea, and wreckage still floated. But the fleet's course was already pointing west, towards the doorstep of the enemy who had just been severely damaged.

The first phase of the war was over. But as he said, for others, it was just the beginning.

In Tokyo, Dubai, Berlin, and London, the outcome of this naval battle is triggering a series of chain reactions. Zhang Zhen's task is to use his power to secure the greatest possible benefit for Lanfang.

"Attention all ships," he announced over the loudspeaker. "We are en route to a new battlefield. There will be no gunfights, no torpedo attacks, but it will be just as important. We will use these four warships to tell the world—the Lanfang Navy has arrived."

On the bridge, the officers and soldiers stood tall. Their faces showed fatigue and sadness, but even more so, determination and pride.

Four colossal ships cleaved through the waves, heading towards Japan. Behind them, the East China Sea gradually returned to calm. Only the oil slicks on the surface and the occasional drifting debris told the story of the fierce battle that had just taken place.

Meanwhile, in the deeper ocean, submarine forces are quietly laying nets, waiting for the next batch of prey to arrive.

Tokyo, Ministry of the Navy building, Minister's office, 9:00 AM

The heavy oak doors were tightly shut, and the office was filled with a mixture of cigar smoke and despair.

Admiral Yashiro Rokuro, the Minister of the Navy, sat behind his large desk, holding a telegram sheet that had just been delivered from the communications room. The paper was ordinary naval standard telegram paper, but every word on it felt like a red-hot branding iron, making his fingers tremble.

Opposite him, Lieutenant General Shigetaro Shimada, Chief of Naval Operations, stood with his head bowed, his face ashen as if he had just crawled out of a grave. The heads of all the core departments of the Ministry of the Navy—the Operations Chief, the Intelligence Chief, the General Affairs Chief…—were crammed into this office of less than forty square meters, the air thick with a suffocating oppression.

Rokuro Yashiro slowly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot behind his gold-rimmed glasses. When he spoke, his voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed together:

"read."

Shigetaro Shimada shuddered, his Adam's apple bobbing several times before he managed to speak with difficulty: "Urgent telegram from Yokosuka Naval Base... Between 7:40 and 8:30 this morning, radio contact with the flagship Kongo was lost. The last signal received... was a brief message sent by the Kongo at 7:35: 'Suffering heavy losses from long-range bombardment by enemy capital ships, currently...'"

He paused, took a deep breath, and said, "The telegram ended there. Then, at 7:52, the heavy cruiser Chikuma sent its final report: 'The Kongo, Hiei, Haruna, and Kirishima are confirmed sunk. My ship is heavily damaged and about to sink. Long live His Majesty the Emperor!'"

The office was deathly silent. Only the ticking of the wall clock sounded, each second like a hammer blow to everyone's heart.

Yashiro Rokuro's right hand unconsciously stroked a bronze paperweight on the table—a souvenir given to him by Commander-in-Chief Togo Heihachiro after the victory in the Russo-Japanese War, engraved with the four characters "Seven Lives to Serve the Country".

"Continue." His voice remained calm, but his fingers, gripping the paperweight, had turned white.

Shigetaro Shimada turned to the next page of the telegram, his voice trembling: "Subsequently, the Kure Naval District and the Sasebo Naval District reported that the heavy cruisers Aoba, Kinugasa, and Myoko had lost contact. Of the thirteen destroyers under the First Destroyer Squadron, only Hatsushimo and Shio sent a telegram stating that they had been intercepted by an enemy cruiser group, suffered heavy losses, and were dispersing to evacuate before losing contact."

He looked up, tears welling in his eyes: "Your Excellency... based on current intelligence, the main force of the Combined Fleet... may already be..."

"The entire army was wiped out." Yashiro Rokuro finished the sentence for him.

This word was like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, instantly causing an uproar in the office.

"Impossible!" Operations Chief Rear Admiral Kantarō Suzuki stood up abruptly, his face flushed. "Four Kongo-class ships! The Imperial Navy's newest and most advanced warships! How could they all sink in just one hour? This intelligence must be wrong!"

"But the telegram was sent back by the captain of the Chikuma..." Rear Admiral Hideki Yamamoto, the intelligence chief, said dejectedly, "Colonel Shimazu is not the kind of person who would lie about military intelligence."

"That means communications have been jammed! Or it's a trick by the Lanfang people!"

"Suzuki-kun!" Yashiro Rokuro suddenly raised his voice, which, though not loud, carried an undeniable authority. "Sit down."

Suzuki Kantarō opened his mouth, but ultimately slumped back into his chair.

Rokuro Yashiro took off his glasses and carefully wiped the lenses with a soft cloth. This was a habitual action he took under immense pressure. He wiped the lenses again and again until they were so shiny that they reflected his image.

"Gentlemen," he put his glasses back on, his gaze sweeping over everyone present, "this is not the time for arguing. We need to face reality, however harsh it may be."

He stood up and walked to the huge Asian nautical chart on the wall. On the chart, along the route from Yokosuka to the East China Sea, the four gold ship-shaped markers representing the main force of the Combined Fleet were still affixed to their designated ambush positions. Around them, newly marked black crosses in red ink were strikingly obvious—Kirishima, Haruna, Hiei, and Kongo.

Rokuro Yashiro reached out and gently peeled off the mark representing the Kongo. The golden ship shape lay in his palm, reflecting a faint light under the lamp.

"Forty years ago," he said softly, as if talking to himself, "the Imperial Navy had only a few wooden-hulled steamships, facing the Qing Dynasty's Beiyang Fleet. In the end, we won."

"Ten years ago, we once again defeated the Russian Baltic Fleet despite being outnumbered."

"Since then, the Imperial Navy has spent thirty years building the largest fleet in Asia and the third largest in the world. The Kongo-class is our newest and most powerful warship, a culmination of the Empire's industrial and technological strength."

He turned around and looked at everyone: "And now, in the East China Sea, they have all been sent to the bottom of the sea within an hour by a country that has been established for less than ten years."

"Your Excellency!" the Minister of General Affairs said urgently, "The most important thing now is how to clean up the mess! As for the army..."

"I already know about the Army." Yashiro Rokuro interrupted him, a wry smile on his face. "Five minutes ago, the Director of the Military Affairs Bureau of the Ministry of the Army called, and his tone... was very impolite. They demanded that the Navy provide a detailed battle report immediately so that they could 'adjust the overall defense strategy'."

"Adjusting defense strategy?" Suzuki Kantarō sneered. "They're just itching to kick someone when they're down! The army has been complaining about the navy's high budget for years, and now..."

"Now they have the best excuse." Yashiro Rokuro walked back to his desk and slowly sat down. "Gentlemen, we have lost. Not only have we lost the battle, but we may have also lost everything the Imperial Navy has accumulated over the past forty years—glory, status, and... the future."

He took a document from the drawer and spread it out on the table. It was the "Naval Expansion Plan for Fiscal Year 3 of the Taisho Era" submitted by the Ministry of the Navy at the beginning of the year, which detailed the budget requests for the construction of two new Super-Dreadnought-class battleships, four new cruisers, and twelve destroyers.

Yashiro Rokuro picked up his pen and drew a heavy horizontal line on the document cover.