World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Then what do you suggest we do?!" Okaichi roared. "Are we just supposed to stay like this, waiting for reports of shipwrecks, waiting for news of the harbor being shelled, waiting for the people to call us useless?!"

"Negotiations." Yamamoto said these two words softly but clearly. "While we still have bargaining chips—our army is still intact, our homeland hasn't been attacked, and our government is still functioning. While Lanfang hasn't completely broken off relations, hasn't started large-scale shelling of cities, and hasn't landed. If we talk now, we can still gain some terms. If we drag this out any longer…"

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood.

If this drags on any longer, we'll really have no choice but to surrender unconditionally.

"Negotiation..." Terauchi murmured, "But what about Lanfang's conditions..."

"We can talk." Yamamoto walked back to his seat. "We can negotiate. The reparations can be reduced, the naval restrictions can be eased, and the opening of ports can be limited. But the premise is that we must show sincerity—sincerity in a ceasefire and sincerity in peace talks."

"How should we perform?" Foreign Minister Takaaki Kato asked.

"Order all merchant ships to cease sailing," Yamamoto said. "Order all warships to remain in port. Formally request ceasefire negotiations from Lanfang through neutral countries. At the same time, make private contact to ascertain their bottom line."

"And then?" Okaichinosuke asked coldly. "What if they still demand 300 million yen in reparations, still want to restrict the navy, and still want to open the ports? Will we accept that?"

"Then it depends on how much the people are willing to pay." Yamamoto looked at Okaichinosuke. "Are they willing to pay reparations or to suffer hunger? Are they willing to accept naval restrictions or to have their territory bombarded? Are they willing to open their ports or to see the country collapse? Minister Okaichinosuke, you are the Minister of the Army, you should know better than anyone else that at this stage of the war, there is no longer the option of 'victory'. There is only the option of 'minimizing losses'."

Okaichi stared at him, his lips trembling, but he couldn't utter a word. He knew Yamamoto was right. As a soldier, he understood the cruelty of war better than anyone, and the disparity in strength better than anyone. He was just… unwilling to accept it.

They were unwilling to admit defeat, unwilling to bow down, and unwilling to let decades of empire's efforts vanish into nothingness.

"I'll consider it," he finally managed to squeeze out through gritted teeth. "But the army needs time. Time to persuade the generals, time to reassure the soldiers, time... to accept this reality."

"We are running out of time," Yamamoto said. "Every day we delay means another ship sinking, another port being destroyed, and another bargaining chip being lost. Your Excellency, please make a decision as soon as possible."

All eyes turned to Terauchi Masatake. The prime minister was pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat. He knew that whatever decision he made would be recorded in history and judged by posterity—either a wise man who saved the country or a sinner who destroyed the empire.

"Give me..." he began with difficulty, "Give me twenty-four hours. By this time tomorrow, I will have made a decision."

"Prime Minister!" Okaichi no Suke wanted to say something.

"That's an order!" Terauchi roared, then coughed violently. The secretary quickly handed him water and a handkerchief.

The meeting room fell silent again. Only the sound of coughing echoed from within the temple, one cough after another, as if the monks were coughing up their lungs.

Yamamoto Gonbei stood up and bowed: "Then, I'll take my leave. I'll come again at this time tomorrow."

He turned and left. As he walked out of the conference room, he heard Okaichinosuke's suppressed roar and Terauchi's weary sigh behind him.

The door closed, shutting out the argument inside. The corridor was empty except for the sound of his footsteps.

It's like walking on a road leading to a grave.

And he was the one who carried the coffin.

The Yangtze battleship, bridge, 2 PM

Zhang Zhen looked at the battle report he had just received: U-19 sank a Japanese cargo ship of about 6,000 tons; U-22 damaged another ship, which struggled to return to port; U-25 spotted two ships, but the targets entered shallow waters and the attack was abandoned.

"In three days, we sank five ships and damaged three others," said Deputy Captain Chen Qiming. "The results are very obvious. According to intercepted communications from Japanese merchant ships, fewer and fewer ships are now daring to go to sea."

"What about the port?" Zhang Zhen asked.

"Kure Port was shelled again this morning, and Dock No. 3 is completely destroyed. Port activities in Sasebo and Nagasaki have almost come to a standstill, with only a few fishing boats daring to go out to sea."

Zhang Zhen walked to the nautical chart and looked at the coastline of the Japanese archipelago. That once bustling maritime transport route now resembled a severed blood vessel, its flow becoming increasingly slow and weak.

"What's the reaction in Tokyo?" he asked.

"According to diplomatic channels, Japan has expressed its willingness to negotiate through Switzerland, but has not yet made a formal proposal. Internal intelligence indicates that tensions between the army and navy are escalating, with the army demanding that the navy engage in combat, while the navy insists on avoiding war. Prime Minister Terauchi Masatake is caught in the middle and is finding it difficult to make a decision."

Zhang Zhen nodded. This was the effect they wanted. By applying sustained pressure, they aimed to exacerbate internal conflicts within Japan, force the pro-peace faction to gain the upper hand, and compel the government to the negotiating table.

But the pressure needs to be just right. Too little, and the other person won't feel any pain; too much, and they might become desperate and retaliate.

"Order all ships," he commanded, "to bombard Kobe harbor tomorrow morning."

"Kobe?" Chen Qiming was taken aback. "It's one of Japan's largest commercial ports, and its industries are very concentrated there. If we attack there, the impact will be huge."

"That's why we have to fight," Zhang Zhen said. "We need to let the Japanese know that we can attack not only naval ports but also commercial ports; we can not only cut off maritime transport lines but also destroy their industrial base. We need to make them feel the cost of war, from their government to their civilians."

He paused, then added, "The shelling will be kept within two hours. Afterward, a message will be sent through neutral countries: as long as Japan formally requests peace talks and orders all merchant ships to cease operations and all warships to leave port, we will suspend the shelling."

"Is this an ultimatum?"

"No, this is a way out," Zhang Zhen said. "It's a way out for those who want to negotiate, and a warning to those who want to continue fighting. It tells them: there's still a chance to talk; fighting only leads to death."

Chen Qiming jotted down the orders, then hesitated for a moment: "Sir, isn't this... a bit too cruel? Kobe has millions of civilians. Even if we avoid residential areas, the panic, unemployment, and economic collapse caused by the shelling..."

"War is inherently cruel," Zhang Zhen interrupted him, his voice calm. "But today's cruelty is to save lives tomorrow. If we don't inflict pain on Japan now, they won't take peace talks seriously. If the peace talks fail and the war continues, even more people will die—including our soldiers and Japanese civilians."

He looked out the window; the sea was calm and the sun was shining brightly.

"Sometimes, mercy is the greatest cruelty. Being merciful to the enemy is being cruel to your own people. The Japanese understand this better than we do—during the Russo-Japanese War, in Port Arthur and in Mukden, they never showed any mercy."

Chen Qiming fell silent. He knew Zhang Zhen was right, but he still felt a pang of reluctance.

"Execute the order," Zhang Zhen said finally. "Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, shell Kobe. Let the world see the power of the Lanfang Navy, and also see... the choice the Japanese government has made."

The order was relayed. The four giant ships began to adjust their course and head northeast towards Kobe.