World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"Heading 115, speed 22 knots, all systems operating normally," the navigator's calm report came from behind.

Chen Feng didn't turn around, only nodded slightly. His gaze swept across the calm sea to the northeast. In that direction, about ten days' journey was needed to reach a rusty Dutch merchant ship carrying the surrender delegation from Japan, slowly sailing towards Borneo. Two worlds, heading towards each other on the same ocean.

"Commander." The young intelligence officer, Li Mingyuan, walked to his side and handed him a tablet computer. "Latest intelligence analysis from Yokohama. The Batavia departed yesterday afternoon, with an estimated speed of no more than twelve knots. Besides the delegation, there are seventeen unarmed Dutch crew members on board."

"Togo Heihachiro..." Chen Feng murmured the name, his gaze lingering on the aged but still upright back. "He asked to come."

"Yes, Commander," Li Mingyuan said. "According to inside intelligence, it was Togo himself who made the request to the Terauchi Cabinet. His reason was that he 'wanted to see what the new era looks like with his own eyes.'"

"The new era," Chen Feng repeated the word, a complex smile playing on his lips. He handed the tablet back. "Have their cabins been arranged?"

"As per your request, we've arranged for you to be in the west wing of the Kuching State Guesthouse. It offers views of the sea, the city center, and the new port area." Li Mingyuan paused. "Furthermore, the Foreign Minister's office inquired about the scale of the welcoming ceremony upon your arrival..."

"According to the standards for the defeated nation's delegation," Chen Feng said calmly. "Don't raise their flag, don't play their songs. A perfunctory welcome, then begin negotiations directly."

"clear."

After Li Mingyuan left, Chen Feng turned back to the observation window. The Fuxing was currently sailing through a sun-drenched sea, and occasionally, flying fish could be seen leaping out of the water, tracing silvery arcs in the sunlight through the waves cleaved by its bow. This ship was the newest flagship of the Lanfang Republic Navy, displacing 40,000 tons, equipped with all-electric propulsion, and featuring the latest phased-array radar and vertical launch system. It was more than just a warship; it was a declaration—a demonstration of technology and will by an emerging maritime power to the world.

Somewhere in the same ocean, the old ship named Batavia remains in another era. Powered by coal-fired boilers, its top speed is only half that of the Fuxing, its hull is rusted, and its equipment is outdated. It is the last remnant of the colonial era, carrying the messenger of an once ambitious but now shattered empire, sailing towards a future it cannot comprehend.

"Reporting to the Commander, we have received an encrypted communication from the Kuching Command Center," the communications officer's voice rang out. "Prime Minister Chang Chen will be holding his final pre-battle video conference with you tomorrow morning."

"Reply to confirm."

Chen Feng downed his slightly cooled coffee in one gulp. The bitterness spread across his tongue, bringing a clear sense of alertness. He took one last look at the boundless ocean outside the window, then turned and left the observation window.

As we walked across the bridge, the upright backs, focused eyes, and fluid hands operating the controls of the officers and soldiers on duty—every detail silently spoke of the state of this army and this country. They are young, confident, possess the most advanced technology, and have absolute faith in the future.

In the cramped cabin of the Batavia, Togo Heihachiro sat on his creaking bunk, gazing at the monotonous horizon through the blurry porthole. This veteran, who had once led the Combined Fleet to create miracles in the Tsushima Strait, was perhaps contemplating the true meaning of the "new era" represented by Chen Feng.

Two ships, two worlds, sailing towards each other on the same ocean. Ten days later, they will meet on the coast of Borneo. And that moment will not only mark the end of a war, but also the formal pronouncement of one era upon another.

Chen Feng entered his captain's cabin, the door closing silently behind him. He sat down at his desk, opened his encrypted terminal, and began downloading the latest negotiation bottom-line document sent by Premier Zhang Zhen's office.

The Indian Ocean outside the window remained as calm as a mirror, but Chen Feng knew that beneath this calm, the currents of history were surging irreversibly in a completely new direction.