World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

"This... could be interpreted as a threat," a diplomatic advisor said cautiously.

"No, this is informing them," Chen Feng corrected. "It's telling the people of Meilika that the world has changed. It's no longer an era where a few European powers can decide everything. New powers are rising, and a new order is forming. They can choose to accept us and cooperate with us, or they can choose to confront us and pay the price."

He paused, letting each word sink into people's hearts.

"This trip to Hawaii wasn't to seek peace, nor was it to take sides. I went to tell them: Asians have arrived, bringing their own will and strength. You may not like it, but you must accept it."

There was a knock on the door outside the operations room. A communications officer entered, holding a telegram.

"Commander-in-Chief, a newly received encrypted telegram. From... the Pacific Fleet Command in Milica."

Chen Feng took the telegram and read it quickly. The content was brief:

"To His Excellency Chen Feng, President of the Republic of Lanfang: Pearl Harbor is ready and welcomes your visit. Also, our reconnaissance aircraft will conduct routine identification flights when your formation enters within 500 nautical miles of Hawaii. Please do not misunderstand. Vice Admiral Hugh Rodman, Commander of the Pacific Fleet."

"Reconnaissance aircraft identification." Wang Wenwu frowned. "This is standard surveillance procedure, but at this point in time..."

"It's a show of force, and also a test of our reaction." Chen Feng placed the telegram on the table. "Reply: Thank you for the arrangement. The Lanfang Fleet will abide by international navigation rules and looks forward to meeting with Vice Admiral Rodman. Also, one more thing: Our pilots are also looking forward to friendly exchanges with their American counterparts."

"Friendly exchange?" Captain Zhang Haitao asked, puzzled.

"Our carrier-based pilots need real-world training targets," Chen Feng said with a smile. "Since the US military aircraft are coming, let them see what level Lanfang's pilots are at. Of course, we must keep it within the scope of 'friendly exchange'—no simulated attacks, no provocative maneuvers, just demonstrations of basic flying skills and formation capabilities."

Wang Wenwu understood. This was a subtle display of strength, one that wouldn't provoke the other side while sending a clear signal: we are not weak.

The order was relayed. On the flight deck, ground crew began inspecting the two carrier-based fighter planes—naval variants specifically modified for the "Huaihe," with folding wings. (During World War II, many battleships, including cruisers, could launch seaplanes.)

Chen Feng stepped out of the operations room and onto the open platform on the starboard side. A strong sea breeze whipped his clothes through the air. In the distance, the escorting destroyers were performing zigzag maneuvers, a standard anti-submarine maneuver. Further on the horizon, a cumulonimbus cloud was forming, indicating a potential storm along the route.

"President," Wang Wenwu followed him out, "there's one more thing. Berlin and London have both sent 'informal inquiries', wanting to know the 'true purpose' of your meeting with Wilson. How should we respond?"

"Tell them the truth." Chen Feng gazed at the horizon where the sea meets the sky. "Say that Lanfang, as a newly emerging nation, hopes to contribute to world peace. As for the specifics... they'll know after I finish talking with Wilson."

Neither side will be satisfied with this answer.

"I don't need them to be satisfied." Chen Feng turned and walked towards the bridge. "I just need them to know that from now on, on major issues that determine the fate of the world, Asia's voice must be heard."

He walked onto the bridge. Before the enormous glass windows, the azure sea stretched out in all directions, boundless and limitless. On this vast Pacific Ocean, a warship carrying the dreams of a new world was sailing towards the center of the old world order.

Meanwhile, in the operations room behind the bridge, the simulations on the sand table continued. The staff officers discussed various possibilities in hushed tones, calculating the risks and benefits. They knew that this voyage not only crossed geographical oceans, but also historical and cultural divides.

The Huaihe continued its eastward voyage. The sun rose high in the sky, casting shimmering golden light on the sea. Unseen underwater, submarines silently followed; higher in the sky, American reconnaissance planes may have already taken off; and in distant Washington, London, and Berlin, countless eyes were watching the fleet's every move.

History is holding its breath, awaiting a handshake in the middle of the Pacific.

At the same time, at Pearl Harbor, the Pacific Fleet headquarters.

Vice Admiral Hugh Rodman stood at the observation window of the operations room, observing the fleet deployment in the harbor through high-powered binoculars. The 58-year-old naval commander had served for thirty years, rising from ensign to vice admiral in the Spanish-American War, and was known for his meticulousness and conservatism.

The weather at Pearl Harbor is fine today. Under a clear blue sky, verdant mountains embrace the tranquil bay. Inside the harbor, the main force of the Pacific Fleet is neatly moored: the battleships USS Pennsylvania, USS Arizona, and USS Oklahoma are arranged in a triangular formation; cruisers and destroyers are on the outer perimeter; further away, on the runway of the naval air station, PBY seaplanes are preparing for takeoff.

"Lieutenant General, the reconnaissance aircraft will take off in ten minutes," the chief of staff reported as he approached. "As planned, the first contact will be made when the Lanfang Fleet enters its 500-nautical-mile zone. Identify, photograph, and escort, but do not engage in any provocative maneuvers."

"Did the pilot understand the instructions?"

"I understand perfectly. But..." The chief of staff hesitated for a moment, "The intelligence department suggests that we can conduct some 'probing maneuvers' to test the Lanfang pilots' reaction capabilities and psychological resilience."

Rodman lowered his binoculars, turned to the chief of staff, and asked, "Whose suggestion was that? Naval Intelligence or the XX Institute?"

"Both sides believed that this meeting could determine whether Meilika would join the war, and that it was necessary to understand Lanfang's military capabilities and resolve."

"Foolish." Rodman said bluntly, "Chen Feng is aboard a 45,000-ton battleship, with a complete escort fleet. He's not here to beg, he's here to negotiate. If we treat him with provocation, it will only cast a shadow over the negotiations before they even begin."

He walked up to the huge Pacific Ocean chart. On it, a red arrow stretched from the Persian Gulf, across the Indian Ocean, the Sunda Strait, and into the Pacific Ocean, heading straight for Hawaii.

"Do you know the specifications of this 'Huaihe' ship?" Rodman asked.

"The Bismarck-class was even improved. Eight 380mm main guns, a top speed of 30 knots, and armor thickness... exceeding that of any of our battleships. More importantly, it was equipped with an advanced radar fire control system."

"So this isn't an ordinary warship, but a mobile declaration." Rodman tapped his fingers on the nautical chart. "It's saying: Look, Asians can also build world-class warships, can also conduct ocean voyages, and are qualified to participate in great power competition. If we act too arrogantly, we are denying this fact."

The chief of staff remained silent. He understood his superior's meaning, but the pressure from Washington was also very real.

"That reconnaissance mission..."

"Proceed according to standard procedures. Identify, photograph, and escort. If Lanfang's carrier-based aircraft take off, they may conduct some friendly formation flight demonstrations, but that's all." Rodman paused. "Also, notify the port area to prepare a reception ceremony of the highest standard. We want to demonstrate the professionalism and demeanor of the Meilika Navy, not the provocation of street thugs."

"Yes, Lieutenant General."