AWB The 52nd ship, "Restoration," is currently conducting routine training voyages. We wish yo
The 52nd ship, "Restoration," is currently conducting routine training voyages. We wish yo
"Intrepid" starboard gun position
Two young sailors were leaning on the railing, their eyes wide open.
"Look at that cannon barrel... My God, it must be at least 15 inches!"
"Not only that! Look at the size of the turret; the armor is at least 12 inches thick!"
"How did it do that? Such a big ship, faster than a light cruiser?"
"I don't know... but I have a bad feeling."
One of the sailors swallowed hard. "My uncle works at the Portsmouth shipyard. He said the Germans built six monster warships that terrified the Admiralty. Could this be...?"
"Shut up!" the sergeant's roar came from behind. "Get back to your posts! That's not a German ship, that's...that's something that appeared out of nowhere!"
But the sergeant's own voice also lacked its former confidence.
The bridge of the Lanfang Navy's "Guangfu" ship at the same time
"7,500 meters away, relative speed 12 knots, continuing to approach."
In the fire control room, young calculator Lin Hai reported data, his voice as calm as if he were doing routine training. The complex mechanical computer in front of him was humming, its gears and cams turning precisely.
Li Te stood in front of the central command platform, his hands behind his back. His gaze, through the observation window, was fixed on the warship flying the Union Jack in the distance.
"The Dauntless," he said softly. "It was designed to displace 2 tons, with ten 12-inch main guns and a maximum speed of 21 knots. It was launched in February 1906 and sent here a few days later."
The navigator beside him looked at him in surprise: "Captain, how do you remember it so clearly?"
"Because we must know them better than they know themselves," Little said. "The President has said that knowledge is part of power. Continue reporting."
"Yes, sir! The enemy fleet formation is as follows: the battleship HMS Dreadnought at the core, four armored cruisers on either side, and six destroyers in a guard formation ahead. Standard deterrence formation."
"Our location?"
"We have cut ahead of the enemy's flight path, at a distance of 6,200 meters. The T-shaped advantage is established."
A moment of silence fell over the bridge. All the officers looked at Litt, awaiting the next order. These young men, averaging less than twenty-five, were miners, farmers, and peddlers just three years ago, but now they were operating the world's most advanced warships, facing the world's most powerful navy.
Are you nervous?
Of course I was nervous. But more than that, I felt an almost boiling excitement.
"Maintain course, reduce speed to 18 knots," Litt ordered. "Main gun turrets, move accordingly, aim at the Dreadnought. But note—increase muzzle elevation by one degree, indicating we've seen them, but haven't aimed."
"Understood! Increase the muzzle elevation by one degree!"
The orders were transmitted via circuits to the four turrets. Inside the massive turrets of the "Revival" ship, the gunners executed the orders with precision and speed.
Inside the B turret of the "Guangfu"
Loader Chen Amin took a deep breath and gripped the hoist handle. This 18-year-old from Guangdong was studying mechanical principles at a technical school just three months ago, and now he is a member of the main gun loading team.
"How are you feeling?" asked the gunner, Zhou Tiezhu. He was a 40-year-old veteran who had served in the Qing Dynasty's Nanyang Fleet. After the First Sino-Japanese War, he was stranded in Singapore until three years ago when he answered Lanfang's call to come here.
"My hands were shaking a little," Amin honestly admitted.
"That's normal. The first time I went to the battlefield, I almost peed my pants." Zhou Tiezhu grinned, revealing a set of teeth stained yellow by tobacco. "But remember this: our equipment is a generation more advanced than theirs. Before they can even reach us, we can already tear them to shreds."
Through the observation slits of the turret, Amin could see the British warship in the distance. Compared to the "Revival," it seemed...small. Exquisite, imposing, but small.
It's like a tiger looking at a wolf.
"Guard, shall we open fire?"
"I don't know." Zhou Tiezhu's smile faded. "But if we fire, all we have to do is load 380 kilograms of armor-piercing shells into the breech, and then do it again within two minutes. Simple, right?"
"Yes." Amin nodded vigorously, his hands no longer trembling.
5,400 meters off the coast of the Gulf of Oman
"They are slowing down."
On the bridge of the USS Intrepid, the navigator reported: "The target's speed has dropped to about 18 knots and continues to maintain ahead of our course."
Major General Abbasnot's expression grew increasingly grim. The other party's behavior revealed absolute confidence—neither dodging nor evading, nor accelerating to escape, but simply swaggering in front of him, even slowing down to wait for him.
This is a humiliation.
"Communications officer, use international light signals to inquire about the other party's identity and intentions."
"Yes, sir!"
The signal lights began to flash. Long and short dots of light pierced the sea, casting their light upon the gray behemoth.
All the British sailors stared at the other side, awaiting a response. Some hoped the other side would panic, offer explanations, or show weakness—like the typical reaction of the colonial militia when they saw the Royal Navy.
But a minute later, the response came.
It wasn't panic, it wasn't an explanation.
It is a smooth, standard, and even elegant Morse code light signal.
"Kuangfu" signal station
Signalman Wang Xiaohua's fingers moved rapidly across the light controller. This twenty-year-old was the top student in the communications class at the technical school and was fluent in Morse code for six languages.
"Captain, they're asking about our identities and intentions," he reported without turning his head.
"Reply," Li Te's voice came through the intercom, "'The Lanfang Republic Navy's Restoration is currently conducting routine training navigation. We wish you a pleasant day.'"
Wang Xiaohua paused for a moment, then a smile appeared on his lips.
"clear."
The lights flickered again. This time, the British fleet fell into dead silence.
Bridge of the "Intrepid"
The communications officer held the translated telegram, his hands trembling slightly. He looked at the telegram, then at Abbasnot, opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"Read it." The major general's voice was icy.
"The Lanfang Republic Navy's 'Restoration Ship' is currently conducting routine training navigation. We wish you a pleasant day."
The bridge was so quiet you could hear the low pulsation of the steam pipes.
A few seconds later, a young lieutenant couldn't help but laugh out loud, then immediately covered his mouth.
Abbasnot's face turned a deep shade of purplish-red. A routine training voyage? Have a pleasant day, huh? In the Indian Ocean, which Britain considers its backyard, facing the Royal Navy's formidable fleet?
"They're laughing at us," the artillery officer whispered.
"No," Abbasnot gritted his teeth, "they're telling us they're not afraid of us. Not at all."
He looked at the gray behemoth. Now that they were only four kilometers apart, he could see the details more clearly—the sleek, almost futuristic shape, the enormous, unsettling turrets, and the eerie smoothness of its voyage, which produced almost no waves.
And the most fatal point: speed.
The other party could easily accelerate to 30 knots to escape, but instead chooses to linger in front of you at 18 knots. It's like a cat toying with a mouse it has already caught.