131: Chapter 41 The Devastation of the Allied Forces

The lingering smoke of gunpowder on the sea had not yet dissipated, and the dawn tore a slit through the eastern horizon, dyeing the sky a fish-belly white.

Li Ling stood on the bridge of the dragon soar. Through his binoculars, the burning wrecks of enemy ships looked like silent tombstones, tilted on the sea surface. Some were still billowing thick black smoke, and tongues of fire licked out from the cracks, casting a flickering light across the water.

In the battle last night, he had used Radar to guide the Torpedo boats in a night raid, and at the cost of sixty torpedoes and three thousand shells, he had forcibly torn the formation of the United Fleet into pieces.

The enemy suffered heavy losses; at least fifteen capital ships were sunk or severely damaged. The remaining vessels fled in all directions in the darkness, like a flock of startled wild ducks, panicked and disorganized.

The seawater was stained a dark red, with floating planks, oil drums, and corpses bobbing in the waves. A few seagulls circled above the wreckage, emitting shrill cries, occasionally diving down to peck at the floating remains.

But there was no hint of a smile on Li Ling's face.

He lowered his binoculars and turned to walk back to the chart room. His adjutant was spreading out the latest satellite photos on the table. They had been taken by the system at 3:50 AM, with extremely high clarity—even the sailors running in panic on the decks of the enemy ships were faintly discernible.

On the photos, the remnants of the Allied forces were retreating to the southeast, the fleet divided into six or seven groups, each fighting for itself, with the closest ones being twenty nautical miles apart. Some had chaotic courses, drawing crooked arcs on the sea surface; some even began to collide with each other, having lost basic formation discipline in their panic.

"Sir, the remaining Allied fleet is accelerating in its escape, heading southeast. It is estimated they will reach the high seas in eight hours," the adjutant said, pointing to a white track line on the photo. "If we pursue now, we can intercept at most three groups."

"Three groups?" Li Ling stared at the photo for a few seconds, his fingers tapping lightly on the tabletop. "Not enough. I want to annihilate them completely; I won't let a single ship escape."

The adjutant opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing the cold light in Li Ling's eyes, he swallowed his words back. He had followed Li Ling for many years and knew that it was useless to say anything at a time like this—once this young commander had made up his mind, not even nine oxen could pull him back.

Li Ling straightened up, walked to the communication console, and picked up the microphone: "This is Li Ling. Relay the order: all Dreadnoughts, Cruisers, and Destroyers of the First Fleet, pursue at full speed! Submarine units move forward to ambush along the enemy's retreat route, and the Torpedo boat formation will flank from both sides. Objective: annihilate the remaining Allied forces, do not let a single ship escape!"

Concise and powerful responses came from the captains of each ship over the microphone. Radio waves spread rapidly in the morning light, delivering the order to every warship. Minutes later, the boilers of the six Dreadnoughts burned at full capacity, thick black smoke billowed from their funnels, and the massive hulls began to accelerate, cleaving through the waves as they headed southeast. The spray churned and roared at the stern, like a pack of frenzied white beasts.

On the sea, white wakes extended one after another, like sharp blades slicing through silk, leaving long scars on the surface. Cruisers and Destroyers stood guard on the flanks, Submarines stealthily moved underwater, and Torpedo boats laid an invisible net on the periphery of the fleet. Viewed from high above, Li Ling's fleet was like a giant drawn bow, firing with thunderous momentum toward the scattered prey.

The pursuit had begun.

On the bridge of the dragon soar, the sea breeze whistled into his collar, making the hem of Li Ling's uniform flap violently. His hands gripped the railing tightly, the cold metallic touch keeping his mind exceptionally clear. On the distant horizon, the masts of the enemy ships were faintly visible, like clusters of dead branches reaching toward the sky, or perhaps like the arms of drowning men reaching out.

"Sir, distance thirty nautical miles, the enemy fleet is dispersing!" the Radar operator reported. "One group of about eight vessels is accelerating to flee southeast, while the other groups are turning southwest, attempting to use the island reefs for cover."

Li Ling frowned. The enemy had split their forces; this was a classic tactic of sacrificing the rook to save the king. They wanted to use small groups to lure away the pursuers and cover the main force's breakout. But he would not be fooled.

"Ignore the small decoys," Li Ling ordered. "Concentrate our forces to pursue the largest group; that is where the Allied flagship is. As long as we take out their command center, the other remnants will be like headless flies."

"Yes!"

The six Dreadnoughts adjusted their course and accelerated toward the largest enemy fleet group. On the Radar screen, those eight light spots were desperately accelerating, but their speed was only about sixteen knots, while Li Ling's Dreadnoughts could reach twenty-one knots at full speed. The distance between the two sides was rapidly closing at five nautical miles per hour, just like a cheetah catching up to an injured antelope; the outcome was already sealed.

On the bridge, the gunners began to nervously adjust the firing parameters. The massive turrets turned slowly, the 305mm gun barrels pointing toward the distant sea, gleaming with a cold metallic luster in the morning light. Shells were pushed into the chambers, the breeches locked, and the safeties on the firing mechanisms were disengaged. Fine beads of sweat seeped from the gunners' foreheads, their fingers resting on the firing triggers, waiting for the order that would decide life and death.

"Distance twenty nautical miles." The Radar operator's voice rang out over the communicator, strained and urgent.

Li Ling took a deep breath, the salty, fishy smell of the sea breeze filling his lungs. He lowered his binoculars, his voice as calm as if he were speaking of a trivial matter: "Fire."

The main guns of the dragon soar roared first. Four 305mm shells tore through the sky, trailing orange-red exhaust flames as they smashed toward the enemy fleet. The shells traced four graceful arcs in the morning light, falling like meteors. They landed around an enemy Cruiser, kicking up sky-high water spouts. The seawater poured onto the enemy ship's deck like a waterfall, knocking several sailors operating the guns off balance. Some were flipped over by the shockwave, rolling and screaming on the wet, slippery deck, while others hugged the gun barrels tightly to avoid being thrown into the sea.

Immediately after, the other Dreadnoughts also opened fire. Dozens of large-caliber shells smashed into the enemy fleet simultaneously; explosions rose one after another on the sea, and flames shot into the sky. An enemy Destroyer was hit directly in the ammunition magazine, its hull snapped into two pieces and sank rapidly. The fireball from the explosion shot skyward; even the dragon soar, several nautical miles away, felt the shockwave, and the glass windows of the bridge hummed. Another Cruiser was hit by multiple shells, fires broke out on its deck, thick smoke billowed, and the hull began to tilt as seawater rushed in through the breaches, quickly flooding the lower compartments.

The enemy tried to return fire, but their artillery was completely inaccurate. The shells landed far around Li Ling's fleet; although the water spouts were huge, they didn't even graze a single ship. Their morale had collapsed. The officers and soldiers hadn't slept for days, their supplies were cut off, and many could barely even stand, let alone fire accurately. Some gunners were even shaking so hard while loading that they dropped shells onto the deck; the rolling shells hit the guardrails, emitting a dull metallic clanging sound.

"Continue firing! Do not stop!" Li Ling's voice echoed on the bridge, calm and resolute.

On the third volley, the enemy flagship was hit. It was an old Battleship, its armor not thick to begin with, and it was like paper in front of the 305mm armor-piercing shells. Two shells penetrated the main armor belt and exploded inside the hull, triggering a chain reaction of ammunition. A huge fireball rose from the center of the ship, thick smoke and debris shot hundreds of meters into the sky, and the entire warship was snapped in the middle as if by an invisible giant hand; the keel broke, and the hull tilted rapidly.

The sailors on the deck fell into the sea like dumplings being tossed into a pot. Some were blown away by the shockwave of the explosion and were already breathless when they hit the water; some were still on fire, struggling in the icy seawater for a dozen seconds before sinking, leaving only a string of bubbles on the surface; others were lucky enough to grab floating planks, crying for help, but their voices were quickly swallowed by the sound of artillery fire. The enemy flagship sank to the bottom of the sea within three minutes, leaving only a huge whirlpool and a few pieces of burning wreckage on the surface, the whirlpool spinning and sucking in the surrounding debris and corpses, like a greedy, giant mouth.

"Well hit!" the gunners cheered. Some were so excited they took off their hats and waved them in the air, others slapped each other on the shoulders, their eyes shining with tears of excitement.

But there was no change in Li Ling's expression. Although the enemy flagship had sunk, the enemy's remaining vessels were still fleeing. They had scattered into even smaller groups; some rushed toward the nearest island reefs, attempting to use the shallow water to evade pursuit; some tried to blend into merchant shipping lanes, hoping to muddle through in the chaos; some even hoisted white flags directly, shivering as they waited to be captured.

"Pursue!" Li Ling lowered his binoculars. "Do not give them any chance. For those hoisting white flags, order them to stop their ships and surrender; those who refuse to surrender are to be sunk without exception."

The fleet continued its pursuit, and gunfire rained across the sea.

Under the dense barrage of fire, the fleeing enemy ships were hit one after another; some burned, some sank, and others were forced to stop and surrender.

Viewed from above, the sea was filled with flames, thick smoke, and floating wreckage, resembling an apocalyptic scene.

The sea breeze dispersed and then gathered the smoke, making the sun appear dim and blurred within the haze.

The pursuit lasted for a full four hours.

By eleven o'clock in the morning, the light dots representing enemy ships on the Radar screen were few and far between.

Of the more than forty ships in the remnants of the United Fleet, over thirty had been sunk, eight severely damaged, and fewer than five had managed to escape the encirclement.

Those ships that escaped dared not linger, fleeing desperately toward the high seas, lacking even the courage to look back.

Their wakes carved chaotic lines across the sea, like footprints left by fugitives.

Li Ling stood on the bridge, watching the flames and smoke on the sea gradually subside, remaining silent for a long time.

The sea breeze stirred his hair and dried the cold sweat on his forehead.

His military uniform was stained with dried salt from the seawater, and his cuffs were torn by shrapnel, but he was completely unaware.

"Sir, the statistics are in." The adjutant handed over a report, his voice suppressed with excitement. "Thirty-four enemy ships sunk, seven captured, four severely damaged, and the remaining enemies have fled to the high seas. Our losses: one Dreadnought lightly damaged, two Cruisers lightly damaged, and no losses to the Torpedo boat. Soldiers killed in action... twenty-three."

Li Ling took the report, read it once, read it again, then set it down without a word.

Twenty-three men. It was far fewer than he had expected, yet his heart still felt heavy.

He recognized some of those twenty-three names—there was a young man named Wang Tiezhu, a veteran who had followed him since the bandit suppression days; he was only twenty-two this year and had an elderly mother at home. There was also a sailor named Chen Ergou, who had only enlisted last year and always liked to sneak snacks during night watch, for which he had been punished several times. They were all dead.

"Ensure the list of the fallen is accurately compiled." His voice was slightly hoarse. "Double the pension payments, and arrange the best medical treatment for the wounded. Additionally, handle the captured enemy officers and soldiers according to the laws of war; do not mistreat them."

"Yes!"

Li Ling turned and walked back to the chart room, but the corner of his eye caught the wreckage still burning on the sea. He suddenly stopped, walked back to the railing, and looked toward the horizon. There, a few surviving enemy ships were turning into smaller and smaller black dots, eventually disappearing where the water met the sky.

"System." He recited silently in his heart.

"Hm?" The System's voice echoed in his mind, carrying a hint of exhaustion—even the System could feel "tired" after continuous high-intensity combat.

"Tell me, the United Fleet is truly finished this time, right?"

"Yes, Host." The System was silent for two seconds, as if re-verifying data. "The main force of the United Fleet has been completely destroyed, with the remaining remnants less than one-tenth of the original, and morale has collapsed, making it impossible to organize an effective counterattack. The navies of Meijian Country and the UK have been severely crippled and will be unable to launch large-scale intervention for at least two years. The Japan navy is even more nominal, with only a few old patrol boats left. Host's victory is decisive."

Li Ling let out a long breath, feeling the stone that had pressed on his chest for so long finally loosen a little. He leaned against the railing and looked up at the sky. The sun had risen to its zenith, illuminating the sea brightly and blindingly. The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy scent, blew into his face, clearing his foggy mind a little.

But he did not completely relax. He knew that although the enemies at sea had temporarily retreated, the enemies on land remained. Those Northern Warlords, those separatist forces, those dark hands manipulating the great powers from behind the scenes—they were all still waiting for him to deal with them. This was the real tough battle; he needed stronger forces, more sufficient supplies, and more rigorous plans.

"Pass the order." He turned around. "The fleet will return to port for rest and reorganization. In three days, we will hold a military conference to discuss the next operational plan."

"Yes!"

The fleet began to turn, the massive hulls carving arcs across the sea, their white wakes glistening in the sunlight. On both sides of the gunwales, sailors were cleaning the traces of smoke from the decks; some were wiping the gun barrels, some were checking ammunition, and some were bandaging wounded comrades. In the sea breeze, their low singing drifted—an old tune passed down for hundreds of years by the coastal fishermen of Qingxia Kingdom, long and desolate, as if the ocean itself were sighing for the end of one era and the beginning of another.

The singing drifted over the sea, blending with the sound of waves lapping against the hull, as if telling a story. Several young sailors stood by the gunwale, watching the battlefield gradually receding into the distance, their eyes flashing with complex emotions—both the joy of victory and the sorrow of losing comrades.

Li Ling stood on the bridge, watching the receding battlefield. The burning wreckage had turned into small dots in the distance, like torches gradually extinguishing in the twilight. On the sea, a few dolphins leaped out of the water, chasing and playing in the shimmering waves, as if the earth-shattering naval battle just now had been merely a nightmare. Their dorsal fins sliced through the water, leaving silver arcs that glistened in the sunlight.

A strange emotion suddenly welled up in his heart. It was not joy, not excitement, but an indescribable fatigue and emptiness. He had been fighting for five years, so many people had died, so many families had been destroyed, and finally, the strongest enemy had been crushed. But what next? There were more battles to fight, more problems to solve, and more responsibilities to shoulder. He thought of the faces of the fallen soldiers, the expressions of their families when they received the bad news, and the common people who had lost their homes in the flames of war. He suddenly felt very tired, so tired that he wanted to find a place to sit down and think about nothing.

"System." He asked softly, "Tell me, when will this war finally end?"

The System was silent for a long time, so long that Li Ling thought it would not answer. The sea breeze whistled in his ears, and waves lapped against the hull. Then, that cold and familiar voice echoed in his mind, carrying a rare hint of gentleness: "Host, when no one dares to bully us anymore, the war will be over."

Li Ling was stunned for a moment, then smiled. When he smiled, his eyes narrowed slightly, and the curve of his lips carried a touch of youthful spirit, but the deep-seated vicissitudes in his eyes could not be hidden.

"You are right." He turned around and strode into the bridge. "Then we will continue to fight. Fight until they never dare to come again."

Behind him, the sun set, dyeing the entire ocean a golden red. Where the sea met the sky, a few seagulls circled, emitting long cries. Their figures grew smaller and smaller in the twilight, eventually disappearing into the burning horizon.

On the bridge of the dragon soar, a sailor was using a rag to wipe away the smoke-blackened marks on the main gun barrel. He wiped slowly and carefully, as if polishing a precious piece of porcelain. The gun barrel still retained residual heat, burning his fingers red, but he did not stop. His lips were pursed tightly, his eyes focused, and the rag in his hand slid over the cold metal surface, stroke by stroke.

By the gunwale, another sailor was squatting there, staring blankly at the sea. In his hand, he clutched a photo soaked by seawater, on which a young woman was smiling at the camera. His eyes were slightly red, but he did not cry out. He stuffed the photo back into his pocket, then stood up, straightened his back, and continued to do what he had to do.

The joy of victory is fleeting, and the shadow of sorrow is long-lasting. But life must go on, and the battle must also go on. On the sea, the fleet continued to move forward, cleaving through the waves, heading home. And behind them, the sea area that had just experienced the baptism of blood and fire was gradually returning to tranquility in the twilight.

Waves lapped against the reefs, one after another, as if singing a requiem for those departed lives. The sea breeze whimpered as it passed through the masts, as if whispering something. And Li Ling stood before the bridge window, watching the receding battlefield, with only one thought in his heart—he would not let those sacrifices be in vain. He would use victory to comfort every departed soul.

In the distance, the first star lit up in the twilight, like an eye watching over this sea area. It was a new beginning, and also a new challenge.