179: Chapter 89 Provocation by the Japanese

Winter in Hokkaido arrived exceptionally early. In the waters outside Wakkanai Port in early November, broken ice already drifted on the surface. Grayish-white ice floes rose and fell, colliding within the dark gray swells and emitting dull crunching sounds, like some colossal creature grinding its teeth on the seabed, or perhaps rehearsing for the coming harsh winter.

A scout Warship Zhuifeng painted in dark gray camouflage was slowly patrolling the waters north of the Tsugaru Strait at a low speed of twelve knots. The spray at its bow was fine and restrained, as if afraid of startling something, and even the engine noise was kept to a minimum.

That Warship Zhuifeng was named "Chidori," with a displacement of only three hundred tons, making it one of the few Vessels in the remnant of the Japan navy still capable of normal operations.

Its deck lacked a main gun, featuring only a Radar radome disguised as a cargo boom. Inside hid a sea-search Radar smuggled from Meijian Country—one of the few pieces of equipment secretly provided by Meijian Country after the destruction of the Japan United Fleet. The model was old, second-hand equipment discarded by the Meijian Country navy, with barely usable performance and a pitiful effective detection range of only thirty nautical miles.

The captain was a Major with a goatee named Major Yamada Masao, an old sea wolf who had distinguished himself during the First Sino-Japanese War. He bore an old scar on his face stretching from his brow bone to his jaw, a memento from the Battle of the Yellow Sea. Whenever the weather changed, the scar would ache faintly, reminding him of those unbearable days.

At this moment, he stood on the bridge with furrowed brows, his gaze fixed intently on the rhythmically pulsing green dot on the Radar screen.

The dot appeared about eighty nautical miles to the northeast on the screen. Its track was stable, its speed approximately fifteen knots. Judging by the echo intensity, it was likely a medium-sized warship or larger, with an estimated displacement of around eight hundred tons.

The key point was that it had deviated from the normal international shipping lanes and was slowly approaching the mainland of Japan, like a shark testing the boundaries—patient and cautious, with no intention of leaving.

"Major, we have been tracking it for three consecutive hours." The executive officer handed him a cup of hot tea. The steam condensed into white mist in the cold air, quickly dissipating in the freezing wind on the bridge. "The target has not changed course, nor has it sent any identification signals. This doesn't look like an ordinary merchant Warship Zhuifeng. Judging by its speed and silhouette, it is likely a new type of electronic reconnaissance Warship Zhuifeng from the Tang Country navy, specifically designed to collect Radar signals and communication frequencies. We encountered a similar target in the Tsushima Strait last month, but they left quickly that time. This time, however, it has been lingering." He lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard, his eyes glancing uneasily at the gray sea outside the window.

Major Yamada Masao took the cup but did not drink. He rubbed his fingers against the wall of the cup, feeling the warmth of the clay, while his thoughts raced: "Tang Country Warship Zhuifengs? Their range of operations has been expanding recently. Last month they were lingering near the Tsushima Strait, and this month they have reached the waters off Hokkaido. What exactly are they trying to do? Do they really think that after the destruction of the United Fleet, this sea belongs to them?" His tone was filled with anger, but even more so with helplessness—after the destruction of the United Fleet, his country had lost the ability to confront the Tang Country head-on at sea. That sense of powerlessness pressed on his chest like a stone, making it hard to breathe, each breath carrying a heavy, dull pain.

"Based on the speed and heading, it is very likely a reconnaissance Warship Zhuifeng of the Tang Country navy." The executive officer opened a navigation logbook with several scribbled lines on it. The ink had been blurred by the sea breeze, and the corners were stained with a few drops of dried seawater. "Although the main force of their First Fleet is anchored in Jiangning Port, the patrol range of their small Vessels has been expanding southward over the past few months. There have already been three encounters with our fishermen near the Ryukyu Islands. This may be their new type of electronic reconnaissance Warship Zhuifeng, specifically designed to collect Radar signals and communication frequencies. We encountered a similar target in the Tsushima Strait last month; that Warship Zhuifeng ran faster than a rabbit, and we couldn't catch it at all." He paused, his voice dropping even lower, almost to a whisper: "Major, given the current condition of our Warship Zhuifengs... I am afraid we are no match for them. Chidori only has one 76mm main gun with an effective range of no more than five thousand meters. If the opponent is a Destroyer or larger, we have almost no chance of winning. Furthermore, our speed is only twelve knots, while they can run at over twenty knots; we cannot outrun them."

Major Yamada Masao's brows furrowed even tighter, the old scar appearing exceptionally hideous under the lights. After the destruction of the United Fleet, the Japan navy was left with only some dilapidated old Vessels and a few newly built small patrol Warship Zhuifengs, completely incapable of contending with the Tang Country navy. However, Meijian Country and Britain were secretly encouraging them to "take proactive measures," implying that if they could manufacture a small-scale conflict, they would receive more military aid. A military advisor from Meijian Country had even visited the Navy Ministry secretly half a month ago, leaving a meaningful remark in a windowless room: "Sometimes, one brave reconnaissance mission is worth more than ten exercises. The Tang Country people are only human; they can make mistakes, they can hesitate, and they can be caught off guard by accidents." This sentence took root like a seed in Major Yamada Masao's heart and began to grow wildly.

"Pass on my order," Major Yamada Masao said, setting down the teacup. A flicker of resolution flashed in his eyes. He stood up and walked to the nautical chart, drawing a line between the position of Chidori and the track of the Tang Country Warship Zhuifeng with his finger, leaving a faint indentation on the paper. "The whole Warship Zhuifeng will turn northeast and approach the target at maximum combat speed. Once within visual range, take photographs immediately for evidence. If the opponent commits any hostile act, report it to the Kwantung Army headquarters immediately." His voice trembled like a taut violin string, but he enunciated every word with extreme force, as if trying to crush the syllables with his teeth.

The executive officer froze for a moment, the navigation logbook in his hand nearly falling to the floor. He caught it in a panic, the paper rustling noisily. "Major, we are only three hundred tons, and the opponent could be a Destroyer of over a thousand tons. If a conflict really breaks out... we won't even last a single round." He did not finish his sentence, but his concern was already obvious enough. He had followed Major Yamada Masao for many years and had never seen him make such a risky decision; the usually cautious old sea wolf seemed to have become a completely different person today.

"Then let them fire the first shot." A cold, sharp smile appeared at the corners of Major Yamada Masao's mouth. The smile tugged at the scar on his face, making him look somewhat hideous, like a ghost crawling out of hell. "As long as they strike first, we will have reason to appeal to the international community. By then, Meijian Country and Britain will not just offer verbal support. This is the only way we can seize the initiative." His right hand unconsciously pressed onto the hilt of his military sword at his waist, his knuckles turning white as if he were trying to crush something; the scabbard of that sword had been worn smooth and shiny.

This near-gambling decision was precisely the last remnant of madness from the Japan militarists in their desperate situation. Meanwhile, on that "suspicious target" eighty nautical miles away, the situation was far from what Major Yamada Masao imagined—it was a "Vessel-class" fast reconnaissance Warship Zhuifeng belonging to the First Fleet of the Tang Country navy, codenamed "Vessel-07." It was a secret Vessel specifically designed for long-distance electronic reconnaissance missions, with a displacement of about eight hundred tons, powered by high-speed diesel engines, capable of reaching speeds of twenty-eight knots, and featuring a low Radar cross-section design.

The interior of its bridge did not look like an ordinary warship but rather a huge electronic laboratory: Radar screens, signal analyzers, and radio monitoring equipment were arranged in layers. Over a dozen electronic warfare personnel dressed in white technical uniforms were staring intently at the terminal screens in front of them, their fingers moving rapidly between keyboards and knobs, while dense waveforms and spectrum charts pulsed on the screens.

The captain was named Zhao Haitao, a young man in his early thirties with a gaunt face and narrow-rimmed glasses. The lenses reflected a deep blue light under the fluorescence of the screens, the glow dancing in his pupils like two cold flames. He looked more like a young university professor than a naval commander, but at this moment, he was reporting to the Jinling headquarters in an extremely calm tone, every word as precise as a scalpel: "Headquarters, Vessel-07 reporting. The target has confirmed hostile intent and is approaching us, distance approximately seventy nautical miles, speed increased to eighteen knots. Its shipborne Radar is active and is scanning us. Based on signal characteristic analysis, it should be an old sea-search Radar retired by Meijian Country last year, a simplified version of the SCR-270 model, with an effective detection range of no more than thirty nautical miles. The target is performing serpentine maneuvers, attempting to cut off our retreat, with its heading constantly changing, as if seeking an angle disadvantageous to us." His voice was steady and precise, each word sounding as if it had been spat out after precise measurement. On the electronic screen in front of him, various waveforms and spectrum charts were constantly refreshing, red and green curves interlacing into complex patterns, like some silent language telling of the enemy's intentions.

A few seconds later, the voice of Li Ling came back over the encrypted communication channel, deep and clear. In the background, one could faintly hear the sound of waves hitting the hull and engine noise from afar: "After confirming their identity, execute the pre-arranged plan. Remember, what I want is your evidence, not your combat results. As long as they do not fire, you must not strike first. They want to manufacture a conflict and make you fire first so they can occupy the moral high ground internationally. I will not let them get their wish. What I want is evidence that they fired first; then, I can justly counterattack. Do you understand? If they are going to fire, just record it; keep every frame of footage and every segment of audio saved for me."

"Vessel-07 understands." Zhao Haitao put down the microphone and cast his gaze toward the horizon ahead. There, a tiny gray Warship Zhuifeng silhouette was gradually growing larger, like a ghost emerging from the sea surface, faint black smoke rising from its funnel and quickly dissipating in the sea breeze. "All hands, attention." His voice echoed on the bridge with a steady authority, "The target has been confirmed as the Japan navy scout Warship Zhuifeng 'Chidori,' engaged in a provocative approach. Per His Majesty's order, we will maintain our speed and heading and continue our reconnaissance mission. All observation posts, prepare to record; evidence-gathering equipment is to be fully activated. If they make any dangerous moves, report immediately." He paused and added, "All electronic warfare equipment is to enter standby mode; once they attempt to interfere with our communications, immediately record the characteristics of the interference signal. Sonar team, pay attention to monitoring underwater movements to prevent any Submarine from coordinating with them. Torpedo defense systems are to enter preparatory mode; if a torpedo entering the water is detected, automatically initiate evasion procedures."

Time passed second by second. The wind and waves on the sea gradually increased, the gray swells slapping against the hull and emitting dull sounds, like some kind of huge heartbeat vibrating in a chest cavity. The tiny gray silhouette of Chidori became increasingly clear on the horizon, to the point where one could even see the swaying figures on its deck and the direction of its gun barrels. And behind it, further away on the sea horizon, two longer tracks were quietly extending—those were two steel behemoths tearing across the sea at thirty-five knots; their arrival would completely change the outcome of this standoff. Behind them, two white tracks were left on the sea, exceptionally striking in the dark seawater, like two approaching bolts of lightning.

Meanwhile, deep in the Jinling naval port thousands of miles away, two huge Warship Zhuifeng silhouettes were slowly sailing out of the dry dock. Faint blue smoke emerged from their funnels, and their steam turbines were warming up, emitting a deep and powerful roar, like two awakened ancient behemoths stretching their muscles, every joint emitting a low growl. Those were the lead Warship Zhuifeng of the Longxun-class, "Powang," and its sister Warship Zhuifeng, "Warship Zhuifeng" — they had just completed sea trials and had not yet officially entered service, but at this moment, they were ready for battle. Behind them, the entire First Fleet had entered Level 2 combat readiness, the doors of the ammunition magazines were opening one after another, and the sound of shells being pushed into the chambers clanged one after another, as if warming up for the coming action; the air was filled with a murderous atmosphere before a great battle.

On the bridge of Powang, Chen Haisheng stood before the nautical chart, tapping his finger lightly on the position of "Chidori," a cold, stern smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. His gaze looked through the bridge window toward the gray sea to the north, where the wind and waves were intensifying, but to him, this was merely a hunt about to begin.