206: Chapter 116 Cross-Sea Counterattack

The dock was brightly lit, with searchlight beams sweeping across each other in the night fog, illuminating the entire port area as bright as day. Those cones of light formed visible fan-shaped edges in the mist, like golden spaces cut open by invisible palms, and the end of every beam vanished into that slowly moving wall of darkness in the distance. The huge crane arm slowly rotated, hoisting the last box of shells onto the deck. The heavy steel cables made a low frictional sound on the pulleys; that sound was stretched long in the night wind, and quickly covered by the slapping sound of the waves, like a piece of metal wire repeatedly stretched and released.

On the dock, an elderly worker was half-squatting at the edge of the deck, inspecting the mooring rope fixing clips. His fingers were somewhat stiff in the low temperature, with unwashable engine oil stains embedded in the gaps of his fingernails, and it took him several tries to tighten the last knot. The hemp twine at the rope's end coiled around his frozen fingertips a few times before slipping away, forcing him to take off his gloves and start over. The white breath he exhaled dyed a small patch of air in front of him into a translucent wall of mist. When he finally tightened the knot, his knuckles turned white from the exertion, and the chapped skin at the joints oozed a trace of blood under the friction of the rope. Not far away, several young workers were joining forces to push a box of ammunition onto the cargo rack, the corner of the box scraping a sharp screeching sound on the metal deck that briefly pierced the silence of the night before being swallowed by the sea breeze. One of the young men slipped while pushing the box, his knee hitting the deck. He let out a muffled grunt and stood back up, continuing to push the box forward, the trouser leg at his knee quickly soaking through with a small, dark patch of dampness.

Li Ling stood on the bridge of the dragon might, the sea breeze whipping the hem of his greatcoat to flip open, revealing the dark blue naval uniform underneath, the golden star badges on his shoulder straps flashing in the residual light of the searchlights.

He clutched the latest intelligence sent from the satellite reconnaissance department in his hand, the corners of the paper already slightly softened by the warmth of his fingers, like some kind of slowly melting credential. The intelligence marked the ship distribution, shipyard repair progress, and coastal artillery battery deployment locations of various ports in Japan—every coordinate was accurate down to the minute, and every set of data had been cross-checked three times, collected silently for him by that eye suspended five hundred kilometers high in the sky.

Attached to the last page of the intelligence was a thermal imaging satellite photo. On the photo, in the three docks of Wugang Shipyard, the skeletons of two Cruisers under construction were clearly visible, scaffolding wrapped around the hull like a spiderweb, and the thermal signals left by workers operating at night formed blurry patches of orange light inside the hull, like something burning internally. Next to it was another line of data marked in small print: Estimated completion time, about four to six months. If those two ships were launched, Japan would be able to regain a small-scale fleet operating in near seas—although far from being an opponent to Tang Country in a frontal clash, it would be enough to pose a continuous harassment threat to coastal merchant ships and transport lines, like a school of reef fish ready to pounce from behind the rocks at any moment. Li Ling's gaze lingered on that line of text for two seconds, then he folded the intelligence and put it into his pocket, the sound of fabric rubbing against paper sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet bridge.

He raised his head, his gaze piercing through the night fog to fall on the silhouettes of ships gathering outside the port. Twelve Dreadnoughts lined up in two columns, their massive hulls casting a cold metallic luster in the darkness, main turret towers holding their heads high toward the night sky like a group of steel behemoths waiting for prey, the outline of each turret forming a neat geometric shadow in the night. Six Pre-dreadnoughts followed closely behind, and further back was an escort formation composed of over twenty Cruisers and Destroyers. A wisp of light gray steam occasionally drifted from the Cruiser's smokestack, quickly dissipated in the cold wind, like some dissipating breath. Most eye-catching were the two special giant ships in the center of the fleet—they possessed wide, flat decks without towering main turrets, and rows of silver-white biplanes were parked on the decks, illuminated by searchlights so clearly that even the rivets on the wings were distinguishable. The paint on the fuselage skin cast a dark gray sheen under the lights, completely different from the paint schemes of all warships of this era, like creations sailed in from another timeline, every line silently proclaiming one thing: the rules of naval warfare were being rewritten.

Those were the two newly launched aircraft carriers of the Tang Country Navy—the "longxiang dreadnought" and the "Longying". Standard displacement was eighteen thousand tons, full load displacement twenty-two thousand tons, total length two hundred and ten meters, and beam thirty-four meters. The flight deck adopted a longitudinal layout, with two elevators equipped on the sides of the hull, capable of rapidly lifting aircraft from the hangar to the deck. The island was located in the middle of the starboard side, equipped with complete communication and navigation equipment, as well as a small Radar station, its antenna rotating slowly in the night wind, leaving a very slight mechanical friction sound in the air with each rotation. The propulsion system consisted of four steam turbines, with a total power of fifty-five thousand horsepower, a maximum speed of twenty-eight knots, and an endurance of twelve thousand nautical miles. The aircraft capacity was twenty-four—twelve "Sea Hawk" attack aircraft for anti-sea and ground strikes, eight "Albatross" reconnaissance aircraft for long-range reconnaissance and spotting, and four "Swift" fighter aircraft for fleet air defense. Although there were no enemy aircraft posing a substantive threat to warships in this era, that reserved grouping itself was a profound foresight, as if laying out the future chessboard before the war even began.

At this moment, the entire military port was like a precision clock wound up with a spring, every gear meshing and rotating on its respective track. The workers untied the last batch of mooring ropes, and the signalman on the dock raised a green signal light, carving a short arc in the night sky. Diesel engines roared lowly, steam turbines began to pressurize, and huge propellers slowly rotated, stirring the seawater shimmering with broken ice. Among those hulls, sailors were running along the gangways towards their respective battle stations, their footsteps echoing densely on the metal decks like an approaching roll of thunder.

[Host, the two aircraft carriers have completed their final sea trials. Carrier-based aircraft pilots have accumulated a total flight duration of exceeding one thousand hours, and all tactical indicators have met the standards. I suggest taking action tonight.] The system spoke in his mind, its voice carrying a rare trace of solemnity, like a string tuned to the highest pitch slightly vibrating. [Intelligence from Japan shows that they have repaired three large docks in Sasebo and Wugang, and the two newly built Cruisers have completed seventy percent of their outfitting. If this drags on further, once those two ships are launched, they will be able to regain a force to tie you down in the near seas. Although still far from being your match, it will bring you many unnecessary troubles—every additional shipping route that needs escorting, every additional port that needs monitoring, all of those combined will be like a slowly tightening noose.]

Li Ling's lips curved up slightly, exhaling a puff of white breath in the cold wind; that mist condensed into a brief column in the cold air, then was torn apart by the sea breeze. He turned around, picked up the megaphone on the bridge, and his voice carried across the entire military port in the night wind, torn by the sea breeze yet still clear and powerful, as if cutting a stable channel through the air: "Order all ships to weigh anchor. Target—Sasebo Naval Port of Japan!"

The moment the order was issued, the entire naval port seemed to have been pressed with the start button by an invisible giant hand. Steamwhistles wailed long, sound waves rippling layer upon layer across the sea surface, shaking the air into slight tremors, even causing fine ripples to emerge on the surfaces of the freezing puddles near the distant pier. The huge hulls slowly pulled away from the dock, the seawater churned by propellers surging up white spray at the stern, looking like waking silver snakes in the darkness, every wake leaving a continuously expanding white line on the sea surface. The fleet formed a tight battle formation, cleaving through the cold night fog, heading towards the eastern horizon; the spacing between hulls was precisely calculated to ensure a tight formation while leaving sufficient maneuvering space to evade gunfire and torpedoes. Beneath the surface of the sea, six Submarines had already departed in advance, advancing at cruising speed towards the Tsushima Strait direction, preparing to cut off any maritime ties between Japan and the outside world before the fleet arrived, completely stripping Sasebo Port of any possibility of seeking help before the air raid struck.

Li Ling stood on the bridge of the "dragon might", the sea breeze carrying his thoughts back to five years ago.

At that time, he had just transmigrated into this world, with only three thousand new recruits in his hands and a few rifles he had begged and fussed to get from the system.

On a small hill outside Jiangning Prefecture, he reviewed his troops for the first time; the soldiers still carried their rifles crookedly, and their formations could not stand straight, with someone even secretly eating a steamed bun in his hand while standing at attention, and only hurriedly putting it down after being nudged by the squad leader next to him.

But now, holding twelve Dreadnoughts, six Pre-dreadnoughts, two aircraft carriers, and dozens of Cruisers and Destroyers in his hands, a massive fleet powerful enough to make any great power look sideways was sailing mightily toward the enemy's heart.

On the deck of every ship stood rigorously trained officers and men, every turret was loaded with armor-piercing shells in a state of readiness, and the signal flags on every mast were making final preparations for the upcoming operation.

His gaze swept across the silhouettes of those giant ships sailing outside the porthole.

About three nautical miles ahead and to the left of the flagship, a steel behemoth with a standard displacement of 53,000 tons was cutting through the waves in the night.

That was the "longwu", the sister ship of the "dragon might", a Longhuang-class heavy battleship, which had just completed its final combat-oriented sea trial—in six consecutive rounds of salvo testing, the temperature rise rate of the gun barrels was 15% lower than the design expectation, which meant that in actual combat it could continuously output firepower at a higher rate of fire without worrying about the gun barrels overheating and deforming.

Its main armament consisted of three triple 460mm naval guns, each armor-piercing shell weighing up to 1,200 kilograms with a muzzle velocity of 820 meters per second, capable of penetrating the main armor belt of any active warship at an extreme range of 34 kilometers.

The main armor belt was up to 500 millimeters thick, adopting the latest carburizing hardening process and undergoing three quenching treatments; its hardness and toughness reached a delicate balance point through repeated heating and cooling, and its surface felt a special warm and smooth sensation to the touch, like jade polished through countless procedures.

Even for the British Royal Navy's newly launched battleships, their 380mm main guns could not pierce it within normal engagement distances, and shells hitting the armor surface would only leave a shallow white scratch, as futile as a fingernail scratching wrought iron.

Its secondary battery system was equally astonishing—ten twin 155mm quick-firing guns with a rate of fire of eight rounds per minute, capable of forming dense firepower coverage in a short time; ten twin 127mm dual-purpose guns capable of both surface firing and anti-aircraft missions; forty 40mm Bofors autocannons and seventy-two 20mm Oerlikon autocannons, forming a multi-layered short-range defense network.

Although the aerial threat of this era was still far from enough to test the limits of this system, its very existence was a premature response to the future, like preparing an answer in advance for a possible situation.

Sailing parallel to the starboard side of the "longwu" were two Longxun Type II battlecruisers, their streamlined hulls reflecting a dim silver-gray luster under the moonlight, with freeboard heights optimized to enhance stability during high-speed navigation.

Their standard displacement was 35,000 tons, with their main armament being three triple 380mm naval guns, and their armor belt thickness calculated to find a precise balance point between high speed and protection.

Their mission was to act as the vanguard ahead of the main fleet, utilizing a speed of over 35 knots to scout forward, providing battlefield situational awareness and early warning for the main fleet, searching for the traces of prey ahead of the wolf pack like hounds.

"My Lord, all warships have completely left port, heading due east at a speed of 12 knots."

The Chief of Staff's voice came from behind, carrying the hoarseness typical of staying up late, as if his throat was wrapped in a thin layer of sandpaper, "We expect to arrive in the outer waters of Sasebo in three days.

It will still be dark by then, which is just right to launch a surprise attack taking advantage of the night.

Weather forecasts show that three days later, the outer waters of Sasebo Port will have continuous low clouds with a visibility of about three kilometers, which is suitable for low-altitude penetration by aviation forces.

The wind direction will be a northeast wind with moderate speed, which is favorable for both the takeoff and return of carrier-based aircraft."

Li Ling nodded.

Three days were enough for him to deduce the last few operational plans once more.

He turned and walked back to the chart table inside the bridge, where three possible attack routes were marked on the chart, with dense annotations on each route—water depth, reefs, tidal currents, and the shift change times of enemy patrol ships. Every detail had been verified through satellite reconnaissance and on-site confirmation by Special Forces, and some markers were even accurate down to the minute.

Those pencil-marked lines intertwined into a fine net on the chart, and every node silently reminded him: every link of this battle had been repeatedly scrutinized, and what remained was merely execution.

"Have the carrier formation enter the attack positions six hours early."

His fingers traced an arc on the chart, leaving an extremely light indentation on the chart's surface, "Forty minutes before dawn, the first wave of carrier-based aircraft will take off, targeting the coastal defense batteries and oil depots inside the enemy port.

Low-altitude penetration, use cloud cover to approach the target, pull up and break away immediately after dropping bombs, do not make redundant maneuvers, and keep the entire attack window within eight minutes."

His fingers paused, gently tapping the location of Sasebo Port on the chart. "After their anti-aircraft firepower is suppressed, the second wave of bombers will attack the dockyards and shipyards.

Finally, the main fleet will press forward and clear out residual targets with main guns.

I want them to lose all resistance capability before dawn.

When the sun rises, Sasebo Port should only be a smoking ruin in the morning light."

This was the first actual combat for Tang Country's aircraft carriers.

Those pilots had undergone more than half a year of training, flying thousands of hours in simulators and dropping hundreds of tons of training bombs in maritime live-fire drop training.

They knew the significance of this mission—not just destroying a military port, but announcing to the whole world that a brand-new style of naval warfare had been born, declaring that the era of sea power was being rewritten, and declaring that countries still measuring fleet power with traditional thinking would soon find that their proud battleship formations were merely moving giant targets in front of strikes coming from the sky.

The bridge fell silent for a moment, leaving only the low humming of electronic equipment and the dull sound of waves beating against the ship's hull.

That continuous low-frequency vibration felt like some huge heartbeat, transmitted all the way up from the bottom of the ship, passing through the gaps in the steel deck and pipes, forming an extremely tiny tremor on the floor, as if the entire ship was breathing at its own frequency.

Then the Chief of Staff stood at attention and saluted: "Yes! I will go convey the order right away."

His leather shoes stepped on the steel deck with a crisp echo, quickly disappearing into the passageway leading to the communication cabin, the sound of footsteps repeatedly refracted between the metal pipes, getting farther and farther away, and finally covered by the sound of wind and waves.

Li Ling stood alone in front of the chart, his gaze falling on the location of Sasebo Port.

That small port marker had always been the heart of the Japan Navy over the past five years.

The United Fleet set out from here to engage him at sea; battered warships escaped back here to be repaired in the dockyards.

Now it was time to strike out with a fist.

He reached out his finger and tapped gently on the location of that port, touching something approaching through the paper surface of the chart, as if measuring a shortening distance with his finger.

Outside the window, sparse stars in the night sky were twinkling between the gaps of the clouds, like sparks blown away by the wind, each time they lit up they flashed across in an extremely short time, and then were covered by the clouds again.

And further out on the sea surface, on the decks of those two aircraft carriers, ground crew members were checking the biplanes carrying aviation bombs for the last time.

The silver-white fuselages were slightly shaken by the sea breeze, and the bombs under the wings gleamed with a dull luster in the beam of searchlights.

After checking the pylon of the last airplane, a ground crewman straightened up and wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a faint oil stain on his forehead with his glove, looking like an extremely thin dark river under the light.

He glanced toward the distant horizon—it was still a thick darkness there, but he knew that at the end of that darkness, a storm enough to rewrite history was approaching.

Before dawn, the first wave of attacks would descend.

And the pilots on the decks of those two carriers had already sat into their respective cockpits, their fingers resting on the control sticks, waiting for the arrival of the takeoff order.

Their heartbeats were steady and powerful wrapped in leather flight suits, like some silent countdown, beat after beat, approaching that decisive moment.

One young pilot lowered his head while waiting to glance at the amulet hanging on the edge of the cockpit, which was a small cloth pouch his mother had stuffed into his hand before he set out, with a peace spell embroidered on the cloth surface.

He touched the cloth pouch, and then cast his gaze forward again toward the brightening horizon.