391: Chapter 391 Japan Kneels Instantly, Dongfeng Suppresses the Sea

"Target bearing 058, distance 34 nautical miles, heading due west, speed 14 knots."

The sonar operator marked the data on the tactical screen, "It hasn't turned on its automatic identification system signal—given this tonnage and route, it would usually have its transponder on in the eastern Philippine Sea."

Captain Commander Xiang Hui picked up the tactical headset. "Continue tracking. Adjust dive depth to 120 meters, maintain passive sonar lock."

The pump-jet propulsor at the stern of the *Shuguang* accelerated at low speed in near-silent mode, the hull, like a dark gray whale, slowly sinking into deeper waters.

Four hours later, the freighter entered the waters northwest of Yonaguni Island, attempting to bypass toward the southern side of the Bashi Channel.

Through an encrypted link, Xiang Hui repeatedly compared the acoustic signature with the fragmented signals intercepted electromagnetically, and in the seventeenth cycle, the shipborne identification database popped up a name—"*Oki Maru*".

He wrote in the early morning log: "At 04:40, the target is preparing to cross the line into the outer perimeter of the Cambodia maritime exclusive economic zone. Signal security confirmation failed, interception approved."

At 04:55, the *Shuguang* surfaced.

The drainage gates on both sides of the hull sprayed out two rows of white waves, and the submarine completed its surface positioning 500 meters directly in front of the target freighter.

On the bridge's forward deck, the officer of the watch shouted a standard warning through a loudspeaker—first in English, then in Japanese: "You have entered the extended waters of the Federation of Myanmar exclusive economic zone without prior declaration of transport nature. Stop your ship immediately and submit to a boarding inspection."

The "*Oki Maru*"'s transponder suddenly turned on at this moment.

It claimed via plaintext telegram to be a "civilian freighter," but before the first round of questioning had even concluded, the navigation officer had already begun destroying paper cargo documents on the port side of the bridge.

A slit was opened from inside the bridge porthole, and white scraps of paper scattered into the night with the airflow.

Xiang Hui ordered the interception over the communicator, and the frogman team climbed onto the ship's rail.

When the sailors were led out of the bridge, they were still trying to cover two piles of cargo covered with tarpaulins on the deck using canvas bags.

The tarpaulins were pulled back—inside were standard military transport crates, and the serial numbers and models printed on the crates matched the organization table of the Japan Ground Self-Defense Force.

The cargo manifest inside the crates listed "communication equipment," but upon opening and testing, the equipment frequency covered the core frequency bands of the Myanmar Army's active tactical data link, and the bottom of the crates contained several encrypted terminals and two equipment transfer memoranda marked for the recipient "former Cambodian military liaison officer."

"This isn't ordinary smuggling." After receiving the boarding report, Xiang Hui picked up the encrypted phone, "They are smuggling military communication equipment into Cambodia, and the recipient on the cargo manifest is the 'Ream Training Center Liaison Officer'—and the Japanese at Ream were driven away long ago after the ceasefire."

Naypyidaw, early morning.

Zhang Cheng was woken from his sleep by Old K, and within minutes of hearing the briefing, he issued the order: escort the freighter to Yangon Port, keep all seized cargo in its original packaging, isolate and interrogate all crew members, and send all evidence in the form of high-definition photos and videos to major global news agencies.

Less than three hours after the video was released, Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida bowed at an emergency press conference at the Prime Minister's Official Residence.

"I hereby express my sincere apologies to the international community and the Federation of Myanmar government." His bow only lasted for two seconds in front of the camera, the angle of his shoulders and jaw as rigid as a carpenter's mortise and tenon joint.

"Our government will immediately cancel all remaining military exchange programs with Cambodia, withdraw all technical advisors in Cambodia, and accept relevant inspections by the Federation of Myanmar in accordance with international law."

Social media platforms exploded within a minute.

The number one trending topic on USA networks read "Japan folds," accompanied by a screenshot of Kishida bowing side-by-side with a high-definition image of the military transport crates on the deck of the "*Oki Maru*."

Zhang Cheng watched Kishida bowing on the screen in the study of the Presidential Palace, turned off the audio, and dialed Zhao Gang's encrypted video call.

Zhao Gang's background was still that same office, and the world map on the wall had just been updated—"Kra Canal Construction Started" had been marked on the map with a red oil-based pen, and a newly pasted icon of a supply ship had been added next to the Sihanoukville Port berth.

He was holding an enamel teacup and did not speak first.

"This matter, was it done by you?" Zhao Gang asked. There was no blame or praise in his tone, just a need to confirm whether the other party's judgment aligned with the intelligence he expected—the kind of question only possible with that level of tacit understanding.

"It was us," Zhang Cheng replied, "The ship was seized last night, and the video was released this morning. The Japanese Prime Minister's reaction speed was faster than I estimated."

"How could it not be fast?" Zhao Gang put down his teacup, "The serial numbers of the encrypted terminals seized on the *Oki Maru* are from the same batch that they lost at their Djibouti base last year. Your seizure is equivalent to nailing the entire chain of evidence of Japan smuggling military equipment into Cambodia in open waters. They don't even have room to explain—they can only apologize."

Zhao Gang picked up the teacup, took a sip, put it down, and his tone shifted from statement to half-joking. "This seizure is equivalent to slapping the Pacific Fleet in the face—the things the Japanese were transporting for the USA have been turned inside out by you in public, and the USA can't even help with a single word."

Zhang Cheng leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the keyboard twice.

"It's not loud enough yet."

Zhao Gang's hand, just about to pick up the cup, paused. He watched Zhang Cheng's expression on the screen—Zhang Cheng was smiling, but the smile only remained in the slight curve of the corners of his mouth, while his eyes were cold.

"I'm informing you," Zhang Cheng continued, "Starting tomorrow, six DF-17 hypersonic missile launch battalions will be officially deployed in Pursat Province, west of Phnom Penh. Each missile's range covers the entire South China Sea, the entire Strait of Malacca, and Guam. These launch battalions will not fly the Cambodian flag—they will fly the flag of the Federation of Myanmar Defense Forces. The deployment reason is written as 'at the request of the Kingdom of Cambodia government, to assist in consolidating the national air defense of the new regime.' The original agreement comes in triplicate, one for Cambodia and one for Myanmar, and the third sent to the United Nations for archiving. I won't be asking whether they agree or not."

Zhao Gang was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. "You are rubbing the 'Freedom of Navigation Act' into the ground."

"They want freedom of navigation?" Zhang Cheng placed his pencil back on the desktop, where it rolled slightly on the location of Cambodia before stopping, "I will give them the right to freedom of navigation—as long as they dare to 'navigate' within the range of the DF-17."

When the video call disconnected, the dark brown tea stain on the rim of Zhao Gang's enamel teacup happened to block the location of Guam on the map.

He picked up the cup and looked at the Pu'er tea left at the bottom for a while, as if calculating something—perhaps the flight range, perhaps the flight arc.

USA Minister of Defense Austin was asked about the DF-17 deployment during a closed-door press conference at the Pentagon, and he replied: "We are monitoring the situation and reserve the right to take appropriate measures."

When reporters pressed "what measures," he did not speak again.

After the meeting, the Ministry of Defense website quietly updated the latest deployment map of the Seventh Fleet—the destroyer formation originally scheduled to sail toward the Philippine Sea diverted toward the Western Pacific, drawing an arc convex to the south on the route.