Chapter 254: Merciless artillery devours the giant warship

Offshore of Shen City, the night grew deep, yet the sea surface was illuminated by firelight as if it were daytime.

The pursuit battle had already been going on for a while. At this moment, the Oriental Detached Fleet no longer retained any semblance of a fleet.

They were like leaves scattered by a violent storm, sparsely scattered across the vast sea surface, each bearing the merciless strikes from the rear 'Hunter'.

Once mighty warships have mostly become floating iron tombs. One Fusō-class battleship's main turret was blown off, flames spewing from its broken hull as it slowly sank at a dreadful angle into the icy sea, a massive whirlpool swallowing everything around it. Another heavy cruiser was completely engulfed in flames; from afar it looked like a gigantic torch drifting on the sea surface, intermittently emitting violent explosion sounds that hurled burning debris into the air.

The remaining few destroyers and light cruisers, though desperately evading, appeared feeble before the German Fleet's advanced radar lock and fire control system. Accurate shells like the scythe of the Reaper relentlessly pursued them, each hit meaning another warship's destruction or severe damage. The sea surface was littered with floating planks, twisted steel, and... struggling human silhouettes.

On the deck of an Oriental destroyer that was listing and burning.

This was already hell on earth.

The deck was covered in craters and corpses, unextinguished flames licking the twisted railings and bulkheads. The surviving Oriental sailors had completely lost organization, falling into extreme chaos and despair.

Some sailors could not endure the fear of being burned alive, or seeing their warship about to sink, they screamed as they climbed over the railings and leapt into the icy, bone‑chilling water slick with oil, trying to grab any floating debris to survive, but many more quickly lost strength in the freezing sea and were swallowed by the merciless waves.

Other sailors were trapped in the fire, emitting shrill screams as their bodies were engulfed in flames, writhing and rolling like burning men, eventually collapsing on the charred deck, reduced to lumps of charcoal.

Still others, relatively fortunate and not directly hit, gathered around their wounded comrades.

They tore at their own clothes, trying to bandage the severed limbs of their companions to stop the bleeding, but faced with those horrible wounds and the lack of medical supplies, they could only utter helpless cries and wails. The air reeked of burnt flesh, gunpowder, and a strong stench of blood, nauseating.

Fear spread like a plague across every survivor's face. They gazed up in terror, and each time a German shell screamed across the night sky, their hearts pounded with dread, as if awaiting judgment day.

Meanwhile, the German Fleet's gunfire continued to fall with precision and ruthlessness.

Heavy shells fired from the Iron Blood and Bismarck, carrying an aura of destruction, accurately struck those still resisting or trying to flee. Each hit was accompanied by a deafening explosion and a piercing metallic tearing sound. Sturdy armor was easily penetrated, hull structures shattered into pieces, and soaring flames and thick smoke, like flowers of death, continually blossomed on the sea surface.

The German Fleet's cruisers and destroyers, like keen hounds, sped along the battle's edge, using rapid‑fire guns and torpedoes to sweep away the 'little fish' trying to slip away. Their gunfire was equally deadly; each sweep could raise a bloody storm on enemy decks.

To the Oriental officers and men, this was no longer a battle but a one‑sided massacre. The naval power they prided themselves on appeared utterly feeble before this mysterious, mighty fleet.

Each shell's fall, each explosion's roar, mercilessly destroyed their warships and utterly crushed their will and hope. Despair, like icy seawater, flooded every Oriental's heart.

Inside the main bridge command room of the Iron Blood battleship.

Unlike the carnage and chaos outside on the sea, the command room remained highly ordered and professional. Instruments emitted low hums; radar screen dots clearly showed the positions and movements of both sides, and signalmen's voices gave brief, clear reports on each ship's status.

Shen Chonghai stood before the large chart table, his keen eyes scanning the Battlefield Situation Map that combined radar data and picket reports. On the map, the dots representing the Oriental Detached Fleet had become sparse and dim; most were marked 'heavily damaged', 'lost power', or 'sinking', while only a few dots pointlessly drifted in various directions, trying to escape.

His calm face showed no emotional fluctuation, as if the recent crushing victory were merely a standard firepower drill carried out according to plan. After confirming the basic situation, he raised his head and began issuing orders for the mop‑up phase.

"Order: First and Second Destroyer Squadrons, in a 'Z‑search' formation, pursue northeast, be sure to intercept and sink the two enemy destroyers designated D‑03 and D‑07." His voice, transmitted via internal broadcast and radio, was clearly conveyed to all combat units.

"Third Cruiser Squadron, Admiral Hipper and Lützow, turn due east to pursue the wrecks of the enemy Aoba‑class cruisers; after confirming they have lost all resistance, sink them."

"Scharnhorst and Gneisenau, hold your current positions, monitor the western battlefield, and fire follow‑up shots at the floating, powerless enemy heavy ships to ensure they sink completely. Conserve main‑gun ammunition, prefer secondary guns."

Shen Chonghai's orders were clear and specific, making explicit arrangements for every remaining enemy target. He skillfully adjusted the fleet formation, letting the faster, more agile cruisers and destroyers form several small task groups to chase the scattered enemy ships trying to flee under cover of night and chaos, like casting a wide net to ensure no 'escaped fish' slipped through.

At the same time, for those 'big guys' that had lost resistance but were still clinging to life, he unmercifully assigned a 'finishing blow' task, determined to eliminate the threat entirely.

His tone remained consistently that of a calm, efficient professional soldier, with no trace of pride from victory or contempt for the enemy. In his view, the battle was not truly over until the last enemy was annihilated. Via encrypted radio, his orders were swiftly transmitted to every ship of the German Fleet.

"Received, Commander!"

"First Destroyer Squadron, understood!"

"Admiral Hipper, orders received!"

From the communications channel came the concise, forceful replies of the ship captains. The vast German Fleet, like a precision war machine, under Shen Chonghai's command quickly adjusted its deployment and began the final mop‑up of this sea battle. In the darkness of the East Sea, it would become the burial ground of the Oriental Detached Fleet.