Chapter 1856: You're Telling Me This Is a Supply Ship?

"This is a supply ship?!" The Franco-Austrian Alliance was stunned all at once.

The speed of the Longyan supply ship was actually so fast that even the most advanced warships of the Franco-Austrian Alliance could not catch up.

Prince Yong looked through his telescope at the Franco-Austrian officers jumping around in a panic on the deck and grinned, laughing out loud: "Haha, a bunch of fools actually want to chase my supply ship."

However, he was also taken aback by the speed of this supply ship; he knew the steam engine that Liu Zheng had that foreigner improve was very powerful, but he hadn't expected it to be this powerful.

According to Liu Zheng, the biggest improvement to this supply ship was not the power, but the entire structure, making it more like a combat ship.

But everyone knew that supply ships did not have that much space to install gun turrets, and their hulls were large, making them unsuitable for fighting wars.

Prince Yong watched the Franco-Austrian fleet slowly approaching; it was time to reveal the fangs of the Longyan supply ship.

The Franco-Austrian officers did not hesitate; this must be the consequence of the high-speed movement of the Longyan fleet.

They immediately surrounded and intercepted them; having learned the lesson from being hit by the Longyan fleet last time, they decided to deploy high-speed maneuvers to control the Longyan combat ships.

The remaining five supply ships would then have no combat capability.

But before they could aim their cannonballs, they saw that the gun turrets on the Longyan supply ships were already aimed at them.

Prince Yong stood on the deck and waved his hand: "Fire!"

The Longyan supply ships instantly transformed into combat ships, unleashing a barrage of fire, and the people of the Franco-Austrian Alliance were dumbfounded.

This is not a supply ship; how could it still be carrying so many gun turrets?

"Longyan!"

"You bastards!"

A cold sneer appeared on the corner of Prince Yong's mouth; he did not care at all about the curses from the Franco-Austrian Alliance fleet.

At this moment, Luojinsi, the Britain general who had just arrived and attempted to loot a burning house, saw the Franco-Austrian Alliance fleet, which had been fighting him to a stalemate, retreating in defeat.

Even quite a few warships had sunk, and he was stunned for a moment; Luojinsi hurriedly put on his telescope to look at the Longyan supply ships.

He was immediately glad that he had arrived late and had not attempted to loot a burning house.

"General, are we still going to loot?"

Luojinsi slapped the head of the Chief of Staff who asked the question.

"Loot my ass, didn't you see how miserably the Franco-Austrian Alliance was beaten?"

"Then are we still going to provide escort?"

Luojinsi's mouth twitched: "It would be more like him providing escort for me."

"Then what about us?"

"Withdraw!" Luojinsi grandly

retreated; as he left, he looked at the Longyan supply ships again, feeling both envy and jealousy—why didn't my dignified Great Britain have ships like these?

Liu Zheng is truly formidable.

However, such a powerful ship would be futile if it could not land at the ports of Western Europe.

Coincidentally, there were not many ports left in the Mediterranean Sea where one could land now.

Thinking of this, Luojinsi smiled; no matter how powerful a million-strong army was, if it was floating on the sea, it was useless!

In the east of Europe, Tsarist Russia was firmly bound.

Upon learning the news of the war in Western Europe, this was an opportunity, but the once powerful and arrogant Tsarist Russia was silent, and some people even began to secretly run away.

Everyone knew that Peter II, that twelve-year-old child, was just a puppet propped up by Menshikov.

Ever since Menshikov seized power, he had suppressed dissent, and the officials in Saint Petersburg had either left or fled.

After being trapped by what Liu Zheng called the Third Island Chain, Tsarist Russia had gradually declined, but with the outbreak of war in Western Europe this time, if they took out their remaining family assets to gamble, they might be able to retake the Black Sea Port, or even Siberia!

But the wishes of the people of Tsarist Russia could not reach the ears of this Regent, Menshikov, who hid in Butulin City all day long.

"Keep the music playing, keep the dancing going."

Menshikov lay on his luxurious and comfortable throne, drinking Yinzhou Drunkenness from Longyan, a country hostile to Tsarist Russia.

He was enjoying a dance called ballet.

"This dance was prepared especially for you, Peter."

The young Peter II nodded slightly: "Thank you, Regent, for the arrangement."

As he moved his gaze away from Menshikov's face, disgust flashed in his eyes.

He was young, but he was no fool; from the first day of his accession, Peter II had been clear about the intentions of this hypocritical man, Menshikov.

Issuing currency with his own portrait, compiling a genealogy to try to shed his identity as a peddler, and even trying to make his daughter marry him.

Everything was nothing more than wanting his identity and status to be like that of a proper Noble.

Peter II knew in his heart that once he succeeded, he, the Tsar, would have to abdicate, and the outcome would definitely not be good.

He could not tolerate such a thing happening!

"Regent, I shall take my leave first."

Menshikov waved his hand; facing the Tsar, he acted as if he were driving away livestock,

and the disdain in his demeanor was not concealed at all.

Peter II's expression was calm and he paid no further attention; he left Butulin City, returned to Saint Petersburg, and locked himself in his room.

The anger suppressed deep in his heart finally could not help but erupt.

"Menshikov!"

As the Emperor of Tsarist Russia, he actually had to regularly pay his respects to a subject.

How could this be endured?

At this moment, someone outside the door requested an audience.

"Your Majesty, Osilev requests an audience."

Peter II quickly tidied his appearance and immediately met with this minister, one of the few remaining who dared to defy Menshikov and was not yet dead.

"Come in."

As soon as Osilev entered, he knelt on one knee before Peter II: "Your Majesty, it is my incompetence that has allowed Your Majesty to fall into such a perilous situation."

Peter II felt a warmth in his heart and sighed: "Get up quickly."

Osilev did not rise, but instead said: "Your Majesty, Tsarist Russia is currently beset by internal and external troubles; I have a plan, but I do not know if I should speak of it."

It was truly like being handed a pillow just as one felt sleepy; Peter II's eyes lit up.

"Speak quickly, this is already the most dangerous moment."

Osilev hesitated for a moment, then said: "We must establish contact with Moscow; as long as Your Majesty moves the capital, those in Moscow will help us eliminate that traitor Menshikov!"

Moscow!

Hearing this name, Peter II was stunned; that was the territory of the Conservative Faction, the Dolgorukov Family, and the Naryshkin Family, and when his father launched his rebellion, it was in alliance with those conservative families.

They had been suppressed quite miserably by his grandfather, and as the Emperor of Tsarist Russia, there would be no small risk in going there.

"Your Majesty, Princess Elizabeth has already made arrangements for you; as long as you move the capital and utilize the strength of Moscow, you will certainly be able to expel Menshikov."

Upon hearing the name of Elizabeth, Peter II's heart stirred; he had three older sisters, and Elizabeth was the one who cared for him the most.

His other two sisters had either been married off to foreign countries by Menshikov or were completely imprisoned, and Elizabeth had also been stripped of all her duties and exiled to Moscow.

Peter II thought and thought; from the bottom of his heart, he did not trust that group of conservatives in Moscow, but it seemed that Saint Petersburg no longer had the strength to oppose Menshikov.

In the end, this Peter II, only twelve years of age, made his decision.

"Move the capital, to Moscow!"