Chapter 190: Good Omen

Wang Zhen guo thought for a moment: "If the target is within fifteen thousand meters, after the radar provides bearing and distance data, the fire‑control computer can solve the firing parameters within thirty seconds. From the Main Gun turning to loading completion, another forty seconds are needed. In total… about seventy seconds."

"Seventy seconds." Lin Hai repeated the number, "That means from detecting the target to firing the first salvo takes a little over a minute. And during that time the Japanese may still be using optical instruments to search for us."

He looked around at all the officers present: "This is our chance. Before the Japanese see us, we see them first. Before they aim at us, we aim at them first. Use the first salvo to knock out their command ship or their most powerful vessel."

The conference room fell silent; everyone was digesting the tactic.

"But that's the ideal case," Political Commissar Zhao Wenyuan said calmly, "What if the radar fails? What if the Japanese get lucky and appear from the fog at a very close distance? What if our first round doesn't hit a vital point?"

"Then we fire a second round, a third round, until we exhaust all shells," Lin Hai answered simply, "At the same time, full‑speed retreat, closing in on the Bismarck Class formation."

He walked to the window, watching the blue sea outside: "I know, four to one, on paper we are at an absolute disadvantage. But naval combat isn't a simple numbers game. Equipment, training, tactics, morale, and luck all affect the outcome."

He turned, his gaze sweeping each face: "The Revival is one of Lanfang Navy's first‑line capital ships. When we launched her, the President himself cut the ribbon. He said this ship is not just a pile of steel; it is the symbol of the Lanfang Navy, the hope of all South Ocean Chinese."

His voice was soft, but each word struck the listeners like a hammer.

"Now the Japanese want to sink this ship, to break this symbol, to snuff out this hope. Can we let them succeed?"

"No!" more than twenty people answered in unison.

"Then show all your abilities," Lin Hai concluded, "Let the Japanese know that Lanfang's warships aren't something they can move at will. Dismissed, to your stations."

The officers left one by one, each step steadier than when they entered.

Zhao Wenyuan was the last to leave, stopping at the doorway: "Captain, you spoke well just now. But I still want to ask—do you really believe we can win?"

Lin Hai looked at the political department director he had worked with for years, and suddenly smiled: "Director, do you remember our first sea‑training when we first took the ship?"

"I remember. Back then many officers and soldiers were novices, even loading shells had to be practiced dozens of times."

"At that time some thought, can a bunch of us who had never handled such a large ship operate this four‑ten‑thousand‑ton warship?" Lin Hai asked, "But we did. Not only did we manage it, we also defeated the more experienced Deguo training ship in the exercises."

He walked to the side window, looking at the vast ocean: "So I believe, man makes the difference. As long as preparation is thorough and we give our all, nothing is impossible."

Zhao Wenyuan watched the captain's back and suddenly felt much more reassured.

"You are right, Captain. Man makes the difference."

He pushed the door open and left, to each battle station for the final mobilization.

Lin Hai stood alone on the bridge, pulling a photo from his pocket. It was a picture of his daughter, fourteen this year, attending middle school in Dubai. On the back, his daughter wrote in a childish hand: "Dad, come home early."

He pinned the photo to his chest and closed his eyes.

"Dad promised you, I will definitely come back. Definitely."

And forty nautical miles behind the Revival, four Bismarck Class battleships were silently following at eighteen knots.

On the bridge of the Yangtze, fleet commander Rear Admiral Zhang Zhen was receiving reports from each ship. All reports indicated everything was normal, everything ready.

But Zhang Zhen knew the real test lay ahead.

"Sir," Chief of Staff came over, "We just received the latest order from Headquarters. They require us to reduce the Distance to thirty nautical miles by the morning of August 4, the scheduled engagement time. At the same time, six reinforcement submarines will arrive at the designated position tonight."

"Thirty nautical miles…" Zhang Zhen calculated, "That's at the edge of our Main Gun's maximum Effective Range. If the Revival is really attacked, we need twenty minutes to get within Effective Range."

"Headquarters judges that the Revival can hold out for at least twenty minutes."

Zhang Zhen was silent for a moment. He knew Lin Hai, an excellent captain and a tenacious opponent. But facing four Vajra Class ships, twenty minutes might be too long.

"Tell each ship," he finally ordered, "Starting the night of August 3, enter first‑level combat readiness. Load all Main Guns with armor‑piercing shells, keep fire‑control radar on 24/7. Once we receive a distress signal from the Revival, or detect a massive bombardment, steam ahead at full speed, ready to engage."

"Yes!"

The order was passed down. On the four giant ships, the atmosphere suddenly grew tense. Sailors checked every shell, every machine; everyone knew the moment was drawing nearer.

And deeper beneath the sea, around the planned battlefield in the East Sea, eighteen submarines lay in wait like sharks in the deep. They shut down all nonessential equipment, keeping only basic life‑support systems and sonar monitoring gear.

U‑19 Submarine, commander Li Wenbin sat in the control compartment, watching the ripples on the sonar screen. It was quiet around them, only the natural sounds of the deep sea—whale calls, schools of fish moving, currents flowing.

But it wouldn't be long before this place became a furnace of steel and flame.

"Commander," the executive officer whispered, "Do you think they'll fight?"

Li Wenbin didn't look away from the screen: "They will. Definitely."

"Why so sure?"

"Because both nations want to prove they're the biggest power in Yazhou," Li Wenbin said calmly, "and the sea is the best duel arena."

He recalled that before departure, President Chen Feng personally came to the submarine base to see them off. The young president told all the commanders: "You are the Dark Blade of the Lanfang Navy. Unseen in peacetime, but at the crucial moment, your single strike may be more lethal than the entire fleet's Main Guns."

Now, the Dark Blade has been unsheathed, hidden in the deep sea, awaiting the blood‑thirsty moment.

Time ticked second by second. In the South Sea, the Revival continued northward. In the East Sea, the Bismarck Class fleet followed silently. Around the Japanese Combined Fleet, submarines lingered quietly.

And on the Japanese Combined Fleet side, four Vajra Class ships surged toward the designated point at twenty knots. Kato Tomosaburo stood on the bridge of the Vajra, watching the gathering dark clouds on the horizon.

"Fog is coming," he murmured, "Good omen."