Chapter 203: Who Is Singing Again?

The engine room was dead silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared blankly at the communicator. Eighty people, just fifteen meters above their heads, were vaporized instantly in the explosion.

Xiao Yansi felt his throat dry and his stomach churn. But he forced himself to stay calm: "Take inventory of the losses. Boiler No. 4 is completely destroyed; how much power remains?"

"Only Boilers No. 2 and No. 3 remain, output power… less than forty thousand horsepower."

"Is that enough to maintain eight knots?"

"Barely… but if the tilt exceeds ten degrees, the propeller might breach the water…"

"Then keep balance as best you can!" Xiao Yansi struggled to stand, though the searing pain in his leg made his vision blacken, "Check all watertight doors! Ensure no water enters the engine room! That's our final line!"

The technical officer nodded, turned and ran off. Xiao Yansi leaned against the wall, sat down slowly, and began inspecting the wound on his leg.

A steel pipe had pierced his thigh, and blood had soaked the entire pant leg. He knew that without prompt treatment he could bleed to death. Yet he could not abandon his post—he was the chief engineer, the heart‑keeper of the ship. If he fell, Vajra would truly be lost.

"Chief Engineer Xiao Yansi."

A voice suddenly rang out. Xiao Yansi looked up and saw a young sailor, drenched in blood, standing before him, holding a steel saw.

"You are…"

"I'm a medic, sir." The sailor crouched, inspecting his wound, "This must be dealt with immediately. I'll saw the steel pipe off and then apply a tourniquet. It will hurt; you'll have to endure it."

Xiao Yansi nodded, clenching a piece of belt in his teeth. The sailor began sawing the steel pipe, the harsh metallic screech echoing through the engine room. Each pull of the blade brought a tearing agony, and cold sweat instantly covered Xiao Yansi's forehead.

But he made no sound. His eyes fixed on the engine room's ceiling, his ears listening to the noises outside—cannon fire, explosions, shouts, and… singing?

Yes, someone was singing. The voice was faint, intermittent, but unmistakably a song—a military hymn widely known in the Imperial Navy:

"We are the guardians of the sea,"

"We set sail beneath the morning sun."

"Whether storm or war,"

"Nothing can block our course…"

The singer was an old boiler operator, over fifty, who had served thirty years in the navy. At this moment he fed coal to the boiler while humming in a hoarse voice.

Then a second person joined—a young mechanic, his face still youthful, but his gaze resolute.

And then a third, a fourth…

Soon, throughout the engine room, every person still able to speak was humming the song. The melody reverberated within the iron cage, drowning out the roar of machinery, the tremor of explosions, and the terror of death.

Xiao Yansi felt heat in their eyes. They clenched the belt, endured the searing pain of the saw blade cutting bone, yet a smile curved their lips.

This is the Imperial Navy. This is his ship, his people.

Even if they sink here today, they will go down singing.

The Vajra's auxiliary command room is located below the Armour Belt, five meters above the waterline.

This place is far narrower than the main bridge, only twenty square meters, packed with a dozen or so officers and staff. Emergency lighting is dim, the air hot, humid, mingling sweat and the smell of blood.

Kato Tomosaburo sat on the sole chair, while the military doctor re‑bandaged his wounds. This time the injuries were worse: a torn forehead, at least three broken ribs, a fractured left arm, and numerous shrapnel abrasions across his body. Yet he refused morphine; he had to stay conscious.

"Report the situation." His voice was soft, yet each word was clear and forceful.

Operations Staff Officer Major Songben spread a damaged sea chart: "Current status: Mist Island confirmed sunk, Hazelnut Name lost contact and is most likely sunk, Wise Comparison heavily damaged and powerless. Our Vajra… upper structures severely damaged, rear engine room hit, speed reduced to eight knots, listing 12 degrees to starboard, multiple compartments flooded."

"What about the enemy ships?"

"We still cannot pinpoint their exact positions or numbers. However, judging by the density and frequency of the bombardment, there are at least three to four capital ships, caliber likely above 380 mm, range exceeding twenty‑five thousand yards. They are presumed to be Lanfang's Bismarck Class battleships."

Kato closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Three to four Bismarck Class. The legendary fifty‑thousand‑ton monster, equipped with eight 380 mm guns and armor up to fourteen inches thick. If the intelligence is accurate, each Bismarck Class could take on two Vajra‑class ships alone.

And now they have three to four.

"How much combat power do we still have?" he asked.

"Main guns: Turret A destroyed, Turret B barely functional, Turret C silent. Secondary guns lost more than two‑thirds. All torpedo tubes intact, but…" Songben paused, "range insufficient. Our Type‑93 torpedoes have a maximum range of forty thousand meters but require guidance. With no visual on the enemy ships…"

"Just scrap metal," Kato finished for him.

The command room fell silent. Everyone understood the situation: Vajra is a tiger blinded and maimed, while the enemy, beyond sight, thrusts spears one by one until it bleeds its last drop.

"What about the cruisers and destroyers?" Kato asked suddenly.

"The first torpedo squadron is still on the periphery, but…" Songben hesitated, "Report from Chikuma: they attempted to close on the incoming shell direction and met dense medium‑caliber gun fire interception. At least four cruiser‑class enemy ships have formed a barrier around the main fleet."

"So we can't even get close," Kato said with a wry smile, "Perfect tactics. Long‑range capital‑ship bombardment, mid‑range cruiser cover, and we don't even have a chance to go all out."

He braced against the table and stood, stumbling once before regaining his balance. The military doctor moved to help, but he waved it away.

"Songben, how many years have you served with me?"

Songben was startled: "Ten… twelve years, sir, since you became destroyer captain."

"Twelve years." Kato nodded, "Do you think I am a competent commander?"

"Sir, you…"

"Tell me honestly." Kato stared at him.

Songben remained silent for a long while, then finally lowered his head: "I don't know, sir. I only know that you have led us to win exercises, and have shown the Empire's might in the Indian Ocean and South Ocean. But today… today's battle has exceeded everyone's comprehension. It's not the commander's fault, it is…"

"It's the era's fault," Kato finished for him, "We are still fighting with World War‑I‑era thinking, while the enemy has moved into the next age. The legendary radar, fire‑control computers, ultra‑long‑range bombardment… We lost not because of courage nor training, but because of the times."