Chapter 221: Mitsubishi Shipyard

Zhang Zhen understood the meaning of "higher civilian density"—the readers also understood it.

He kept flipping through. The plan was very detailed, even calculating how many Shells each salvo would require, the expected destroyed building area, and the projected casualties.

War, when reduced to numbers and tables, appears especially cold.

"Sir," Deputy Captain Chen Qiming came over, lowering his voice, "we just received the submarine report. After last night's successful attack on Wu Port, the U-19 fleet has withdrawn as planned and is now maneuvering toward the Tsushima Strait, preparing to intercept any Japanese ships that might come south through the Korea Strait."

"Has the result been confirmed?"

"Confirmed. We sank three Tianlong-class light cruisers—Longtian, Tianlong, Yubari. Another destroyer was hit but fled back to port," Chen Qiming paused, "but… the submarines also reported that after the attack the Japanese port's anti‑submarine alert was markedly heightened; they were almost discovered."

Zhang Zhen nodded. It was expected. Even a weakened Japanese Navy, when struck at its doorstep, must respond.

"Send a message to the submarine force: the result is glorious, but stay safe. In the coming days your primary task is surveillance, not attack. I want you to be like ghosts, letting the Japanese know you're there yet they can't find you."

"Understood."

Zhang Zhen looked back at the chart. His finger traced from the current position of the Yangtze, across the western coast of Kyushu, then northward through the Tsushima Strait into the Sea of Japan, finally stopping at Tokyo Bay.

"What will Tokyo do after we appear off Kyushu's coast?" he asked, half to himself, half to Chen Qiming.

Chen Qiming thought a few seconds, "Shock, panic, then… infighting."

"Infighting?"

"Right. The navy will argue for avoidance, preserving strength. The army will push for a decisive battle, even demanding the navy to strike. Both sides will blame each other, quarrel, and even…" Chen Qiming trailed off.

"…might even wish the other side to go to their death," Zhang Zhen finished for him.

The bridge fell silent, only the low hum of machinery and distant gull cries.

Zhang Zhen went to the communications console: "Send a signal to all ships: convene a combat meeting in one hour. Also, send a report to Dubai, informing that our fleet will soon reach the designated position and begin deterrent patrols."

"Yes!"

The communications officer began operating the radio. The tick‑tack of Morse code sounded, transmitting the fleet's movements to the command hub thousands of miles away.

Zhang Zhen lifted the cup of cold tea again and took a sip. The tea was bitter but refreshing.

Outside the window, the morning mist was clearing. Sunlight pierced the clouds, scattering over the sea, the surface glittering. The bows of four massive ships cut the water, leaving four white wake lines that stretched to the horizon.

In the direction of the wakes, the Japanese archipelago was waking in the dawn light.

That nation had no idea that four warships that had annihilated its navy were now at its doorstep.

Nagasaki, Mitsubishi Shipyard office building, 8 a. m.

Shipyard manager Matsumoto Kenichi stood by the office window, holding a freshly delivered copy of the Nagasaki News. The front‑page headline was shocking: "Great Defeat in the East Sea! Main Force of the Combined Fleet Wiped Out!"

The sub‑headline gave more detail: "The Navy Ministry issued a battle report last night, confirming the sinking of the four Kongō‑class ships Kongō, Birui, Haruna, Kirishima, and that Major General Kato Tomosaburo, commander of the Combined Fleet, fell in battle…"

Matsumoto's hand trembled. He was not a soldier, just a businessman, but he knew what those four Kongō‑class ships meant. Mitsubishi Nagasaki Shipyard had built two of them—Birui and Kirishima. He still recalled the grand launch ceremonies, the workers' cheers, and the pride on the navy officers' faces.

Now they were sunk—sunk in the East Sea, beneath the gunfire of a country called Lanfang.

Secretary burst in, flustered, "Manager! The Port Authority issued an emergency notice—order all vessels to leave port immediately! Any ships under repair in the dock, those that can move, move now; those that cannot… sink on the spot!"

"What?" Matsumoto turned, unable to believe his ears, "Sink on the spot? Why?"

"I don't know! But the notice says it's a direct order from the Navy Ministry! And…" the secretary's voice trembled, "And the Port Authority people said they received a warning from Tokyo that the Lanfang fleet might… might soon appear off Kyushu's coast!"

Matsumoto felt a wave of dizziness. He braced against the windowsill and stayed upright.

Outside, Nagasaki Port was in chaos. Dozens of merchant vessels were hastily casting off, steam whistles sounding intermittently. In the shipyard, several old‑type destroyers and cargo ships under repair had workers scrambling to get them moving.

Further away, on the streets of Nagasaki city, crowds were in turmoil. The news had clearly spread; citizens were panicking, some lugging luggage toward the outskirts, others gathering at the port to see what was happening.

"Manager, what should we do?" the secretary asked. "The shipyard still has three merchant ships under construction, and two destroyer conversion projects…"

Matsumoto took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm: "Notify all workers to stop work immediately. Pack any movable blueprints, documents, valuable tools into crates for relocation. The ships in the dock… handle them as the Port Authority instructed."

"But those ships under construction—if they sink, the loss would be enormous…"

"If they sink, they can be salvaged; if they're blown up, everything's lost!" Matsumoto roared, "Hurry!"

The secretary, terrified, gave a shiver and rushed out.

Matsumoto stood alone by the window, gazing at the shipyard he had run for twenty years. Mitsubishi Nagasaki Shipyard was one of the largest shipbuilding enterprises in the Sakura Nation, and most warships after the Russo‑Japanese War were built here. It had witnessed the rise of the Imperial Navy, and also… its downfall.

The phone rang. Matsumoto answered; it was a direct line from Mitsubishi headquarters in Tokyo.

"Matsumoto‑kun, you already know the situation, right?" the voice of the executive director at headquarters said.

"Understood. We're organizing evacuation and… sabotage."

"Listen, this isn't sabotage; it's preservation." The executive director's voice was stern, "The dock, cranes, and shipways are fixed facilities that can't be moved, but all critical equipment, blueprints, and technical data must be transferred. Especially the design drawings of the two new‑type destroyers; they are the navy's future hope and must not fall into enemy hands."

"I understand."

"Also, most importantly…" the executive director paused, "the technical personnel. All experienced engineers, designers, and skilled workers must be placed on the transfer list. People are the shipyard's most valuable asset. Equipment can be rebuilt; if the people are gone, there's nothing left."