Chapter 223: Bombardment of Yokosuka

"Order all ships: assume bombardment positions. Heading set to 210°, speed reduced to 8 knots. Main Gun loaded with high‑explosive Shell, target—Yokosuka Port Dock No. 1."

The order is transmitted via light signals and radio. The four giant ships begin to turn slowly, aligning their starboard side toward Yokosuka Port. The turrets start to rotate, the massive 380mm barrels lift gradually, pointing at a target over twenty kilometers away.

In the fire‑control radar room of the Yangtze, the operators are working anxiously.

"Target data locked: Distance 28,200 yards, bearing 153°. Wind‑speed correction… complete. Ballistic calculation… complete."

"All turrets report: loading complete, ready to fire at any moment."

All data converge on the fire‑control officer. He looks toward the bridge, awaiting the final order.

Zhang Zhen picks up the handset: "All ships, attention, this is combat bombardment. I want you to show the level you had in training—fast, accurate, ruthless. First round, simultaneous fire, test shot. Second round, begin, all guns fire together. Understand?"

All turrets respond: "Understood!"

"Good." Zhang Zhen inhales deeply, "Fire‑control officer, hear my command—"

He pauses for three seconds. Those three seconds feel especially long in the quiet bridge.

"Fire."

Yokosuka Port, coastal artillery battery, 10:25 a. m.

Coastal artillery battery commander Major Sen Tian crouches before the rangefinder, his eyes fixed on the four giant ships on the sea. His palms are slick with sweat, the fingers gripping the rangefinder handle trembling slightly.

"What's the distance?" he asks the range‑finder operator beside him.

"Twenty‑… over twenty‑eight thousand!" the range‑finder's voice cracks with sobbing, "Sir, our guns' maximum range is only 19,000! We can't reach it! We can't hit at all!"

Sen Tian knows they can't hit. But he must do something. He is the coastal defense commander; the enemy is at his doorstep, and he cannot do nothing.

"All gun positions! Aim at the enemy ships! Load!" he shouts into the handset, even though he knows it's meaningless.

In the battery, the artillerymen fumble with the massive 240mm coastal guns. The barrels turn slowly, elevating to the maximum angle, but everyone knows that this elevation still falls short by at least nine kilometers from the maximum range.

"Sir, the enemy ships… their turrets are turning!" the observer shouts, "They're aiming at us!"

Sen Tian's heart sinks to the bottom of a valley. He knows what will happen next. In the East China Sea, Vajra was sunk just like this—out of range, engulfed by enemy fire.

But he does not retreat. He is an Imperial soldier; this is his position.

"Prepare for counter‑bombardment!" he orders finally, then rushes toward the shelter.

Almost as he dashes into the shelter, a high‑pitched screech erupts from the sky.

It wasn't the sound of a single Shell. It was dozens, even hundreds of Shells ripping through the air together, like countless death‑god sighs, coming from the distant sky, growing nearer, growing louder.

"Get down—"

Before the words finish, the first Shell lands.

It doesn't strike the battery but the harbor, near Dock No. 1. A massive water column shoots skyward, at least fifty meters high. Immediately follow the second, the third…

The explosions merge into one roar, the ground shakes. Sen Tian lies in the shelter, feeling the earth tremble, debris and dust raining down.

He lifts his head, looks out through the observation port. The sight of the harbor will haunt him forever.

Dock No. 1 is hit directly. The 380mm high‑explosive Shell detonates at the dock's center, blowing a vintage destroyer under repair to fragments. The concrete structure of the dock is torn apart, the gate warps, and seawater rushes in wildly.

Immediately after, the ammunition depot is struck. Consecutive sacrificial explosions erupt like fireworks, one after another, fireballs rising in succession, thick smoke cloaking half the harbor.

The warehouse area on the pier is also hit. Those storages of food, clothing, and parts turn into a sea of fire in the blasts. Burning fragments are hurled into the sky, then fall like raindrops.

And the worst part is that all this occurs beyond the range of the coastal guns. Sen Tian and his men can only watch the port's destruction helplessly.

"Fire! Return fire!" a young artilleryman, unable to bear it, leaps from the shelter toward a gun position.

"Come back!" Sen Tian shouts.

But it's too late. The artilleryman reaches the gun position just as another wave of Shells falls. This time, one lands near the battery. The massive shockwave hurls the young gunner into the air, slamming him against the wall like a rag doll, then he collapses softly, motionless.

Sen Tian closes his eyes. It's not sorrow, but numbness.

The bombardment continues. One round after another. Four battleships, thirty‑two 380mm Main Guns, firing at a rate of one salvo per minute, pour steel and flame onto Yokosuka Port.

The entire port has become a hell. Flames, thick smoke, explosions, wails…

And the enemy, stationed 28 km away, need not even see the actual damage; they simply fire round after round according to preset coordinates.

Is this war?

No, it doesn't even qualify as war.

It's just a… one‑sided massacre.

A cruel, desperate massacre born of a technological gap.

Tokyo, Army Ministry Building, 11:00 a. m.

The telephone rings incessantly like a death charm. In Army Minister Gang Shi Zhi Zhu's office, senior generals crowd the room. Anger, shock, and a hint of… fear are written on every face.

"Yokosuka was bombarded? When did it happen?!" Gang Shi Zhi Zhu shouts into the phone.

On the other end, the General Staff's duty officer replies: "Just now, Minister! Four Lanfang battleships appeared off Yokosuka's sea, at least twenty‑eight kilometers from shore, conducting bombardment beyond the range of coastal guns! Docks No. 1 and 3 were destroyed, the ammunition depot detonated, port facilities severely damaged! Casualties… casualties are still being tallied!"

"What about the navy? What are they doing?!" Gang Shi Zhi Zhu's voice is almost a roar, "Where are their battleships? Where are their coastal guns? Just watching the enemy strike at our doorstep?"

"The navy… all main vessels have retreated into inland seas. The coastal guns… insufficient range…"

"Insufficient range? Then why did they build those guns? For decoration?!" Gang Shi Zhi Zhu slams the phone down, turns to the assembled generals, "Did you hear that? The enemy fired at our doorstep! Bombarding our naval base at the capital's gate! And the navy, those useless pieces, can do nothing but flee!"

Chief of Staff Chang Gu Chuan Haodao's face turns ashen: "We must counterattack! We must get the navy to engage! Even if we can't win, we must fight! We cannot let the enemy be so arrogant!"

"The navy won't engage." A calm voice says. The speaker is the Deputy Chief of Staff, a relatively rational officer, "Minister Yamamoto made it clear yesterday: the navy's current mission is to preserve strength and avoid a decisive battle."