Chapter 232: This Is Piracy!

Chang Jiang battleship, fire control command room, 1 p. m.

Zhang Zhen looked through the telescope at the merchant ship in the distance that had already been seized. Lanfang sailors had boarded and were inspecting the cargo hold. According to the preliminary report, Spring Day Maru was carrying five hundred tons of cotton yarn, three hundred tons of mechanical parts, and one hundred tons of medicine, bound for Manila.

"Medicine…" Zhang Zhen muttered.

"Sir, how should we handle it?" Chen Qiming asked, "Seize or…"

Zhang Zhen thought for a few seconds. Under the laws of war, an enemy nation's merchant ship can be seized and its cargo confiscated. But the medicine… that is for saving lives.

"Transfer all the crew onto our ship, the merchant ship…" he paused, "sink it."

"Sink it?" Chen Qiming was startled, "But the medicine…"

"The medicine can be left, allowing the crew to take some emergency supplies. But the ship must sink," Zhang Zhen said calmly. "Our message is not 'we are merciful' but 'we can cut off your sea supply lines at any time'."

He walked to the communications console: "Open a channel to the merchant ship's captain. I want to speak to him personally."

A few minutes later, the radio crackled. Songtian Haoer's voice came through, hoarse and weary: "This is Captain Matsuda of Spring Day Maru, over."

"Captain Matsuda, this is Zhang Zhen, former enemy commander of the Lanfang Navy in the East Sea," Zhang Zhen said into the mic. "Your ship will be sunk, but you and your crew can survive. You may take some emergency medicine and personal belongings aboard our ship, and we will take you to the nearest Japanese port."

The other end was silent for a long time. Then Songtian's bitter voice came: "Why? We are just a merchant ship carrying civilian supplies…"

"Because of war," Zhang Zhen said calmly. "Because your country refuses negotiations, because your government still fantasizes about victory. So we must make you, all the people of the Sakura Nation, understand: if the war continues, the losses are not only warships but also merchant ships, ports, factories, and… ordinary people's lives."

"Sinking a single merchant ship can change the minds of those politicians in Tokyo?"

"One cannot, then ten. Ten cannot, then a hundred," Zhang Zhen's voice did not waver. "Until every citizen of your country understands that continuing the war leads only to death. Only then will peace talks truly begin."

Songtian fell silent again. Finally, he said, "I understand. Give us ten minutes to gather personal belongings."

"Understood."

The call ended. Zhang Zhen set the mic down and looked out the window. In the distance, Spring Day Maru's crew were hurriedly moving cargo. Some sailors were crying, some were cursing, but most were numb, doing what had to be done.

"Sir," Chen Qiming whispered, "is this too… cruel?"

"War is already cruel," Zhang Zhen turned, walking toward the bridge. "But today's cruelty is to end the war sooner tomorrow."

He stepped onto the bridge and ordered the gun captain: "Main Gun, high‑explosive Shell, target Spring Day Maru's waterline. One salvo, send it down."

"Yes!"

Chang Jiang's Main Gun turret began to rotate. Eight 380 mm giant guns slowly rose, pointing toward the lone merchant ship ten nautical miles away.

On Spring Day Maru, Songtian and the last batch of crew boarded a lifeboat. He took one last look at his ship, the vessel he had captained for eight years, the ship that had taken him across East Asia.

Then he heard a roar.

Not one, but eight deafening roars combined. Chang Jiang's Main Gun fired in salvo, the muzzle flame lighting half the sea.

The Shell flew through the air for twenty seconds. Then Spring Day Maru's hull burst open.

One 380 mm high‑explosive round struck the waterline directly, tearing a ten‑meter‑wide hole. Sea water surged in, and the hull began to list at a visibly rapid rate.

The second and third rounds fell around it, raising massive water columns. But it was unnecessary; Spring Day Maru was already sinking, and fast.

Songtian sat in the lifeboat, staring blankly. He watched his ship tilt, break, then slowly slip into the sea. A huge whirlpool formed on the surface, pulling in hull fragments, cargo debris, and the personal items he hadn't taken.

The whole process took only eight minutes. Eight minutes later, Spring Day Maru vanished. The sea surface was left with some oil slick and scattered debris, proof that a ship had once been there.

The lifeboat was hoisted onto Chang Jiang. Songtian and his crew were taken to the deck, guarded by armed sailors. Each wore a numb expression; no one cried, no one shouted, just standing blankly like soulless puppets.

Zhang Zhen walked up to Songtian. The fifty‑something old captain lifted his head, looked at him, and his eyes held no hatred, only deep fatigue.

"Where will you take us?" Songtian asked.

"Nagasaki," Zhang Zhen said, "When you return, tell your compatriots, tell your government: the war can end if they are willing to negotiate. Otherwise, today's fate of Spring Day Maru will be the tomorrow of every Japanese merchant ship."

Songtian gave a wry smile: "Who will listen to the words of a small captain like me?"

"Then say it many times," Zhang Zhen turned and left, "until someone listens."

He returned to the bridge, looking at the radar screen. On the display, several blips representing merchant ships were moving—some fleeing, some hesitating, some already turning back to port.

"Sir," the radar officer reported, "we've intercepted numerous merchant ship radio transmissions, all warning each other that Lanfang warships are operating in these waters. Some ships have already turned back."

"Good," Zhang Zhen nodded. "That's the effect we want. Cut off their sea supply lines, make them feel pain. Only when they feel pain will they consider stopping."

He looked west, toward the Japanese archipelago: "We just don't know how long they need to feel pain before they truly want to stop."

Outside the window, the sea wind howled. Where Spring Day Maru sank, oil slick continued to spread, a black scar on the azure sea.

Farther away in Tokyo, in those endlessly arguing conference rooms, no one yet knew that a merchant ship named Spring Day Maru had just sunk in the East Sea.

But soon they would know. Then there would be a second, a third, a hundredth.

Until they understand: the war must end.

Tokyo, Army Ministry secret conference room, 11 p. m.

The conference room was shrouded in smoke, filled with the army's hawkish core figures: Chief of Staff Changguichuan Haodao, the army deputy minister, several division commanders of the main corps, and... Gang Shi Zhishu.

Yes, Gang Shi Zhishu. The army minister who had barely agreed to negotiations during the daytime at the Five Sages Council now wore a grim face, his eyes burning with suppressed fury.

"Spring Day Maru was sunk," he said, his voice icy. "An eight‑thousand‑ton merchant ship carrying cotton yarn, machinery and medicine was sunk west of Kyushu by a Lanfang battleship. The crew were captured, the cargo lost, the ship sank."

A chorus of curses rose in the conference room.

"This is piracy!"