Chapter 234: Jade Shattered?

The cargo ship obviously did not detect the torpedo. At this distance, a merchant vessel could hardly detect a torpedo launched by a submarine. By the time they heard the sound, it was too late.

Three minutes fifty seconds.

"Hit!"

The first torpedo struck the cargo ship's midsection. Even at six kilometers away, even at a depth of one hundred twenty meters, Li Wenbin could feel the muffled explosion. In the periscope, the ship's midsection erupted into a fireball, and the hull jolted sharply.

The second torpedo hit the stern. A larger explosion, possibly striking the engine room or fuel tank. The cargo ship began to list rapidly, the bow rose, and the flames illuminated half the sea surface.

"Record: two hits, target sinking rapidly." Li Wenbin's voice was calm, but his hand gripping the periscope handle was slightly sweating.

He saw silhouettes moving on the cargo ship, saw lifeboats being lowered, saw several people jump into the sea. In the firelight, those figures were tiny, tiny, like ants.

"Should… should we go up to rescue?" Deputy Boat Captain asked softly.

Li Wenbin lowered the periscope: "Dive, depth one hundred fifty meters, heading 120, speed six knots."

"But those people…"

"This is war," Li Wenbin cut him off, his voice cold and hard. "They chose to go to sea during wartime, so they must bear the risk. We do the same."

The submarine began to dive. The command compartment fell silent. Though sinking the enemy ship was a victory, no one cheered. Everyone understood that the ship likely carried thirty to forty crew members, now drifting in the icy water, awaiting uncertain rescue.

Li Wenbin walked back to his small cabin, closed the door. He took a notebook from a drawer, opened it, and recorded under today's date:

"September 5th, 0400 hours, sank Japanese cargo ship 'Beihai Maru', about six thousand tons. Estimated crew forty, survivors possibly… unknown."

He paused his pen, stared at the line. Then he closed the notebook and locked it back into the drawer.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Deputy Boat Captain pushed the door open, his face a bit pale: "Captain, sonar report, high‑speed propeller noise to the northeast, possibly a destroyer. Distance about fifteen nautical miles, heading toward us."

Li Wenbin sprang to his feet: "All hands silent! Shut down non‑essential equipment! Maintain depth at one hundred fifty meters, turn heading 180, reduce speed to four knots!"

"Understood!"

The submarine moved like a fish in the deep sea, silently changing course, slipping into deeper, darker waters. Behind them, the cargo ship called Beihai Maru was sinking, its crew struggling in the frigid water.

Far away in Tokyo, in those warm conference rooms, no one yet knew another ship had gone down.

But they would soon find out. Then there would be more meetings, more arguments, more despair.

That is the purpose of a blockade. Not to kill outright, but to bleed them slowly until they can no longer hold on, until they beg for mercy.

Li Wenbin put his headphones back on, listening to the sonar's transmission: the destroyer's propeller grew louder, then the sound of a deep‑water bomb hitting the water.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Explosions rang in the distance, shaking the submarine slightly. But they were not close enough to hit them.

"Continue diving, depth two hundred meters," Li Wenbin ordered, "maintain silence, wait for them to pass."

The deep‑water bombs kept echoing, but grew farther away. The destroyer clearly lacked a precise position, merely dropping bombs blindly.

An hour later, sonar reported the destroyer had left. Li Wenbin finally ordered a ascent to periscope depth, raised the antenna, and transmitted:

"U-19 report, 04:12 at dawn, sank a Japanese cargo ship, about six thousand tons. Position: 35°10' N, 129°50' E. Encountered enemy anti‑submarine vessel, evaded. Will continue patrol duties."

The radio waves cut through the dark water, reaching the distant command center.

On the surface, the last fragment of Beihai Maru sank as well. The sea was left with oil slicks and debris, and a few lifeboats drifting. The crew on the boats huddled together, shivering in the September night wind.

Will they survive until dawn? Will rescue arrive in time?

Tokyo, Naval Ministry Minister's Office, 09:00

Yamamoto Goken'ei stared at the three reports before him, each like a piece of red‑hot iron, scorching his eyes.

First report: Wu Port was shelled this morning, Dock No. 3 destroyed, two destroyers under construction severely damaged, casualties sixty‑seven.

Second report: Near the Tsushima Strait, cargo ship "Beihai Maru" was attacked by a submarine and sank, crew forty‑two, only eleven survived.

Third report: The Army Ministry submitted the "Domestic Decisive Battle Preparation Outline", demanding the navy "all remaining vessels must sortie, cooperate with the army for coastal defense operations, and, if necessary, carry out suicide attacks".

"Suicide attack," Yamamoto read the phrase, a mocking smile on his face. "Use our last few operational ships to ram Lanfang's battleship? Is this the army's 'strategy'?"

Sitting opposite him, Minister of War Department Shimada Shigetarou lowered his head: "Minister, the army's stance is hard. Minister Okashi this morning at the Imperial Council said, if the navy continues to avoid battle, they are 'traitors to the nation', and should 'perform seppuku to atone for the country'."

"Seppuku?" Yamamoto sneered. "Fine, let them send military police, I'll do it now. But before I commit seppuku, tell me how the army intends to deal with those four Bismarck Class ships. With bamboo spears? With swords? Or with their coastal defense guns that can't even hold the shoreline?"

Shimada dared not reply. The office fell into a dead silence, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock.

Yamamoto stood up, walked to the window. Outside, Tokyo's sky was overcast, rain looming again. The city's residents still didn't know that just last night, dozens of families had lost sons, husbands, fathers.

"What was being transported on Beihai Maru?" he asked.

"According to survivors, it was food—grain shipped from Korea to Osaka," Shimada said softly. "There were thirty‑one Korean laborers on board, only eleven Japanese crew members."

Yamamoto closed his eyes. Korean laborers. Those conscripted laborers, the first group sacrificed in the war.

"How long can our food reserves last?" he asked an unrelated question.

"If sea routes are completely cut off… nationwide, at most two months. Major cities could be shorter, shortages would appear in about a month."

One month. Yamamoto gave a wry smile. That meant even if Lanfang never landed, even if the army held the coastline, Japan would collapse from hunger a month later.

And those army idiots kept shouting "Domestic Decisive Battle", "Jade Shattered".

"Shimada-san," he turned, looking at the War Department Minister, "you think we should start preparing… for the aftermath?"