Chapter 236: Tomorrow at 8 a.m., Bombard Kobe

"Then what do you suggest!" Gan Shi Zhi Zu roared, "Is it to keep doing as we are now, waiting each day for reports of sunken ships, waiting for news of ports being bombarded, waiting for the people to call us worthless?!"

"Negotiation." When Shan Ben uttered those two words, his voice was soft but clear, "While we still have bargaining chips—our army remains intact, our homeland has not yet been attacked, our government can still function. While Lanfang has not yet fully shown its true colors, has not begun large‑scale bombardment of cities, has not landed. If we negotiate now, we can still secure some terms. If we delay further…"

He said no more, but everyone understood.

Delay any further, and we would have no choice but unconditional surrender.

"Negotiation…" Si Nei murmured, "But Lanfang's conditions…"

"We can negotiate." Shan Ben returned to his seat, "We can haggle. The reparations can be reduced, navy restrictions can be eased, port openings can be limited. But the premise is that we must show sincerity—sincerity for a ceasefire, and sincerity for talks."

"How should we demonstrate it?" Foreign Minister Jia Teng Gao Ming asked.

"Order all merchant ships to suspend sailing," Shan Ben said, "Order all warships not to leave port. Through neutral nations, formally request Lanfang to ceasefire negotiations. At the same time, make private contacts to probe their bottom line."

"And then?" Gan Shi Zhi Zu asked coldly, "If they still demand three hundred million in reparations, still want navy restrictions, still want port openings, do we accept?"

"Then it depends on how much the people are willing to bear." Shan Ben said, looking at Gan Shi Zhi Zu, "Are they willing to bear reparations, or hunger? Are they willing to accept navy restrictions, or have their homeland bombarded? Are they willing to open ports, or see the nation collapse? Minister Gan Shi, you are the Army Minister; you should know better than anyone that at this stage of the war there is no 'victory' option. Only 'minimizing losses' remains."

Gan Shi Zhi Zu stared at him, his lips trembling, but he could not speak. Because he knew Shan Ben was right. As a soldier, he understood the cruelty of war better than anyone, understood the gap in strength better than anyone. He was just… unwilling to accept it.

Unwilling to concede like this, unwilling to bow his head, unwilling to let decades of the empire's effort turn to bubbles.

"I will consider," finally he forced the words out between his teeth, "but the army needs time. Time to persuade the commanders, time to soothe the soldiers, time… to accept this reality."

"We have no time left," Shan Ben said, "Each day we delay means another ship sinks, another port is destroyed, another bargaining chip is lost. Prime Minister, please decide as soon as possible."

All eyes turned to Si Nei Zheng Yi. The Prime Minister's face was pallid, his forehead covered in cold sweat. He knew that whatever decision he made would be recorded in history, judged by posterity—either as the sage who saved the nation, or the sinner who doomed the empire.

"Give me…" he said with difficulty, "Give me twenty‑four hours. At this time tomorrow, I will decide."

【7】 "Prime Minister!" Gan Shi Zhi Zu began to say.

"Prime Minister!" Gang Shi Zhi Zhu wanted to say.

"This is an order!" Si Nei shouted, then began to cough violently. The secretary hurriedly handed him water and a handkerchief.

The conference room fell into dead silence again. Only Si Nei's coughs, one after another, sounded as if he were trying to cough his lungs out.

Shan Ben Quan Binge rose, bowed, "Then, I take my leave. At this time tomorrow, I will return."

He turned and left. As he exited the conference room, he heard Gan Shi Zhi Zu's suppressed roar and Si Nei's weary sigh from behind.

The door shut, cutting off the argument inside. The corridor was empty, only his footsteps echoed.

It felt like walking on a road toward a grave.

And he was the one carrying the coffin.

Battleship Chang Jiang, bridge, 2 p. m.

Zhang Zhen looked at the freshly received battle report: U-19 sank a Japanese cargo ship, about six thousand tons; U-22 damaged one, the vessel struggled back to port; U-25 spotted two ships, but the targets entered shallow water, so the attack was abandoned.

"Three days, five sunk, three damaged," Deputy Captain Chen Qiming said, "The effect is clear. According to intercepted Japanese merchant communications, fewer ships now dare to set sail."

"What about the ports?" Zhang Zhen asked.

"Wu Port was bombarded again this morning; Dock No. 3 is completely wrecked. Activities at Sasebo and Nagasaki ports have almost ceased, only a few fishing boats still dare to go out."

Zhang Zhen walked to the sea chart, looking at the Japanese archipelago's coastline. The once‑busy sea‑lane now resembled a severed artery, the flow slowing and weakening.

"What reaction is there in Tokyo?" he asked.

The diplomatic channel reported that Japan, via Switzerland, expressed willingness to negotiate, but no formal proposal yet. Internal intel shows escalating army‑navy friction; the army demands the navy strike, the navy insists on avoidance. Prime Minister Si Nei Zheng Yi is stuck in the middle, finding it hard to decide.

Zhang Zhen nodded. This was the effect they wanted: using sustained pressure to exacerbate Japan's internal conflict, to give the peace faction the upper hand, to force the government to the negotiating table.

But the pressure must be just right. Too little, the opponent won't feel pain; too much, they might panic and act rashly.

"Order all vessels," he commanded, "Tomorrow morning, bombard Kobe Port.."

"Kobe?" Chen Qiming was startled, "It's one of Japan's largest commercial ports, with dense industry. Striking there would have a huge impact."

"So we must strike," Zhang Zhen said, "We need Japan to know we can hit not only military harbors but also commercial ones; we can cut sea‑lines and crush their industrial base. We want everyone—from the government to civilians—to feel the cost of war."

He paused, then added, "Limit the bombardment to within two hours. Afterwards, send a message via neutral nations: as long as Japan formally requests peace talks and orders all merchant ships to halt and all warships to stay in port, we will cease the bombardment."

"Is this a final ultimatum?"

"No, it's a step," Zhang Zhen said, "A step for those who want talks, and a warning for those who want to keep fighting. Tell them: negotiate, there is still a chance; fight, there is only a dead end."

Chen Qiming recorded the order, then hesitated, "Sir, are we being too cruel? Kobe has millions of civilians; although we avoid residential areas, the bombardment will cause panic, unemployment, economic collapse…"

"War is cruel by nature," Zhang Zhen interrupted, his voice calm, "But today's cruelty is to spare more lives tomorrow. If we don't hurt Japan now, they won't take talks seriously. If talks fail and the war continues, more will die—including our soldiers and Japanese civilians."

He looked out the window; the sea was calm, the sun shining brightly.

"Sometimes mercy is the greatest cruelty. Being merciful to the enemy is cruelty to one's own people. The Japanese understand this better than we do—during the Russo‑Japanese War, at Port Arthur and in Fengtian, they never showed a soft hand."

Chen Qiming fell silent. He knew Zhang Zhen was right, yet a trace of reluctance remained in his heart.

"Execute the order," Zhang Zhen concluded, "Tomorrow at eight in the morning, bombard Kobe. Let the world see the strength of Lanfang's navy, and also see… Japan's government's choice."

The order was relayed. Four massive warships began adjusting course, heading northeast toward Kobe.