Chapter 342: Chen Feng, That Cunning Fox. He Smells the Scent of Blood

"Marshal." the adjutant whispered, "the latest telegram from William Port."

Tirpitz looked up, "Read."

"Admiral Scher reports: the main fleet has set sail as planned, maintaining radio silence. The Schipper fleet is luring the Yingguo Betty fleet toward the ambush point. Contact is expected tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning…" Tirpitz glanced at the wall clock, "still twelve hours."

He rose and walked to the window. Berlin's night sky was clear, the stars visible. What will the weather be like over the North Sea tomorrow? Will those sailors see the same stars?

"Has Your Majesty been informed?" he asked.

"It has already been reported. His Majesty replied: 'We look forward to good news.'"

Looking forward to good news.

Four words, weightless yet as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Tirpitz recalled yesterday's audience with the Emperor. Wilhelm II was still excited, still full of anticipation.

"Alfred, once the navy wins, we will have leverage!" the Emperor said then, "We can negotiate with the Yingguo, get them to ease the blockade, and even… have them acknowledge our dominance in Europe!"

Tirpitz offered no rebuttal. He knew the Emperor needed such fantasies, such hope.

But he knew clearly that even if the navy won—no matter how splendidly—it could not alter the overall war situation. Deguo had already exhausted its vitality fighting on two fronts; victory would merely postpone defeat.

Unless… unless a miracle occurs.

But Tirpitz did not believe in miracles. He believed in steel, artillery, training and tactics.

And the German Navy possessed those. The Yingguo Navy had even more.

"Marshal," the adjutant hesitated, "there is another matter… intelligence from the Far East."

Tirpitz turned, "Lanfang?"

"Yes. Our intelligence officer reports that Lanfang has recently had secret contacts with Siam and the Dutch East Indies. It seems to be post‑war positioning."

Tirpitz sneered, "Chen Feng, that cunning fox. He smells the scent of blood."

He walked back to his desk and sat down, "But we still need Lanfang……."

After the adjutant left, Tirpitz sat alone in the office. The light fell on his white hair, reflecting a silvery sheen.

He was sixty‑seven. He had spent twenty years building this navy, watching it grow from nothing to a force. Now, this navy was about to make a high‑stakes gamble.

All he could do was wait.

Wait for telegrams, wait for news, wait for those warships that might never return.

Dubai, eleven p. m. late at night.

Chen Feng stood in the radio monitoring room, headphones on, listening intently. Besides him, the room held three on‑duty technicians and a translator. (The editor isn't sure if World War I monitoring was possible, but let's assume it was.)

From the headphones came intermittent Morse code tones, mixed with electrical hiss. The signals came from the North Sea, from fleets sailing there.

Lanfang's intelligence department had built a fairly advanced radio monitoring and decryption system. Though it could not decode all encrypted traffic in real time, by analyzing signal strength, frequency and transmission patterns it could roughly gauge fleet movements.

"President," a technician handed over a sheet, "this is the signal analysis for the past two hours. Radio activity in the central North Sea has risen sharply, with at least twenty distinct signal sources active."

Chen Feng took the report and skimmed it quickly. It described signal characteristics, azimuth, estimated Distance…

"The Yingguo and Deguo fleets are approaching," he judged, "they may have entered each other's reconnaissance range."

He walked to the North Sea map on the wall and marked the latest position estimates with red and blue pencils.

The red Yingguo fleet converged toward the center from the northwest and west, while the blue Deguo fleet did so from the southeast and east. The four fleets, like four arrows, pointed to the same area in the central North Sea.

That area is empty now, but it will soon become a battlefield.

"President," Wang Wenwu entered, holding another telegram, "Minister Liu Qinian's report. The Kunpeng Model 2 completed its third long‑range test flight, range 3,200 km, payload two tons. Engine stability shows a marked improvement over Model 1."

Chen Feng nodded, "Tell him, good. But keep improving. I want not a plane that can fly, but one that can fight."

"Also," Wang Wenwu continued, "the contacts in Northern Europe have progressed. A Swedish shipping company is willing to cooperate, establishing a trade route that bypasses the Yingguo blockade. However, they demand a high guarantee deposit and will only accept gold payment."

"Give them," Chen Feng said without hesitation, "tell Li Yongguang to allocate five hundred thousand Marks from the German‑paid funds as the guarantee. We want more than a route; we want a relationship. In the future, Northern Europe will be an important trade partner."

Wang Wenwu noted it, then hesitated, "President, I have a question."

"Speak."

"The preparations we're making… assume a mutual ruin of Yingguo and Deguo. But if one side achieves a sweeping victory, won't our arrangements be wasted?"

Chen Feng walked to the window, watching the night view of Dubai Harbor. The harbor lights reflected on the sea like a shattered star field.

"Minister Wang," he said without turning, "what do you think is most important in chess?"

Wang Wenwu thought for a moment, "Calculation? Strategy? Patience?"

"All of them," Chen Feng turned, "but the most important thing is to always have a contingency plan. When you make a move, you must anticipate the opponent's possible three‑step responses, and be ready for each."

He walked to the map, his finger sweeping across the North Sea, "The Yingguo‑Deguo naval battle has three possible outcomes. We have a corresponding strategy for each. This is not gambling; it is calculation."

He paused, "But to be honest, what I most hope to see is indeed a mutual ruin. Only then can we truly rise and stand on equal footing with those old great powers."

Wang Wenwu fell silent. He understood Chen Feng's thinking, yet was sometimes struck by such boldness and composure.

A rising nation, calculating the two most powerful empires in the world, hoping they wear each other down.

It requires great daring and cold rationality.

"By the way," Chen Feng suddenly recalled, "has the secret telegram to Xi Yuan Si Gongwang been sent?"

"Sent. The third batch of expeditionary mobilization orders has been officially issued. The first batch of thirty thousand will gather in Nagasaki, expected to depart in two weeks."

"Tell them, this time we are providing more new equipment. In addition to automatic carbines, there are new mortars, new steel helmets, improved gas masks… of course, at a higher price."

Wang Wenwu gave a wry smile, "Will the people of the Sakura Nation accept it?"