Chapter 364: Ghost of Haeun Reef

"Which ship are you from?" A Chuo asked.

"Black Prince," the sailor replied, hoarse, "Sir. We... we were surrounded by Deguo vessels—Deguo battleships, Deguo cruisers... they shone searchlights on us and then opened fire. Captain Beiket ordered us to abandon ship..."

He choked up and could not continue.

A Chuo's heart sank. The Black Prince, an armored cruiser, had been surrounded and sunk by the Deguo main fleet. What did that mean? It meant the Deguo main fleet was nearby and moving in a certain direction.

"Did you see which direction the Deguo fleet went?" he asked urgently.

The young sailor thought, then pointed southeast: "That way. After they sank us, they headed that way without stopping."

Southeast. That was exactly the direction of the Haeun Reef waterway.

A Chuo sprinted back to the bridge and shouted into the speaking tube, "Send a light signal to the Dublin! Deguo main fleet sighted, bearing southeast, Distance unknown! Request orders!"

The signalman began flashing Morse code with lights. Minutes later, a faint light responded from afar—it was the Dublin, which had received the signal and was hurrying to rendezvous.

But at that moment, the Signal Room reported urgently: "Subsurface contact! Bearing 150, Distance about three thousand meters, speed... very slow, possibly a Deguo submarine!"

A Chuo's heart hammered. A Deguo submarine was nearby, possibly targeting them.

"Emergency turn! Deploy deep water bombs! Standard interval release!" he ordered.

The Shark turned sharply, and the stern's deep water bomb launchers began operating. One by one, cylindrical deep water bombs were dropped into the sea, detonating at the preset depth.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A muffled thunderous explosion rose from the seabed, sending concentric ripples across the surface. Yet there was no clear sign of a hit—the submarine may have dived deeper or evaded.

"Continue dropping! Keep maneuvering!" A Chuo roared. He knew that a destroyer versus a submarine was like a hound against a venomous snake; it had to stay moving and not give the sub a steady firing window.

More deep water bombs were released, spouting columns of water on the surface. Suddenly, after the third simultaneous blast, the Signal Room operator shouted, "Hit! I hear metal twisting! The submarine is surfacing!"

A Chuo rushed to the rail. Amid the spray, a dark, streamlined object slowly rose to the surface—it was a submarine, a German U-boat, its hull number unreadable. Its hull was visibly damaged and it was listing.

"All guns, aim at the enemy submarine! Fire!" The Shark's 4‑inch guns and machine guns opened fire. Shells and bullets struck the sub's hull, punching holes. The submarine began to accelerate its descent—this time it was truly sinking, not just diving.

Minutes later, the submarine vanished completely beneath the surface, leaving only a slick of oil and floating wreckage.

"Sinking confirmed," the Signal Room reported, "Propeller noise ceased, hull rupture sounds continue."

A Chuo exhaled in relief, but immediately grew tense—sinking a submarine was good, yet the sub might have launched torpedoes before it went down.

"Watch for torpedo tracks! All ships, on alert!"

The lookouts frantically scanned the sea with binoculars. Sure enough, under the moonlight, several white tracks stretched from the direction of the sunken submarine—it was torpedoes, at least three.

"Hard left! Full speed!" A Chuo shouted.

The Shark made an emergency turn, its hull tilting to a near capsizing angle. The first torpedo skimmed past the bow less than twenty meters away, the second swept past the stern, and the third...

The third hit.

But it didn't strike the hull; it hit a motor launch that had just been lowered—a launch carrying two sailors rescuing survivors. The torpedo's blast shattered the launch, killing the two sailors on the spot, and capsized several nearby liferafts.

A Chuo closed his eyes. Two more lives lost because of his decision—because he halted to rescue survivors, giving the submarine a chance to strike.

War is like that; every choice can exact a price. Saving lives may doom more; pursuing the enemy may lead into a trap; cautious evasion may miss a battle opportunity.

"Continue the rescue," he finally said, his voice weary, "but speed it up. We can't linger here."

He walked to the chart, marking the survivors' location, the submarine's sinking point, and the approximate bearing of the Black Prince's loss. Then, with a red pen, he drew an arrow pointing southeast.

The Deguo main fleet was moving toward Haeun Reef. His mission was to deliver this intelligence to Jieliko.

No matter the cost.

2:30 a. m., western edge of the Haeun Reef minefield.

On the bridge of the Deguo battleship Grand Elector, navigation officer Captain Hans Ke Lu Bo was gripping the sextant with trembling hands, trying to fix position using the occasional stars peeking through the clouds.

In the thick fog and night, traditional navigation was nearly useless. The gyro compass erred, the log read inaccurately, even the current's direction was hard to gauge. Their only reliance was familiarity with these waters—and prayer.

"Position?" the captain asked, his voice equally tense as he approached.

Ke Lu Bo glanced at the calculated coordinates, then at the chart, cold sweat beading on his forehead: "Sir, based on celestial navigation, we should be here."

He pointed to a spot on the chart, right on the edge line of the Haeun Reef minefield—no, not on the line, but just inside it.

"Are you sure?" the captain's expression changed.

"Uncertain," Ke Lu Bo admitted, "The error could be two nautical miles. We might be inside the minefield, or outside it."

Two nautical miles. On land that's a safe distance, but at the edge of a minefield it's a line between life and death.

The captain walked to the speaking tube and contacted the engine room: "Reduce speed to 12 knots. Repeat, 12 knots. Maintain absolute silence."

The engine's roar dimmed. The Grand Elector moved like a cat prowling in darkness, slow and cautious. Around her, other Deguo warships also slowed, the fleet's speed dropping from 18 knots to 12, then to 10 knots.

This was the most perilous part of the Sheol plan—skirting the minefield edge, like walking on a blade; one misstep, endless ruin.

Ke Lu Bo kept using the sextant to watch the stars. Whenever a cloud cleared enough to reveal even a single star, he instantly measured, calculated, and corrected the course. His hands trembled from tension and cold, but he forced himself to stay steady. The lives of the ship's twelve hundred crew might all hinge on this instrument in his hands.

Suddenly, a muffled thud came from the starboard side.

It wasn't an explosion, more like an impact—the sound of wood striking steel.