Chapter 405: Sneak Attack on Niu Ka Si Er

Yingguo, Niu Ka Si Er, Tai En He bank, July 7, 02:18 a. m.

Sixteen‑year‑old Ai Lin·Dao Sen was woken by a full bladder. Groggy, she climbed down from the cramped attic bed and groped toward the bathroom at the end of the corridor. Outside, Tai En He glimmered in the moonlight like a black ribbon, the shipyard and docks across the river lay asleep in the darkness, and only a few warning lights on anti‑air balloons flickered slowly.

The war had raged for two years, but Niu Ka Si Er remained relatively calm. Far from the Faguo front‑line artillery, the greatest threat here was the occasional German Zeppelins—though they usually bombed London and showed little interest in northern industrial cities. Ai Lin's father worked at Si Wang·Hen Te Shipyard, building new destroyers; her brother Tang Mu served in Deguo, and his last letter three weeks ago said everything was fine in the Somme region.

After using the bathroom, Ai Lin was about to return to bed when she suddenly heard a strange sound.

A low rumble came from the sea. It wasn't thunder— the night sky was clear, cloudless. It wasn't factory machinery— all factories were shut down at this hour.

She pushed open the window and stuck her head out. Toward the Tai En He estuary, something moved on the dark sea surface— huge shadows, one, two, three… more. Then the shadows lit up with flashes.

The first time, Ai Lin thought it was lightning.

The second time, she heard a sharp whoosh.

The third time, the whole world exploded.

The first 380‑mm Shell struck the coal pile in the dock area. Fifty tons of coal were hurled into the air, mingling with burning splinters of wood and twisted metal. The blast's shockwave shattered every glass window in the surrounding warehouses.

Ai Lin screamed, falling backward to the ground. More Shells rained down, turning the port instantly into a sea of fire. An oil tank was hit, and an orange‑red fireball rose hundreds of feet, lighting up the entire estuary.

"Mama! Daddy!" she scrambled up, rushing toward her parents' bedroom.

Father Yue Han·Dao Sen was already awake, frantically pulling pants onto himself. "Germans! It's a German battleship!" he roared, "Ai Lin! Get to the basement!"

Mother Ma Li Ya, wrapped in a nightgown, burst into Ai Lin's room, seized her daughter's hand and hauled her downstairs. The whole house shuddered from the explosion, and photos and ceramic plates on the walls clattered to the floor.

At the stairwell corner, neighbor Lao Qiao Zhi in pajamas rushed out, still holding a kerosene lamp. "How dare they! How dare they shell a civilian port!"

"Qiao Zhi, ignore them, hide quickly!" Yue Han shouted.

The streets were already in chaos. People poured out of houses, some clutching children, others dragging suitcases, all sprinting toward the city centre where public air‑raid shelters stood.

A Shell landed on the spire of a church two blocks away. The Gothic stone tower collapsed like a stack of blocks, and the bronze bell in the belfry fell, emitting a final mournful clang.

As Ma Li Ya dragged Ai Lin into the basement, she kept looking back. Through the narrow ventilation slit she saw the Tai En He direction awash in red, black columns of smoke rising like giant towers. Explosions continued from the shipyard side— the warships under construction had their ammunition detonated.

"Tang Mu…" she murmured, thinking of her brother in Faguo, "Oh God, Tang Mu…"

The bombardment of Niu Ka Si Er Port lasted twenty‑seven minutes.

The German fleet, at Distance of 12,000 yards (about 11 km), poured over three hundred large‑caliber Shells onto the port facilities, shipyard and coastal railway hub. Xi Pe Er's orders were clear: avoid residential areas, strike only military and industrial targets. Yet at night such discrimination was virtually impossible.

When the last Shell fell, the German fleet turned north and, at 22 knots, withdrew at high speed; by then Niu Ka Si Er Port was unrecognizable. Si Wang·Hen Te Shipyard's three dry docks were destroyed, two light cruisers under construction caught fire; the dockside cranes twisted and snapped like matchsticks stepped on by a giant; the rail yard was crippled, the tracks curling like noodles.

Casualty figures will take time, but preliminary estimates put civilian deaths at at least two hundred, the largest‑scale bombardment the German Navy has inflicted on Yingguo's mainland since the war began.

The news reached the London Naval Ministry at three a. m. Admiral Hen Li·Jie Ke Xun, First Sea Minister, was woken in his pajamas; when he saw the telegram, his face turned iron‑blue.

"How dare they…" he repeated the words of Old Qiao Zhi from Niu Ka Si Er, but with a completely different meaning, "Jie Li Ke? Where is the Grand Fleet?"

"Si Ka Pa Wan report, Admiral Jie Li Ke has already led the First Battleship Fleet out of port to intercept, sir," the adjutant said anxiously, "but the Germans moved too fast, and took advantage of the dense fog…"

Jie Ke Xun slammed his fist on the table: "Then give chase! Order every movable vessel to block all exits of Bei Hai! I want Xi Pe Er's head!"

But deep inside him, a cold voice whispered: It's already too late. The German fleet had vanished into Bei Hai's dense fog and night, and the dignity of the Royal Navy had just been slapped hard.

July 7, 09:47 a. m., central Bei Hai, 120 nautical miles from the Norwegian coast.

The fog had lifted, but the sky was overcast. On the lead‑gray sea, three‑meter swells rolled, wind at force six and still rising. The bow of Feng·De·Tan En sliced through the waves, white spray splashing onto the deck and instantly freezing in the cold wind.

Xi Pe Er stood on the bridge, holding a high‑power binocular. Behind him, the lookout's shouts rang out every few minutes.

"Starboard 30 degrees! Smoke column! Distance… approximately twenty‑thousand yards!"

"Port side as well! Multiple smoke columns! A battleship!"

A detachment of the Yingguo Grand Fleet appeared. Jie Li Ke had evidently deduced the German fleet's retreat route and dispatched a fast squadron to intercept. Now six Yingguo battleship‑cruisers formed a battle line ahead, and farther off, smoke columns rose like a forest—the main battleship fleet was flanking.

"All ships, battle stations!" Xi Pe Er's voice rang through the speaking tube across the entire vessel.

The alarm whistle wailed. In Feng·De·Tan En's turret, gunners lifted a 380‑mm armor‑piercing Shell from the hoist and loaded it into the barrel. The turret commander observed the target through the periscope and reported firing parameters.

"General, Sai De Li Ci reports its forward Main Gun turret hydraulic system pressure is dropping!" communications officer Wa Er Te shouted, "The chief engineer says that under high‑intensity firing it may fail completely!"

Xi Pe Er gritted his teeth: "Tell Sai De Li Ci, unless absolutely necessary, do not use the forward Main Gun turret. Use the aft Main Gun for firing."

"That will cut firepower by a third, sir!"

"Better than a jammed turret. Execute the order."

The first salvo began at 10:03 a. m. Yingguo battleship‑cruiser Shi opened fire first, its six 13.5‑inch Main Guns belching orange‑red flame. Shells whistled toward Feng·De·Tan En's port side five hundred meters away, raising a water column four stories high.

"Near miss! No hit!" the damage control officer reported over the phone.

Xi Pe Er ignored the seawater splashing onto the bridge observation window: "Return fire! Target, the lead enemy ship!"