Chapter 535: You May Dislike It, But You Must Accept

"This… would be interpreted as a threat," a diplomatic adviser said cautiously.

"No, this is a notification," Chen Feng corrected, "inform the Meilika people that the world has changed. It is no longer an era where a few European great powers can decide everything. New forces are rising, a new order is forming. They can choose to accept us and cooperate; they can also choose to oppose and pay the price."

He paused, letting each word sink into people's hearts.

"This time going to Hawaii, I'm not going to seek peace, nor to take sides. I'm going to tell them: Yazhou people have arrived, bringing our own will and strength. You may not like it, but you must accept it."

A knock sounded outside the war room. A communications officer walked in, holding a telegram.

"President, we just received an encrypted message. It comes from… the Meilika Pacific Fleet Headquarters."

Chen Feng took the telegram and read quickly. The content was brief:

"To the President of the Lanfang Republic, Chen Feng: Pearl Harbor is ready and welcomes your visit. Additionally, our reconnaissance aircraft will conduct routine identification flights when your formation enters within five hundred nautical miles of Hawaii; please do not misunderstand. Meilika Pacific Fleet Commander, Lieutenant General Hugh Rodman."

"Recon aircraft identification," Wang Wenwu frowned, "this is a standard surveillance procedure, but at this point…"

"It is both a display of presence and a test of our response," Chen Feng placed the telegram on the table, "Reply: Thank you for the arrangement. The Lanfang fleet will abide by international navigation rules and looks forward to meeting Lieutenant General Rodman. Also, add: our pilots are eager to conduct friendly exchanges with the US forces."

"Friendly exchange?" Captain Zhang Haitao was puzzled.

"Our carrier‑based pilots need live combat training targets," Chen Feng smiled, "Since US aircraft are coming, let them see what level Lanfang's pilots are at. Of course, it must stay within the 'friendly exchange' scope—no simulated attacks, no provocative maneuvers, just a display of basic flight skills and formation capability."

Wang Wenwu understood. This is a soft‑power showcase, which will not anger the other side yet conveys a clear signal: we are not the weak.

Orders were passed down. On the flight deck, ground crew began inspecting the two carrier‑based fighters—these are naval variants specially modified for the 'Huaihe' ship, with foldable wings. (During World War II, many battleships and cruisers could launch seaplanes.)

Chen Feng left the war room and went to the open platform on the starboard side. The sea wind was strong, rattling his coat lapels. In the distance, an escort destroyer was performing a Z‑shaped maneuver, a standard anti‑submarine action. Farther on the horizon, a cumulonimbus cloud was forming, indicating a possible storm along the route.

"President," Wang Wenwu followed out, "there is another matter. Berlin and London have both sent 'informal inquiries' wanting to know the 'real purpose' of your Wilson Meeting. How should we reply?"

"Tell them the truth," Chen Feng said, looking at the sea‑sky horizon, "just say that Lanfang, as an emerging nation, hopes to contribute to world peace. As for the details… they will know after I finish talking with Wilson."

"Neither side will be satisfied with that answer."

"I don't need them to be satisfied," Chen Feng turned and walked toward the bridge, "I only need them to know that from now on, on major issues determining the world's fate, Yazhou's voice must be heard."

He entered the bridge. Before the massive glass window, the azure sea stretched in all directions, boundless. On this vast Pacific, a warship bearing the dreams of a new world sailed toward the center of the old world order.

Meanwhile, in the war room behind the bridge, the sand‑table simulation continued. The staff officers whispered about various possibilities, calculating risks and gains. They knew this voyage crossed not only geographic oceans but also the fault lines of history and civilization.

The Huaihe continued eastward. The sun rose to the zenith, the sea surface glittering with fine golden light. Beneath the unseen water, submarines silently followed; higher in the sky, US reconnaissance aircraft may already have taken off; far away in Washington, London, Berlin, countless eyes were watching this fleet's movements.

History is holding its breath, awaiting the handshake at the Pacific's center.

At the same time, Pearl Harbor, Pacific Fleet Headquarters.

Lieutenant General Hugh Rodman stood at the war room's observation window, holding a high‑power telescope to watch the fleet deployment inside the harbor. The fifty‑eight‑year‑old naval officer had thirty years of service, rising from second lieutenant in the Spanish‑American War to Major General, known for his rigor and conservatism.

Pearl Harbor's weather was fine today. Under a deep blue sky, emerald hills embraced the calm bay. Inside the harbor, the Meilika Pacific Fleet's main force was neatly moored: battleships 'Pennsylvania', 'Arizona', 'Oklahoma' arranged in a V formation; cruisers and destroyers on the outer ring; farther away, on the naval air station runway, PBY seaplanes were preparing for takeoff.

"Major General, the reconnaissance aircraft will take off in ten minutes," the Chief of Staff came over to report, "According to the plan, the first contact will occur when the Lanfang fleet enters the five‑hundred‑nautical‑mile range. Identification, photography, escort flight, but no provocative actions."

"Are the pilots clear on the orders?"

"Very clear. However…" the Chief of Staff hesitated, "the intelligence department suggests we could conduct some 'probing maneuvers' to test Lanfang pilots' reaction ability and psychological quality."

Rodman set down the telescope and turned to stare at the Chief of Staff: "Whose suggestion? The Navy Intelligence Office or the XX Institute?"

"Both. They think this meeting could decide whether Meilika will join the war, so it's necessary to understand Lanfang's military quality and resolve."

"Stupid," Rodman said bluntly, "Chen Feng is aboard a 45,000‑ton battleship with a full escort formation. He is not here to beg, but to negotiate. If we treat him with a provocative attitude, it will cast a shadow over the talks before they even begin."

He walked to the massive Pacific map. On it, a red arrow stretched from the Persian Gulf direction, crossing the Indian Ocean, the Sunda Strait, into the Pacific, pointing straight at Hawaii.

"Do you know the specifications of the 'Huaihe'?" Rodman asked.

"The Bismarck Class even has improvements. Eight 380‑mm main guns, a top speed of 30 knots, armor thickness… surpassing any of our battleships. More importantly, it is equipped with an advanced radar fire‑control system."

"So this is not an ordinary warship, but a moving declaration," Rodman's finger tapped the map, "It says: Look, Yazhou people can also build world‑class battleships, can sail the high seas, and are entitled to partake in great‑power games. If we act too arrogantly, we are denying that fact."

The Chief of Staff fell silent. He understood his superior's meaning, but the pressure from Washington was also very real.

"The reconnaissance mission…"

"Execute according to standard procedure. Identification, photography, escort flight. If Lanfang's carrier aircraft take off, we can conduct some friendly formation displays, but only that." Rodman paused, "Also, inform the harbor area to prepare the highest‑spec reception ceremony. We must showcase the Meilika Navy's professionalism and poise, not the provocation of street thugs."

"Yes, Major General."