Chapter 648: Jeliko

5:40 a. m., bridge of the King George V.

Jeliko, holding the telegram returned by the Prestige, had already read it three times.

"Two Bismarck Class ships, no national flag hoisted."

He looked up, watching the markings of the twelve capital ships on the chart table.

Chief of Staff Kroli stood beside him, his brow knit: "General, no flag hoisted. This… is too strange. If they are Deguo, why wouldn't they hoist a flag? Without a flag, they are vessels of unknown identity, we…"

"We have even more reason to intercept," Jeliko interrupted, "A warship without a flag on the high seas can be regarded as a pirate ship."

Kroli paused, then said, "But General, what if they are Lanfang…?"

"Why would Lanfang go to sea without a flag?" Jeliko retorted, "Don't they know the consequences of not hoisting a flag? Or are they deliberately not hoisting it to hide their identity?"

Kroli gave no answer.

Jeliko walked to the window, raised his telescope. In the distance, the outlines of the two ships were already faintly visible—matching the Prestige's description: Bismarck Class, no flag.

He quickly ran scenarios in his mind.

Scenario one: they are Deguo. They don't hoist a flag, hoping to slip through, sneaking out of the Arabian Sea. If intercepted, they would immediately hoist a flag, claiming belligerent status to escape or fight.

Scenario two: they are Lanfang. They don't hoist a flag, which is… what? Training oversight? Impossible. It must be intentional. Deliberately not hoisting, what do they want?

He suddenly recalled a detail—many days earlier, Lanfang had dispatched two Bismarck Class ships to the Atlantic for "training," appearing precisely when the Bismarck and Tirpitz most needed resupply.

That incident has no evidence to date, yet everyone knows what transpired.

Now the Deguo have repaired theirs and are about to leave. Lanfang has again dispatched two Bismarck Class ships, still without flags.

Coincidence?

Jeliko doesn't believe coincidence.

"Kroli," he said suddenly, "what do you think Lanfang wants to do?"

Kroli thought, "General, I think… they are testing us."

"Testing what?"

"Testing whether we dare to act," Kroli said. "If those two ships truly belong to Lanfang, their not hoisting a flag is to see if we will open fire. If we fire, they will…"

"Then they have a pretext for war," Jeliko continued.

Kroli nodded.

Jeliko fell silent.

If that's the case, he must not be led by the nose. He cannot fire first.

But if they are Deguo? If those two are truly the Bismarck and Tirpitz, and we release them for fear of mistakenly striking Lanfang…

Then he would be a criminal of the Royal Navy. Twelve capital ships waiting seven days, only to watch helplessly as the Deguo slip away?

"General," the sonar officer's voice came, "Target continues moving southeast. Distance is shortening, now about thirty nautical miles."

Thirty nautical miles.

At eighteen knots, in another two hours they can run out of the Arabian Sea into the deep Indian Ocean. By then, the twelve capital ships would be unable to catch them.

Jeliko's fingers tapped lightly on the chart table.

One tap, two taps, three taps.

Then he looked up.

"Order the entire fleet," he said, "battle stations. Main Gun aim at the target. After entering twenty-two thousand meters, await my command—open fire."

Kroli snapped his head up: "General!"

"I know what you want to say," Jeliko interrupted, "but this is the only choice. If they are Deguo, we must not let them go. If they are Lanfang—"

He paused: "Then treat them as Deguo."

Kroli was stunned.

"General, if we fire incorrectly…"

"If we fire incorrectly, claim the Deguo deceived us, not hoisting a flag while posing as a neutral nation," Jeliko said. "Diplomatic matters, let the diplomats argue. Our navy only fights."

He walked to the window, watching the two ship silhouettes drawing nearer.

"Order."

6:00 a. m., bridge of the Huai River.

Zhang Zhen raised his telescope, watching the dense silhouettes of ships on the distant sea horizon.

The Yingguo fleet is deploying.

The twelve capital ships split into three columns, forming a massive semi‑encirclement. Battleships in the center, battlecruisers on the flanks, destroyers circling the outer edge like hounds.

That is the Royal Navy's standard line‑of‑battle formation—once completed, all Main Guns can simultaneously aim at the target, creating crossfire.

"General," the adjutant's voice trembled a bit, "they are forming the line of battle. Main Guns are raising."

Zhang Zhen nodded.

He had already seen it. Those turrets were slowly turning, the barrels lifting, pointing this direction.

"Order each gun position," he said, "without my command, do not fire. Fire‑control radar continues to lock the target, but Main Guns must maintain zero elevation."

He turned, looking at the few reporters.

Reporter Fang was already perched at the porthole, his camera set on a temporary table, lens aimed at the Yingguo fleet. His three companions each guarded other windows, same posture, same concentration.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen walked over, "afraid?"

Fang didn't look back: "Afraid. But more afraid of not getting the shot."

Zhang Zhen nodded, walked back to the porthole.

He raised the telescope again.

The Yingguo fleet's line of battle was now essentially formed. At the very center, the largest battleship—King George V—had its gun barrels aimed this way. On its sides, the Centurion and Aias were also adjusting their barrels.

Distance, twenty‑three thousand meters.

Still beyond the Effective Range, but fast.

Zhang Zhen's hand clenched on the railing.

He suddenly recalled Chen Feng's words: "As long as the Yingguo fire, Lanfang will have the most perfect pretext for war."

President, he wondered, would they fire?

Then he smiled.

They certainly will.

Because someone like Jieli Ke cannot afford the cost of letting the Bismarck go.

At 06:02 in the early morning, on the bridge of the King George V.

Jieli Ke stood by the window, holding a telescope, staring intently at the two ship silhouettes drawing nearer.

Distance: 22,000 meters.

Entered the Effective Range.

But the two ships still gave no response. No turn to flee, no Main Gun raised, no acceleration. They simply continued at eighteen knots, leisurely steaming toward us, like two unguarded cargo vessels.

"General," Ke Luo Li's voice trembled slightly, "they still show no combat posture. All gun barrels are zeroed, and there are no signs of battle readiness on the deck."

Jieli Ke gave no answer.

He saw.

On those two ships, the sailors were still walking on the deck—not at combat stations, but idling. Some leaned against the railings, some were scrubbing the deck, some were smoking.

If they were Deguo, they couldn't act like this. They should have entered combat mode long ago.

But if they were Lanfang…