Chapter 654: That Was—The Sound of Victory's Cannons

In the view, two plumes of smoke are rushing toward this side. Beneath the smoke, the outlines of two warships become clearer—slender hulls, towering bridges, those iconic twin‑turret gun mounts—

Bismarck Class.

Another two Bismarck Class.

Jie Li Ke's mind went blank in that instant.

How could that be?

How could the Germans have four Bismarck Class? Intelligence clearly said there were only two—Bismarck and Tirpitz!

He increased the telescope's magnification, staring fixedly at the masts of those two ships.

On the masts, two flags fluttered.

Red, white and black.

German Navy flag.

Jie Li Ke's hand began to tremble.

He slowly lowered the telescope, looking toward the two already teetering "German warships" at the center of the battlefield.

They were not flying any national flag.

They had never flown a flag.

A terrifying thought struck his mind like lightning—if those two were German, then those two were also German? Then whose were the two in the center of the battlefield?

If they were German, why weren't they hoisting a flag?

If they were Lanfang…

Cold sweat instantly soaked Jie Li Ke's back.

"Chief of Staff…" his voice was hoarse, unrecognizable as his own, "If those two… are Bismarck and Tirpitz… who are we fighting…?"

Ke Luo Li's face turned ashen, unable to utter a single word.

The entire bridge fell into dead silence.

Only the two distant plumes of smoke advanced silently.

At 09:05 a. m., Bismarck entered the battlefield.

She Er stood on the bridge, holding a telescope, watching this scene before him.

Eight Yingguo warships were swarming the two already teetering giants. The hulls of those two ships were severely tilted, the decks awash with flames and thick smoke, yet they kept firing, retaliating with their remaining Main Gun.

Huaihe. Zhujiang.

They held on.

For a full three hours.

"General," the communications officer's voice came, "Huaihe sent a signal—'Welcome to the battlefield'."

She Er froze for a moment.

Then She Er smiled.

That smile was respect, gratitude, the highest honor a soldier can give another soldier.

"Reply," he said, "'Leave the rest to us'."

He set down the telescope and walked to the speaking tube.

"All ships, prepare for combat. Load armor‑piercing shells into the Main Gun, target—Yingguo fleet."

He paused, then said, "Open the public channel, broadcast in English and German simultaneously."

The communications officer froze, "General, what should we broadcast?"

She Er thought for a moment, then spoke slowly, word by word:

"This is the German Imperial Navy Bismarck. English fleet, cease fire immediately. Repeat, cease fire immediately. You are attacking the Lanfang Republic Navy warship. You have declared war on a neutral nation without proclamation. Cease fire immediately. Otherwise—open fire."

The communications officer's hand trembled on the telegraph key.

Thirty seconds later, the broadcast rippled across the battlefield via the public channel.

Once in English, once in German.

Again, and again.

On the bridge of the King George V, Jie Li Ke heard the broadcast.

"This is the German Imperial Navy Bismarck. English fleet, cease fire immediately. Repeat, cease fire immediately. You are attacking the Lanfang Republic Navy warship. You have declared war on a neutral nation without proclamation..."

Jie Li Ke's face went completely pallid in an instant.

Lanfang Republic Navy warship.

Not German.

It is Lanfang.

He was fighting Lanfang.

He slowly turned, looking at the two warships in the center of the battlefield that were nearly sinking. They still fired, still retaliated, yet they had never hoisted any flag.

It wasn't that they didn't hoist a flag.

It was that they never considered concealing their identity.

They were Lanfang warships.

They simply hadn't raised a flag.

And he ordered the fire.

"General..." Ke Luo Li's voice sounded as if from far away, "What... what do we do?"

Jie Li Ke opened his mouth, but no word came out.

He recalled the line from pre‑war intelligence: "Lanfang has four Bismarck Class docked at Dubai—Huaihe, Zhujiang, Dingyuan, Zhiyuan."

Four ships.

The intelligence was written crystal clear.

But he didn't believe it.

He thought that was a ship the Lanfang wouldn't move. He thought the Deguo would come out once they repaired it. He thought those two unflagged vessels were the Deguo.

He thought…

"General!" the lookout's voice rang again, "The Deguo fleet is accelerating! Distance: twenty‑two thousand meters! The Main Gun is being raised!"

Jielike lifted his head.

In the distance, those two Bismarck Class ships bearing the Deguo flag were sprinting toward here at thirty knots. Their gun barrels were already raised, aimed this way.

Twenty‑two thousand meters.

They had entered Effective Range.

Jielike's hand braced the window frame, preventing him from falling.

He slowly looked toward the two Lanfang warships at the center of the battlefield. They were still firing, still returning fire, but their gunfire grew sparser and their hulls tilted more and more.

He had been fighting them for three hours.

Twelve against two, they couldn't win.

Now, two fully restored Bismarck Class ships arrived.

And in his hands, there were only eight wounded Yingguo warships.

"General," Keluoli asked softly, "Should we… retreat?"

Jielike was silent for three seconds.

Then he shook his head.

"It's too late," he said, his voice hoarse like sandpaper on steel, "It's already too late."

On the bridge of Huaihe, Zhang Zhen leaned against the window frame, watching the two Deguo warships draw ever closer.

Bismarck. Tirpitz.

They have arrived.

They finally arrived.

"General," the adjutant's voice trembled with tears, "The Deguo have arrived! We're saved!"

Zhang Zhen nodded.

He neither cheered nor stirred, but calmly watched those two giants rise from the sea surface, watched their gun barrels aim at the Yingguo fleet, watched the red‑white‑black German Navy flag flutter in the sea breeze.

Three hours.

One thousand eight hundred minutes.

From the first Shell that fell until now, a full three hours.

Huaihe took eleven hits. Zhujiang took eight hits. Together the two ships had sixteen hundred sailors, with one hundred twenty‑seven killed and three hundred four seriously wounded.

But they held on.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen turned, looking at the trembling reporters, "Did you get it on film?"

Fang lifted his head, his face wet with tears, but his hand still pressed the shutter.

"Got it, General. Got the whole thing. The instant the Deguo appeared—got it."

Zhang Zhen nodded.

He walked to the porthole, taking one last look at the Yingguo warships that were turning.

They began to flee.

Under the gun barrels of Bismarck and Tirpitz, they began to flee.

"Relay to all stations," Zhang Zhen said, "Cease fire. Let the Deguo take over."

From the megaphone came the voice of A Turret: "A Turret received… cease fire."

That was Huaihe's final firing order.

Then, it could finally rest.

Zhang Zhen leaned against the window frame, slowly sliding down to sit.

His vision flickered black in patches, yet he did not close his eyes. He watched the two Deguo warships outside, watched them charge at full speed toward the Yingguo fleet, watched their gun barrels spew fire.

Then, he heard the gunfire.

It was the Bismarck Class gunfire.

It was the gunfire of vengeance.

It was—

The gunfire of victory.