Chapter 655: Lanfang Joins the Battle

At 09:15 a. m., the Bismarck and the Tirpitz opened fire.

Eight 380‑mm Shells flew toward the Yingguo fleet. Forty seconds later, the observer reported: "Hit! The Revenge's stern took a Shell! Speed reduced!"

She Er stood on the bridge, watching those British warships that were fleeing.

"Keep firing," he said, "let them remember this day."

The Bismarck's Main Gun fired again.

At the same time, on the Huaihe bridge, Fang Jizhe was frantically pressing the shutter.

He captured the moment the Bismarck fired, the moment a British warship was hit and burst into flame, and the moment the German flag fluttered in the sea wind.

He also photographed Zhang Zhen.

The general, leaning against the window frame, drenched in blood, yet with a relieved smile on his face.

It was the best photo he had ever taken in his life.

"General," he walked over and crouched beside Zhang Zhen, "you need to go to the infirmary. Your injuries—"

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"In a moment," he said, his voice soft, "let me watch a little longer."

He looked out the window at those two German warships.

They were pursuing the fleeing British warships. The muzzle flashes flickered on the sea like countless falling stars.

In the distance, one British warship was sinking, another was ablaze, and several were desperately racing east, abandoning formation.

It was the Royal Navy of the British Empire.

The strongest navy in the world.

Now in retreat.

Zhang Zhen smiled.

That smile, Fang Jizhe later recalled, was the kind only a person who had fulfilled his mission could have.

"Fang Jizhe," Zhang Zhen suddenly said, "do you think today's events will be written into history books?"

Fang Jizhe was stunned for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

"They will, General. Certainly."

Zhang Zhen nodded and closed his eyes.

"That's good."

Outside the window, the cannon fire continued.

【8】 At 09:20 a. m., the Bismarck delivered the final blow to the Conqueror.

At 9:20 a. m., the Bismarck completed the final strike against the Conqueror.

The battleship‑cruiser, after being struck consecutively by six 380‑mm Shells, finally could not hold. Its hull fractured and it slowly sank to the seabed. The sea surface was left with only oil slicks and debris, and dozens of lifeboats crowded with British sailors.

She Er did not glance at those lifeboats.

"Next," he said. "Ramillis."

The Bismarck's Main Gun swung again.

But at that moment, the communications officer's voice came: "General, Tirpitz reporting, new ship silhouettes detected to the southeast! Possibly a British reinforcement fleet!"

She Er was startled for a moment.

Reinforcements?

He raised his binoculars toward the southeast. On the horizon, several columns of smoke indeed appeared—not one or two, but at least five.

"Radar report!"

The radar officer's voice came: "General, to the southeast, five large warships detected, Distance about forty nautical miles, speed twenty‑one knots, approaching this side. Identified as… three Revenge‑class, two Elizabeth Queen Class!"

She Er's heart tightened sharply.

Three Revenge‑class and two Elizabeth Queen Class—five battleships in total. Adding the eight still fleeing on the battlefield, the British still had thirteen ships.

But the Bismarck and Tirpitz were only two.

"General," the gun captain's voice came, "what shall we do?"

She Er was silent for three seconds.

He looked at the two Lanfang warships in the center of the battlefield. The Huaihe was still smoking, the Zhujiang was slowly sinking. They could no longer fight.

He looked at those fleeing British warships. Though they were in disarray, there were still eight. If they merged with the five fresh reinforcements…

"Retreat," She Er said.

The bridge fell silent for a second.

"General?" the gun captain asked, disbelief in his voice.

"Retreat." She Er repeated. "Cancel the attack on Ramillis, the entire fleet turn, heading 280, speed twenty‑eight knots. Take the Huaihe and Zhujiang—drag them back even if we have to tow."

The order was issued.

The Bismarck and Tirpitz turned simultaneously, steering toward the two Lanfang warships at the battlefield's center.

At 09:30 a. m., the Bismarck arrived beside the Huaihe.

She Er stood at the starboard window, watching the wrecked warship. The Huaihe's bridge was almost cut flat, the deck littered with shell craters and debris, a breach on the port side still spewing water. Yet it stayed afloat; its crew ran on deck, fought fires, and tried to keep the ship alive.

"Deploy the launch boats," She Er ordered. "Take our damage control team and go assist them."

Two launch boats were lowered from the Bismarck, carrying twenty German damage‑control crew members, rowing toward the Huaihe.

At the same time, the Tirpitz was also closing in on the Zhujiang.

Zhang Zhen stood on the ruined bridge of the Huaihe, watching the German warship that was approaching.

Bismarck. She Er's ship.

It's coming. It really is coming.

"General," the adjutant's voice trembled with crying, "the Germans are coming to rescue us!"

Zhang Zhen nodded.

Zhang Zhen had no strength to speak. Too much blood loss made his vision blacken in waves. Yet Zhang Zhen still stood, leaning on the window frame.

Reporter Fang walked over, supporting him: "General, please sit down. The Deguo have arrived; we are safe."

Zhang Zhen shook his head.

"Let me watch," Zhang Zhen said, his voice very soft, "let me watch them come."

Zhang Zhen watched the two small boats pull up to the ladder of the Huaihe, watched Deguo damage‑control crew climb onto the deck, watched them and Lanfang sailors rush toward the fire, together sealing the breach.

Zhang Zhen watched the massive hull of the Bismarck stop beside him, watched the red‑white‑black German Navy flag flutter in the sea breeze.

Then Zhang Zhen smiled.

That smile, Reporter Fang later recalled, was the kind only a person who had fulfilled their mission could have.

"Reporter Fang," Zhang Zhen said, "did you capture it?"

Reporter Fang nodded, eyes reddened: "Captured it, General. Captured it all."

Zhang Zhen nodded.

Then his body swayed, and he slowly slid down to sit.

Reporter Fang was startled, quickly crouched to support him: "General! General!"

Zhang Zhen closed his eyes, but a smile still lingered at the corner of his mouth.

"It's fine," Zhang Zhen said, his voice growing softer, "just... a little tired..."

Reporter Fang looked at the face stained with blood, at the blood streak flowing down from the forehead, at the uniform soaked through with blood.

His hand trembled.

Yet he still raised the camera and pressed the shutter.

Click.

That was the image of Zhang Zhen leaning on the window frame, eyes closed, a smile at the corner of his mouth.

That was the final scene on the bridge of the Huaihe.

On the bridge of the King George V, Jieli Ke stood by the window, watching the two Deguo warships in the distance.

They were rescuing the two Lanfang warships. Damage‑control crews were climbing up and down, the small boats shuttling back and forth. Deguo and Lanfang fought side by side, sealing leaks, fighting fires, keeping the two dying warships alive.

And what of his fleet?