Chapter 670: Shelling Singapore

Zhou Zhen guo listened to those sounds, his gaze fixed on the nautical clock. The second hand ticked tick by tick, emitting a faint clack clack.

Six fifteen.

"Distance?"

The navigation officer looked up: "Twenty-three thousand meters, still within Effective Range."

Zhou Zhen guo nodded.

"Send signal: Sakura Nation landing ship, begin moving to the designated position. In thirty minutes, we will open fire."

The communications officer pressed the key. The signal light flashed, transmitting the order toward the landing ship beyond the five seas.

Thirty seconds later, a reply came: "Sakura Nation received. Moving now."

Zhou Zhen guo stepped out of the bridge onto the open-air observation platform on the starboard side. The sea wind brushed his face, carrying a salty, fishy smell. He raised his telescope and saw the landing ship slowly turning, sailing toward Singapore. The spray lifted by the bow stood out sharply in the morning light.

Lin Huaiyuan followed out, standing beside him.

"Commander, you said, will the Yingguo people discover us ahead of time?"

"Yes," Zhou Zhen guo said, "their reconnaissance aircraft came yesterday, and they will certainly come today. But what does it matter if they discover us? They can't escape, can't win, they can only wait to be beaten."

Lin Huaiyuan was silent for a few seconds.

"Then will they... fire on the Sakura Nation landing ship? Those ships have no armor; one cannonball would sink them."

Zhou Zhen guo set down the telescope and looked at him.

"Do you know why I let the Sakura Nation move first?"

Lin Huaiyuan shook his head.

"Because I want the Yingguo people to see clearly— the landing ship has arrived, the soldiers have arrived. They have two choices: either fire at the landing ship, or wait for us to fire at them," Zhou Zhen guo's voice was calm, "If they fire at the landing ship, our ship cannons can aim more leisurely. If they don't fire, after we finish firing our cannons, the Sakura Nation will have landed." (In fact, the editor is itching to fire at the Sakura Nation landing ship.)

He paused: "Either way it's a loss. The difference is only whether we lose a bit faster or slower."

Lin Huaiyuan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Understood."

Six twenty.

Inside Singapore Port, chaos.

It wasn't the frantic kind of chaos, but the kind of "we know disaster is coming but don't know what to do" chaos. On the docks, laborers dropped cargo and ran toward the city. In shops, owners hurriedly shut windows and boarded up. On the streets, women in nightgowns cradling children ran toward the church, glancing back as they went.

In the Governor's Office, Sir Shenton Thomas stood by the window, watching the fleeing crowd outside.

The deputy officer rushed in: "Sir! The Port Authority reports, reconnaissance aircraft have spotted two large vessels approaching, Distance twenty thousand meters! There's also a landing ship moving toward the port!"

Sir Thomas did not turn around.

"Lanfang people?"

"Probably. The dimensions of those two ships match exactly the Bismarck Class in the intelligence."

Sir Thomas was silent for three seconds.

"What about the Sakura Nation? Are the people on the landing ship from Sakura Nation?"

"Yes. Intelligence shows Sakura Nation has gathered one hundred thousand people in Borneo. This should be the first batch."

Sir Thomas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Three years ago, when he first took office in Singapore, officials in London patted his shoulder and said, "Shenton, Singapore is the Eastern Gibraltar, solid as a golden soup. Going there is a life of ease."

"Solid as a golden soup."

He opened his eyes and looked at the fleeing people outside.

"Send a dispatch to London," he said, his voice hoarse, "state... Singapore has been attacked by a joint fleet of Lanfang and Sakura Nation. Request urgent reinforcements."

The deputy officer was startled: "Sir, this... this amounts to a declaration of war."

Sir Thomas turned to look at him, his gaze carrying an indescribable fatigue.

"Child, the warships have already arrived at the doorstep; what's the point of debating declaration or not?"

Six twenty‑five.

On Zhenyuan's bridge, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense.

Zhou Zhen guo had returned to the bridge, standing by the window, staring at the nautical clock. The second hand ticked tick by tick— thirty‑five seconds, thirty‑six seconds, thirty‑seven seconds…

The gun captain's voice came: "All turrets have completed final checks. Ready to fire at any moment."

Zhou Zhen guo nodded.

Lin Huaiyuan walked over, handing a freshly received telegram: "Sakura Nation landing ship signal: Arrived at designated position, requesting fire."

Zhou Zhen guo glanced at it and set the telegram aside.

"Reply: Waiting."

He paused, then said: "Send in clear code."

Lin Huaiyuan was startled: "Clear code? Can everyone receive it?"

"Yes. So the Yingguo people can also receive it."

Lin Huaiyuan asked no further, turned and went to issue the order.

Three seconds later, a radio wave emanated from Zhenyuan's wireless room, using clear code—the public channel that anyone can receive—broadcasting in all directions:

"Sakura Nation landing ship: Request received. Executing as planned. Awaiting fire order."

This telegram was received not only by the Sakura Nation but also by the British Army in Singapore Port.

Not only the British Army, but also merchant ships of various nations lurking in the Strait of Malacca received it.

Not only the merchant ships, but also the Presidential Palace in Dubai, Downing Street in London, and the White House in Washington all received it at the same moment.

Six twenty‑eight.

Sir Thomas stood in the port's artillery command center, holding the freshly intercepted telegram.

"Awaiting fire order..." he murmured, "They haven't fired yet? Then what are they saying?"

The deputy officer pointed out the window: "They're waiting for those two battleships to enter optimal range. The Distance is now 22,000 meters; in a few minutes they'll be at their most comfortable firing position."

Sir Thomas watched the two massive moving objects in the distance, then glanced at the three cruisers moored inside the harbor through the window.

On the cruiser's deck, sailors were scrambling. Some tried to weigh anchor, some were hauling Shells into the turrets, and some stood on the deck staring blankly at the Distance—they knew enemy ships were coming, but didn't know what to do.

"Signal the cruisers," Sir Thomas said, "weigh anchor immediately and maneuver out of the harbor. If you can run, run; if you can't, fight."

The deputy officer went to deliver the order.

But it was already too late.

Six thirty sharp.

On the bridge of Zhenyuan, Zhou Zhen guo watched the second hand of the chronometer sweep past "12" and lightly nodded.

"Fire."

The gun captain pressed the firing button.

In that instant, Zhenyuan's eight 380‑mm Main Guns erupted in flames—not a single roar, but eight successive blasts that jolted the whole ship backward slightly. The muzzle flame stretched dozens of meters, blinding in the morning light. Shells shot out of the barrels, cutting the sky with a sharp, whistling scream.

Immediately afterward, Jiyuan's eight Main Guns also fired.

Sixteen Shells, each leaving a faint visible trail, flew toward Singapore Harbor.

The bridge fell silent for three seconds—a suffocating quiet.

Then the observer's voice came: "Hit! Cruiser No. 1 has been struck by two shells!"

Zhou Zhen guo raised his telescope.

In the distance, the old‑style cruiser pressed against the pier was being engulfed by two massive fireballs. The first Shell hit the hull amidships, tearing a huge gash; the second struck the stern, detonating the magazine outright. The entire ship shuddered violently in the explosion, then slowly tilted to one side.