Chapter 739: Spring Festival Special Operation!

"Those ships," Chen Feng said, "a few months ago they were still fighting. Now, they are celebrating the holiday."

He paused.

"The war is almost over. But not everyone will live to see peace. Those who survive should celebrate. Those who have died—"

He didn't finish.

But Ai Ha Mai De understood.

Those who have died should be remembered.

The midnight bell rang.

The whole Dubai city boiled over. Fireworks were set off more densely, the firecracker blasts deafening, cheers came from every corner of the city.

Chen Feng raised his glass.

"Everyone, let us celebrate this great moment together! May the new year bring peace and victory with us!"

Xi Yuan Si Gongwang raised his glass: "To victory!"

Xin Ta raised his glass: "To independence!"

Ai Ha Mai De also raised his glass. He looked at the brilliant night sky and said softly:

"To being alive."

Four glasses clinked together, producing a crisp sound.

At that moment, Distance Dubai two thousand kilometers away, the Yilang-India border.

Wang Guojian stood on a jeep, looking at his watch.

The second hand ticked tick by tick.

23:59:55.

23:59:56.

23:59:57.

23:59:58.

23:59:59.

Midnight sharp.

He waved his hand and ordered, "Depart!"

Forty thousand Lanfang soldiers crossed the Yilang-India border line. (modern‑day Pakistan)

The tank engines roared, tracks rolled over sand, kicking up clouds of dust. The trucks' headlights formed a long chain, standing out in the darkness. Soldiers crowded in the compartments, gripping rifles, staring at the unknown darkness ahead.

Advancing northeastward toward Grad.

Advancing southeastward toward Moklan Port.

Wang Guojian sat in the jeep, watching the two steel long dragons receding, and suddenly thought of a question.

What are the comrades celebrating the Spring Festival doing now?

Eating dumplings? Watching fireworks? Reuniting with family?

He didn't know.

But he knew that once they capture India, they could celebrate together.

Off the coast of Karachi.

Li Te stood on the bridge of the Dingyuan, holding a telescope, watching the faint coastline in the distance.

Behind him, dozens of landing ships were disembarking. Soldiers of the First Marine Division were boarding, moving swiftly and silently. No one spoke, only the sound of waves lapping the hull.

Chief of Staff Lin Huaiyuan walked to his side and whispered, "General, all preparations are complete. Just awaiting your command."

Li Te nodded.

He watched the coastline drawing nearer, watching the lands that would soon become battlefields.

Karachi. Yingguo's most important port on the western Indian Ocean. Capturing it gives Lanfang a foothold bridgehead in India.

"Tell the First Marine Division," he said, "after landing, first seize the port, then take the city district. If the Yingguo resist, annihilate them on the spot."

Lin Huaiyuan nodded, turned to deliver the order.

Li Te continued watching the coastline.

In the distance, the afterglow of fireworks still flickered on the horizon. That is the direction of Dubai, the direction of Chen Feng, the direction of home.

He whispered, "President, wait. Once we capture India, we'll return to spend the New Year with you."

Myanmar border, Dhaka direction.

Shan Ben Yifu stood outside the temporary command post, looking at the dense army before him.

The Sakura Nation's ten divisions, 250,000 troops. Myanmar Independence Army's two divisions, 20,000 troops. Together 270,000, gathering in the night.

Soldiers formed long lines, advancing toward the border line. Their footsteps rustled like countless feet on fallen leaves. No one spoke, only occasional command shouts and the click of rifle bolts.

Chief of Staff Tu Fei Yuan Xian Da walked over, handing over a telegram.

"General, reconnaissance reports. Yingguo has built fortifications around Dhaka for three months, with at least 50,000 guards. The jungle is full of hidden bunkers and minefields."

Shan Ben Yifu took the telegram, read it once, then folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

He stared at the pitch‑black jungle, silent for a long time.

He recalled Bendaer Mountain from the Myanmar campaign, the soldiers who died in the jungle, and the 22,000 lives exchanged for Kuala Lumpur.

That was street fighting, urban combat, at least forces could still be deployed.

This is jungle warfare—no matter how many troops, they cannot be deployed.

"Tu Fei Yuan," he finally said, "where are Xin Ta's people?"

"The Myanmar Independence Army's two divisions have already deployed on the left flank. They are familiar with the jungle and can serve as guides."

Shan Ben Yifu nodded.

"Tell them, in jungle combat, they will be the main assault. Sakura Nation soldiers stay in the rear and only move forward when they encounter hard targets."

Tohihara Ken froze for a moment: "General, this—"

Yamamoto Ichifu looked at him.

"Tohihara, Malaya lost 42,000, Burma lost 53,000. Sakura Nation doesn't have that many lives left to pour into the jungle."

Tohihara Ken lowered his head: "Yes."

From afar came a muffled thump—the sound of a landmine exploding; the vanguard had already engaged the British Army.

Yamamoto Ichifu took a deep breath.

"Order every division to advance. Advance cautiously. If you can flank, flank; if you can hide, hide. Yingguo lives are cheap. Sakura Nation soldiers' lives are valuable."

Kempade Bay.

The Bismarck glided silently through the night, its massive hull shimmering with a cold metallic sheen under the moonlight.

Shel stood on the bridge, holding a telescope, watching the faint, wavering harbor in the distance—Bombay.

There, Jellico's fleet still hid in the harbor, unwilling to come out.

Chief of Staff walked over: "General, recon aircraft report that the Yingguo are still in the harbor. Eight capital ships, five cruisers, all present. Not a single one has moved."

Shel set down the telescope and let out a cold sneer.

"That coward Jellico plans to stay in the harbor until the war ends?"

Chief of Staff laughed: "Perhaps he's scared. The Bismarck and Tirpitz, plus Dingyuan and Jiyuan, four Bismarck Class ships—he can't defeat them."

Shel shook his head.

"No. He's not scared; he just doesn't know what to do. Come out to fight, he can't win. Stay hidden, wait for Lanfang forces to take Karachi, seize all of India, and he'll still have to die."

He turned and looked at Chief of Staff.

"Tell the fleet to hold position. No need to attack proactively; just defend. When Lanfang forces capture Bombay from the land, Jellico will be a turtle in a jar."

Chief of Staff nodded, turned, and went to issue the orders.

Shel continued to watch that distant harbor.

He recalled Chen Feng's words: "General Shel, return alive."

Almost there. Finish this battle, and we can return alive.

In the distance, toward Bombay, faint black dots moved—Yingguo recon aircraft, still futilely monitoring them.

Shel watched those black dots and suddenly felt some pity.

They are soldiers too. They also want to return alive.

But they chose the wrong side, fought the wrong war.