Thirty minutes later, at the far end of the English Channel.
Evil Dragon was on his own. He was piloting the cargo ship alone, and his path was completely blocked.
Ahead of him stood a 3,500-ton frigate, surrounded by missile boats, torpedo boats, and gunboats—nine vessels in all.
This was only a fraction of the British Royal Navy, but it was still a major deployment.
After all, they weren't trying to blockade the English Channel. They only needed to stop one cargo ship.
The shipping lane was too important. A real blockade, even for a few hours, would cause enormous economic losses.
But even against a mere frigate, Evil Dragon couldn't risk a collision in his cargo ship.
As Huang Ji had instructed, he stalled for time at sea, doing his best to evade the Illuminati's attempts to surround and ram him.
It was nearly impossible. Enemies lay ahead, and pursuers closed in behind.
The Illuminati didn't care if their own ships or the British Navy's went down in a collision. They would gladly trade one for one, ramming him whenever they saw an opening. Evil Dragon could only steer desperately out of their way.
"Evil Dragon! You can't escape! Stop your ship, or I'll open fire," Thomas said over the radio.
"Then fire!" Evil Dragon taunted.
Thomas's face darkened. There were almost no civilian vessels in sight now, and the sea around them was wide open.
One missile or torpedo could blow up the cargo ship. That was an option.
After a moment's hesitation, he ordered, "Fire a torpedo! Disable the cargo ship! Remember, don't aim at Evil Dragon. Just blow up its propeller."
"We're not killing Evil Dragon?" a subordinate asked.
Thomas shook his head. "Wait for Saya. Evil Dragon can't die before he arrives..."
He knew Saya