Over a vast blue ocean, black smoke filled the air, and cannon fire thundered.
Lu Zhi hid alone in midair under Furball's cover, watching this decisive battle.
Although she had issued the decree, she knew full well what a fleet built over ten years was worth. Thus, she had no choice but to accept Furball's condition—she would not stab it with a knife for three years.
After paying such a steep price, she finally gained one convenience: she could observe the battle from above.
The Great Millet People's artillery techniques truly were extraordinary.
Their hit rate was clearly far higher than that of the Great Cheng Dynasty navy.
Though they had fewer Main Battleships and fewer guns overall, for every three shells the Great Millet People landed, the Great Cheng navy could only land one.
A navy with a century of history was no laughing matter.
In Wenren Sheng's previous life, Germany had fought desperately to catch up. Though it repeatedly surpassed others technologically, it still had no choice but to remain a fleet in being before the British Empire.
Miken, meanwhile, only seized maritime supremacy after its industrial strength achieved absolute superiority. It alone could build ships for the entire world, possessing the spirit of: you sink one of mine, and I build ten more.
From nine in the morning until noon, a full three hours had passed. The Great Cheng Dynasty had already seen three main battleships withdraw from combat, while the enemy had only one heavily damaged main battleship—and it could still keep fighting.
"Can't you confuse their Gunners and make them miss?" Lu Zhi was already watching in mounting frustration.
It was exactly like watching a football match and seeing her own side repeatedly concede goals.
She did not ask it to make her own side