A 380-kilogram shell, with a muzzle velocity of 800 meters per second and a rate of fire of roughly two rounds per minute—when it flew through the sky in a parabolic arc, even the terrifying sound formed by merely scraping against the air was like a steel blade violently grinding against a person's skull through an iron helmet!!
This was the terror of naval guns in this era, the crystallization of this era's industry, and the pinnacle of this era's firepower projection.
Not to mention martial artists.
Even if a locomotive were struck head-on, it would be smashed to pieces. No one should expect to find a single intact part in the shell crater.
Shells like these.
Were now being hurled savagely by two ironclad fleets toward each other's positions over this stretch of sea, separated by a distance of twenty thousand meters. Even the air seemed like torn and shredded cloth, letting out a horrifying, torturous cracking roar together with the wind.
If one watched from far away.
One could see heavy shells tracing arcs across the sky, triggering shock waves, then plunging into the water and sending pillars of spray soaring—the entire process. At first glance, it seemed almost like a farce. The two armies were firing naval guns at each other, yet none of the shots could hit anyone; all the shells fell into the water. At this distance, before the shells came down, the ironclads had already maneuvered away.
Thus.
To hit with naval gunfire.
Partly depended on luck, and partly on numbers.
That was the relaxed perspective of an onlooker. But if one were caught in the barrage, it would not be relaxed at all—it would be utterly terrifying!
BOOM!!
A column of water erupted twenty meters from the ship. Even without striking the vessel directly, the resulting shock wave and violent rocking still left everyone stifled and dizzy, their hearts pounding with fear.
Geng Liangchen's face was ashen.
He was no longer standing at the bow. Instead, he had temporarily retreated into the command room.
This was no time to show off.
As Spirit Cultivation Practitioners, before they could engage the enemy, their usefulness was limited—but not nonexistent. Relying on that usefulness, these ironclads dared to charge forward through the enemy's barrage despite being comprehensively inferior in performance.
A martial artist's reaction speed far surpassed that of an ordinary person.
They could pierce a mosquito with a flying needle and strike ten times in an instant as easily as lifting a hand. They could even sense a trigger being pulled and predict the trajectory of a bullet.
The naval-gun trajectories that ordinary people found impossible to calculate, the supersonic shock waves they could not catch—in truth, martial artists could see them all. They could even react in time and make predictions in their minds.
Go to Jixia Academy and cram some arithmetic.
It may not necessarily be useful.
But perhaps, at the critical juncture between life and death, you'll find a use for it.
That was Lan Yi's arrangement for Geng Liangchen and Huo Yuanjia before they set out. Naturally, they obeyed the Immortal Master's order, bringing a group of Qi Cultivation Practitioners to Jixia Academy for an intensive session in the Calculations class. Martial artists learned quickly, especially in arithmetic, where they possessed an innate advantage. They did not study widely or deeply—once they had grasped a couple of points about parabolas, they set off.
Unfortunately, Lan Yi's words had proved prophetic.
That bit of arithmetic knowledge had come in handy at this moment.
The ironclads' speed, the distance between them, the time it took the shells to travel from the muzzles to their impact, their trajectories, and the disturbance of the shock waves—all of it burst from Huo Yuanjia's mind one after another beneath the crisis of being turned into mincemeat at any moment!
They chattered over one another, telling Huo Yuanjia that he was Jinmen's number one—no, that was not right. They were telling him whether the shells he had detected might land on his own head.
The martial artists aboard the other vessels were the same.
Some predicted accurately, while others possessed astonishing calculating power. They could always seem divinely aided, granting the ironclads beneath their feet a battlefield status that increased evasion by forty percent.
Do not underestimate that forty percent.
With the pitiful hit rate of this era, forty percent was enough to turn every ironclad into a naval Snow Wind.
BOOM!!!
Although the Xinghan Fleet was smaller in number, it still roared in retaliation. Whether they could hit or not, they had to fire back. Otherwise, the enemy would be able to calculate their firing solutions without any pressure, and their shots would become more and more accurate. Only when both sides were taking fire could the contest remain fair.
"We're at fifteen thousand meters."
An officer beside Huo Yuanjia reminded him.
As soon as he said this, everyone in the command room grew solemn. In the eyes of many soldiers, the color of death surfaced.
They had begun exchanging fire at twenty thousand meters, but fifteen thousand meters was the danger zone. As they closed to this distance, the naval guns' hit rate would rise rapidly. If they advanced farther, the shells' parabolic trajectories would gradually tend toward straight lines. At that point, even a martial artist's calculations would not be enough to mobilize the entire fleet in time to evade.
For the Spirit Cultivation Practitioners to sortie.
They still needed to advance another ten thousand meters.
Covering ten thousand meters would take them roughly sixteen minutes.
The good news was that the foreigners were not dragging things out. They were charging forward with equal ferocity and desperate courage, so the martial artists should be able to sortie in around eight minutes.
"Eight minutes?"
"The Immortal Master has ordered me and Martial Heavenly General to assassinate this fleet!"
"I don't care what you do. You must deliver me there. If you can't, you'll face military punishment!"
Geng Liangchen was murderous. The pressure of a Spirit Cultivation Practitioner forced everyone to obey his commands. He had already decided to stake everything. It was not only because of Lan Yi's order, but also to vent the pent-up frustration of Xinghan, which had endured suppression by foreign naval guns for so many years! He would tell the foreigners that their ships were no longer as effective as they had once been!
Eight suffocating minutes.
Throughout those eight minutes, the thunder of cannon fire never ceased.
Several times.
The flames and waves raised by perilous bombardments erupted practically against the edges of the ships' hulls.
Under the violent impacts, casualties were unavoidable.
Fortunately, the martial artists continued to play their part. The extraordinary physical ability and coordination of Qi Cultivation Practitioners made them first-rate even at damage control and rescue work.
Five thousand meters!
"We're in position! I'm off!" A sharp glint flashed through Geng Liangchen's eyes. In the next moment, he shot out through a shattered porthole like a black tiger breaking free of its cage!
With a splash, he struck the water.
Geng Liangchen did not sink. Instead, after kicking up a spray, the Innate Qi within his body suddenly burned fiercely. He drove it with all his might, unleashing superhuman speed!
In an instant, two straight trails of spray clinging to the water's surface shot forward with lightning speed toward the many warships broadside ahead, their guns trained outward!
Huo Yuanjia and Geng Liangchen charged at full speed.
For Spirit Cultivation Practitioners who could tread the waves and command the water, a straight-line distance of five thousand meters across the sea was only a matter of minutes. In the space of just a few breaths, the momentum of their charge drew the attention of the observers aboard the Punishment Fleet.
The foreigners knew that martial artists were fierce.
They also knew that the martial artists would likely choose to board their ships.
But they had not expected them to board in such a manner. All they could do was bring up the volley guns they had prepared in advance, intending to intercept and kill the two martial artists riding the waves toward them.
In the safer area farther to the rear.
The foreign commander narrowed his eyes.
"Will guns be useful?"
"Even if they can't kill those martial artists, they should at least be able to drive them back. We're using deer-hunting bullets," the foreign officer said thoughtfully.
But news soon arrived, and both men could not help turning grave and horrified.
Two martial artists. In less than ten minutes, all eight ironclads had lost control, though communications were still being maintained.