The Soming and its thirteen accompanying warships had been assigned to cover the retreat. Less than half an hour after the sublight missile salvo from the Hyperion slammed into the Metig Fleet's formation, the rearguard had adopted the resolute air of men ready to die. They charged straight at the Hyperion—not as if they were trying to break through or cover a retreat, but as if they were launching an assault.
Faced with such a fierce enemy, Yang's fleet had no choice but to send them on their way with admiration. Even the new fighters launched from the Enterprise changed their focus to concentrate fire on them.
There was no helping it. The Soming was in an absolutely insane state. It kept firing as it charged, at a rate that exceeded the main guns' safety limits. More importantly, perhaps because the Imperial soldiers had all prepared themselves to die, they seemed to have given themselves a boost, and their accuracy had inexplicably improved as well.
In those circumstances, even Yang Xiyi could only order his forces to switch targets.
Of course, what was worth taking pride in was that even while preparing to ambush and encircle the enemy fleet, Yang's fleet had always held some capacity in reserve. They had made sure the bow guns on nearly all their capital ships had a clear line of fire.
Compared with the Soming's madness, Yang's fleet's barrage was just as fierce, but far more orderly and layered. The unbroken curtain of fire was like a sudden downpour that left no room to breathe, pressing even the wind back until it could advance no farther.
The Imperial warships led by the Soming were set ablaze one after another.
It was gratifying that Yang's fleet's dense bombardment had achieved an almost perfect effect in