Vol·21 [Phantom]

Five fifty-one in the morning.

"Feng! When can our weapon systems be put to use!?"

Captain Jim turned the helm and sounded the horn.

"Friends! Hold on tight! We're turning around!"

The portly first mate, stumbling and looking disheveled as he ran across the deck, nearly fell. He squeezed under the main gun emplacement with the engineers, checking the damage to the Ironclad Warrior, and roared into the radio, "Give me twenty minutes!"

Jim: "Fifteen minutes!"

"At least twenty minutes! The weather's terrible! This isn't a wooden boat with iron cannons! This is a delicate, electromechanical contraption!" Feng's expression was fierce as he peered into the cracks in the deck. "Where are we going next, Captain?"

"The Oak is navigating for us, I need to follow it, it's heading towards Allem Bay in the English Channel!" Jim's eyes darted around, a mixture of excitement and anxiety in them.

After carefully examining the wiring through the horizontal cracks in the deck and inspecting the damage to the ammunition loader, the first mate, feeling relieved, realized that the direct fire from the main guns hadn't damaged the Warrior's pipelines, and the deck's reinforcing ribs were intact. There were no signs of the turret base tilting or collapsing either; this was the best-case scenario.

"Fifteen minutes!" the first mate immediately changed his tune. "Jim! You can start setting off fireworks again in ten minutes at the earliest! Are we heading towards Three Needles Rock? According to these brats, didn't they drop mines in that area?"

Jim's expression was complicated. "Yes."

A Gloria voice came through the radio. "Captain, who are we fighting? My children might be on those three frigates; they've gone to the carrier strike group."

Jim answered without hesitation, "It's the Adventurer, the Bulldog and Richmond, one old and two new."

Gloria: "That's all."

Feng: "How did you know?"

Jim laughed heartily, "Just a guess! What else? Go check the ship's nets? Wake up! My first mate, we don't have any reconnaissance planes right now. Listen carefully! Do you hear anything?"

"It's a helicopter!" Feng exclaimed.

Jim analyzed, "It's a Merlin HM.1 helicopter. The USS Richmond can hold two—it's dropping vampire shells on us, a group of sixteen. In this stormy and windy weather, it's a difficult task for these monsters to fly into cumulonimbus clouds over 800 meters high using only their wings; they must have taken a helicopter."

As the Warrior turned, signal flares could be seen lighting up in the far distance on the horizon.

"The other two frigates have been silent since being hit by the warning shot from the 68-pounder cannon. I assume they are both new electric-propelled ships launched in recent years, and the complex gear sets of the hybrid electric system have caused some malfunctions in their propulsion systems, requiring time to self-check and troubleshoot. In this peaceful era, United Kingdom cannot afford to lose any more ships, especially new ones that have only recently been launched."

The ancient, ghostly warship drew a magnificent arc across the Gulf of Alem.

The decaying stern of the Oakwood churned up clouds of foam that drifted far away.

The Ironclad Warrior unfurled its last remaining sail. As a veteran that had fought in World War I, it struggled greatly to turn, emitting terrifying creaks and groans from its armored frame, finally catching up with its untimely-death successor.

"Winston Spencer!" Jim shouted. "If you're free, go help the first mate! I just saw you tear a vampire apart with your bare hands! You must be incredibly strong."

"Sorry, Captain Jim! I'm busy!"

A dark shadow flashed past the command tower window. Jack, carrying the head of a vampire monster, swiftly swept past, tossed the still-warm bat skull into the sea, and then scrambled back into the ship to deal with the vampires that had been improperly exterminated and resurrected.

"--Let my little pigeons help you!"

The pigeons, who were originally helping the wounded to open the floodgates and release water, all rushed into the cracks in the deck of the Ironclad Warrior.

They scrambled into the pit, scooping out wood chips and scraps of steel from inside the ship. If there were large fragments weighing over a hundred pounds, they would gather together and slowly pull them out of the connecting passage of the hull.

"Robert! Robert, what are you doing?" Jim called out to his grandson, "Playing a key role! Robert! We're short-handed everywhere!"

Little Robert observed the Oak's condition from the bow. Following this course, it should have struck a drifting torpedo long ago—was the enemy just bluffing? Trying to scare the Warrior back to Portsmouth Port?

"Grandfather! I can see the hill at the Isle of Wight Zoo!"

Little Robert shouted into the radio.

"No mines! No!"

Jim: "No?"

Robert laughed happily, "Really! No landmine alarms, no explosions! The Oak sailed fast and steadily."

Jim cursed, "You idiot, the floating mines won't hurt it. The explosive charge is only 150 kilograms. The Oak is very strong."

As they talked...

Old Jim fell silent.

Little Robert.: "Grandfather, what's wrong?"

Jim: "."

The Hood was escorting the ship from behind. It was very close to the Ironclad Warrior and capsized several times due to the huge cavity in its hull. It looked like it was about to fall.

Just by standing on the ship's side and looking back, you can see its empty walkways and decks, and its turrets still rotating to search for enemies, with high-temperature steam rising from the rust in the base and steel plates, sparking out.

Further back is the Prince of Wales at the very back of the column.

Its mid-deck was completely devoid of anything, except for a series of horrifying holes.

Before it sank to the bottom of the sea, workers at the Elsevier arsenal were still assembling its main guns.

Further out, patrolling and escorting was the Barham, which maintained a T-shaped drift to keep all its turrets pointed at the pursuing enemy.

To Little Robert's utter bewilderment, the Bahama listed fifty degrees to one side, as if deliberately concealing the torpedo wounds below the waterline. Even in this side-drifting motion, it maintained a speed of around twenty-two knots—it was simply unbelievable.

"Kid, is there any possibility?" Jim's hand trembled as he gripped the radio. "It's not just them that are coming to help us through this. This strange ocean current is pushing the Warrior forward at breakneck speed. Maybe next year, fishermen on the East Coast of America will be able to retrieve those drifting mines."

Little Robert leaned against the railing and looked out into the deep sea. Countless stars twinkled beneath the dark surface, like beacons lit once again by a dead, sunken ship.

For a fleeting moment, he even had a strange feeling.

Mistakenly believing these phantoms were actually hanging upside down below the sea level, they were still sailing.

Not only warships, he even saw the inverted reflection of the Titanic.

The seawater was too dark, and the waves were too big.

Before he could even see clearly, the surging ocean currents propelled the Warrior further afield.

Right now, at this very moment--

--The radar emitted three bright signals.

The pursuers are here.

Riding the warm yet dark ocean currents, the Richmond sailed through the waves, carrying two newly risen naval elites—

"--Come and get your cannonballs!" The fat old man slammed his head through the door of the command tower.

Jim: "Can't you just open the door normally?!"

The fat old man was soaking wet and shivering from the cold. "The wind and rain are so fierce outside! This old ship's command post shouldn't have had this door!"

Jim: "What did you just say? You actually called it a wrecked ship!"

Feng: "What else? We have cannons! Our anti-aircraft machine guns are ready too! Captain! Are you going to duel me at this critical juncture?"

Jim rarely loses an argument, and now is not the time to be stubborn.

"First Mate! We need to go to the fjords! They're too fast!"

The first mate asked in surprise, "What do you want to do? You really want to?"

Jim has already started to change course.

"--Where is your fighting spirit, First Mate! Are you forever trapped in the Berlin bunker, with your Führer?"

There is no doubt that Jim wanted to sink these three United Kingdom frigates in service.

When the Richmond began firing vampire shells at the armored warriors' decks, Jim had already decided—this was never going to end.

"Dean!" Jim called out.

Immediately, a steamboat was launched from the Ironclad Warrior. The director of the nursing home usually had to wear many hats. In addition to taking care of the polo team, this malnourished Old Bones also had to act as an observer and gunnery calculator when the captain made outrageous demands.

"Jim, I'm in position. Next time—if there is a next time, I hope your grandson will be more careful and buy a few floating radars." The dean sat at the stern of the small motorboat, one hand on the rudder and the other holding binoculars. "But to be fair, in this era, in this environment, in a storm, human reconnaissance is more effective than electronic reconnaissance."

Lightning flashed intermittently through the dark clouds, and seven ships were speeding at breakneck speed across the raging sea, circling the mountains of Isle of Wight in the fjord. Their speed exceeded thirty-three knots.

"Boom--"

The low rumble of artillery fire came along with the thunder.

The Richmond was the first to attack, its secondary guns firing at the stern of the Barham. It was like a child seeing a fierce adult, not knowing what was going on, tentatively throwing a punch to calibrate the trajectory, identify the point of impact, and prepare for the next attack.

But Richmond's answer was --

--It was a barrage of gunfire from the port side of the Baham!

In that instant, the people on the Warrior felt as if they were going deaf.

On the observation boat amidst the raging wind and rain, the old director felt only the Hot Wind hitting his face, and the scorching flames passing overhead were like a meteor shower. The sudden shelling made him lose his focus, and his mind was shaken by the strong light and sound, but he still continued to report on the battle situation and plan the next sailing route.

"Jim! Richmond has really suffered a huge loss! It seems to have no idea what these ghost ships are capable of, or where they came from—I saw three fires on its deck, and the conning tower has been blown to bits. It has almost no ability to fight back. If the other two escort ships were smarter, they wouldn't have attacked these ghost ships proactively."

Jim shouted angrily, "Damn it! This thing actually dared to fire on the Barham? Do you understand what that means? It actually fired on the Ghost Ship? Where did it get the guts?!"

"Calm down, Jim!" the Dean continued, "I've been to Isle of Wight. If you want to defeat these two newbies, and if you want to sink the Adventurer and the Bulldog, find a gun emplacement between the Third Peak and the Fourth Dwarf Peak!"

Jim asked, "Are we going to send the shells over the mountains?"

Feng pressed on, "This is too difficult!"

The Prince of Wales had just passed the observation boat, and the immense pressure difference nearly churned the small boat into the battleship's blades.

The dean narrowly escaped death several times and finally had time to answer.

He clung to the radio, observing with his naked eye the angle between the Isle of Wight mountains and the ships.

"No! Don't think about hiding from the Dashan, smash Dashan! The mountains at Monkey Paradise Zoo are just for show; I've taken my granddaughter there a few times. Our 16-inch main gun—don't underestimate it! It's an MK6! Its shells can shatter nine meters of concrete; I think directly penetrating these artificial mountains won't be a problem. They can block electromagnetic waves, they can block sonar, and in this storm, even satellite radar won't be able to see us—"

The dean quickly transmitted the artillery coordinates over the radio and said...

"--While they're blinded for a moment, blast these vampires to smithereens. We only have one chance, Jim! If the Warrior is hit by the main guns of these frigates, it won't have a chance to circumnavigate United Kingdom. I..."

Just then, the Grandfather heard the sound of a helicopter.

He looked up and saw a dozen or so shadows in the sky, flapping their wings, as if they had heard the noisy radio broadcast.

"Jim," the polo captain wiped the rain from his face, but couldn't get it off, "Were you crying when you saw the Prince of Wales?"

Jim: "It's just that the rain is too heavy."

The last communication was transmitted from the radio station.

Goodbye, Captain!

Immediately following was the roar of close-in weapon systems.

Jim wanted to say something more, but the huge inertia of the Warrior turning around pulled his body and almost made him fall.

He finally managed to climb back to the helm and put his headset back on.

"Damn it! Were you just saying goodbye to me? What the hell happened to you? Are you still alive?!"

The rustling sound of wind and rain came from the other end of the radio station.

The old dean finally got up from the speedboat, pushed off the filth on his body, and cleaned the bloody bat remains from his arms.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!"

The weathered veteran grumbled as he looked at the Prince of Wales. Its stern cannons roared and spat fire, and the spirits in the gun towers were like a dream, like a layer of pale blue gauze. They had blood-red eyes, and their bodies were filled with bright starlight brimming with spiritual power.

Like the United Kingdom Union Jack.

The rain washed away the blood and flesh from the old dean's face. He picked up the radio and began to curse at the mothership, the Warrior.

"It's like going back to North Korea! I'm getting PTSD! Damn! I'm breaking down!"

Jim asked in confusion, "You fought in this battle?"

The old dean said, "If it weren't for this bloodshed, I might have forgotten long ago. I thought I could forget! I could forget! To hell with the UN forces! To hell with world peace!"

Jim: "Hahahahahaha! Hahahahahaha!"

The old dean shouted an order, "Fire! You've missed at least two firing opportunities! This is the third!"

The crew of officers on the Ironclad Warrior roared.

"Watch out! Secure yourself! Resist the impact!"

The turret turned very slowly, and as the old ship entered the bend of the fjord, it relied on the coordinates broadcast by the observation boat to lock onto the two ships behind the mountain.

Its three main guns and six secondary guns were its last resort.

There was no order to fire.

The scorching hot bullets emerged from the cannon barrel, and the muzzle flashes resembled fireworks in the night sky, a most precious gift to the newborn United Kingdom child.

They flew through the storm, crashing into the landscaped hills of the Isle of Wight, shattering the fountains and swings on Monkey Hill. Two hundred meters away in the predator enclosure, the lions brought from Africa were terrified and cursed loudly.

They emerged from the mountain peaks, flew over barbecue camps, and passed overhead the heads of young punks who had been looking for thrills and preparing for partner-swapping parties for thirty-two nights, setting their tents ablaze with scorching flames and gusts of air, leaving them naked and exposed to the wind and rain.

They hit the Adventurer's ammunition rack.

With just a touch, an even more intense burst of fire erupted from the ship's hull.

Fifteen seconds passed—the roar of artillery fire continued unabated as the Warrior endured the Bulldog's counterattack.

The second salvo – the afterglow of the setting sun as it rose in the east.

The sun nearly blinded the vampires in the Bulldog's command building.

The shell, weighing over a ton, was pressurized by the 406mm caliber gun barrel and landed on the front armor of the Bulldog, causing the entire ship to shift sideways by almost ten centimeters.

Six Harpoon anti-ship missiles that flew from the west side of the mountains were all intercepted by Prince of Wales, which used its hull to block them, standing beside Ironclad Warrior like an insurmountable iron tower.

The battle lasted only a minute.

You can see the bountiful harvest on the other side through the artificial hill.

The bow of the ship belonging to two newly rich British soldiers was stranded in the shallow waters near the Isle of Wight. In order to save the ship and preserve the crew, they had to run aground and go ashore.

After confirming this, and realizing that the enemy had lost the ability to retaliate, had lost the will to fight, and had surrendered without raising a white flag, they agreed to surrender.

The missiles carrying silver iodide aboard the Warrior finally took to the sky.

In the far distance, the sun had just slipped into the clouds, and its fleeting rays melted the four ghostly warships. Their rusty hulls, like fragile ice flowers, emitted a violent, deafening sound of collapse, and within seconds, they sank to the bottom of the sea.

Jim and Robert the Youngster will absolutely not let it go.

Immediately afterwards, the Warrior turned around and sailed further north along the northern shore of the English Channel.

For them, this journey has only just begun.