Chapter 140: First Lingao Point Naval Battle

Boarding team leader Wang Ruixiang hadn't even found his footing when the deck began to shudder beneath him. Flames erupted along the ship's rail. He needed no military experience to recognize what had happened: they had walked straight into an ambush.

"Retreat!" Li Di's hoarse scream crackled through his earpiece. In the same instant, Fishing-1 vanished behind a wall of gunpowder smoke.

"All hands, retreat!" Wang Ruixiang spun toward the rail, directing his team back while searching desperately for a chance to jump. Pirates were already swarming up from below decks, a seething mass of short swords, billhooks, and hook spears. The numbers were hopeless—five pistols couldn't possibly suppress this many.

"Throw Round One!" he shouted.

His well-drilled team members yanked bamboo-shell grenades from their chest pockets and hurled them in unison. Round One was the Mechanical Department's improvised fragmentation device—black powder and porcelain shards packed into bamboo casings. Limited in power, but devastating in the cramped confines of a ship. Explosions and screams merged into a single cacophony. From Fishing-1's deck, platforms, and crossbow positions, rifles and pistols opened up simultaneously, instantly pinning down the surging pirates.

Wang Ruixiang seized the moment. His team scrambled back aboard and collapsed onto the deck, gasping. It had been less than a minute—but it felt like they'd walked to the gates of Hell and back. Fishing-1 now looked terrifying: its steel plating was pockmarked with fresh dents, and every pane of glass facing the enemy boats was shattered or spiderwebbed with cracks.

"Full astern!"

Chen Haiyang had watched the last team member climb aboard before issuing the order. The sudden thrust made the bow dip sharply as the stern churned white foam—Fishing-1 surged backward. The three enemy boats were already wreathed in gunpowder smoke, flashes of fire flickering through the haze as cannon thunder rolled across the water.

Dense pellets struck the deckhouse like hail hammering a car roof.

"Away from windows! Take cover!" Chen Haiyang barked into the mic. These fishing boats had no armored shutters. He squinted through the cracked glass, struggling to see. Then—boom, boom—the boats fired again. The deckhouse shook as everyone jolted. A large stone struck the steel plating, denting it deeply before shattering into fragments.

"They were fishing for us!" Li Di's face had gone pale. He was already half-crouched beneath the control panel.

Chen Haiyang shook his head—no time for conversation. The enemy's strategy was clear enough. They understood their own advantages: speed and maneuverability. This trap had been designed to cripple Fishing-1 at point-blank range with a single devastating volley. What they had underestimated was the protection offered by a steel hull.

The smoke began to clear. Two of the remaining boats were bearing down on Fishing-1 under eight oars each, moving with startling speed—nothing like typical hard-sail single-oar vessels. Their decks bristled with armed pirates, many clutching torches. Their intention was obvious: a three-boat pincer attack.

Fishing-1's fore and aft Ballistae fired simultaneously. At this range, both shots struck home. The enemy decks erupted with popping sounds like firecrackers, causing momentary chaos—but the advance didn't stop. Round Two was tear gas: minimal black powder for the burst, mixed with camphor and pepper powder. Originally designed for maritime patrol security missions. Minimal lethality.

"Hard to port, full ahead." By now, Fishing-1 had reversed forty to fifty meters. Chen Haiyang had no idea what the enemy cannons were truly capable of—better to open the distance, slip the three-boat encirclement, and formulate a proper strategy.

The engine roar intensified. Fishing-1 carved an elegant half-arc through the water, easily escaping the closing trap. Now they ran broadside to broadside with Boat One—both vessels presenting maximum firepower. Chen Haiyang carefully maintained two hundred meters of separation. According to the Industrial Department's test firings of captured weapons, small and medium cannons of this era rarely exceeded that effective range.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boat One's broadside erupted in continuous flashes. Water spouts of varying heights splashed across the sea—the nearest impact a full twenty meters away. Chen Haiyang's confidence grew.

He didn't want to rely on the Ballistae. Reloading was far too slow—two people cranking the lever mechanism needed a full minute to reset.

"Port-side rifles—free fire!"

The crew needed no encouragement. They were already furious. On their own turf—ambushed like fish in a net? Outrageous. A dozen SKS-D rifles with twenty-round magazines sent a wall of bullets sweeping across Boat One from bow to stern. People, planks, sails, ropes—everything disintegrated under the 7.62mm M43 rounds. By the time Chen Haiyang ordered cease fire, Boat One was completely paralyzed—drifting silently, wreathed in smoke.

"Report damage!"

"Forward crossbow: three wounded, one serious. No life-threatening injuries."

"Aft crossbow: one minor wound."

"Deck: three minor wounds."

The damage was trivial. The Ballistae's bulletproof shields and steel parapets had protected the gunners well. Honestly, the enemy fire was pathetically weak. The projectiles scattered across the deck included iron shards, nails, stones, and porcelain fragments—a scattershot arsenal that looked fearsome but lacked punch against steel.

"Notify Navy HQ—send a ship to secure Boat One!" Since no wounds were critical, Chen Haiyang ordered pursuit of the remaining two boats.

The other two vessels had already turned tail. The moment they saw Fishing-1 burst free from their pincer at impossible speed, they had fled seaward with oars and sails straining at maximum. But wind and muscle could never outrun machine power. The diesel roared. Fishing-1 sliced through the waves, rapidly closing to two hundred meters. The desperate enemy fired their stern guns—all shots fell far short.

"Sink the Yoshino!" Li Di shouted excitedly from the bridge.

Nobody paid attention to his enthusiasm. Fishing-1 was just a fishing boat—it had no underwater ram. Ramming wasn't worth the risk.

Instead, Fishing-1 continuously launched incendiary projectiles from its Ballistae—tar balls. Each consisted of a stone core coated with thick straw and wood-tar paste, wrapped in sacking. When lit and launched, they left black smoke trails arcing across the sky—perfect for aiming corrections.

The bridge called out a steady stream of data: wind direction, speed, distance, ship velocity. The gunnery officer worked frantically with a slide rule, then announced the Ballista firing angles. The ballistics calculations were imprecise, but their value was immense. After six ranging shots, the seventh correction struck the fleeing Boat Two squarely. Its sails caught fire.

The ship slowed. The distance closed. The tar balls grew more accurate. Even the aft-deck Ballista joined in with high-angle lob shots. For a brief, spectacular moment, smoke trails wove an aerial net across the sky—and at the bottom of that net was Boat Two, constantly struck by burning tar balls. The fire intensified until, with a thunderous roar—probably a powder magazine explosion—the ship was torn apart.

"Signal Boat Three: drop sails, surrender."

"Understood!" Li Di immediately swapped the recording tape. The surrender demands were standard: drop weapons, raise a white flag.

But Boat Three clearly had no intention of surrendering. While Fishing-1 had dealt with its companions, Boat Three had escaped nearly a kilometer. Through eight-power binoculars, extra oars could be seen rigged aft; crewmen were frantically jettisoning debris overboard to lighten the vessel.

"Destroy them."

It was unfortunate to lose potential prisoners, but ending the battle safely was paramount.

Fishing-1 accelerated again, closed to two hundred meters, and turned broadside toward the fleeing Boat Three—letting both Ballistae achieve maximum effect.

Ten minutes later, Boat Three had become a giant torch drifting on the waves. The powder had probably already been jettisoned—there was no explosion. Through binoculars, desperate pirates could be seen leaping overboard into the sea.

"Recover prisoners."

Fifteen were fished out of the water. Those too badly wounded to climb aboard were left to their fate. Those attempting to swim toward shore were systematically picked off by rifle fire—no mercy for enemies.

The engagement that would come to be known as the "First Lingao Point Naval Battle" had erupted with the transmigration Navy completely unprepared. The battle lasted nearly one hour. The enemy's experience and cunning were on full display; their ambush had been meticulously prepared. Despite the hasty response, the transmigration Navy's excellent training and overwhelming technological advantage carried them to total victory.

Boat One, towed back by Fishing-2, contained only three survivors. Many pirates had hidden below decks, thinking the thick planking would protect them. All had been riddled with bullets or bled to death. The inspectors' report was grim: blood had flowed from the second deck all the way down to the bilge.

Photographs of the captured vessel quickly received a response from Intelligence: this was a common Ming-era Guangdong "double mast fast ship"—a Guangzhou-type vessel used for fishing and coastal cargo. Well-constructed and suitable for open sea conditions, it was familiar to both European and Southeast Asian traders. Measurements: 27.5 meters overall length, 21 meters waterline length, 6 meters beam. Dimensions that suited almost any purpose—including piracy.

(End of Chapter)