The sea wind howled like a beast that had smelled blood.
Yao Xingjuan stood at the bow, eyes blazing, voice even louder than the waves crashing against the hull. "We are not running. Even if it is three against ten, we fight. And we win. If we lose, Nantun City is finished. Everything we built goes straight into the sea."
Shi Lang did not bother with speeches. He raised his arm and roared, "Fire."
Zheng Chenggong laughed, that fearless, almost reckless laugh of his. "Little Shi really doesn't waste time. Fine then, we fire too."
"Fire," Yao Xingjuan echoed.
The three commanders spoke as one, and the next moment, the cannons erupted.
These were not ordinary cannons hammered together by some blacksmith sweating over iron. These were precision-forged stainless steel guns, smooth as flowing water, deadly as a coiled snake. Flames burst from their mouths, and the roar rolled across the sea like thunder splitting the sky.
Across from them, the ten Western warships had been tense, half-expecting the strange fleet to turn and flee at any moment. The ships from Gao Family Village were fast, unnaturally fast, and once they chose to run, catching them would be like chasing ghosts across the ocean.
But now?
Now they were charging straight into battle.
"They are not running?" a Dutch officer shouted in disbelief before his expression twisted into delight. "They want to fight? Good. Very good."
The Dutch and Spanish galleons spread out, their heavy hulls steady, their sides bristling with cannon ports. Each ship carried more than a dozen guns, some nearing twenty, and when ten such ships formed a line, the sheer number of cannons was enough to make even seasoned sailors uneasy.
Then the sea exploded.
Boom after boom after boom.
The sound did not stop. It overlapped, rolled, echoed, until it felt like the sky itself was collapsing into the ocean.
The Dutch had learned their lesson the hard way in previous encounters. They no longer left sailors standing proudly on deck like idiots waiting to be shredded. At the first sign of cannon fire, they retreated into the hold, hiding behind thick wooden partitions hastily reinforced for this exact purpose.
When the explosive shells from Gao Family Village crashed in and detonated, the wooden barriers limited the spread of shrapnel. It was not perfect, of course. Some unlucky souls still died screaming in the dark, but compared to before, casualties were reduced to something they could tolerate.
Even so, the bombardment was savage beyond reason.
On one side, Little Black No. 1 took hit after hit, its aluminum alloy armor plates ringing loudly, a metallic chorus that echoed across the deck.
On the other side, Shi Lang's flagship, Wanli Sunshine, and Zheng Chenggong's Pingyi, both gifts from Li Dao Xuan, showed their true absurdity. Their hulls were made of a strange composite material that did not behave like wood, nor like iron. It was tough, resilient, and disturbingly elastic.
Cannonballs struck their sides with a heavy thud and then bounced away with a ridiculous "duang" sound, as if the ships themselves were mocking the laws of physics.
The Spanish sailors stared, dumbfounded.
They had been warned. The Dutch had told them again and again that these ships were unnatural, that they behaved like something out of a nightmare. Still, seeing it with their own eyes was another matter entirely.
"This has to be the Devil's ships," someone muttered, crossing himself again and again.
"Forget that," the Spanish admiral roared, forcing himself back to reason. "We board them. We must board them. That is our advantage."
Spanish galleons were relics of an older era, but relics forged for brutality. Their towering sterncastles rose high above the deck like small fortresses. In close combat, they could dominate enemy ships from above, raining down fire and steel.
In Europe, this tactic had already begun to fade. The English had proven that cannon warfare could shatter even the mighty Spanish Armada, sending proud ships to the bottom to feed the fish.
But the Spanish were stubborn.
They refused to let go of what they believed in.
"Close in. Prepare grappling hooks. Ready the ropes. We take them ship to ship."
The Spanish sailors rushed about the deck.
And that was their mistake.
Compared to the experienced Dutch, they were far too exposed. Running around in the open during a cannon exchange was nothing short of volunteering to die.
Gao Family Village did not disappoint them.
Explosive shells screamed through the air and smashed into the Spanish decks. The blasts tore men apart, flinging bodies into the sky, turning the once orderly decks into scenes of chaos and ruin.
"Damn it," someone cursed.
"Flank them. Keep moving."
The thirteen ships twisted and turned across the sea, constantly adjusting their positions, never staying still, always firing.
The ships from Gao Family Village had speed on their side, and as long as they did not make a fatal mistake, the Western ships could not pin them down. Time and again, the Spanish tried to close the distance, throwing grappling hooks, attempting to latch on.
Every attempt failed.
"They refuse to let us board. They do not retreat either. They just stay at this distance and keep firing," the Spanish admiral muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. "What are they planning?"
He paced for a moment, then suddenly froze.
His gaze shifted toward the shore.
There, rising proudly by the coastline, stood Nantun City.
Understanding dawned on his face.
"They are protecting that city. They cannot abandon it. If we attack it, they will be forced to engage us up close."
His lips curled into a grin.
"Men, change course. Head for the city."
Flags were raised, signals passed.
The Dutch quickly caught on. Their admiral glanced at Nantun City and immediately understood the plan.
"So that is it," he said with a low chuckle. "The Spanish will strike the city, and those strange ships will panic. Once they lose their composure, we will have our chance to board."
One Spanish galleon, loaded with more than three hundred soldiers, broke formation and surged toward Nantun City.
The moment it moved, Zheng Chenggong's expression changed.
"This is bad. They are sending a ship to attack Nantun."
Shi Lang clenched his jaw. "What do we do?"
"Tell the natives to retreat into the mountains," Yao Xingjuan said.
Silence followed.
"We cannot," Zheng Chenggong replied bitterly. "They do not understand our signals. Even if they did, they would not abandon their homes so easily."
He looked toward the distant city, where people had only just begun to live better lives.
"They will fight to the death."
And they would.
These people had left behind harsh, primitive living conditions in the mountains. They now had solid houses, proper furniture, tools, bedding, everything they had worked so hard to earn.
To tell them to abandon all of that and run?
Impossible.
Worse still, they were stubborn beyond reason. They did not think in terms of retreating to fight another day. They would stand their ground until nothing was left.
History had already proven it once. They had fought until only six survived, nearly wiping themselves out entirely.
"This situation…" Shi Lang muttered. "We cannot help them like this."
"We can," a voice suddenly shouted.
"We can."
Everyone turned.
On the mast, the lookout sailor was laughing wildly, his voice full of excitement.
"They are here. Our reinforcements are here."
"What?"
"The main fleet has arrived," the lookout shouted. "Our main force is here."
The three commanders turned almost at the same time, their gazes snapping toward the northern horizon.
At first, it was just a line.
Then shapes began to form.
Several massive "immortal ships" surged forward at full speed, cutting through the waves like blades. Behind them came a vast fleet, ships upon ships, stretching across the sea in a dense formation that seemed to blot out the horizon itself.
More than a hundred vessels.
Most were medium and small ships from Zheng Zhilong's forces, but together they formed a sight so overwhelming that it filled the heart with sudden, fierce confidence.
When this fleet appeared, the Western forces froze.
The Spanish galleon charging toward Nantun City suddenly did not seem so bold anymore.
Their plan to lure the enemy into chaos had just collided head-on with a reality they had not prepared for.
An entire fleet.
A sea full of enemies.
And nowhere left to run.