"I'm telling you—if we close the distance and fire our cannons, their ships will break apart!"
"We can't get close! Their ships are too fast!"
"You fools! When they fire their broadsides, their ships must turn their sides toward us! That's when you close the distance!"
In naval warfare, a difference in cannon range meant one thing above all else.
The side with the longer range always held the initiative.
But Qing commanders already knew that British artillery outranged theirs.
That alone was hardly surprising.
Which was why they had brought a fleet more than twice the size of the enemy's.
No matter how long the enemy's range was, a ship could not retreat while firing endlessly.
If Qing ships continued advancing, eventually they would enter their own firing range.
The commanders understood that the fleet would take heavy losses.
But they also knew from the beginning that destroying every British vessel here was impossible.
If ten ships were sacrificed to sink two British warships, that would be enough.
After all, Britain needed months to send reinforcements across the globe.
Qing, by contrast, could assemble new ships far more easily.
"Do not be afraid!" one officer shouted.
"Their cannons are not infinite!"
"If we force our way forward, our casualties will be enormous!"
"If we retreat now, then the sacrifices already made will be meaningless! Do not waste the chance your comrades have bought!"
Despite the confident words, neither Lin Zexu nor the commanders directing the battle had much experience with naval warfare.
The Qing navy had long suffered from a chaotic command structure.
In most battles, control was handled by regional military officials rather than professional naval officers.
And how many real cannon battles had they ever fought?
Especially against those strange black ships belching smoke.
Steamships had been seen before.
But a warship shaped like that—something so bizarre—was entirely new.
Still, in the end they were all ships floating on water.
If cannonballs struck them, they would punch holes.
And ships with holes eventually sank.
That was the logic.
All they had to do was get within range and pour cannon fire into the enemy.
Yet that fragile assumption collapsed within minutes.
BOOOOM!
CRASH!
"Another volley incoming!"
"One ship severely damaged!"
"What are our gunners doing?! Are we still not within range?!"
"AAAAAH!"
No one knew exactly what the British were doing.
But their cannons were not merely longer-ranged.
They were far more accurate.
Each time the British fired, another Qing vessel shattered.
Some officers even began to fear their fleet would be reduced by half before they could close the distance.
Yet something about the situation felt strange.
Even accounting for range differences, it shouldn't be this extreme.
The British range could not possibly be five or ten times greater.
Why, then, were Qing ships still unable to fire?
Even if British ships were faster, they still had to turn their hulls to fire broadsides.
That should have allowed the distance to close.
And yet…
Strangely enough, during all the British volleys so far, their ships had not seemed to turn at all.
"Wait… could it be that their cannons are mounted at the stern?"
But that would drastically reduce the number of guns available.
Such a design would sacrifice too much firepower.
Fortunately—
Or perhaps tragically—
A glance through a telescope toward the British black warship destroying Qing vessels one after another quickly revealed the answer.
"…The cannon… is turning?"
BOOM!
Unlike Qing ships, whose cannons were fixed along both sides, the black iron vessel's cannon rotated freely, swiveling and firing in any direction.
The ship was faster.
Its cannons had longer range.
And it could fire without exposing vulnerable angles.
Fortunately for Qing, not every British vessel possessed such weapons.
But even a single ship like that was enough to turn the battle into a nightmare.
Free-aiming artillery unaffected by the ship's movement.
Each thunderous blast sending splinters flying from shattered Qing vessels.
At least if they could fire back, the humiliation might feel tolerable.
But this was not a battle.
It was a massacre.
"AAAAAAH! Damn you British devils!"
"If you're not cowards, stop running and fight properly!"
BOOM!
Naturally, unless the British had collectively lost their minds, they had no intention of sailing into a position where they could be hit.
Should the Qing fleet withdraw and regroup near the coastal batteries?
But the commanders had already spoken boldly before Governor Lin Zexu.
If they returned without firing even a proper volley—after sacrificing so many ships—the consequences would be obvious.
They had mounted the tiger's back.
Now they could only ride it to the end.
Even sinking one or two British ships might justify the losses.
Then fortune—perhaps real luck, or perhaps British overconfidence—intervened.
The distance between the Qing ships and the black iron vessel began to shrink.
"Good! We're within range!"
"Take careful aim! That ship must be hit!"
The distance was marginal.
But technically—
It was within effective range.
Pouring every ounce of rage and vengeance into the shot—
BOOM!
A Qing junk's cannon roared, firing directly at the warship Nemesis, the Goddess of Vengeance.
Even with poor accuracy, a single hit should damage the ship.
If the British vessel slowed even slightly, Qing ships could surround it and unleash a storm of cannon fire.
And indeed—
One perfectly aimed cannonball struck the black warship with a loud CLANG—
But instead of shattering the hull…
The cannonball simply bounced away and splashed into the sea.
"…Did it miss?"
"No… it hit…"
"…It bounced…?"
The realization spread across the sailors' faces like a wave of terror.
It had been difficult enough to approach within range.
Now even a successful hit could not penetrate the armor.
What kind of cruel joke was this?
"D-do not panic!" an officer shouted desperately.
"Their iron plating cannot be infinitely strong! If we move closer, our cannon fire will pierce it! Reload—"
BOOOOM!
"AAAAAAAH!"
"S-save me!"
"I don't want to die!"
The desperate cries of the commanders vanished beneath the terrified screams of the sailors.
And the next volley from the Nemesis buried those screams in eternal silence.
One ship.
Then another.
Off the coast of Guangdong, Qing vessels disappeared beneath waves stained with cannon fire, splinters, and dying cries.
Within only a few hours, the sea fell quiet again.
The first official naval battle between the British Empire and the Qing Empire ended with shocking results.
34 Qing ships destroyed.1,600 Qing casualties.British casualties: 0 dead, 7 wounded.
There were no British fatalities.
The casualty ratio was effectively immeasurable.
The gap in power between the two nations could hardly even be expressed in numbers.
* * *
In war, nothing matters more than morale.
And nothing sustains morale better than overwhelming victory.
The first battle—so one-sided it was almost embarrassing to call it a battle—sent shockwaves through both nations.
Qing was horrified by Britain's overwhelming power.
Britain, meanwhile, found itself stunned for a different reason.
No matter how weak they had expected Qing forces to be…
No one had imagined they would be this weak.
"Good heavens… is this really happening?" Admiral George Elliot muttered.
"I'm pleased with the victory, of course… but it feels surreal."
"I warned you repeatedly," I replied.
"As long as we fight at sea, it is physically impossible for Qing to sink our ships."
For Qing to destroy British vessels, they needed the support of coastal artillery batteries.
By abandoning those defenses and sailing out to attack, they had already sealed their fate.
"I still don't understand," Admiral George Elliot said.
"What did they think would happen when they sailed those wooden ships against us?"
"Perhaps they feared we might simply retreat beyond the reach of their coastal batteries," I suggested.
"That might explain it," the admiral said slowly.
"In any case, they clearly believed they could win."
"Well… we should be grateful for their confidence."
"After this lesson," he added, "they'll surely avoid engaging us at sea again."
Despite the historic scale of the victory, Admiral George Elliot still seemed uneasy.
"But Qing is supposed to be Asia's strongest empire," he said.
"What if this was merely a probing attack?"
"What if their real forces are waiting farther north?"
"More than thirty ships were destroyed," I replied.
"If that was merely bait, that would be impressive in its own right."
"No," I continued calmly.
"That's not the case."
"But then… what exactly has Europe been afraid of all this time?"
What indeed.
Nothing more than a giant shadow.
Europe had spent decades shadowboxing with a myth.
"In any case," I said, "now that you've seen the gap between our forces and theirs, planning future operations should be easier."
"What are your next steps?"
"If Qing leadership is capable of rational thought," Admiral George Elliot said, "they'll request negotiations."
"And since you've taken responsibility for diplomacy, Minister Killian Gore, I'll gladly stand behind you when that moment comes."
"That's possible," I said.
"Lin Zexu may very well propose negotiations."
"But even if he does, the war will soon resume."
"You should prepare for that."
"You expect negotiations to fail?"
"Of course."
"We intend to demand territorial concessions."
"And Qing will never accept that."
European logic struggled to understand this.
But the dynasties of China would never willingly surrender territory.
Indemnities were different.
For centuries China had paid tribute or compensation to various powers.
Money could always be explained away.
It could be called travel expenses.
Or a gesture of goodwill.
But territory?
That could never be reinterpreted.
Giving away land meant only one thing.
Defeat.
For Qing rulers, surrendering territory would shatter the very foundation of the Sinocentric world order.
Which meant they would resist it with everything they had.
Even in real history, Qing refused territorial concessions until resistance became completely impossible.
Sinking thirty ships would not break their will.
"In that case," Admiral George Elliot said, "we continue the war."
"If they refuse open battle, we'll impose a naval blockade and slowly strangle their coastal cities."
"Eventually they'll come begging for negotiations."
"Then you can handle diplomacy from a position of strength."
"Exactly," I replied.
"That's the perfect military strategy."
"But we should add a diplomatic one as well."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Qing resists territorial concessions because it threatens their tributary order."
"So we simply destabilize that order."
"And after a battle like this, we now have excellent material for propaganda."
The overwhelming disparity between the two empires.
The destruction of the Qing fleet.
The blockade of Chinese cities.
If these events were recorded and widely distributed…
They would make powerful propaganda.
"We simply inform Qing's tributary states," I said calmly, "that the so-called Middle Kingdom is nothing more than a paper tiger."
"And that its glory has long since faded."
"Fortunately," I added, "we have friends who are always eager to record such things and spread them everywhere."
"The Dutch, you mean," Admiral George Elliot said.
"Exactly."
"If we provide them with the information and ask them to circulate it, they'll gladly do so."
After all, the message would be irresistible.
The Qing Empire is being crushed by Britain.
Open your ports. Accept Western civilization.
And perhaps begin by establishing relations with the Netherlands.
Originally, the news might have reached only Japan.
But if we encouraged the flow of information, it would spread much farther.
Japan.Vietnam.Thailand.Ryukyu.Joseon.
Once all of them learned the full story of this war…
I wondered what their reactions would be.
Perhaps it would be interesting to sit back and watch.