Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

Shells exploded on the sea, sending plumes of water flying, bullets weaving a web of deathly fire. Fishing boats, carrying hordes of mermaids, sank to the bottom, their severed limbs and blood staining the waters crimson. The mermaids let out even more piercing screams, but this time, their cries were tinged with pain and terror.

Chapter 462 Mermaid (Part 2)

Eighty kilometers away, Yokosuka Naval Base.

"What the hell is going on? Call St. Louis! This is Yokosuka Naval Base! Call St. Louis!" The duty lieutenant colonel had beads of sweat on his forehead. He had no idea what had happened; St. Louis had suddenly gone mad.

The entire U.S. Navy's Seventh Fleet is stationed at Yokosuka Naval Base, 80 kilometers from Atami. However, all of its warships are currently lying quietly in their berths, except for the Perry-class frigate, which should be taking shelter in Atami, but is making its own moves.

"FUOK! Why is the St. Louis operating alone?" The rear admiral rushed to the command platform, the stars on his epaulets reflecting a cold light under the lamplight.

Having received a prior tsunami warning from the Japan Meteorological Agency, the USS St. Louis, a frigate of the Seventh Fleet, sought shelter in the nearby Atami fishing port. This is standard procedure; warships typically choose safe harbors in the face of natural disasters. However, the fact that this frigate weighed anchor and set sail at this moment was even more unsettling, as all of its weapon systems were activated.

Yokosuka Naval Base has been unable to contact the USS St. Louis. Logically, the captain or first mate should be on board at this time. However, no matter how many times Yokosuka Naval Base calls, the St. Louis does not respond. It is essentially an empty ship, or worse, a hijacked ship.

The lieutenant colonel connected directly to the monitors on the USS St. Louis.

The cockpit was empty, but the scene outside was even more horrifying: explosions continued, shattering glass. Even more terrifying, the blast wave hurled flesh and blood into the cockpit, where it clung to the walls and slowly slid down. The material resembled the remains of a large fish, yet also possessed a suspicious, human-like structure.

"Merciful God, what's going on?" The major general thought of demons in hell and gripped the edge of the control panel tightly.

"Ammunition reserves are rapidly decreasing," the lieutenant colonel quickly retrieved the data. "The Phalanx CIWS has already used 30% of its ammunition, and the 76mm guns have fired more than 50 rounds. But the radar shows no enemy ships or aircraft. The USS St. Louis has gone mad!"

"I think I heard a strange sound?" the major general asked, listening intently.

The lieutenant colonel turned up the volume on the audio receiver.

At first, there were sounds of waves, explosions, and gunfire, but gradually, another sound broke through these noises and emerged: crying.

The extremely high-pitched and thin cries sounded like countless babies wailing simultaneously, piercing the ears and sending chills down one's spine. Rather than cries, it sounded like ghosts from hell gathered together, chanting a dirge in inhuman voices.

"What we're hearing is a song from hell," the major general said, making the sign of the cross, his face pale. "What should I do?"

Everyone in the command room fell silent, except for the eerie crying that continued to come through the loudspeakers, intertwining with the gunfire from the St. Louis to create a surreal and terrifying scene.

On the nautical chart screen, the dot representing the USS St. Louis moved, turned, and fired in the Atami fishing port. It was fighting, battling an enemy undetectable by radar and invisible to the naked eye. Meanwhile, those at the Yokosuka base could only watch helplessly.

"Should we send a plane?" the lieutenant colonel asked in a dry voice.

The major general stared at the screen, remaining silent for a long time.

...

A mermaid swam up the broken mast of the Shōkyūmaru to its highest point, arched its body to gather strength, and suddenly leaped onto the deck of the St. Louis. Its movements were as agile as a cheetah, its long tail drawing a bluish-gray arc in the air.

The Phalanx CIWS immediately raised its muzzle, and the six-barreled cannon spewed fire at a rate of 4500 rounds per minute. A waterfall of metal composed of tungsten-plated armor-piercing rounds enveloped it, and the mermaid exploded in mid-air into a tragic flower of blood, with bits of flesh and scales flying everywhere.

The next moment, the Shōkyō Maru was blasted into pieces by the 76mm rapid-fire cannon. Under the successive attacks, the research vessel finally disintegrated, with wood chips, iron fragments, and undigested mermaid remains sinking into the burning seawater.

Thousands of corpses rose and fell, the waves burying them deep into the sea like foam left on the beach at low tide. The dead mermaids huddled together, their jagged spines gleaming coldly, like ancient fossils that had been submerged in seawater for years.

But it wasn't a fossil; it was a ferocious and brutal monster.

Kimura Hiroshi clutched the wooden Buddha statue around his neck, a talisman left to him by his grandmother, said to ward off evil and disaster. In his other hand, he gripped Su Enxi's phone; the cold metal casing gave him a strange sense of security.

This is the power of life and death. As long as he holds this phone tightly, he can save Rehai, or rather, Su Enxi can save this city on the verge of destruction through his hands.

Su Enxi had the upper hand; the firepower of the St. Louis nearly wiped out all the mermaids, turning the bloody feast in the fishing port into a one-sided massacre. But there was no joy on her face.

She braved the raging wind and rain, her yukata fluttering in the wind, but her gaze was fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea, where something was emerging.

A colossal object rose from the waves. It turned out to be a deep-sea drilling platform, its rusted steel frame gleaming coldly in the moonlight, with three large characters painted in red—"Sumeru Throne"—the characters faded but still legible.

The Sumeru pedestal tumbled underwater, carried along by the tsunami, only to reappear near the shore. Its size far exceeds that of a typical drilling platform; it resembles more of a small artificial island.

At this moment, the island is covered with a dense array of bluish-gray spines.

Every crevice of the steel frame was filled with mermaids, clinging to the platform like barnacles, their long tails entwined between the steel beams. Protected by this floating platform, they withstood the most violent impact of the tsunami, as if sailing on a giant ark towards the world of humankind.

Now, the end of the journey is just ahead.

The mermaids began to move. They loosened their coiled tails and plunged into the sea one after another, like a thousand snakes leaving their nest. The world was once again filled with the cries of infants, but this time the cries were tinged with excitement. This was the prelude to the demons grinding their teeth, preparing to feast.

The barrels of the St. Louis's guns and cannons were glowing red-hot, and white smoke billowed from the seawater splashed on them. The machine guns and cannons were no longer operational.

But the St. Louis still had one last charge, like Zhao Zilong at Changban Slope, adjusting its course and charging into battle against the giant waves, the floating platform within them, and the countless mermaids.

All missiles launched.

Standard Missiles 3 and 6 roared out of the vertical launch system, trailing long plumes of flame. Decoy rockets exploded in the air, scattering chaff to create a chaff cloud. Torpedoes entered the water, leaving white trails on the sea surface. Harpoon anti-ship missiles also joined the attack sequence.

The massive waves tossed the St. Louis to the brink of collapse; even the steel behemoth appeared extremely vulnerable in the face of the tsunami. A swarm of mermaids swam past from both sides, ignoring the dying warship, and charged straight toward the shore.

Chapter 463 Cao Cao-Dan Ge Xing

"Things are a bit complicated, looks like we'll have to go all out," Su Enxi said softly, then turned to Kimura Hiroshi, a faint smile playing on her lips, "Press 3."

"Ha, ha-i," Kimura Hiroshi pressed "3" with trembling fingers. The number on the phone screen turned red, and then a simple interface popped up: under the golden scale icon, there was only one line of small text: Seventh Fleet authorization order sent.

He could barely hold his phone. Cold sweat slid down his forehead, mingling with the downpour, soaking his shirt collar.

According to his common sense, there is absolutely no way to stop the swarm of mermaids.

The largest amphibious landing operation in human history was the Normandy landings, a pivotal battle of World War II. In that campaign, the Allies deployed nearly three million troops, while the Germans had over a million defenders. This was the total force deployed across the entire Western European theater. At each beach—Omaha, Utah, Gold Beach, Juneau, and Sword Beach—the number of troops at each landing point was only ten to twenty thousand. The 25000 Allied troops braved German heavy artillery and machine gun fire to storm Gold Beach, suffering 400 casualties before finally establishing a foothold.

That was already one of the most brutal amphibious landing operations in human history. Now, they face thousands of merfolk.

Hiroshi Kimura peered at the sea through his binoculars. The Sumeru floating platform bobbed and swayed in the torrential rain, the surrounding sea a dark mass—not seawater, but those mermaids. Each one could fight at least ten human soldiers.

Atami is a tourist city. It's famous for its hot springs, beaches, and fireworks displays. The streets are lined with elegant wagashi (Japanese sweets) shops, yukata (light cotton robe) vendors, and ramen restaurants. The police station has only about thirty officers, armed with outdated Shin-Nanbu M60 revolvers; the entire city's police force probably doesn't even have 100 handguns in total. There are no machine guns, no heavy artillery, and no coastal defenses. If those mermaids were to actually land, it wouldn't be a battle, but a one-sided massacre.

Hiroshi Kimura recalled witnessing a U.S. Navy Seventh Fleet exercise at Yokosuka Harbor. Perry-class frigates launched torpedoes, and destroyers bombarded target ships with their guns—a level of firepower sufficient to destroy the navy of a small nation.

Yokosuka Naval Base, duty room. Everyone was gathered at the window, staring in disbelief at the scene outside.

In the naval port, the entire Seventh Fleet awoke.

From the Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruisers, massive ships displacing nearly 10,000 tons and equipped with 128 vertical launch systems, to the Arleigh Burke-class destroyers, and even the USS Blue Ridge, the flagship of the Seventh Fleet and an amphibious command ship that has served for over half a century as the brain of the fleet, all warships were activated from their silence.

The bridge was brightly lit, with lights flashing one after another. The beeping sounds of electronic equipment self-testing could be faintly heard even through the glass.

From the gas turbine to the weapon system, project after project displayed a green "READY" sign on the control panel. The weapon locks automatically disengaged, and the turret of the 127mm naval gun began to rotate, emitting a hydraulic hum. The missile launch silo hatches slowly opened, revealing the dark launch tubes inside.

The U.S. Navy's Seventh Fleet, the most powerful naval force in the Western Pacific, comprises one aircraft carrier, three to four guided-missile cruisers, eighteen to twenty guided-missile destroyers and frigates, five to six attack submarines, and numerous auxiliary vessels. At this moment, without any authorization, it has entered a state of readiness for combat.

"What happened?" the lieutenant colonel asked, his voice trembling.

Chaos reigned in the duty room. Some tried to contact fleet headquarters, others rushed into the communications room to call the ship captains, but all communication channels were silent. The console screen flickered, displaying lines of rapidly scrolling code before settling on a simple interface: golden scales, below which was a line of small text: Command confirmed, takeover complete.

"We've lost control!" the young technical officer screamed. "All the warships' control systems have been remotely taken over! The firewalls... the firewalls aren't responding at all!"

The lieutenant colonel stumbled towards the command room, bumping into the base commander, a rear admiral, in the corridor. The rear admiral's face was ashen, and he held a newly printed telegram in his hand, which was trembling.

"Was it a cyberattack?" the lieutenant colonel asked breathlessly. "China? Russia? Or—"

“No,” the major general said hoarsely. “The attack came from inside. Or rather, from a higher level of authority than inside.”

They rushed into the command center together. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, white smoke billowing from the fleet obscured the sky above the naval port. One warship after another weighed anchor, the winches of their chains emitting a piercing metallic screeching. The roar of engines shook the dock, and the seawater churned and surged under the churning of the propellers, forming huge whirlpools.

The Seventh Fleet has set sail.

Without tugboats to guide them or pilots to direct them, the ships sailed out of the narrow channel in precise formation. Like a well-trained flock of geese, they lined up in the wide waters outside the harbor, adjusting their positions, with all bows pointing southeast.

The direction of Atami.

"Where are they going to attack?" The lieutenant colonel had absolutely no idea what to do.

The major general didn't answer, but stared intently at the large control screen. A new interface popped up on the screen: Target locked.

"Tomahawk missile group unlocked, launch countdown begins," the fire control system announced in a virtual, emotionless female voice.

The countdown numbers jumped on the large screen of the control panel: 10, 9, 8...

"Major General, we can only watch." The lieutenant colonel left the control panel and walked to the major general's side, his voice filled with despair. "We don't have control of the Seventh Fleet, and they're about to attack Atami with all their Tomahawk missiles."

The phones rang incessantly, their shrill rings echoing through the command room. Two liaison officers, each holding a telephone, stood behind the major general, their faces ashen.

"The Pentagon and the Japanese Prime Minister?" The major general didn't turn around, but just looked up at the sky.

Outside the window, the missile silo hatch was fully open.

"Let's wait a bit before answering, let's finish watching this first. It was a truly magnificent fireworks display."

He paused, then made the sign of the cross on his chest: "God bless America."

The countdown has reached zero; off the coast of Yokosuka Port.

The sea trembled violently, and beneath the black sky, streaks of fire shot into the air. Missiles ignited, their exhaust plumes spewing scorching heat, creating white plumes of steam on the sea. These precision-guided death messengers propelled themselves into the night sky.

The simultaneous launch of hundreds of Tomahawk cruise missiles was a sight beyond anyone's imagination.

The missile swarm flew in clusters over the sea, adjusting its attitude, lowering its altitude, and entering the cruise phase. Neither a sky full of fireflies nor a reverse-flowing meteor shower could adequately describe the scene. This was the ultimate display of modern warfare technology.

The exhaust plume turned the sea surface fiery red, illuminating the entire Sagami Bay as if it were daytime. The missile traced graceful arcs, leaving fiery red trails in the night sky, those trails forming beautiful concentric circles that ultimately converged on the same target.

Beyond the hot sea, there is a floating platform called Sumeru, and thousands of mermaids on, below, and around the platform.

The merfolk sensed danger. They ceased their assault on the floating platform and looked up at the sky. A few attempted to dive into the deep sea, but most remained in place, seemingly driven by some instinct, unwilling to leave their soon-to-be-capture prey.

The first wave of missiles arrived: twelve Tomahawk missiles equipped with high-explosive warheads, targeting the support structure of the floating platform. They swooped down at a near-vertical angle, detonating fifty meters above the sea surface. Fireballs burst across the night sky, and shockwaves pushed the surrounding seawater outwards, creating a temporary void.

The steel frame of the floating platform twisted and broke in the flames. The offshore drilling platform, once worth hundreds of millions of dollars, was reduced to burning scrap metal in seconds. The oil storage tanks on the platform exploded, sending orange-red fireballs soaring into the sky, illuminating the surrounding waters for dozens of nautical miles.

A second wave of missiles followed immediately, with twenty-four missiles carrying incendiary cluster munitions, scattering over the sea within a 500-meter radius of the platform. Thousands upon thousands of incendiary bombs rained down, igniting a sea of ​​fire on the ocean surface.

The wreckage of the oil platform twisted and melted in the flames, while the mermaids struggled and screamed in the intense heat—if you could call their cries like those of infants. The burning mermaids frantically pounded the surface of the sea, trying to extinguish the flames on their bodies, but the incendiary substance was thick and persistent, and they could only sink to the bottom of the sea in agony.

The third and largest wave consisted of 91 missiles, all equipped with high-explosive warheads, intended for a blanket strike. Their target was not a single point, but an area encompassing a one-kilometer radius around the sunken floating platform.

Each explosion sends up a huge column of water on the sea surface, and before the water has even settled, the next explosion has already occurred in an adjacent location.

The sea was burning, boiling. The sky above Sagami Bay was as bright as midday, and the floating platform slowly sank into this burning sea, carrying thousands of mermaids.

On the high cliff, Su Enxi took the tea handed to her by Kimura Hiroshi and took a small sip.

She turned her head to survey the battlefield. In the storm, her silk bathrobe clung tightly to her body, outlining her slender and graceful figure, but she remained unmoved, as if beneath her feet were not a precarious cliff, but a stable throne. The sea breeze ruffled her long, wet hair, the strands gleaming a dark red in the firelight.

“It’s all over,” Su Enxi said softly.

Kimura Hiroshi bowed respectfully, placed the phone back on the tray on the stone table with both hands.

The tray was made of black lacquered wood, with gold leaf inlaid along the edges. The phone was placed in the center, its screen already darkened, leaving only the golden scale icon, which gleamed faintly in the night.

Su Enxi gazed at the burning sea and spoke slowly, her voice clear and calm in the sea breeze: