Bad woman, am I pretending to be bad?

This is what Charlotte meant by the key to certain victory.

Chapter 234 Turning Defeat into Victory

As the first rough aerial bomb detached from the airship's hull and fell vertically from the leaden clouds, time seemed to stretch out.

The black dot was initially just a negligible flaw in the field of vision, but it quickly magnified at an alarming speed, tearing through the rain curtain and slamming into the leading ironclad ship with a piercing shriek.

boom--

The bomb didn't hit directly, but landed on the sea surface not far from the side. However, the enormous impact still felt like an invisible hammer, slamming into the thick armor and causing the entire giant ship to shake violently, emitting hoarse, strained sounds. A towering column of water, mixed with foam and gunpowder smoke, bloomed like a deformed black flower.

Then, the second, the third... the fruits of death fell one after another.

With the initial calibration, this time it wasn't a near miss. The bombs that followed landed precisely on the aft deck of a nearby ship, causing a violent explosion. The roar was muffled and short, unlike the sharp sound of a smoothbore naval gun; it was a tremor more akin to an earthquake.

In the blink of an eye, the armored ship came to a sudden halt, a terrible gaping hole torn open in the center, thick smoke and flames shooting into the sky, and the detonated ammunition magazine triggered a second, even more violent explosion, almost blowing the entire bow off.

Sailors on deck were swept away like leaves by a raging storm, instantly swallowed up or thrown into the icy sea. The piercing alarms, explosions, the screeching sound of twisting steel, and desperate screams mingled together, playing the lament of this once invincible fleet after being suddenly struck by a devastating attack.

It was an attack from above.

For all naval officers and men accustomed to horizontal combat, this was a form of attack that was completely beyond their imagination and comprehension.

Their massive cannons could tear apart any enemy ship that dared to confront them head-on, and their armor could withstand most horizontally fired shells, but their fragile decks, conning towers, and unprotected top areas were as thin as paper and extremely vulnerable in the face of this relentless barrage of fire.

More black dots, like deadly falcons, swooped down from the clouds and fell one after another.

Explosions erupted one after another in Hastings' fleet. One warship was hit directly in the engine room, causing a catastrophic rupture in the steam pipes. High-pressure steam mixed with flames erupted, cooking and tearing everything in its path. The warship's speed plummeted, leaving it like a lamb to the slaughter. Even its flagship, the Iron Duke, could not escape the aftershocks. Several massive holes were torn in its broadside near the waterline, allowing seawater to rush in and causing the ship to list rapidly.

"What...what is this?!"

"From the sky! The attack is coming from the sky!"

"Evade! Evade quickly!"

"Aim at those airships, fire, shoot them down!" The commander of the surviving fleet roared hoarsely amidst the chaos, his voice filled with bewilderment and disbelief.

The surviving warships desperately raised their cannons, unleashing a barrage of fire at the massive, slowly moving shadows in the sky. But the solid shot merely traced futile arcs through the air before falling far behind the airships into the sea. Occasionally, shrapnel would explode near the airships, but the fragments, striking the tough gasbag skin, mostly left only minor damage, negligible for the enormous vessels.

Their flight altitude was just at the edge of the effective range of most naval guns, and due to the sudden change in wind speed and their own movement, they were difficult to aim at.

Meanwhile, the airship bombing continued.

Like death gods suspended in the sky, they slowly and steadily adjusted their positions, ignoring the futile struggles below, and dropping their stored bombs one by one onto the already chaotic Hastings fleet.

"Maintain altitude, continue bombing, prioritize attacking the engine room and command tower." The order was given through a rudimentary megaphone in the airship's command room. These early air forces were indeed cumbersome, slow, and had limited accuracy, but against these fixed targets on the sea, against the unyielding iron mass, they were invincible.

In the sea, the once imposing ironclad fleet was now in complete chaos. Some attempted emergency maneuvers to avoid collisions with friendly ships; others, with their superstructures damaged and communications cut off, were spinning in circles like headless flies; and many more struggled and sank amidst explosions and flames.

On the Sea Fury, the sailors who had escaped death were also in a state of great shock, but this was followed by ecstasy and a kind of almost frenzied excitement.

"They are our reinforcements!"

"Look at the flags those good guys are hanging up!"

"Sink those iron turtles of Hastings!"

Without saying a word, Rodney gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white from the force, the wound on her back throbbing with pain, but she was completely unaware of it.

She gazed at the miraculously reversed battle, at the once invincible ironclad fleet reduced to a burning coffin by the relentless aerial attacks, and the shock in her heart swept over her like a tsunami.

Tactics, courage, sacrifice... all seem so pale in the face of absolute tactical foresight and striking methods, yet they are filled with absurd hope because of this sudden aid.

She turned her head abruptly to look at Nymph, who remained calm beside her.

The wind and rain lashed at the girl's pale cheeks, her long, sky-blue hair clinging wetly to her forehead. She simply cupped her face in her hands, quietly watching the burning sea, watching those steel behemoths wail and sink in the inferno, watching the sailors who had fallen into the water take advantage of the chaos to swim to nearby ships and save their lives.

It was as if all of this was related to her.

It's as if all of this was meant to be this way.

The sudden change in celestial phenomena, the timely appearance of the airship, the swapping of positions between the trap and the spy...

The tide of victory has indeed turned, and this is no coincidence. Could it be that all of this is the work of this child?

“These airships…” The blonde woman pursed her lips, her voice slightly hoarse, “Where did they come from? Who is in command?”

Ningfu tilted her head slightly, and raindrops slid down her slender neck.

She didn't answer directly, but instead raised a finger to her chin, her voice piercing through the roar of gunfire:

"My mother once said that to defeat an opponent you can't defeat, sometimes you need to look at the problem from a different perspective."

The girl raised her fair hand and pointed to the airships that were still unleashing their firepower. "Now, we are at the highest point of the altitude."

She turned around, her gaze clear as she looked at the person in front of her, her smile radiant: "Sister Rodney, the wind is blowing just right, now—"

"It's time for us to fight back."

"Pass the order!" The turmoil in his heart was impossible to suppress, but the instincts of a professional soldier made the young major general seize the opportunity quickly. "All ships that can still move, concentrate fire and coordinate with the airships to attack! Target, the remaining enemy ships, do not let a single one escape!"

The surviving sea wolves were no longer panicked. Covered in wounds and filled with grief and anger at losing their companions, they once again bared their fangs at the crumbling steel behemoth.

Once this naval force is destroyed, even the most powerful industrial capacity on the other side of the coast will not be able to regroup and deploy troops and logistics in the short term.

The roar of cannons resumed, but this time, the roles were reversed, and the naval battle turned into a one-sided hunt.

In the sky, airships bombarded the enemy with precision from above, while on the sea, sea wolves, having regrouped, tore at them and finished them off.

"Now, sister, I can answer your question."

"They belong to our motherland now, they—"

"You will be in command."

Chapter 235 Wrath

The capital of Florence, where the royal court of Hastings was located.

It wasn't a banquet hall filled with clinking glasses, but a dimly lit meeting room. Heavy down curtains were drawn tightly, blocking out all light and sound from the outside world. Only the flickering flames in the fireplace cast several shadows on the cold-colored walls.

The air was as still as lead, and the frontline battle report delivered by the messenger was being held in one hand and read carefully.

As his gaze swept over the words about the ship's annihilation, the face of the person on the throne was obscured by the flickering shadows, making it difficult to see clearly. Only the coldness in his eyes slowly swept over the subjects who were prostrate on the ground, trembling below the throne.

The losses recorded in black and white were like a red-hot branding iron, searing into everyone's hearts. The Empire's proud and invincible fleet, several of the latest ironclad warships, along with experienced officers and sailors, were completely annihilated in a seemingly sure-fire siege battle on the east coast. The flagship "Iron Duke" sank, and not a single person survived.

Defeated by the Golden Broom, a group of sea pirates who sailed in old wooden boats?

Absurd! Shameful!

However, the expected thunderous wrath did not descend. Emperor Rothari merely tapped the armrest of his throne lightly and absently with his two fingers adorned with the seal ring.

Tap, tap, tap...

Each soft thud was like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of the courtiers below. Cold sweat soaked the backs of their magnificent robes, and some even couldn't control their teeth chattering, producing a faint but clear gurgling sound in the hall.

Finally, the knocking stopped.

A chillingly calm voice rang out, not loud, yet it seemed to carry shards of ice, piercing into everyone's very bones:

"So, the Empire's invincible fleet was defeated by a few flying...balloons?"

His tone even carried a hint of curiosity, but the chill within it made the air temperature drop several degrees.

"Your Majesty!" The Minister of the Navy practically crawled forward a few steps, his forehead pressed tightly against the rough floor, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "Yes, it was our oversight. We failed to anticipate that the Golden Plantagenets possessed such, such treacherous methods. Those airships were different from the transport boats commonly used at the time; they were equipped with more powerful steam turbines and thicker, specially made fabrics. But if Your Majesty would grant us another chance, we would surely..."

“An opportunity?” Rothary interrupted him, his gaze still calm, yet it silenced the Minister of the Navy instantly, as if someone had choked him. “Hattings’ industrial capabilities far surpass theirs, and they also have organized units of extraordinary individuals. Are the resources the Empire has given you insufficient to deal with this so-called unforeseen event?”

His sharpness was evident in his eyes as he glanced at the silent Field Marshal, the Minister of the Interior, and several high-ranking officials in charge of intelligence.

"The destruction of a fleet is not only a loss of steel and soldiers, but also the dignity of the Empire and my own face." His voice gradually deepened, and the suppressed anger he held back was like a volcano, making the atmosphere in the entire council hall extremely tense. "It seems that you have been living in peace for too long, and have forgotten what the territory and glory of Hadings were forged from."

"We deserve to die ten thousand times!" the ministers cried out in unison, their fear barely concealed in their demeanor.

Rothari slowly rose from the throne.

He wasn't tall, yet he stood like a cedar tree, and when he rose, a tangible pressure, a mixture of iron will and divine majesty, instantly enveloped the entire space. The flames in the fireplace seemed to dip sharply, as if kneeling in submission to him.

"Ten thousand deaths?" The emperor repeated the word softly, a playful smile curving his lips. "If death can salvage the empire's honor, I wouldn't mind letting this hall flow with blood."

One sentence terrified everyone.

But he immediately changed the subject: "But now is not the time."

As they strolled down the steps of the throne, the hard soles of their boots made a soft, rustling sound on the carpet, as if stepping on the hearts of everyone present.

“The Duchy of Plantagenet, ah.” He stopped in front of the huge strategic map, his gaze falling on the island nation he considered his for the taking. “A century of enmity, a change of rule. I thought it would be an easy hunt, but the prey has turned around and bit the hunter.”

His fingertips gently touched the location of the old capital of the Golden Bird Flower.

"Reveal my decree."

The shout wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority, etched into the air like a law.

"First, thoroughly investigate the origin of the airships and all related technologies and details of the involvement of extraordinary forces. I need to know who gave them the courage to challenge the Empire."

"Second, the navy will regroup and all shipyards will operate at full capacity. I hope to see a larger and more powerful new fleet within three months."

"Third, the army should intensify its offensive. I don't want any more reports of the frontline being hampered. We must make every inch of Goldenleaf's land feel the wrath of the Empire and never dare to resist again."

His orders came one after another, ruthless and efficient, which restored order to the panicked people, but also made the shadow of war even thicker.

Finally, he turned around, his cold brows sweeping over the assembled officials once more, as if piercing through a distant strait to see the land about to be stained red with blood.

As for me...

The emperor paused slightly, and the entire council hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"I will personally lead the Royal Guard Legion and the 'Deathbird' fleet on an expedition to the Golden Plantage."

The moment the words fell, it was as if an invisible thunderclap exploded in everyone's minds.

The Emperor personally led the expedition?

Since the empire unified the continent and re-established its regime, Emperor Rothari has not personally set foot on the battlefield for decades. This means that the nature of this war has been completely changed, from a conquest to expand territory to a holy war concerning the absolute dignity of the empire, which must be ended by the emperor himself.

This also means that the Duchy of Plantagenet will face an extraordinary being who is close to a god, an emperor who rules over a vast empire.

“I want to see for myself,” Rotali said, his voice laced with a murderous gleam of pleasure, “just how capable those insect eggs that dare to defy me truly are, on that land that is about to submit to me.”

He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies.

"Step back, all of you. Do what you're supposed to do, and use victory... to wash away today's shame."

The courtiers, as if granted a pardon, scrambled out of the suffocating hall, leaving only Rothari alone in the empty council chamber, with the crackling flames in the fireplace.

He slowly walked back to the throne, and shadows once again enveloped his face.

Only those eyes, burning with ghostly flames, were clearly visible in the darkness, filled with an infinite longing for war, conquest, and "ritual."

The sky above the golden pheasant will soon be covered by the true iron wings of the empire.

The scale of the war will be pushed to an unprecedented height by the will of an emperor.

Chapter 236 Pulling the Trigger

East of Baiguan Port, at the intersection of the controlled areas of the two armies, lies a scorched earth that has just undergone fierce fighting.

The trenches were muddy and filled with a suffocating stench of blood, rain, and decaying matter. Sufby—a scout using the alias Luna—pressed against the damp, cold breastwork, her uniform long since faded, barely covering her trembling, exhausted body.

In the distance, as the bugle sounded again, the soldiers of the Golden Flower Army launched a fearless charge. Bathed in artillery fire, they gripped their rudimentary weapons and repeatedly pounded the ground beneath their feet, assaulting the reserve outpost, as if their lives were never a concern.

In just two hours, her company suffered several infiltration attacks, at the cost of several more mangled corpses, which were now being dragged back to the rear by her silent comrades.

Even though Sophie was once a noblewoman, when she truly experienced the hardships of life as an ordinary person, she understood the difference between the two sides. Those young faces, those blood-soaked figures, were fighting for themselves, for their loved ones, and for the beliefs they held in their hearts. But the women who came from afar were merely invading invaders, devoid of morality and ruthlessness.

War has no right or wrong, but what is the purpose of the war, for whom is it fought, and what is the source of faith?

When the resolve to pull the trigger is thwarted, when conscience condemns the indifference within, even the most battle-hardened soldiers and mighty armies will waver, thus leading to a prolonged stalemate.

Feel sorry......

Sufbi felt apologetic for the lives lost. She knew the sin of being an accomplice, but she had lost someone important in her life. The only way to find the truth and regain the lost glory was to follow the path that person had hoped for.

She had lost everything, and only hatred and resentment in her heart sustained her as she journeyed alone into the distance.

Therefore, she had no choice but to compromise, to compromise because of her own weakness.

Just then, a commotion and shouts came from the other end of the trench. Two mud-covered Blackington soldiers roughly dragged a dark figure over and slammed him into the mud.

He was a soldier from the Pontiff. His uniform was tattered, and his shoulder insignia showed he was just a private. His youthful face was covered in mud and blood, and one leg was twisted unnaturally, clearly indicating a serious injury. He coughed violently, his eyes unfocused, and even as his consciousness faded and he could not suppress his groans of pain, he still gripped his weapon tightly at his chest.

"We caught one alive, and he almost reached our machine gun position," one of the soldiers reported, panting, and kicked the wounded soldier. "Damn it, these hyenas are like madmen!"

The officer stepped forward with a frown, preparing for a routine interrogation. But the wounded soldier seemed to be in a daze due to the pain and blood loss, only repeatedly and intermittently muttering some words.

Sufby wasn't paying attention; she was adjusting her mental focus, trying to ignore the increasingly strong stench of blood in the air. However, a few indistinct syllables still pierced through the noise, like icicles suddenly striking her eardrums.