Chapter Thirty-Six: The Ironclad, Boarding

Armored ships, boarding.
These two terms seemed utterly incongruous in this pre-dreadnought era.
Naturally, the desire for armor and boarding would only truly manifest in the interstellar age, when civilizations clashed across star systems, and the strong launched decisive strikes against their foes.
Yet, in Artificial God Realm 1909,
After Lan Yi introduced the irrational existence of martial artists, boarding became a real possibility. It was, in fact, the only way for the martial artist consortium—whose armored ships lagged behind in tonnage, speed, and firepower—to defeat the foreign fleets at sea. It was the method martial artists desperately needed to prove they could repel invaders on the waves.
Martial General Huo Yuanjia.
Ghost General Geng Liangchen.
Both were practitioners of divine martial arts, formidable in human form, with wide-ranging and sustained mental attacks that proved miraculous on the battlefield. Thus, Lan Yi dispatched them early with the fleet to the open sea.
Zhao Jian, meanwhile, nursed his grievances.
He knew his mental abilities were ill-suited for naval warfare, and he certainly couldn't withstand the monstrous caliber and explosive power of naval guns with his flesh. All he could do was vent his discontent by continuing to weed out and cleanse the ranks under his command. Coincidentally, a batch of mysterious Blood Droplets and Sticky Pole agents had infiltrated from the north, providing ample prey for this muscled beast.
Facing armored ships,
Geng Liangchen was confident.
He had single-handedly commanded the hungry ghosts to seize the Yangtze fleet.
Ordinary soldiers hidden beneath armor, confronted with his pervasive mental force, suffered overwhelming terror in the cramped, shadowy holds—akin to encountering aliens aboard a dark spacecraft in outer space. In such panic, retaliation was impossible; simply surviving the fright was a feat.
However, as Geng Liangchen hunted at sea, he quickly realized his mistake.
Armored ships docked in port were entirely different from dreadnoughts maneuvering across the boundless ocean.
Even among armored ships, there were distinctions.
The Yangtze fleet's armored vessels, captured by the martial artist consortium, were all second- and third-class cruisers. Not that Xinghan had never possessed fine, large ships—it's just that, in the humiliating naval battle against Dongyang, those ships were either sunk or disgracefully captured.
New ships, hampered by lack of funds, loss of regional control, indemnities, and chaotic taxation, could neither be bought nor built.
Yet, as martial artists and party members seized control of the Liangjiang region,
The Jiangnan Shipyard resumed operations.

It was rumored they were collaborating with foreigners to forge a giant warship for Immortal Master Lan Yi, one that could conquer all lands!
Back to the story.
The sun shone gently, waves rose and fell, and on this vast sea, devoid of landmarks, one hardly sensed the speed at which the ship surged across the water. Geng Liangchen stood at the prow, swaying with the swells, his shadowed face exposing sharp, bared teeth, making him appear especially menacing.
This divine martial artist was observing the northeast.
There,
At about thirty thousand meters—the limit of martial artists' vision—the punitive fleet sent south by foreigners had appeared. The enemy had clearly spotted Xinghan's line of ships spread across the sea.
The quantity and quality of armored ships on both sides were worlds apart.
It was as if children were squaring off against burly men in a brawl.
Yet, the burly men were exceedingly cautious, showing no intention of closing in for cannon fire, instead keeping their distance, maneuvering, probing, while the children, fearless and eager, tried to close in and let the martial artists charge, but their speed was lacking; they couldn't bite onto the enemy ships.
Armored ships maxed out at about 20 knots.
The enemy dreadnoughts, employing the latest expansion steam boiler technology, could reach speeds of 25 knots.
This meant that even if the martial artists risked catastrophic damage to push their engines, the foreigners could still pull away at over twenty-five meters per second.
"These pale faces have learned their lesson," Geng Liangchen muttered.
Everyone learns, grows, and adapts—not mere rigid NPCs.
The martial artists' exploits in Pu Hai were dazzling; naturally, the powerful foreign nations had studied this group wielding extraordinary martial power.
The martial artists' strength, their resistance to firearms, the lethality of shells, even the strange abilities of divine practitioners—all had been investigated by agents who had long infiltrated China, and news had inevitably leaked to the foreigners.
They sought to draw the martial artists out,
using advanced ships to pull and sink them at sea, then attempt to capture a few alive for study.
This was the punitive fleet's true purpose.
The great powers were intensely curious now:
What force allowed frail martial artists to no longer fear guns and cannons? Most crucially, could that power be seized and used for themselves?

Had the Qing court not been so incompetent,
it would not be merely fifty-odd ships heading south,
but a joint sea and land force helping the court suppress rebels, capture traitors, and slay supernatural foes!
"Good news—the martial artists created by that magician can't fly, and they're not faster than us," the foreign commander said, lowering his binoculars.
"Don't get complacent—the idiots at Pu Hai were arrogant and careless, letting those martial monsters get close and costing the empire its foothold in the Far East economy," another officer cautioned.
"Strange hallucinatory abilities, terrifying physical strength, superhuman reaction speed—those are their trump cards. Using naval guns on them is like using artillery on mosquitoes, utterly futile."
The commander tapped rhythmically on the porthole.
Capturing them alive seemed exceedingly difficult.
Even if they sank Xinghan's armored ships, retrieving bodies or prisoners would be risky—and boarding was out of the question.
Given that...
"Draft a telegram to the commander in Yanjing: chances of capturing alive are slim. I won't risk my men in close quarters with monsters—they'll get at most corpses, or maybe just a pile of meat," the commander ordered the signalman.
He then issued another command.
"Order the first squadron to engage."
On the open ocean, the armored ships that had been sailing in line began turning and forming up in response to the flagship's orders. From above, one could see the formation shift from a horizontal chain to a T-shaped array, with the crossbar facing the enemy.
Dozens of thousands of tons of steel mountains advanced in tidy ranks, moving as one—like marching peaks!
The spectacle was suffocating in its grandeur.
Huo Yuanjia gazed from afar, exhaling.
"They finally couldn't resist. Fifteen to twenty thousand meters... If only I could ride a shell straight across, it would be much easier. We really must build ships—build great ships!"