Chapter 41: 70 Hours War Part 8

South Irnetia Sea, Carrier Nanjing, China First Expeditionary Fleet

Admiral Li Pengcheng gazed out over the vast, shimmering expanse of the South Irnetia Sea from the command bridge of the carrier Nanjing, the flagship of the China First Expeditionary Fleet. The calm of the ocean surface did little to reflect the tumult roiling beneath his stern exterior. His mind raced with calculations and grim possibilities, though his face remained a mask of disciplined composure. He had learned long ago that in moments of extreme pressure, a calm exterior was his greatest ally.

The unexpected message from the Central Military Commission still echoed in his mind. The report was short but suffocating in its implications. A Milishial superweapon—the Pal Chimera Orbital Battle Station, HMES Nova Aurora—was heading directly toward their position. The nature of the threat was staggering.

"Thirty thousand kilometers above us," Li muttered softly under his breath, his words barely audible. He shook his head as he repeated the statistic that boggled even his seasoned military mind. "A 2,600-meter-diameter platform of death."

Rear Admiral Zhang Fang Jing, Chief of Electronic Warfare and Cyber Operations stood beside him, clearly just as disturbed by the news, though he too maintained his rigid bearing. Both men were veterans, forged in the fires of countless naval engagements. They had faced everything from sophisticated enemy fleets to treacherous weather, but this was something else entirely—a battle against a seemingly insurmountable foe.

Li's fleet, the pride of China's naval might, suddenly seemed fragile. Yes, they were equipped with the most advanced warships China could produce. Yes, they had the technological prowess of the world's second-largest economy behind them. But they had no weapons that could reach 30,000 kilometers into space. None of their systems were designed to deal with something so far beyond the atmosphere.

"Admiral Zhang," Li said in a low, measured tone, "we're facing something none of us ever expected. What do we have in terms of detection capabilities? Is there any way our radars can even pick up something at that altitude?"

Zhang furrowed his brow, processing the question. He knew the answer but took a moment to confirm the technical details in his mind. "Admiral," he began, turning to face Li more fully, "our Type-346B active electronically scanned array radars, the ones fitted on our Type-55 destroyers, are among the most advanced in the world. But their effective range tops out around 400 kilometers. These radars are designed for air and surface threats, with some limited capability against low-earth orbit objects. But at 30,000 kilometers?" He paused, shaking his head. "Even with a target as massive as the Nova Aurora, the radar signal would be so weak, so dispersed at that distance, it might as well be invisible."

Li closed his eyes briefly, digesting the information. "So, we can't detect it."

"Not reliably, sir. Even if we could somehow point our radars straight up and account for the curvature of the planet, the signal would degrade to the point of being useless. Space-based objects, especially at those altitudes, are usually tracked by specialized systems—space surveillance radars, satellite constellations, not naval radars."

Li exhaled slowly, staring out at the horizon. He had anticipated as much. Naval warfare, despite its incredible evolution over the centuries, was still mostly confined to the atmosphere. They were sailors, not spacemen. And now, they were facing a threat that should belong to the realm of science fiction.

"Then we can't fight it, and we can't hide from it. That leaves only one option: we run."

Zhang straightened up. "You want us to break formation, Admiral?"

"Yes," Li replied. "We need to consider the potential of area-effect munitions—if it has a bomb or some kind of orbital strike capability, it could devastate our formation in one fell swoop we can't afford to remain clustered together like sitting ducks. Spread out the fleet. I want every ship to move in a different direction—north, south, east, west—whatever direction is furthest from our current position. We need to make it as difficult as possible for them to hit us all at once."

"Aye, Admiral," Zhang acknowledged, quickly turning to the communication officer to relay the orders. "Send out the signal: all vessels are to break formation immediately. Full speed in all directions."

The officer swiftly began typing out the command, and within moments, the ships of the China First Expeditionary Fleet began executing Admiral Li's orders. The tight, disciplined formation they had maintained until now began to unravel, each ship peeling off on a different course, spreading across the horizon in an intricate dance of evasion.

Li watched as the fleet dissipated, his mind still working through the complexities of their situation. Breaking formation might make it harder for the Nova Aurora to target them, but there were other factors at play—factors that might give them an even greater advantage.

"We're not entirely defenseless," Li muttered to himself.

"Sir?" Zhang asked, having caught the quiet remark.

Li's eyes narrowed in thought. "For all its power, the Pal Chimera isn't without its own limitations. It's not invincible. At 30,000 kilometers, even with their advanced sensor arrays, the Milishial space battle station will have to deal with atmospheric interference. Humidity, temperature variations, the dynamic nature of the sea itself—these factors will degrade the quality of their optical and electro-optical sensors. It won't be easy for them to get a clear lock on us."

Zhang nodded, understanding the point. "So you think their targeting systems will struggle to track us because of the distance and atmospheric conditions?"

"Exactly," Li said, his voice steady. "Optical sensors will suffer from light distortion, scattering, and absorption at those altitudes. Even the best synthetic aperture radars can struggle to differentiate between targets on a rough sea with constantly shifting waves. And with the fleet scattered, the chaos of the ocean might just work in our favor. They'll have a hard time distinguishing one ship from another, especially if we're moving erratically."

Zhang's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hope crossing his face. "If their sensors are compromised, they won't be able to get precise targeting data. That gives us more time to maneuver and evade."

"More than just maneuvering," Li added. "We can disrupt their sensors entirely. Have the fleet engage ECM protocols. Full-spectrum electronic countermeasures. I want every radar, every communication system, everything jammed. If we can flood their sensors with noise, we might be able to blind them long enough to make a clean escape."

Zhang's face brightened slightly, though the tension of the situation still weighed heavily on him. "If we jam their sensors, they'll have to rely on visual identification or other means. But even then, at 30,000 kilometers…" He left the thought hanging, knowing that Milishial's superweapon might still have other capabilities unknown to them.

"Send out the order," Li said firmly. "Tell all ships to engage ECM at full power."

"Yes, Admiral," Zhang replied, his voice sharp and clear as he passed the command to the comms officer. "Full ECM protocols on all ships. Let's make it as hard as possible for them to see us."

As the fleet scattered and their electronic warfare systems came to life, an indistinct hum began to reverberate through the Nanjing's bridge. The ECM generators were flooding the airwaves with powerful jamming signals, creating a bubble of confusion around each ship. On the surface, the fleet looked like nothing more than a series of ships moving in different directions. But to any radar or targeting system trying to lock onto them, the fleet would now appear as a wall of noise, an indecipherable mass of static and electronic interference.

Li Pengcheng watched the display screens carefully as the jamming systems activated. He could only hope that their ECM capabilities were strong enough to thwart the sensors of the Nova Aurora. He knew that their electronic warfare systems were among the best in the world, but he was also aware that the Pal Chimera's technology was on an entirely different level. Still, as he had pointed out earlier, the Milishial machine would face its own set of challenges. Targeting moving ships from an altitude of 30,000 kilometers wasn't just a matter of pointing and shooting. The timing had to be perfect. The sensors had to be precise. And the environment—the ocean, the clouds, the atmospheric interference—all played a role in complicating their task.

Li stared at the horizon, his expression hardening. "We've prepared for battles with other navies. With fleets and carriers and submarines. But this? This is something new. Something beyond what any of us expected."

Zhang nodded. "We weren't trained for this kind of warfare—being hunted from space."

"No," Li agreed, "but we adapt. We always adapt." He straightened his posture, the gravity of the situation sharpening his focus. "They think they can overwhelm us with sheer power. But we'll make them work for every shot they take. If they want us, they'll have to come down from their high perch and get their hands dirty."

As the fleet continued to spread out, every ship following its new orders, the tension on the bridge was palpable. The jamming signals, decoys, and countermeasures were in full effect, and the sea churned as the ships moved at high speed, leaving behind trails of disrupted water.

"Admiral," Zhang said quietly, "if they manage to fire on us… what do we do?"

Li's gaze didn't waver. "We keep moving. They might get a few hits, but we won't give them a clean shot at the whole fleet. The more they scatter their fire, the more of us survive. And that's all that matters right now—survival."

A long silence followed as the bridge crew worked, their focus solely on the task of avoiding the wrath of the Nova Aurora. Every screen, every sensor, every console hummed with the frenetic energy of a fleet in survival mode.

Finally, Zhang broke the silence. "And if we survive?"

Li allowed himself the briefest of smiles, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Then we send a message to Milishial that their superweapon isn't invincible. We'll outthink them. And when the time comes, we'll be ready to strike back."

The Admiral's voice carried a quiet confidence, a determination that seemed to settle over the entire bridge. Despite the overwhelming odds, despite the fear that gnawed at every man's heart, they had a leader who refused to surrender to despair.

For now, they would run, they would hide, and they would survive.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear—Admiral Li Pengcheng and his fleet would not go down without trying everything.

The Pal Chimera Orbital Battle Station - HMES Nova Aurora

The Pal Chimera Orbital Battle Station, HMES Nova Aurora, floated silently 30,000 kilometers above the planet, a godlike entity in orbit. Its sheer presence dwarfed anything ever constructed by human hands. The station's massive rings glinted faintly in the sunlight, its silhouette more akin to some celestial artifact than a warship. This was the weapon of the Holy Milishial Empire, the most advanced fusion of technology and magic known to man. And at its helm stood Duke Valandor Illisthar, a commander as cold and precise as the very weapon under his control.

"Status report," Illisthar's voice, cold and commanding, broke the silence.

"ETA in T-minus ten minutes," replied Lieutenant Eldarin, the navigation officer. His hands danced across the floating rune panels with the grace of a master mage, adjusting their course in minute increments.

"Target acquisition?" Illisthar asked, turning to Sergeant Thelen, the officer overseeing radar operations.

"Full-spectrum jamming from the Chinese fleet, Captain," Thelen responded with a tone of annoyance. His station was awash with data, none of it useful. "Their ECM systems are making it difficult to get a proper lock." The lieutenant's mask, gleaming with the smooth, featureless white design of a lower officer, reflected his frustration as he scanned the reports.

Marquis Veyraen stepped forward, his sapphire-studded mask catching the faint light of the floating screens. "Perhaps we should lower our altitude, Captain. Reducing distance would allow us to pierce the interference more easily."

Illisthar waved his hand dismissively, the gesture as authoritative as any command. "No. Lowering the station would expose us to more risk. They still have long-range missiles, and while none of them could reach us at this altitude, closing the gap would increase the threat. We will proceed with caution."

Calithor bowed slightly. "As you wish."

"Begin using focused radar beams," Illisthar ordered. "We'll locate them eventually. Time is on our side."

The crew, ever efficient and silent, obeyed without hesitation. The Nova Aurora's massive systems began to pulse with energy as they shifted into a focused scanning pattern. It was a slower method, but far safer than dropping to a more vulnerable altitude.

Minutes passed as the crew worked tirelessly to locate their quarry. Finally, the arcane runes flared to life, the energy in the room buzzing with anticipation.

"Target acquired," came a voice from the control deck. A Chinese Type-75 amphibious assault ship, the Guangxi, appeared on the screen, a faint blip amid the wide ocean expanse. The ship was attempting evasive maneuvers, but it was no use. The Nova Aurora had locked on.

Valandor's masked face betrayed nothing as he acknowledged the report. "Prepare to fire. Even if we miss, the area of effect will be devastating."

At the weapons station, the red-haired homunculus, her voluptuous form barely constrained by her leather attire, manipulated the ship's energy systems with the elegance of a performer. Her body moved in sync with the magical energy flowing through the station's core, her motions precise, yet strangely sensual. The elves paid her no heed; to them, she was merely a construct, a tool designed for a single purpose.

"Gun stabilization systems normal," reported Eldarin, his voice carrying the same cold detachment as the others. "Course set for optimum bombardment efficiency."

The homunculus at Eldarin's side mimicked his movements, her glassy eyes staring straight ahead, devoid of any semblance of awareness. She, too, was a part of the station's well-oiled machine.

Illisthar's lips barely moved as he spoke the command. "Commence the attack."

At once, the colossal cannon, "Zeus," which had been developed from the ruins of the ancient sorcerous empire, began to hum with a terrible power. The air around the core of the station vibrated as the magic energy coalesced within the firing mechanism. This was no ordinary weapon—it was a product of the lost civilization's technology, a relic of a forgotten age, now repurposed by the Milishial Empire as its ultimate weapon.

The pillar at the heart of the station glowed with a blinding white light, arcane runes swirling around it as the energy surged toward the cannon. Moments later, the bottom of the structure opened, revealing a massive 10-ton rod made of orichalcum, a magical metal so dense and durable that it could penetrate almost any material on Earth. It hung suspended in the air for a brief moment before gravity magic accelerated it downward, faster and faster.

The rod tore through the atmosphere with lethal precision, accelerating at a breathtaking rate of 10 kilometers per second squared. The ocean below was a dark and churning mass, its surface broken only by the faint outlines of ships trying desperately to evade the unseen menace above. The Guangxi was one such ship, its captain blissfully unaware of the apocalyptic weapon descending upon them.

The rod struck the water 120 meters to the north of the Guangxi, its aim slightly off due to the atmospheric distortion at such high altitudes. But it didn't matter. The sheer kinetic energy of the rod, traveling at 775 kilometers per second, unleashed a catastrophic force upon impact.

The surface of the ocean erupted in an explosion unlike anything ever witnessed by man. The energy was equivalent to 720,000 tons of TNT. A blinding flash of light illuminated the sky as the rod transferred its energy into the water. The resulting shockwave vaporized the surrounding sea, creating a vast crater in the water as though the very hand of God had reached down and scooped it away.

For miles around, the sea buckled and heaved. The Guangxi, though not directly struck, was lifted into the air by the force of the shockwave, the hull buckling under the immense pressure. Steel screamed as it was torn apart like paper. The ship's crew, caught in the chaos, were thrown about like ragdolls, many of them instantly killed by the concussive force.

In the water, anything within a 500-meter radius was vaporized. Further out, ships were flipped, their hulls snapping in half as they were tossed about like toys. The sheer magnitude of destruction was incomprehensible. Even the Guangxi, though spared the direct impact, was shattered by the shockwave, its once proud frame reduced to a twisted wreckage sinking slowly beneath the waves.

Aboard the Pal Chimera, the bridge was silent. The crew watched the destruction unfold on their ethereal displays, their faces hidden behind their masks. None of them reacted. This was war, and they were merely its instruments.

"The rod missed by 120 meters," Marquis Calithor Veyraen noted, his tone neutral. "But the result is acceptable."

Illisthar remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the display. The devastation was total. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lives had been erased in an instant, and yet there was no sense of satisfaction or triumph in his voice when he finally spoke.

"Prepare the next rod," he ordered. "We will continue until the Chinese fleet is eradicated."

The homunculi at the weapons stations continued their work, their lifeless eyes reflecting none of the horror unfolding below. Another rod, identical to the first, emerged from the core of the station, its metallic surface gleaming in the dim light. The process began again, as cold and methodical as before.

The sea below, once a place of strategic maneuvering and tactical decision-making, had become a graveyard. The remnants of the Chinese fleet, those that had not been annihilated in the first strike, scattered in every direction, desperate to escape the wrath of the Pal Chimera. But it was futile. The station was high above, its power unmatched by anything on the planet.

As the second rod was launched, Illisthar turned to Veyraen, his voice as calm as ever. "Let this be a message to those who dare defy the Milishial Empire."

Veyraen nodded. "The world will know our power, Duke. No one can stand against us."

The second rod struck true, obliterating another ship in a flash of light and fire. The sea churned with the bodies of the dead and dying, the once proud Chinese fleet now little more than debris scattered across the ocean.

Aboard the Pal Chimera, the crew continued their work, their hands steady, their minds focused. They were the instruments of Milishial's will, and they would carry out their mission without hesitation or remorse.

Above them, the stars shone cold and indifferent, watching as the war below unfolded, one brutal strike at a time.

Beijing, Central Military Commission Emergency Meeting

The atmosphere in the Central Military Commission (CMC) headquarters was tense. Seated around a massive table, China's most powerful military figures awaited the outcome of the emergency session. In the chair at the head of the table sat Hu Wenbo, General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party and President of China. His face was stoic, but his mind was racing with a thousand thoughts. He had summoned the top brass after receiving the dire news from the South Irnetia Sea. The sinking of the Chinese navy by the Pal Chimera Orbital Battle Station, HMS Nova Aurora, had pushed the situation to the brink of collapse.

Seated to his right was General Zhang Youxia, a veteran known for his strategic brilliance, and on his left was General He Weidong, the youngest vice chairman, known for his calm but decisive leadership. Both men were trusted pillars of China's military establishment. Around the table, the other members of the Central Military Commission sat in a tense silence. General Liu Zhenli, the Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Department, shifted slightly in his seat. His sharp mind was racing through countless scenarios. Beside him, Admiral Miao Hua, the Director of the Political Work Department, kept a stoic expression, though his eyes betrayed concern. General Zhang Shengmin, the Secretary of the Commission for Discipline Inspection, sat stiffly, always a disciplinarian at heart, his mind focused on maintaining order amidst the chaos.

The heads of the military branches filled the remaining seats, each one a figure of respect and fear: Ground Force Commander General Li Qiaoming, Navy Commander Admiral Hu Zhongming, Air Force Commander General Chang Dingqiu, Rocket Force Commander General Wang Houbin, and Aerospace Force Commander General Hao Weizhong. Each of them knew this meeting could shape the course of China's future, or spell its downfall.

General He Weidong, Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission, stood to address the room. His voice, calm yet laden with the weight of recent events, filled the space. "Comrades, the situation has escalated beyond what any of us could have anticipated." He paused briefly, allowing the significance of his words to settle. "Admiral Li Pengcheng and the 1st Expeditionary Fleet achieved a significant victory, delaying the Milishial task force and capturing King Irtis XIII of Irnetia. It should have brought us to the verge of their surrender."

He Weidong's eyes darkened as he continued, "But at 17:34 local time, a lone J-35 fighter from the 117th Stealth Strike Fighter Squadron launched an unauthorized attack on Milishial's flagship, the Invictus Arcanum. This reckless action led to the sinking of our submarine fleet, escalating the situation to its current state."

A murmur swept through the room as the generals exchanged worried glances. The unauthorized strike was a breach of protocol—one that could not have come at a worse time. The room fell silent as General He Weidong delivered the most devastating blow. "In response, the Milishial Emperor has deployed the Pal Chimera Orbital Battle Station—HMS Nova Aurora. Its mission is clear: to annihilate our entire navy."

The silence that followed his words was thick with tension. The faces of the generals were grim as they absorbed the full weight of the report.

Hu Wenbo was the first to speak. "What can we do to neutralize this Nova Aurora? How do we defend ourselves against a weapon that can strike us from 30,000 kilometers above the planet?"

The room was quiet for a moment as the generals exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, General Wang Houbin, commander of the Rocket Force, broke the silence.

"There is nothing we can do," he admitted, his tone calm but laden with the severity of the situation. "We don't have anything in our arsenal that can reach 30,000 kilometers. The planet's gravity field is too intense for any of our current technology to counteract that kind of orbital weaponry."

The President's eyes narrowed, but he remained composed. "What about Project Heaven Lance? Can we use the nuclear-powered cannon to launch weapons into orbit?"

General Hao Weizhong shook his head. "In theory, yes. We can certainly build the equivalent of an American Orion-style orbital battleship."

"What is that?"

Hao took a breath, prepared for the explanation. "The Orion-style battleship, as conceived by the Americans during the Cold War, was an ambitious project—possibly the most dangerous ever proposed. It was designed to be a massive spacecraft powered by nuclear explosions, specifically by detonating hundreds of atom bombs behind the ship to propel it forward. This propulsion method would have given it enough power to carry enormous payloads, including nuclear weapons, to distant targets, even across planets."

He paused, letting the weight of the concept sink in before continuing. "The Americans believed that a 24,000-ton version of the Orion would be 'right-sized' for an interplanetary warship, armed with devastating firepower. And when I say armed, I mean armed to the teeth. Their design called for a stockpile of 500 one-hundred-megaton nuclear warheads—each capable of obliterating a small country."

The room fell silent as General Hao continued, the enormity of the numbers shocking even the most seasoned military men in the room.

"The Orion-class would have also been equipped with 15-inch naval cannon turrets, much like those used on warships at sea, to engage smaller threats. It would have carried six hypersonic landing boats, each capable of deploying troops or supplies at high speeds. But perhaps the most terrifying weapon was something called the Casaba Howitzer."

"Casaba Howitzer?" Admiral Miao Hua, Director of the Political Work Department, asked, his brows furrowing.

"Yes," Hao confirmed. "It's a type of nuclear-shaped charge—a kind of directed-energy weapon. When it detonates, instead of a typical explosion, it releases a focused beam of nuclear energy, like a ray gun, except it's nuclear fire. The Orion-style ship would have had several hundred of these, capable of incinerating targets at great distances."

The idea of such a weapon was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. General Hao continued, "In its day, the concept was too extreme, too politically dangerous to pursue. It was shelved in 1965, after years of internal debates within the United States. But with modern technology, we could build something far more advanced. We could fit it with railguns, precision-guided missiles, hypersonic weapons, and far superior sensors. An Orion-style battleship today would be an unstoppable force in orbit."

Hu Wenbo leaned back, digesting the information. "And how long would it take to build?"

"At least five years," Hao admitted, "possibly longer. We don't have the infrastructure for a project of this magnitude right now. We'd need to start from scratch, building facilities, refining our technology, and training teams to execute it. It would be a monumental effort."

The President's frown deepened. "Five years is far too long. We need a solution now."

Admiral Hu Zhongming, the commander of the Chinese Navy, cleared his throat and spoke up for the first time, his voice slicing through the tension that had settled over the room like a heavy fog. "We may not have five years, but we do have other options," he began, his tone measured and calm, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "While no ICBM of ours can hit their mainland due to the vast distance separating us from Milishial, there are alternatives."

The others at the table, a collection of China's top military strategists and defense officials, immediately leaned forward, their attention now fully locked on the admiral.

"Currently," he continued, his gaze sweeping the room, "two of our Longwang-class nuclear-powered unmanned underwater vehicles are stationed near Milishial waters."

A murmur rippled through the table, the significance of this revelation quickly sinking in. The Longwang-class vehicles were highly classified, known only to a few select individuals within the government. Capable of functioning autonomously for months at a time, they were the stealth weapons that China had placed in strategic positions long before tensions had escalated to their current levels. The mere mention of them changed the tone of the conversation.

"These vehicles," Admiral Hu explained, "are torpedo-shaped robotic submarines, capable of traveling at speeds of 185 kilometers per hour with virtually limitless range. Their stealth capabilities make them undetectable by most existing sonar systems due to their depth and speed. No enemy vessel will know they're there, not unless we want them to."

He paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. The room was silent, save for the soft tapping of a pen from one of the aides taking notes in the corner. The faces around the table were focused, intense. These were the men and women who controlled the fate of the nation, and the burden of the decisions they made here would ripple across the globe.

"Each Longwang," Hu continued, his face still impassive, his voice steady, "is equipped with the capability to carry and launch up to three long-range cruise missiles, each fitted with a one-megaton nuclear warhead. These missiles are not bound by the same limitations as our ICBMs. We could use them to strike directly at Milishial's capital, Runepolis."

The room went deathly silent. The mere suggestion of a nuclear strike on Milishial's capital—a gleaming, nearly mythical city that had long been the seat of the world's most powerful empire—was unfathomable. Milishial had demonstrated overwhelming superiority in the last few weeks, devastating Chinese fleets with near impunity, leaving China on the defensive.

General Liu Zhenli, Chief of Staff of the Joint Staff Department, was the first to react. His face flushed with anger as he slammed his fist down on the heavy oak table, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot. "Are you out of your mind, Hu? That's suicide! Pure, unadulterated madness!" His voice rose as he spoke, nearly shaking with fury. "The Milishial Empire has firepower we can barely comprehend. And they have egos the size of the sun! If we even threaten to nuke their capital, they'll strike us first and wipe us off the map before we even get a chance to fire!"

Liu's outburst sent shockwaves through the room, but Admiral Hu Zhongming remained calm, his expression a mask of quiet determination. "I understand the risks," Hu replied, his voice low but unwavering. "But you're forgetting something important. Right now, they're playing a game of escalation. Each time we try to counter them, they raise the stakes. The Nova Aurora is just the latest escalation in that game." His eyes scanned the room. "We need leverage—something that will make them think twice before striking again. The Longwangs might be that leverage."

General Liu leaned forward, his eyes burning with disbelief. "Leverage? You're talking about nuclear war! We don't even know what kind of retaliation they're capable of. And what if they have something worse than the Nova Aurora? What if their station starts obliterating our cities from orbit?"

The air in the room seemed to thicken with tension. As the weight of Hu's proposal sank in, the atmosphere grew electric, everyone's nerves frayed by the gravity of the situation. The possibility of provoking Milishial into a total war loomed large over every word spoken.

General Zhang Shengmin, Secretary of the Commission for Discipline Inspection, leaned forward, cutting into the rising argument with a voice that was low but sharp, each word carrying the weight of quiet authority. "Liu is right," he said coldly. "A nuclear strike on Milishial would be catastrophic. But we also cannot ignore the reality of our situation. We're outmatched, outgunned, and on the verge of being completely overwhelmed. This isn't about winning anymore. It's about survival."

The words struck a chord in the room, sending a ripple of uncertainty through the ranks of China's military leadership.

Admiral Hu Zhongming pressed on, undeterred by the skepticism. "I know what we're talking about is dangerous. But look at the alternatives! If we sit back and do nothing, the Nova Aurora will obliterate our fleets, and Milishial will continue to tighten its grip around our necks. They've already humiliated us on the global stage." His gaze swept across the room. "If we strike Runepolis, they'll hesitate. They'll have to consider the consequences of escalating the conflict even further."

"You're talking about provoking a nuclear holocaust!" General Liu fired back, his face flushed with anger. "You're gambling with the lives of billions, Hu!"

Before Admiral Hu could respond, General Zhang Youxia, Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission, erupted. His chair scraped violently against the floor as he rose to his feet, pointing an accusatory finger at Liu Zhenli. His face was red with fury, his eyes blazing. "What are you suggesting then, Liu? That we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses while they wipe us out? You're a coward!"

Liu's face twisted into a scowl as he shot back, "I'm trying to save this country, Zhang, not destroy it! If we act recklessly, we'll be wiped out, and Milishial will be justified in doing it! You want to go down in history as the general who got China annihilated?"

General Li Qiaoming, commander of the Ground Forces, joined the fray, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So, Liu, what's your brilliant plan? Surrender? Beg Milishial to spare us like a bunch of sniveling dogs?" He shot a glance at Admiral Hu. "At least Hu has the guts to propose a plan with teeth."

General Liu Zhenli held his ground, though the tension in the room was palpable, the intensity of the argument pressing down on every person present. "Maybe we should consider surrender!" Liu said through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low. "We're not in a position to win this war, not yet. We need to buy time—time to rebuild, time to develop the kind of weapons that can counter their orbital stations, time to figure out a way to survive."

The word "surrender" hung in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. The generals in the room exchanged glances, some in shock, others in disbelief. General Zhang Youxia's face turned a deeper shade of red, his fist trembling with anger as he spoke.

"Have you lost your mind, Liu? You're a traitor! A coward! How can you even suggest such a thing? Surrender? To those arrogant elves? They'll strip us of everything!" His voice shook with barely contained rage.

The room erupted into chaos as the generals began shouting over each other, each trying to make their voice heard in the cacophony. Admiral Hu remained silent, watching the scene unfold with an unreadable expression, while General Liu stood his ground, unflinching in the face of the accusations being hurled at him.

"Surrender is treason!" General Zhang Youxia roared, his voice drowning out the others. "They'll take our land, our resources—everything. And then they'll humiliate us on the world stage for generations to come. Is that what you want, Liu?"

"No," Liu shaked his head. "Milishial have huge egos, but they also have a need for order. Milishial claims to be the guardians of world peace. If we stroke their egos, offer them a sincere apology, perhaps negotiate terms—"

Admiral Hu Zhongming cut in, his voice laced with disdain. "Negotiate terms? With an empire that just obliterated our fleet with a weapon from space? You think they'll settle for an apology?"

Liu held his ground, his eyes narrowing. "They might. Milishial prides itself on being civilized, on maintaining balance...

General Zhang Shengmin joined the fray, his voice cold and cutting through the noise like a knife. "What do you think Milishial would demand in return, Liu? They've already shown they have no qualms about obliterating our forces. They'll demand total capitulation. We'll be at their mercy, and mercy isn't exactly a trait Milishial is known for."

General Liu Zhenli's eyes flashed with anger, but he kept his voice measured. "We don't know what they'll demand, but what we do know is that continuing this war recklessly will only lead to one outcome—our destruction. We have to be realistic. We're not prepared to face their superweapons. Not yet. Surrendering now doesn't mean defeat; it means survival."

"Surrendering is defeat, you idiot!" General Li Qiaoming sneered. "You're delusional if you think Milishial will let us rebuild after surrendering. They'll cripple us, and we'll never recover!"

The room grew louder and louder, the shouting match intensifying as the generals hurled accusations and insults at one another. For a moment, it seemed as though the situation might devolve into violence, as fists clenched and tempers flared.

But through it all, the President remained silent, his face unreadable as he sat at the head of the table, watching the argument unfold. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, his expression inscrutable as he listened to his most trusted military leaders tear each other apart.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hu Wenbo raised his hand, and the room fell into a tense silence. The generals quieted immediately, their gazes turning toward the President, who had yet to utter a single word throughout the entire debate.

"We cannot act recklessly," Hu Wenbo said, his voice quiet but commanding. "The future of China is at stake. This isn't about pride, or ego, or revenge. This is about survival." His eyes moved slowly around the room, locking onto each general in turn, making sure they understood the gravity of the situation.

"General Liu is right about one thing," he continued, his tone measured. "We cannot afford to provoke an all-out war with Milishial, not when they hold the cards." The President words hung in the air, thick with the weight of his authority. "Let open a diplomatic channel and learn what they want."