Iron Dynasty Chapter 1038

Following a day and a night of constant navigation, the warship fleet commanded by Yue Yun finally arrived in the waters near Manila.

The journey had been entirely peaceful, characterized by a monotonous lack of conflict. However, upon reaching Manila, the atmosphere shifted as their spirits were immediately galvanized.

“The Dutch have actually constructed defensive trench lines along the shore. It appears they intend to resist us to the bitter end.” Peering through his binoculars, Liu Chen observed Dutch infantry actively maneuvering within the earthworks.

Besides the Dutch, they also spotted dark-skinned local natives stationed within the trenches. These auxiliaries were clad in the same khaki uniforms as the Dutch forces, watching the incoming fleet with weapons poised.

“There appear to be roughly four thousand Dutch regulars. They have also conscripted and trained approximately five thousand local natives,” Liu Chen observed while continuing his assessment.

Yue Yun surveyed the Dutch beachhead, begrudgingly admitting that the commander overseeing the defense displayed a measure of strategic foresight.

Regardless, such fortifications were insufficient to deter a marine landing. His warships were effectively floating artillery batteries, and these Dutchmen had foolishly positioned their defenses within point-blank range, practically inviting their own destruction.

“Advance directly into the harbor and let the Dutch witness the true power of an ironclad warship.” Yue Yun appeared composed. The over-three-hundred-millimeter armor plating adorning the King-Class vessels was far more than mere decoration.

As the command was issued, the fleet steered straight into Manila’s harbor, every main turret rotating to lock its muzzles directly onto the Dutch defensive lines.

“Boom! Boom! Boom…”

The Dutch shore batteries initiated the exchange. Explosive shells arched over five hundred meters, striking the Great Yu Empire’s warships with thunderous force.

Yet, this initial volley failed to inflict even minor structural damage upon the hulls.

Designed specifically to repel high-explosive munitions, the ironclads utilized armor so dense that conventional shells struggled to leave a scratch against the steel plates.

From his vantage point within the trench, Eric examined the results through his binoculars. His heart sank; the bombardment hadn't achieved even a single dent.

The harbor artillery continued its relentless rhythm, but the results remained identical. The force of the detonations could not even warp the cold, unyielding surfaces of the ironclads.

“You must accept the reality now—we are merely awaiting our deaths here,” Eric remarked to Simon, who stood nearby observing the imperial fleet.

“These ironclads are absolutely monstrous. How in the world could such ships be constructed?” Fear glazed Simon's eyes; he had possessed little prior contact with the Chinese Empire during his time in Manila.

When he committed to defending the position, he never anticipated such a one-sided slaughter. The line of steel warships anchored on the sea had left him thoroughly terrified.

Clinging to a sliver of hope, he countered, “Eric, hold the line. Remember our objective. Should we secure the Han-style rifles, we will return to the Netherlands as wealthy men.”

Eric had chosen to remain for that very reason. He was acutely aware of the exorbitant value these Chinese technological marvels commanded throughout Europe.

All of Europe was currently obsessed with the Empire’s advancements, specifically their sophisticated weaponry. The promise of immense rewards had driven many desperate souls to venture into Asia.

Whether disguised as merchants or serving amongst pirate crews, every single one of them shared a singular goal: to procure the Empire’s secrets.

“Are the escape boats confirmed to be ready?” Eric questioned again.

Simon gave a solemn nod. “Once we have what we came for, we will depart immediately.”

He barely finished his sentence before a deafening roar erupted from the sea. Brilliant flashes and thick white plumes vented from the ironclads’ muzzles, followed immediately by countless fiery blossoms erupting across the trench network.

The very earth began to shudder violently under the impact.

Eric and Simon instinctively threw themselves into the dirt of the trench floor. The bombardment showed no signs of relenting, with the shockwaves churning the earth, scattering blood, shredded fabric, and broken limbs across the front lines.

That single, opening barrage had shattered the Dutch morale, yet it was only the beginning. Wave after wave of steel rained down.

Massive craters pockmarked the position, and direct hits on the trenches pulverized entire sections of the line. One by one, the shore batteries were dismantled by the precise fire. After five rounds, the enemy artillery finally fell silent, leaving the position as quiet as a graveyard.

Aboard the King-Class, Yue Yun offered a faint, approving smile as he watched the crewmen jam another massive shell into the 305mm main turret.

Following years of rapid technological evolution, the Imperial Navy had effectively transitioned into the era of the dreadnought ironclad.

With projectiles of this magnitude, a single hit in any naval engagement would be sufficient to annihilate a sailing vessel entirely.

Surveying the decimated landscape, he turned to Liu Chen. “The artillery has done its work. Now, it is time for your marines to initiate the push.”

Liu Chen had already organized his companies. At his signal, a flagman alerted the marines across the fleet to commence landing operations.

The bombardment had claimed at least twenty percent of the defending force, but the psychological terror induced by the shelling was far more devastating than the casualty count itself.

Landing craft were lowered sequentially into the water behind the fleet. The transport vessels surged toward the beach, safe in the knowledge that no viable artillery remained to threaten them. Any Dutch soldier attempting to flee the trenches would be easily picked off by the warships.

Upon reaching the shore, Liu Chen ordered his formation to advance in skirmish lines. Simultaneously, machine gun teams moved under guard to establish elevated firing positions in the surrounding terrain.

The marines moved forward with methodical precision, yet an unsettling silence hung over the Dutch lines; not a single shot was fired in response.

“Chen Wei, lead your company forward in a charge,” Liu Chen commanded. He held nothing but disdain for static trench warfare, where conflicts often languished in painful stalemates.

Company Commander Chen Wei of the First Marine Regiment signaled his men, leading over a thousand soldiers toward the Dutch earthworks.

Three hundred meters, two hundred, then one hundred—they pressed forward, yet the Dutch remained strangely silent, withholding their fire.

Sensing they were within striking distance of the trenches, Chen Wei abruptly raised his arm and gestured for his men to drop. “Prep grenades! Throw a full volley, then charge! No mercy!”

The sequence was executed instantly. At his shout of “Throw!”, a rain of grenades arced into the trenches, followed by a series of muffled, earth-shaking concussions.

The foremost trench was instantly obscured by fire and billowing ash, accompanied by the agonizing shrieks of the Dutch defenders.

“Charge!” Chen Wei bellowed, leading the marines forward.

Eric had been bracing for this moment. To him, this entire conflict was a grim gamble—trading their lives for the potential payout of the Han-style rifles.

He had intentionally deepened these trenches, hoping to draw the imperial soldiers into an ambush for close-quarters slaughter. It was his only desperate hope to acquire their gear. Should this failure conclude, his fate would be truly dire.