CHAPTER 306: CHAPTER 220 ALMOST THERE

Propelled by the power of black gunpowder, the "Wanjin Rocket" reaches a top speed of 150-250 meters per second after launch, starting from 30 meters per second, then drops down to 80-100 meters per second as air resistance increases and the propulsive force weakens.

This speed is just average—it’s nothing like modern rocket artillery that all start at 800 meters per second; for example, the BM-30 "Tornado" launches at 850 meters per second. But in the Japan Middle Ages, this is more than enough. Firing from about three li away leaves Kinoshita Shichiro just ten seconds to react.

On land, ten seconds is enough time to pull off a lot of moves—you could even roll out eighteen variations of the "Lazy Donkey Rolling" trick. But at sea, ten seconds isn’t enough for a ship to react at all; they can’t even tilt their bow slightly.

That’s exactly how it played out. Mizuno Shichiro hadn’t even figured out what was flying at him and hadn’t given any orders before the "Wanjin Rockets"... had already flown over his head.

Yeah, the lowest one barely grazed the roof of the Dragon King’s superstructure. If the Dragon King had been a bit slower, or if the launch angle was any lower, it might’ve hit dead on.

That was definitely something to be grateful for—one salvo almost sent all the elite samurai of the Kinoshita family straight out. But Kinoshita Shichiro had zero excitement at surviving by luck. He almost snapped his neck spinning to track the rocket, watching it smash into the ships behind the Dragon King.

Twelve rockets—three exploded mid-air due to subpar propellant and too many air gaps during stage combustion. Of the remaining nine, four veered way off target due to lost stabilizers or defective tail fins and soared into empty sea. In the end, only five reached the intended impact zone—two hit nothing but splashed up huge fountains, and three hit two customs ships and one small kobaya.

The kobaya was too small, its planking not thick enough. The delayed fuse didn’t even have a chance to go off before the rocket’s sharp warhead sliced slantwise through the whole ship, straight to the seafloor. The sheer kinetic energy sent splinters flying, causing six or seven Water Thieves readying for battle on deck to go down howling in agony.

The customs ships fared a bit better—premium linden and elm planks gave great resistance, forcing the rocket to lodge in the hull. As the delayed fuse ignited the booster charge, the fuel-enriched warhead set off. In a blink, one customs ship’s hull ballooned out, countless fragments shot out, sweeping the sea’s surface, then a massive fireball billowed up, lifted by the sea wind like a hood, descending again to scorch the already-wrecked ship.

By the time Mizuno Shichiro snapped back and could see that customs ship clearly, it had been blasted in two. Only the bow, still ablaze, stubbornly jutted above the waterline. As for the 80-plus crew aboard—there was barely a sound from them, and now not a trace could be found.

One strike to sink a ship...

And if the Dragon King was hit...

The Dragon King’s defenses are only marginally better than the customs ship—slightly thicker planks, a beefier keel. Its real defensive strength isn’t much higher. After all, it’s still a wooden ship; withstanding standard iron cannonballs is its absolute limit. Using it to withstand something like a blooming shell with a booster charge is asking a bit too much.

Historically, with the widespread adoption of explosive shells, wooden sailing ships withdrew from the stage of history without hesitation. Otherwise, why did everyone scramble to build Ironclads?

It’s just because wood absolutely cannot withstand this kind of attack!

Now Mizuno Shichiro wanted to build an Ironclad too, but he clearly didn’t have the time. In the one or two seconds he’d been stunned, another rocket-struck customs ship suddenly exploded as well. Its entire stern instantly went to pieces, with the bow raised high like a middle finger pointed at the sky, before sinking into the sea in a strange posture.

"What... is this weapon? A Large Tube?"

Mizuno Shichiro was dumbfounded. After years at sea, he’d never heard of a weapon with such destructive power, let alone one that could hit targets more than three li away.

If he had to guess, he’d maybe think of a Large Tube—supposedly similar to the Iron Cannon, but it fires bigger bullets and packs more punch.

His personal guard warriors were also shocked by this extraordinary strike—no one spoke, not even the two guys who had just been bantering couldn’t help but gape in silence.

Is Nozawa Saburou crazy or what? If you had this weapon, you should’ve pulled it out earlier! We totally could have negotiated!

Thinking it over, the Houjou family was full of paupers anyway, and the Izu Sea Area didn’t have much fat on the bone. Giving it to the Nozawa family wasn’t a big deal; this whole battle could have been avoided.

......

"My apologies, milord!"

On the forward deck of the Chita, a junior officer of the Internal Guard Team was dying of shame.

He was the human rangefinder for the Wanjin Rocket. These days, Harano couldn’t summon up a radar even if he wanted to, and precise rapid-rangefinding in the short term was a huge problem. He’d agonized over it for a while, until advisor Izumi Hichiji offered a solution: trust humanity—some people were just born gifted. If he wanted immediate ranging, just find someone who could eyeball it and nail the distance on the spot.

Taking the advice-to-fill-your-belly approach, Harano ordered Ah Man to look for such people. He realized that human talent really is unpredictable; they actually found several people like that, and with a glance could report the distance between two points. The best could keep the error within just a meter or two over a five li span.

It sounds unbelievable, but there are similar examples in real life. Some folks back in the day could cut exactly a jin of meat in one slice, or exactly half a jin if they wanted, off by mere grams. Or bank tellers who could judge how much a bag of coins weighed just by hefting it, no counting needed.

You could call it a skill honed by practice, but there’s plenty of practiced people—this kind of talent is rare. Probably some innate talent is involved.

This junior officer was now a "Range Talent". Harano gave him star treatment, directly conscripting him as an officer with special food subsidies: regular fish oil and vision boosters to protect his eyes and keep his sight keen. The aim was to get a solid fix on enemy distances in three to five seconds. At sea, it’s even more convenient—in good weather, an average person can spot the mast of a large sailboat from seventy li away (about twenty nautical miles), see the hull at thirty-five li, and make out flags within twenty li. Superb eyesight types are rumored to be able to see stars during the day—their eyesight is razor-sharp.

But even with this "Range Talent" doing his best, the first ever live-fire from the Wanjin Rockets missed the mark. Even if it was just by a hair, it was still a miss. The junior officer was devastated at having failed Harano’s expectations—he even had half a mind to draw his blade and end it all.

Maybe it’s because of who Harano is! After two years of disaster relief, Harano’s fame on the Chita Peninsula now rivals the gods and buddhas. He could easily start a big evil cult that deifies people in their bodies. And people always want to impress big shots like him; when they fail, the depression is doubled, tripled—they really want to just die.

Harano was already getting used to everyone acting like this. If he didn’t know for certain he was just a regular guy in the modern world, he’d probably start suspecting he had the makings of a great man himself.

But he had good self-awareness—he didn’t take it to heart, and quickly comforted the newly inducted "special talent": "Don’t worry, it’s totally normal to miss. We’ll go again. Besides, it’s not all your fault—most likely the ship’s pitching threw it off. Get another range, see how far the flagship is from us now!"

"Yes, milord!"

The junior officer responded gratefully. In a sense, missing the shot put Harano, even the Chita, in danger. He would totally understand if Harano smacked him twice. He focused harder on the Dragon King, praying to hit it next time—though whether he focused or not didn’t matter. His ranging was pure instinct; he didn’t even know how he could tell the distance so clearly.

The Chita was now at full speed, pushing forward to avoid getting surrounded by the enemy kobaya boats, pitching badly. So, the second round of loading was slightly delayed—even after Harano finished comforting his team, the sync wires for the twelve new rockets still weren’t ready.

He didn’t urge his crew—they were already giving their all. Pushing them wouldn’t help. He simply looked up at the Dragon King, which was still barreling toward them, as if fully prepared to ram them and send them to the bottom, and couldn’t help saying: "These Water Thieves really fight hard. Aren’t they even afraid?"

He’d thought after that thunderous salvo, even if the enemy flagship wasn’t hit, the Water Thieves would start wavering—a bit of chaos at least, if not withdrawal. But the enemy showed no reaction, still charging in tight formation directly for them, their fighting spirit burning. Even more than a thousand meters away, he could feel it.

"They are impressive—not much worse than the old Imagawa clan," Ah Man glanced at the charging Great Anzai Ship. His tone grew cautious. The Imagawa, at their peak, were willing to pile up a thousand lives to storm a castle. And now, these Kantou barbarians were almost as fierce, maybe even worse than the heavily armored warriors of the Imagawa and Matsudaira clans—absolutely fearless.

They were discussing the Satomi Water Thieves and the Kantou barbarians’ ferocity, already feeling a bit of respect for them—on the battlefield, you always respect the ones willing to die, friend or foe. Just then, a Chita sailor ran up, asking Harano: "Milord, the Chief Instructor wants to know if you want to change course to maintain firing range."

"What does Lady Oodai think?"

"The enemy’s kobaya fleet is about to catch up. The Chief Instructor believes we should smash through the enemy vanguard with them in tow."

The gist: it’s best not to slow down or turn but to rely on our size and firepower and punch straight through, so we’re not tied up by enemy small boats. Kobayas are especially annoying—they’ll wreck your oars. Even if the Chita ain’t scared of fire attacks, it’s best not to let small boats surround and strike us.

If it can’t be helped, best to crash into the enemy warship cluster and fight in the brawl—then, with ships blocking each other, the little boats can’t get close so easily.

Harano didn’t know naval warfare, so he could only trust his people: "Go with Lady Oodai’s plan. From now on, no need to check with me—if needed, you can just give me direct orders."

"Yes, sir!"

The situation was urgent—the sailor just saluted and hurried off. By then, the rocket launcher was ready. At Harano’s order, accounting for wind and distance, they made a final adjustment and lit the fuses.

By loading time, this would be the final salvo before the two fleets met. Once it’s melee, stable aiming like this would be impossible—no more arcing shots at the flagship. Direct fire still packs a punch, but with all the enemy ships in the way, there’ll be no chance for a clear shot at the Dragon King again.

This time, they had to hit it dead on!