The rumble of cannon fire echoed over Nadachi Beach, the sea breeze carrying the stench of gunpowder and blood, sweeping across the shore stained crimson. The resistance's battle flag, emblazoned with the Electro Mon, still defiantly flew above the broken fortress, torn and blackened by smoke. The battle had settled into an excruciating stalemate; every inch of ground cost hundreds of lives.

 

It was amidst this flesh-grinding meat grinder that all of Inazuma's attention was focused, when a vastly different army surged like a dark tide, silently stirring in the seas far from the main front.

 

Seven specially modified fast ships, their hulls wrapped in dark velvet to muffle the crash of waves, and sails dyed a stealthy gray-blue, deftly exploited the shadows of the islands and the mist of the sea, approaching the now lightly defended island of Yashiori from the northwest without a sound.

 

On the lead ship, Ii Naomasa stood with his hand on his sword. Clad head to toe in his famous crimson armor, the plates glinted with a dark, blood-like luster in the dim light. His "Red Oni" helmet, shaped like a fearsome demon, completely concealed his face, leaving only two calm, almost cold eyes staring at the island silhouette gradually taking shape ahead. The sea breeze stirred the bright crimson bear hair tassel on his helmet, yet there was not a single ripple, as if even the wind feared the sharpest blade of the Tokugawa's "Red Division."

 

"Confirmed?" Ii's voice, muffled through the helmet, carried a metallic hum.

 

"Ai!" His vice commander, Kondo, also in crimson armor, bowed in response, his voice suppressed with excitement. "The Battle of Nadachi rages fiercely. The Yashiori garrison dispatched two waves of reinforcements three days ago; now there are fewer than two hundred defenders left, mostly elderly and weak. The energy reaction of the factory district's defense barrier has dropped to a minimum, and patrol intervals have doubled."

 

Ii nodded slowly. The shogun's calculation was flawless. That "Cuckoo Waiting for the Day" had finally waited for his moment—to soar like a bird silent until its grand debut. And his Red Division would be the beak that pecked through the enemy's throat.

 

"Signal. All units execute Plan 'Kai' (Jia). Board silently. Primary objective: destroy all military facilities, especially the 'Tamahague' Refinery and the 'Kamui Island Cannon' Assembly Workshop. Resist? Kill without mercy. Ignore civilians. Move fast like wildfire across the plains, leave no stone unturned!"

 

The orders were passed down low and quickly. The seven hundred Red Division cavalry, now acting as elite infantry, checked their equipment—blackened scabbards, bows strung with special wax, every plate secured with cloth to prevent clanging. Their eyes held no war fever, only absolute obedience and a cold hunger for victory.

 

Night, like a huge bolt of black velvet, slowly descended over the seas around Kannazuka Island. Yashiori sank into silence, with only a few scattered lights dotting the outline of the factory district like the half-closed eyes of a sleeping beast. The distant roar of cannon fire here sounded like a dull thud, adding to the eerie stillness.

 

The Red Division's ships ghosted up beside the sheer cliffs on the northwest side of the island, a place where the reefs were jagged and the waves roared, the most lightly defended point. Ropes with iron hooks were silently thrown over the cliff top, and agile figures climbed like monkeys, quickly taking down the only two yawning sentries on the cliff.

 

Ii Naomasa was the last to reach the top. He looked down into the valley below, at the area with the concentrated lights—the lifeblood of the Inazuma Shogunate's frontline war effort, the Yashiori Military Complex. Countless fine Tamahague steel was forged here into swords and arquebuses; dangerous runic mechanisms were assembled here; and rumors whispered that a massive weapon capable of changing the course of the war was being secretly developed here.

 

"Attack." No impassioned shout, just two concise, deadly words issued through the Red Oni helmet.

 

The seven hundred Reds surged like a red flood breaking through a dam, or like wildfire spreading in the dark, splitting into several streams, charging toward their respective objectives along pre-reconnaissance routes.

 

The initial resistance was negligible. A ten-man patrol had just turned the corner of a workshop when they were cut down by shurikens shot from the darkness and silent sword cuts, not even managing a scream. The Red Division's actions were efficient and deadly, like precision killing machines, each move designed to clear obstacles with maximum efficiency.

 

Soon, the scattered defenders on the outskirts of the factory district were swept away. The刺耳 alarm bell finally rang frantically above a foundry, but it was too late.

 

"Enemy attack! They're here! The... the Reds!" A foot soldier leader, lucky enough to reach the barricade, shouted hoarsely, trying to organize a fragile defense.

 

In response, the sharp cry of Ii Naomasa's spear, "Red Comet," splitting the air.

 

"Kill!"

 

The long-held silence was shattered. The Red Division let out a thunderous roar, their pent-up fighting spirit erupting like a volcano. They no longer concealed themselves, their crimson armor glowing in the firelight of the factory district as if truly transformed into hellfire. Arrows rained down, accurately shooting down every daring defender; swords hacked, smashing flimsy barricades and fragile wooden doors.

 

Ii Naomasa led the charge. His spear whirled like a wheel, severed limbs flying everywhere. Several samurai who tried to block him were unhorsed and pierced in a single exchange. His presence itself was a moving banner, leading the red tide to crush all resistance.

 

The battle quickly advanced from the outskirts to the core area. The Red Division's tactical targets were clear—they were not obsessed with holding ground or annihilating living forces, but directly targeting the tall workshops, smoking smelters, and warehouses storing raw materials and finished products.

 

"First Team, burn the Tamahague Refinery! Second Team, destroy the runic assembly line! Third Team, follow me!" Ii's voice cut through the clamor clearly.

 

He personally led the most elite unit toward the most magnificent structure, bathed in the strongest barrier light—the "Kamui Island Cannon" Assembly Workshop. The main door was closed, thick wood inlaid with iron bars, surface shimmering with faint Electro barrier energy.

 

"Break it down!"

 

Several Red Division foot soldiers with giant hammers stepped forward, slamming into the door with roars. The dull crashes mingled with sparks from the barrier, shaking the door violently but not breaking it open.

 

Just then, a small side door of the workshop suddenly opened, and an old man in a high-ranking shogunate engineer's uniform, white beard and hair, rushed out. He held no weapon, only a glowing thunder crystal, his face determined as he tried to trigger some self-destruct device or strengthen the barrier.

 

Ii Naomasa's eyes sharpened. He didn't even need to lift a finger. Beside him, Kondo had already drawn his bow, a magic-breaking arrow streaking like lightning, precisely piercing the old man's wrist. The thunder crystal fell, kicked away by another Red soldier before it could be triggered.

 

"Protect... protect my life's work..." The old man stumbled to the ground, murmuring.

 

Ii didn't spare him a glance, his gaze still fixed on the tottering door. "Waste of time."

 

More Red soldiers joined the assault, others hacking at the hinges. Finally, with a loud crash, the iron-inlaid door collapsed inward, the dust revealing the breathtaking sight inside the workshop—a massive, unimaginably huge cannon resting on a great support, its barrel gleaming with cold metal, carved with countless intricate and dangerous runes. Its caliber alone was large enough for several people to stand side by side inside.

 

Even the iron-willed Ii Naomasa's pupils contracted slightly at the sight of this war machine. If this were deployed to the front, the resistance and all enemies would face annihilation.

 

"Destroy it." His order was unshakable.

 

Red soldiers quickly rushed into the workshop, placing the strong gunpowder bags they carried on key structural points of the cannon, the base of the support, and the scattered runic parts. Others began pouring oil.

 

By the time Ii exited the workshop, the entire Yashiori factory district was engulfed in flames. Smelters were toppled, boiling steel water flowing freely, igniting everything combustible; assembly lines smashed to pieces, precious parts and semi-finished products twisting in the fire; continuous explosions echoing from the warehouse district as stored gunpowder and elemental materials detonated...

 

The towering fire illuminated the night sky like day, thick smoke billowing to form a huge, twisted mushroom cloud. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning debris, the strange sweet-sickly smell of molten steel, and... the stench of destruction.

 

"The shogun's order is fulfilled." Ii Naomasa stood on high ground, overlooking the inferno he had created. There was no expression on his face beneath the Red Oni helmet. No joy of victory, only the calm of a mission accomplished.

 

In the distance, the roar of cannon fire from Nadachi Beach seemed to pause for a moment. Presumably, both sides had seen the crimson glow in the sky and felt the shock and panic of this deadly blow from behind.

 

"Retreat!" Ii swept his spear. "Follow the planned route to the third rendezvous point to board the ships!"

 

The red flood began to withdraw from the fire in an orderly manner. They had come suddenly and left swiftly, like a precise surgical strike, removing a vital piece of flesh from the enemy's softest underbelly. All that remained was the completely destroyed Yashiori, wailing in flames and smoke, its explosions unceasing.

 

Ii Naomasa glanced back one last time at the towering fire, then turned resolutely, merging into the retreating red ranks. Tokugawa Ieyasu's will had already carved the first deep scar in this thunderous nation. And this was only the beginning. The sea breeze still blew, but it could no longer carry away the thick, pervasive stench of destruction in the air.