Chapter 5

(Listen, listen, listen (Thank you Yulei Shengzun, Guanwai Niuxiong, pan_zhilin, and Hell Walker for your support! If you think this book is good, please vote, collect, and promote it! The comment section is not yet full, so I'll add more next week.))

Slowly opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar ceiling.

"Novels and such are impossible..."

Looking at the familiar black mold spots on the ceiling, he moved his body, which felt slightly moldy from the old bedding, and his spirit gradually recovered. He recalled why he was on this bed.

"I bet on Yamato and lost." His voice was hoarse, as if something had torn his throat, and he could clearly feel the hollow noise inside.

Regret, pain, despair—these emotions combined to create a naturally hoarse and unpleasant sound.

Why? Why couldn't he bet on Yamato?

Numerous negative emotions followed one after another, making him subconsciously clench his fists.

Is it true that a person with bad luck can only accept their fate? Is it true that he can only look up to those rich people and lucky admirals, silently swallowing his own bitter fruit?

Is it true that the weak must always watch others show off? What's wrong with trying every possible way to change one's fate? Even if it's just an unrealistic dream, if it's the only method left, he has to do it!

But, but why, even though it's not the first time, does he still feel so sad?

"Will they have to go hungry again..."

Looking at the series of commemorative photos hanging on the wall, he muttered subconsciously.

His heart felt as if it was being gripped by something invisible, making it hard to breathe. His vision gradually became blurry, and he could barely see the breakthrough commemorative photos hanging on the wall.

"A general's incompetence can exhaust an entire army, that's what this is about."

Lifting the quilt full of patches, the admiral got out of bed and slowly looked at the commemorative wall.

Compared to the other admirals he knew, whose walls were full of commemorative photos and countless bright and smiling ship girls, his wall was much more modest.

There were no decorative borders, and the photos were simply nailed up with rusty iron nails, giving off a sense of decay and helplessness. The few photos released a gloomy and dark aura. It was more like delaying one's death rather than a breakthrough.

There was no colorful lighting or Photoshop to enhance the photos; they were just simple victory photos. So it was only natural that the scenes were so bleak. Because no victory was easy to come by.

"It's been half a year..."

Touching the wrinkled photos due to poor maintenance and looking at the yellowed codes below, the admiral couldn't help but sigh deeply.

The first photo was marked 'Northern Deep Sea Fleet Escort Fleet 1-1 Breakthrough — 942.3.16'.

In the photo, there was only the Enterprise, and the admiral himself.

Standing calmly on the deep sea, facing the gray-black water, his eyes were lowered. The surroundings were gradually sinking black deep sea, and his equipment was all broken and tattered. Even the admiral's uniform had several tears, faintly emitting a few wisps of burnt smoke.

At that time, the Imagination Fleet only had the Enterprise. So the breakthrough of 1-1 was done by the Enterprise alone. Without any teammates or support, but she still broke through.

So he took a photo to commemorate it.

"Even back then, you weren't so cute."

Looking at the photo of the Enterprise with a gloomy and cold expression, the admiral smiled and slid his finger to the next photo.

'Northern Deep Sea Fleet Reinforced Fleet 1-2 Breakthrough — 942.5.10'

In the photo, the Enterprise was no longer alone.

110th battleship, Central Plan No. 2, and the Enterprise, a total of three ship girls. They were still dirty and tattered, with bruises and scrapes visible on their bodies, and they shyly smiled at the wrinkled photo.

In the background, the vast deep sea that once made him feel hopeless was gradually tilting and slowly sinking into the deep sea. At the time of the photo, the sinking unknown deep sea battleship spat out the Montana, who was pale and leaning on the 110th's shoulder, and joined the group photo.

"Speaking of which, the Montana was the first ship I salvaged, right?"

Thinking about the moment when they finally salvaged a ship, and the few people's faces of disbelief and awkwardness, he felt an urge to laugh.

"Then, this is the last one."

Looking at the last photo, his face was full of affectionate smiles.

'Northern Deep Sea Fleet Core Fleet 1-3 Breakthrough — 942.7.14'

In the photo, five girls who looked dirty and tattered were hugging each other's shoulders, grinning and stepping on a black monster, against the backdrop of a red-black sea, making a victory sign to the camera.

Even though it was evening, the golden light and the Enterprise's planes created a victorious golden-white trail behind them.

The golden-white trail merged with the sunlight outside the window, forming hope.

It's not like the ship sank, and it's not like he personally issued a death order. So what's the point of being so sad? Just keep a calm mind. If you bet and win, it's luck; if you don't, there's no need to be discouraged. Didn't he have a situation before where he invested resources and materials but couldn't get a ship out of the slot?

Right, didn't he have a model that came out? It was called DS-1, and it's still stuck in the slot, consuming resources. With such a ridiculous situation, there's nothing else to worry about.

It's just that no good combat ships are coming out, but it's better than nothing.

"Regardless of the ship betting, now there are six people, and we can say a final goodbye to the初级海域 (初级海域 means '初级' (beginner) and '海域' (sea area), so it can be translated as 'beginner sea area') around the naval base. It's not that the firepower is insufficient, but that there aren't enough ships, and this irony can end. The Imagination Fleet is now a fully organized fleet."

Touching the photo taken three months ago, the admiral smiled self-deprecatingly, picked up the naval cap from the bedside table, and put it on. He tidied up his patched clothes in the mirror and then walked out of the room.

"Besides clearing the surrounding seas and making plans, there's nothing else to do. Who am I, a lousy admiral who can't bet on anything?"

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