Chapter 253: The Tragic Admiral Daelin

In this era, the accuracy of naval artillery battles was a mystery, especially during nighttime battles. The early breech-loading cannons were crude and lacked any means to improve projectile stability. There were no rifling grooves, sights, or even a stable firing base. Each shot was affected by the recoil of adjacent cannons, causing the ship to tilt.

There were no recoil or reloading mechanisms. After firing a shot, the wheels beneath the cannon's breech reduced the recoil, and the cannon was manually pushed back to its original position. Even the most skilled gunners had questionable accuracy.

Furthermore, the peculiar orc transport ships were troublesome for Daelin. They had no sails, no decks, and looked like giant turtle shells. This gave Daelin a massive headache.

The usual chain shots for destroying masts and grapeshot for killing enemy crew members on the deck were useless. The only option left was to rely on the most primitive cannons, firing large iron balls and hoping to hit a vital spot, inflicting fatal damage.

Daelin watched through his spyglass as several shots hit the enemy ships. However, they did little damage. Either they were deflected by the thick iron plating on the orc transport ships, or they got stuck on the ships' tops. The orc laborers tirelessly rowed, propelling the ships at a rapid pace.

"Damn it! At this rate, we won't even be able to save 10%, let alone 60%," Daelin grumbled.

The firepower was fierce, and the water columns rose high, but few orc transport ships were sunk.

Admiral Daelin was in agony.

At that moment, the naga attacked.

Numerous male naga braved the intense cannon fire and leaped onto the surface. They brandished their massive tridents, viciously cleaving the exposed oars. In a single leap, the sound of splintering wood accompanied more than ten oars being severed.

The orc laborers inside the ship, responsible for rowing, had no idea what had happened. The broken oars continued to swipe at the air, as the laborers kept rowing in vain.

"Good! Well done!" Admiral Daelin excitedly waved his arm. "Signal the Third Fleet to disperse and close in on the enemy for an attack."

The high elven sorceress furrowed her brow, "Be cautious of their counterattack."

"What's there to fear? These low, flat transport ships without any towers or even rams pose no threat to us. We have nothing to fear!" Daelin dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.

So, the Third Fleet closed in.

As the distance between them shortened, the power and accuracy of the cannon fire increased exponentially.

The iron cannonballs, propelled by immense force, collided violently with the orc transport ships!

The iron projectiles shattered under the tremendous impact, and so did the transport ships.

At that moment, the moon emerged from the clouds.

Under the bright moonlight, the explosions sent metal shards and wood splinters flying through the air. The dazzling light from the explosions signaled that death was imminent.

Cannonballs aimed at the waterline of the transport ships were the most dangerous and brutal. Even if they didn't hit their target directly, near-miss shots could cause the orc's inferior transport ships to crack open.

One after another, massive ironclad transport ships began to sink, and from the clamor that reached the heavens, it was clear that each ship was packed with orc warriors.

Perhaps on land, these warriors were invincible, able to courageously charge even after being struck by a dozen arrows, but at sea, they were no different from frail infants.

As the ships tilted, most of the exits became impossible to open. The decks were covered with iron plates to increase their defensive capabilities, which greatly improved the survival rate of those inside while the ships remained afloat. However, when the ships sank, these iron plates became giant coffins.

Nearly a thousand orc warriors sank slowly into the shallow sea floor.

"Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha! Competing in naval warfare with us Kul Tirans? You green-skinned brutes are not worthy!" Daelin laughed heartily, even pulling Jaina Goldensword close for a delighted kiss.

In their view, at least a dozen massive ironclad orc transport ships began to sink, while more than thirty other transport ships lost their maneuverability as their oars were broken, floating or spinning on the ocean surface.

"I'll report the situation to the Vice Admiral, who urgently requested that your fleet withdraw, Your Majesty. Beware of the Horde's desperate attacks."

"Beware of what? Beware of these low-sided transport ships without castles, rams, or any long-range weapons? Does he underestimate our Kul Tiran fleet so much?" Daelin suddenly remembered something: "Does he want his Stormwind fleet to earn some military merits as well? Let them join later."

At that moment, as if fate was mocking him, Daelin experienced the saying "pride comes before a fall."

From where the [Flash spell] did not illuminate, thousands of small and medium-sized transport ships suddenly emerged. The most significant difference from the previous transport ships was that the bows of these ships were equipped with some sort of large creature's sharp horns.

Although not a standard ram, for one-time use, they weren't much different.

Admiral Daelin's face instantly paled.

"Retreat! Order the Third Fleet to retreat!" Daelin issued his command in a panicked frenzy.

But it was too late. Even though the moonlight was bright, when they discovered the swarm of small boats, the Kul Tiran fleet could do nothing. Compared to the light, oar-driven boats, the sail-powered Kul Tiran vessels were much slower in both speed and maneuverability.

The heavy cost was that the frontline ships were besieged by the Horde's small boats.

The Horde's small transport ships bravely rammed into the Kul Tiran vessels. Then, something that dumbfounded the Kul Tirans occurred.

The covers of those transport ships were ripped off.

Not hinged like pages, but purely covered like a piece of cloth, a bunch of orcs used brute force to overturn the cover, weighing several tons, into the water. Then, without even using grappling hooks, they climbed the outer hull and reached the deck of the ship.

Their climbing attempts were met with resistance from the sailors. Most of the orcs were blasted into the water before even making it up. Those who couldn't swim often drowned.

However, as more and more orc transport ships joined the attack, Admiral Daelin stared in disbelief as his Third Fleet was besieged, one ship after another. Often, a single warship would be attacked by more than ten orc boats.

When more than ten green figures appeared on a ship's deck, Daelin knew that the ship was lost.

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!" Daelin closed his eyes.

Painfully abandoning the Third Fleet trapped in the chaos, Daelin led the remaining ships, engaging in a tactically artistic and well-measured medium-range bombardment, diligently whittling down the Horde's forces.

The Horde fleet, which had achieved its goal, continued to sail towards Southshore, disregarding the fierce bombardment it endured.