The night over the South China Sea was deep and heavy.

Waves rolled gently against the hull of the carrier, the dim navigation lights flickering like distant stars scattered across the vast ocean. The battle had ended hours ago, but in the unseen corners of the battlefield, the real contest had only just begun.

Aboard the Chinese aircraft carrier Shandong, tension hung thick in the air. The U.S. F-35I squadron had retreated, but no one believed that meant the fight was over.

Everyone understood that this was merely the prelude to a much larger conflict.

Inside the command center, Admiral Zhang Wei stood before a massive tactical display, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze scanning the constantly updating data streams.

Behind him, Song Xu, Shen Xue, and the other Thunderhawk pilots stood in silence, their faces devoid of triumph, filled instead with caution and deep contemplation.

A voice broke the silence.

“Intelligence reports indicate increased military activity at U.S. bases in Guam and the Philippines,” a senior officer announced. “Aircraft takeoff and landing frequencies have doubled, and B-21 stealth bombers at Guam have begun extended-range combat patrol drills. We’ve also detected an increase in the deployment of electronic warfare drones.”

A heavy realization settled over the room.

The Americans weren’t retreating. They were preparing for something far more devastating.

“They won’t let this go,” Zhang said, his voice steady but firm. “They’ll be back, and next time, they won’t make the same mistakes.”

His gaze swept over the room, as if imprinting the severity of his words onto each of them.

“This time, they withdrew. Next time, they won’t give us a chance to recover.”

“We must be ready.”

Zhang gestured to the tactical screen, pulling up the battle footage from their previous engagement. The room fell silent as they watched the J-31C and F-35I engage in their deadly dance.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“We need to be honest with ourselves—this wasn’t a decisive victory,” Zhang said grimly.

He froze the footage at a critical moment—when the EA-18G electronic warfare aircraft unleashed its full jamming power, blinding the J-31C pilots and rendering their radars useless.

“The EA-18G’s NGJ (Next-Generation Jammer) almost completely nullified our radar. If their interference had lasted just a bit longer, we might never have recovered our battlefield awareness.”

His eyes hardened.

“If they expand their electronic warfare capabilities next time, if they deploy jamming across multiple platforms, how do we counter it?”

Song Xu exhaled slowly.

“They used their retreat as a tactical maneuver,” he said. “It wasn’t a retreat in the traditional sense—it was a battlefield test. They were gauging our response time, our infrared tracking capabilities, and our ability to detect electronic deception. If we had rushed in recklessly, we might have walked straight into an ambush.”

Shen Xue frowned.

“And what if next time, they don’t fake a retreat, but lure us into a long-range kill zone instead? Do we have enough defensive capabilities to counter a B-21 stealth bomber strike?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Zhang took a slow breath before speaking.

“We can’t afford to be passive. We need to find their weaknesses before they find ours.”

His fingers tapped a control panel, and a new image appeared on the tactical display—an upgraded KJ-600 early warning aircraft, fitted with an array of advanced sensor systems.

“This is our answer—the Dark Star system.”

The room stirred with quiet murmurs.

“This system doesn’t rely on active radar,” Zhang explained. “Instead, it uses passive electromagnetic surveillance to detect stealth aircraft by monitoring minute distortions in the electromagnetic environment.”

“It can listen for electronic emissions, tracking even stealth aircraft operating in radio silence.”

“And beyond that, it uses aerodynamic wake detection. Even an F-35I or B-21 can’t fly without disturbing the air—it leaves a micro-turbulent trail. This system reads those disturbances and calculates its possible location.”

“In other words, this time, we won’t be blind.”

Song Xu stared at the display for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“This will be our edge in the next battle.”

Meanwhile, aboard the USS Washington, Colonel John Graham was leading an urgent strategy meeting. The U.S. was already adapting, finalizing its new combat plan.

On the large war room display, the Distributed Electronic Warfare + Baited Ambush strategy was in its final stages of planning.

“We underestimated them last time,” Graham admitted, his eyes sharp. “The loss of the EA-18G and our forced withdrawal made that clear. But next time, we won’t make the same mistakes.”

Night Owl 1 stood beside him, arms folded, listening intently.

“We’re rolling out an enhanced electronic warfare strategy,” Graham continued. “We’re not just relying on the EA-18G anymore. We’re deploying multiple MQ-25 electronic warfare drones, spreading out our jamming capabilities so we don’t have a single point of failure.”

“At the same time, we’ll use AI-controlled decoy drones to bait the J-31Cs into engagement zones.”

“And once they commit—our B-21 stealth bombers will be waiting 200 kilometers away, ready for precision strikes.”

He turned to his pilots.

“This time, we’re not just testing them. We’re dismantling them.”

Night Owl 1 nodded.

“We can’t afford any half-measures. The next engagement needs to be decisive.”

Back aboard the Shandong, Song Xu stood next to his fighter, staring up into the pitch-black sky.

He knew the Americans weren’t simply licking their wounds.

They were reconfiguring, evolving.

And next time, they wouldn’t come just to fight.

They’d come to win.

The next battle was already on the horizon.

And this time, both sides were prepared.

The only question was—who would strike first?