Hong Island, Victoria Harbour, 60 nautical miles away, a pirate ship is quietly moored on the high seas.
A black pirate flag with a white bone skeleton hangs on the ship's mast, fluttering in the wind, appearing extremely bold.
On the deck, a burly Caucasian man has an earpiece hanging on his chest, commanding the entire ship sternly.
"First mate, have you locked on to the Queen's Vessel, which departed from Hong Island?"
"Missiles will launch in two minutes, maintenance is complete, report to me."
...
His orders are carried out in an orderly fashion, with the iron-blooded decisiveness of a soldier.
The people on the pirate ship are also disciplined, appearing busy but not flustered.
At this moment, the satellite phone at the Caucasian's waist rang.
He answered it and his face suddenly changed.
And at this moment, the missile launcher had already begun the countdown.
The Caucasian hurriedly hung up the phone and shouted loudly.
