Chapter 206: National Resolution

"Start."

The old man sitting in the main seat spoke, his voice not loud, but it made the air in the room feel heavy.

His surname is Lei, and he is called Old Lei in the military. He is seventy-six years old this year, but he stands straighter than the young officers present.

Seven people sat around the conference table, Feng Yan sitting at the end, a cup of cold tea in front of him.

The projection lit up.

First video: Gobi Desert test site.

The time was six months ago, marked with the Jia-3 type 3000-hour limit test record.

In the picture, twelve black mechs shuttled through the simulated battlefield, laser beams intertwined into a net, and the fire of explosions rose and fell.

But what was shocking was not the battle scene, but the timer jumping in the lower right corner of the screen:

720:00:00, 1440:00:00, 2160:00:00... finally freezing at 3000:00:00.

A full one hundred and twenty-five days, four months and five days.

"When the test ended, the energy core's remaining power was still 91.7%." Feng Yan's voice sounded calmly.

"During this period, seventeen high-intensity tests were conducted, including full-power laser shooting, continuous electromagnetic weapon firing, and extreme maneuvering."

"The mech structure showed fatigue, but the energy system... almost no attenuation."

A naval admiral stared at the screen: "What about the failure rate?"

"Zero." Feng Yan pulled up the data list, "The fusion reactor's operating stability is 99.999%, already far exceeding the design indicators."

A slight gasp sounded in the conference room.

Second video switch: East Sea, live footage.

"Jiujiang frigate, infinite endurance sea deployment for thirty-seven days."

On the screen, the Type 056B frigate was moving forward at a high speed of 32 knots, the white waves split by the bow gleaming golden in the sunset.

And in the corner of the screen, real-time data showed the ship's status: speed 32 knots, sailed for 888 hours, energy reserve 98.3%.

"This is..." the Air Force representative frowned, "Sailing at full speed for more than a month?"

"Thirty-seven days and four hours." Feng Yan confirmed.

"During this period, four live-fire exercises were conducted, the laser defense system intercepted three hundred and twenty simulated targets, the electronic warfare system was turned on in all frequency bands..."

"The peak energy consumption reached four hundred and seventy times that of the traditional energy system of a frigate of the same class."

He paused: "And the output of the Xuanwu-Fusion core has always been stable at about 35% of the rated power, not even half of it was used."

Old Lei's fingers tapped lightly on the table: "In other words, this ship can theoretically keep running like this?"

"Until the mechanical structure fatigue life is exhausted." Feng Yan nodded, "Energy can almost be said to be infinite."

Third video, space perspective.

"Deep Sea Dragon Palace space station, time-lapse photography from the fifteenth to the thirtieth day."

The picture accelerated, and you can clearly see the process of the space station growing in orbit.

New cabin sections were spliced like building blocks, solar panels unfolded like wings, and mechanical arm swarms danced like symphony conductors.

The most shocking thing was the thirtieth day, the space station was already three times larger than the initial scale, forming a complete cross-shaped structure.

And next to it, a new construction platform was being built, which is the prototype of the orbital shipyard.

"Thirty days." Feng Yan said.

"From the first module going to heaven to having the ability to build three large spacecraft at the same time."

"We are not using traditional aerospace thinking, but factory assembly line thinking, it's just that the assembly line is in space four hundred kilometers high."

The video ended, the projection went out.

The conference room fell into silence for a full minute.

"Director Feng." An official with glasses spoke, he was a representative of the National Development and Reform Commission.

"I read the concept book of the Penglai plan you submitted three times, technically... is it really feasible?"

"Feasible." Feng Yan pulled up a new 3D model.

"Based on all the technologies we have verified: Xuanwu fusion energy, self-growing nanomaterials, quantum fusion AI, fusion propulsion arrays..."

The model rotated, showing a streamlined giant ship.

Nearly four hundred meters long, over eighty meters at its widest point, the form is between an aircraft carrier and an interstellar warship.

The hull surface is covered with fine scale-like textures, which is a feature of self-growing materials.

"Aerospace carrier." Feng Yan said the word.

"Can take off and land vertically in the atmosphere, can be deployed long-term in space, carries mech and fighter clusters, has its own complete attack and defense system, and most importantly."

He zoomed in on the energy cabin section: "Powered by four Xuanwu-Fusion cores in parallel, theoretical endurance time... in centuries."

"What about the cost?" The representative of the Ministry of Finance was straightforward.

"The R&D and construction cost of the first ship is estimated at about eighty billion." Feng Yan reported the number.

"But this includes the cost of all new technology verification."

"Once the technology matures, the cost of subsequent ships can be suppressed to within thirty billion, or even lower."

"Eighty billion..." someone muttered.

"Compare it." Old Lei suddenly spoke, "What was our total military expenditure last year?"

"Two trillion one hundred billion." The representative of the General Staff replied.

"Then what is this eighty billion buying?" Old Lei looked at Feng Yan, "You say it directly."

Feng Yan took a deep breath.

"What it buys is the right to define an era."

He stood up and walked to the projection: "Leaders, over the past three years, we have walked from a local small team to today where we can build space stations and create infinite energy."

"But what are we chasing?"

"It's Eagle Country's standards, it's Europe's rules, those are all game plays set by others."

"We build mechs, they say space militarization; we build space stations, they say technological hegemony; we promote new energy, they say it disrupts market order." Feng Yan's voice grew colder.

"Why? Because the right to speak is not in our hands."

He switched the screen to show a world map, marked with the technological dependency of various countries.

"But it's different now." Feng Yan pointed to the map.

"Chips, energy, materials, AI... the control of key technological nodes is tilting toward us."

"At this time, what we need is no longer catching up, but defining."

"Defining what?" The naval admiral asked.

"Defining the next era, the form of war, the rules of aerospace, the standards of energy." Feng Yan said word by word.

"And 'Penglai' is the materialized symbol of this definition."

He pulled up a simulation animation: the huge aerospace carrier sailed out of the orbital shipyard, and when it re-entered the atmosphere, the hull rubbed against the air to create a scorching plasma flame, but it was unscathed.

Then it hovered at an altitude of five thousand meters, and the mech group ejected like a swarm of bees, drawing complex tactical trajectories in the sky.

"When such a ship appears over the high seas, in near-earth orbit, or in any airspace that needs to show presence..." Feng Yan looked at everyone.

"Everyone will understand one thing: the era has changed."

The conference room was silent again.

This time it was the representative of the State Administration of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense who spoke: "What about technical risks? Such a large project, if any link goes wrong, it's a disaster."

"That's why we have to build the first one first." Feng Yan was prepared.

"Penglai is not a fantasy that suddenly appeared, it is the culmination of all existing technologies."

"Mechs, missiles, lasers, energy, materials, AI, every technology, we have at least three years of actual application data and thousands of hours of test records."

"The fusion propulsion array has also completed the seventy-two engine synchronous ignition test in the Gobi Desert, with a thrust of over five hundred thousand tons;"

"Self-growing materials passed the three-thousand-degree high-temperature cycle experiment;"

"The ship-borne version of the Torch Dragon-2 quantum fusion system has ten times the computing power of the ground version..."

He listed them one by one, with data accurate to two decimal places.

"But these are still on the ground." The Air Force representative frowned.

"Space assembly? A three-hundred-meter-long structure docked in orbit, the precision requirement is millimeter-level, any deviation—"

"We've already done it." Feng Yan interrupted.

"Deep Sea Dragon Palace space station, the maximum single module length is forty-eight meters, docking precision is 0.3 millimeters."

"And Penglai will adopt a construction plan of three major modules, each module not exceeding one hundred and thirty meters, which is technically completely feasible."

"What about personnel?" Someone asked again.

"This level of ship requires a brand new operation and maintenance system."

"It takes twenty years to train an aircraft carrier captain, how long are you prepared to train this starship captain?"

Feng Yan laughed: "We don't need to train from scratch."

He pulled up a list: "Li Yang, chief mech designer, but has led the space station construction for the past six months and has actual command experience in large-scale projects;"

"Wang Hao, missile expert, but also the main person in charge of the fusion propulsion array;"

"Chen Guang, father of the Torch Dragon AI, most suitable to serve as the general control of the ship-borne intelligent system;"

"Zhao Kaiyuan, energy expert..."

"You mean, let the R&D team go on the ship themselves?" Old Lei raised his eyebrows.

"At least in the maiden voyage stage." Feng Yan nodded.

"No one knows these systems better than them."

"And this is also a kind of inheritance — from designer to user, closed-loop verification."

The debate lasted for forty minutes.

Budget, risks, international reaction, technical details, personnel configuration... every question was raised, and Feng Yan was prepared for every question.

He was not persuading, but showing a completed puzzle, missing only the last piece.

"Last question." Old Lei spoke slowly, his eyes like torches.

"After it's built, what are you going to use it for?"

Feng Yan was silent for three seconds.

"Guard." He said.

"Guard our merchant shipping routes, guard our overseas interests, guard our space assets, guard every Longguo person abroad."

"But more importantly..." he paused.

"It is to let everyone see that some roads can be walked in a different way, and some rules can be written in a different way."

Old Lei leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Only the faint sound of air conditioning remained in the conference room.

A minute later, he opened his eyes.

"Plan approved."

Four words, heavy as a thousand pounds.

"Project code name 'Penglai', meaning 'fairy mountain on the sea, visible but unreachable'." Old Lei stood up, his figure still straight.

"But now, we want to make it fly, let everyone see it, touch it, understand it."

He looked at Feng Yan, and also at the 3D model on the screen.

"The coordinates of the new era will be defined by us."

The meeting ended at 11:00 PM.

When Feng Yan walked out of the underground command center, it was drizzling in the capital.

The late autumn night wind carried a chill, but he felt a bit hot.

His phone vibrated; it was a message from the team group.

Wang Hao: "Brother Feng! Is the meeting over? How did it go??? I've waited until the flowers have withered!"

Chen Guang: "Based on the length of time you entered the conference room and the level of the meeting, the probability of passing is 87.3%."

"But if you consider fiscal and risk factors, this probability might drop to—"

Li Yang: "Stop calculating, wait for Brother Feng to speak."

Zhao Kaiyuan: "I'm still in the energy lab, the new batch of Xuanwu cores

Zhao Gong: "The mold is already opened; we're just waiting for the blueprints."

Feng Yan stood in the rain, looking at the message on his phone screen, and suddenly smiled.

He replied: "Approved."

Three seconds later, the group chat exploded.

Wang Hao sent twenty firecracker emojis in a row;

Chen Guang sent a long string of data analysis;

Li Yang only replied with one word: "Good";

Zhao Kaiyuan sent a fist-pumping emoji;

Zhao Gong sent a photo of the new mold, with a line of small text engraved on it: "For Penglai."

Feng Yan put away his phone and got into the car heading back to the research institute.

The late-night streets were empty, and the streetlights blurred into circles of light in the rain.

He leaned back in his seat, watching the city silhouette passing by outside the window—those high-rises, those overpasses, those windows that still had lights on.

Three years ago, he was in the office of the Yunchuan City Industrial Development Bureau, scrolling through short videos, when he accidentally clicked on a video of a mech helmet.

At that time, his biggest wish was just to push Li Yang's project to a provincial-level exhibition.

And now...

The car drove into the Longyin Research Institute campus, and the streetlights on both sides of the main road brightened automatically.

In the distance, the searchlights of the mech testing ground were still on, and the roar of engines could be faintly heard.

Feng Yan didn't return to his dormitory but went to his office instead.

He opened his computer, logged into the encrypted network, and began drafting the launch document for the Penglai Project.

The framework had long been in place; now he only needed to fill in the details confirmed at today's meeting.

At two in the morning, the document was finished and sent.

He rubbed his sore eyes and casually clicked on his browser, opening a niche aviation model forum.

This was his habit; when he was tired, he would look at the whimsical ideas of civilian enthusiasts.

A new post was floating on the forum homepage, posted three hours ago.

Title: "Analysis of the Aerodynamic Stability of Bionic Flapping-Wing Aircraft in Low-Altitude Turbulence—A High School Student's Wild Thoughts."

Poster ID: "The Kite Runner."

Feng Yan clicked into it.

The post was very long, containing text, hand-drawn sketches, and simple mathematical models.

The core argument was: the stability issues of traditional fixed-wing aircraft at low speeds could be solved by imitating the vortex control mechanisms of bird wings.

The original poster even designed a variable-wing surface system based on micro servo motors; although somewhat crude, the logic was surprisingly clear.

What caught Feng Yan's attention most was the final paragraph:

"I know these ideas are childish, and my teacher also said to focus on the college entrance exam first."

"But I just feel, why must aircraft look the way they do now?"

"Birds have been flying for hundreds of millions of years; their wings have undergone the most rigorous tests of natural selection."

"Are we... giving up on this technical route too early?"

There were over a dozen replies below, mostly teasing:

"Kid, study hard."

"Nice idea, but reality is harsh."

"Wait until you get into Beihang University before talking."

Only one serious discussion came from another ID: "Old Mechanic."

That person offered several improvement suggestions from the perspective of mechanical structure and even attached photos of a flapping-wing model they had made in their youth.

Feng Yan watched for a long time.

Then he logged into his own forum account—a lurker account he had used for years but rarely posted from—with the ID "Bo Le."

Below the post, he typed a line of reply:

"The line of thought is very valuable. Regarding the vortex control part, I suggest referring to the paper 'AIAA-2019-1873'."

"Additionally, if you are interested, you can send your detailed design to this email: 【longyin-xxxxxxx】."

Clicked send.

Closing the webpage, Feng Yan walked to the window.

The rain had stopped, the clouds had dispersed, revealing sparse starlight.

At this moment, his phone vibrated again; he opened it to see an automatic alert from the Torch Dragon system:

"Detected that the Jipenji Sea Mist modified ship has returned to Nagasaki Port."

"Based on navigation trajectory and electromagnetic signature analysis, the ship attempted to infiltrate our test waters during its stay in the East Sea, but failed."

"Recommendation: Continue monitoring."

Feng Yan glanced at it and did not reply.

He simply continued to look out the window, watching that point of light gliding silently in orbit, and looking further into the deep night sky.

And on his computer screen, that email address he had just sent was lying quietly in the forum reply.

Like a seed buried in the soil.

Waiting to sprout.