Chapter 154: Preparing to Strike the Dutch

"Every component must be numbered, and every change must be recorded," Kele said during training. "Aviation is not a craft, it is a science. It must rely on data, not on feeling."

Ma Shifu and his team were initially very unaccustomed—senior craftsmen were used to relying on experience, now they had to write reports, fill forms, and do statistics. But they soon discovered that, although the method was cumbersome, it was indeed effective.

"This bolt broke three times before; we only knew to replace it with a thicker one," Ma Shifu told his apprentices. "Now, following Deguo's method, we measured material strength, calculated load distribution, adjusted the installation angle, and it hasn't broken since."

The scientific method began to take root at the base.

In early December, Swallow-I completed all system tests. The various data were compiled into a thick report. Chen Feng flipped through the report and felt confident.

"We can begin the detailed design of Swallow-II," he told Ma Shifu. "Goal: maximum speed one hundred eighty kilometers per hour, practical service ceiling four thousand meters, range four hundred kilometers. It should carry two machine guns—though none are available yet, we must reserve space."

"What about the dive bomber?" Ma Shifu asked.

"Hawk-I project is officially launched," Chen Feng spread the new blueprints. "Dr. Woerfu has already completed the preliminary aerodynamic design. We are building a test aircraft; it only needs to validate the dive and produce the Concept."

"What about the sound device…"

"I designed it myself," Chen Feng said. "The principle is simple: attach a whistle to the landing gear. But the exact mounting, when it sounds, must be tested."

German experts showed great interest in the Hawk project. Especially Woerfu, who poured almost all his energy into it. He designed a unique inverted seagull wing shape—not for aesthetics, but to make the landing gear shorter and sturdier.

"During a dive the speed is very high, so the landing gear must withstand huge impact," Woerfu explained. "Short landing gear is strong, but with the aircraft on the ground the wingtip is too close to the ground. The inverted seagull wing lifts the mid‑section of the wing, solving this problem."

Chen Feng looked at the familiar design and felt a sigh—history truly has inertia.

Before Christmas, the wooden prototype of Hawk-I began construction. This time, the craftsmanship level was noticeably higher. The precision tools and measuring instruments brought by Deguo raised the manufacturing accuracy a notch.

On Christmas Eve, the base held a modest celebration. Deguo experts and Lanfang engineers sat together, eating somewhat inauthentic roast chicken and mashed potatoes, drinking beer shipped from Dubai.

Kele raised his glass: "To the progress of aviation, cheers."

Chen Feng clinked glasses with him: "And to Deguo‑Lanfang friendship."

After three rounds of drinks, Kele whispered, "Mr. Chen, there's something I'm not sure I should say."

"Please speak."

"Your development speed… is too fast," Kele said, looking at him. "It's unnaturally fast. I've studied aviation for fifteen years and have never seen any country go from nothing to being able to design and build aircraft of this level within a year."

Chen Feng smiled: "Because we have no other choice."

"No, it's not just that," Kele shook his head. "Your design Concept is at least five years ahead of Europe. Especially that dive bomber Concept… the Deguo Army Air Service only began discussing a similar idea last year, and you were already building a prototype."

"Perhaps because we dare to imagine more."

Kele stared at him for a long time, then said, "Some people in Berlin are worried—worried that you will become… a competitor. Not now, but in the future."

"Dr. Kele, Lanfang is a small country," Chen Feng said sincerely. "We build aircraft not to compete with Deguo, but to protect ourselves. As you see, we are surrounded by great powers; without our own claws, we would be devoured."

"I understand," Kele nodded. "That's why I'm here, sincerely helping you. But Mr. Chen…"

He paused: "War is coming soon. Europe is like a pile of dry wood; a single spark can ignite it. When that happens, Deguo will need friends—real friends."

Chen Feng understood the meaning behind his words.

"Lanfang will always remember the friends who helped us," he raised his glass. "No matter what the future brings, we will remember this friendship."

The two glasses clinked again.

Outside the window, the desert night sky was dotted with stars. In a distant workshop, lights were still on—the team of Ma Shifu was working overtime to rush the construction.

The fledgling eagle has already spread its wings; next, it must learn how to hunt. (The timeline jumps forward; the Dutch are not the main opponent, this is just simple foreshadowing; the real adversary remains modest, comrades understand.)

January 17, 1914, 6 a. m., Dubai Super Shipyard.

Mist rose from the surface of the Persian Gulf, like a thin veil covering the harbor. Four massive dry docks stood side by side, each over three hundred meters long and fifty meters wide. At this moment, three of them were already flooded, while the westernmost remained dry.

But today was different.

Chen Feng stood on the ceremonial platform at the edge of the dock, cold wind from the sea lifting the hem of his dark‑gray coat. Behind him stood more than twenty people—cabinet ministers, military generals, shipyard engineers, and two technical consultants invited from Deguo Krupp.

Everyone's gaze focused on the bottom of the dock.

There lay a steel behemoth.

Bismarck Class battleship number four—"Zhujiang."

It was 251 m long, 36 m at its widest, and even while lying idle in the dock it still conveyed a mountain‑like pressure. The Main Gun turret was not yet installed, but the eight massive gun‑mount base rings were already welded to the deck, each over ten meters in diameter. The bridge area was covered with canvas, vaguely revealing its complex interior structure.

"All checks finished?" Chen Feng asked.

Standing beside him was the dock's chief engineer Ma Guodong, fifty‑six, a native of Foshan, Guangdong, from a shipbuilding family. He held a thick inspection log in his hands, his fingers reddened from the cold.

"The entire ship has 47,836 weld points, all re‑inspected," Ma Guodong opened the log. "Deck flatness tolerance is plus or minus three millimeters, hull longitudinal curvature is within acceptable limits, all watertight compartments passed pressure tests. The steam turbine in the engine room ran a twelve‑hour trial yesterday; everything is normal."

"What about the armor?"

"The Armour Belt—320 mm surface‑carburized hardened steel, all installed," Ma Guodong pointed to the distinct dark‑gray band amid the hull. "Deguo Krupp's technology; we have refined the heat‑treatment process on their basis, raising hardness by five percent and reducing weight by three percent."

Chen Feng nodded, turning to the German consultant beside him: "Mr. Schmidt, what do you think?"

Hans Schmidt, senior engineer of the armor‑steel division at Krupp, sixty, bald, wearing gold‑rimmed glasses. He had been in Dubai for two years, nominally a technical consultant, but in fact also tasked with gathering intelligence—of course, Chen Feng was well aware of this.