Chapter 375: Tank

Chen Feng unfolded the blueprints and began a detailed explanation. His speech was not fast, but he explained every detail very clearly.

"Total weight 5.4 tons, dimensions are as follows: length 4.02 m, width 2.06 m, height 1.72 m. The power system uses the tractor engine from our Sharjah factory that we improved—a four‑cylinder air‑cooled engine, 60 hp, more than enough."

His finger pointed to the transmission diagram: "The gearbox has four forward gears and one reverse. The steering mechanism is a simple clutch‑brake type, achieving turn by controlling the speed difference of the two tracks. The suspension is leaf‑spring type, with five load wheels on each side; the structure is simple and easy to manufacture."

Liu Yongfu quickly recorded the key data, his mind already beginning to estimate the production difficulty.

"Armor," Chen Feng turned to the material specifications page. "The hull front uses 13 mm steel plate, the sides and rear 6 mm, the top and bottom 5 mm. All can be produced with the American rolling mill we introduced last year. The welding process follows shipyard standards, and the Weld Seam on critical parts must be double‑reinforced."

"What about the weapon system?" Liu Yongfu asked, his voice a bit hoarse.

"We won't install them for now," Chen Feng closed the blueprints. "But the hull reserves positions for a machine‑gun mount and an ammunition storage compartment. The turret is designed to rotate 360 degrees and has a standard weapon‑mount interface. Remember, on the 'agricultural version' these serve as interfaces for installing searchlights, spray devices and other farm equipment."

Liu Yongfu forced a wry smile. This kind of excuse might fool a layperson, but anyone with a bit of military knowledge could see through it at a glance. Yet he did not question it, and kept asking, "What is the mass‑production schedule?"

"Within three months I want to see the first prototype roll off the line for testing. Within six months, monthly output should reach ten units. After a year, thirty per month," Chen Feng said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I will give you the highest priority—funds, materials, personnel—all will be allocated first."

"So urgent?" Liu Yongfu was startled. "President, even if we throw everything in, our factories now are…"

"Therefore the production plan must be adjusted," Chen Feng pulled a document from his coat, a handwritten production allocation scheme. "Look, the Sharjah First Automobile Plant is being repurposed to specialize in chassis and transmission systems. Penang's machinery plant will handle suspension and locomotion devices. Jakarta's shipyard has allocated a workshop to weld hulls and armor. Final assembly will be completed at the new factory in Dubai."

Liu Yongfu took the document and skimmed it quickly. The scheme was very detailed, even worker assignments, raw‑material procurement channels, and transport routes were all planned. Clearly, Chen Feng had been thinking about this for a long time.

"President, may I ask a question?" Liu Yongfu set the document down, looking straight into Chen Feng's eyes. "Where did these designs come from? I've seen tractor designs from Deguo, Yingguo, and Faguo, and this is a completely different approach. This vehicle is obviously…"

"It was designed for the battlefield," Chen Feng finished for him, then fell silent for over ten seconds. The computer in the sealed room, those technical files from another era—he could never tell anyone about them.

"Minister Liu," Chen Feng finally spoke, his voice low and solemn, "How long have you been with me?"

"Eleven years and four months," Liu Yongfu answered without hesitation, "Since you started at Dubai Port."

"Then you should know that every action I take has its reason," Chen Feng stood up and walked to the window. Outside, Dubai Port was beginning to stir, the silhouettes of cranes becoming clearer in the morning light. "The war in Europe is reshaping the world's rules. The old order is collapsing, the new order not yet established. In this gap, a small nation that wants to survive cannot merely passively adapt to the rules."

He turned, his gaze sharp as a blade: "We must take part in setting the rules. Setting rules requires capital—technological capital, industrial capital, strategic capital. These 'agricultural vehicles' are one of the future pieces of capital."

Liu Yongfu felt a solemn respect. He had followed Chen Feng for so many years, watching Lanfang transform from a chaotic colony and tribal lands into a nation now possessing a budding industrial base, an emerging navy, and a foothold in international trade. All of this stemmed from Chen Feng's repeatedly seemingly risky yet thoroughly considered decisions.

"I understand," Liu Yongfu stood, straightening his back. "Three months, the first prototype. I give you my word."

"No," Chen Feng shook his head. "Don't promise me. Promise this country. Promise the workers sweating in the factories, the farmers laboring in the fields, the young men serving on naval vessels—every product you make reinforces the foundation of their survival."

Liu Yongfu nodded solemnly, rewrapped the blueprints and held them to his chest as if cradling a baby.

Chen Feng escorted him to the office doorway and gave his final instruction: "The blueprints will be issued in three parts; each factory will only know its own portion. The final‑assembly plant will receive the complete set, but all its workers must undergo a fresh safety review. Classification: top‑secret."

"Understood."

After Liu Yongfu left, Chen Feng did not depart immediately. He stood in the corridor of the Ministry of Industry building, looking out at the city through the window. Dubai's dawn was breaking; the call to prayer from the mosque had just ended, pedestrians began to appear on the streets, the tram rang its bells, and a paperboy shouted the morning headlines at the corner—still dominated by news of the European war.

The world still ran to the old rhythm, but Chen Feng knew that change had already begun.

The other blueprint in his arms—a design for Tank No. 2—had not yet been taken out. It would wait until Tank No. 1 entered mass production smoothly, until the Germans bled enough at Verdun, until they truly realized they needed a weapon capable of breaking through trenches, before it became the next card. (The British tank appeared at the Somme; the editor delayed a bit.)

And now, the first move has already been made.

At the same time, the Wilhelm Port Naval Base in Deguo.

Dense fog shrouded the harbor, visibility under a hundred meters. On the dock, massive ship silhouettes loomed and vanished in the mist like sleeping steel beasts. The air was filled with salty sea brine, the acrid sting of fuel, and a faint charred odor—the smell from workers welding on a warship still under repair.

"Frederick the Great" battleship was moored beside Dry Dock No. 3; on its port waterline a shocking breach stretched over eight meters, the steel plates at the edge curling outward like a wound torn by a beast. The dock was crammed with scaffolding, workers scurrying over the hull like ants, electric‑welding sparks flashing in the fog, emitting a dazzling blue‑white glare.

Admiral Alfred von Tirpitz stood on the observation platform at the edge of the dock, hands clasped behind his back, motionless. He was sixty‑seven, still upright, but his deep‑blue admiral's uniform hung a little looser than years before—he had lost a full eight pounds in the past two months.