Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

Half a month is neither a long nor a short time.

For the workers at the Third Machinery Plant under the Shenzhou Bureau, these past two weeks have been like shedding a layer of skin.

They practiced day and night, neglecting sleep and meals to hone their skills.

Those expensive imported machine tools run almost 24 hours a day, with cutting fluid flowing out more frequently than tap water.

Finally, on that desolate shooting range on the outskirts of Beijing, the first batch of prototype guns produced during trial production were neatly stacked on a long table covered with red cloth.

The cold wind howled, stirring up the yellow sand on the ground.

He strode over, wearing that old military overcoat. Although his face was weathered, his eyes were frighteningly bright, staring intently at the few dark, gleaming tools on the table.

"Is this all the work you've accomplished in just half a month?"

It feels heavy in your hand, with the cool texture unique to metal.

The stock is made of deep red walnut wood, polished to a smooth, jade-like finish; the gun body is made of blued steel with a faint blue sheen, and the texture of the stamped parts is so delicate that it resembles a work of art.

Its most distinctive feature is its design.

At first glance, this gun looks like a Soviet AK-47, but upon closer inspection, something seems off.

The barrel is longer, and a strangely shaped muzzle brake has been added to it; the curvature of the receiver cover has also changed, the sight line has been lengthened, and even the handguard has several anti-slip grooves.

"What kind of gun is this? It looks different from those Russian ones."

The sound of metal clashing was almost like singing, without the slightest hint of awkwardness.

"Sir, this is called a Type 56 assault rifle, but I've given it a little 'makeover'."

Shen Jinghong stood to the side, holding a fully loaded magazine, his face bearing his usual confident smile:

"Although the Russian AK47 is robust, its accuracy is too poor. When firing in bursts, the muzzle rises. It's okay for shooting birds, but difficult to shoot people. I combined the design concept of the US military's M16, which was still on paper, and modified its gas system and stock angle."

He took the gun, skillfully inserted the magazine, and pulled the bolt sharply—a move that was incredibly cool.

"It now has the ruggedness and durability of the Russians, which can still make a sound even if you throw it in a mud pit; and the precision and stability of the Americans."

"Really? You're kidding, aren't you?"

He was a veteran who had handled guns his whole life, and he had never seen anyone who could combine both of these advantages.

"Whether he's bragging or not, we'll know after firing a couple of rounds."

Without saying a word, Shen Jinghong picked up his gun and turned to face the target area 300 meters away.

There were no target papers there.

There was only a newly built red brick wall, half a meter thick.

"Watch closely!"

Shen Jinghong took a deep breath, rested his hand on his shoulder, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

"Da da da da da—!!!"

The deafening gunfire instantly shattered the silence of the shooting range.

The muzzle flash was a foot long, but shockingly, Shen Jinghong's body barely swayed. The gun in his hand was as steady as a piece of iron welded to his shoulder.

The spent cartridge cases flew out like splashed water, landing on the ground with a crisp tinkling sound.

In the distance, the brick wall looked as if it had been hit by a storm.

Brick chips flew everywhere, and dust billowed.

The dense barrage of bullets was like an invisible giant hammer, relentlessly hammering at the wall.

In just a few seconds, a magazine, containing thirty bullets, was emptied.

"boom!"

The half-meter-thick brick wall was actually broken in half and collapsed with a crash, turning into a pile of broken bricks and tiles.

The entire room fell silent.

Only the cold wind, carrying the smell of gunpowder, seeped into everyone's nostrils.

Chen Weiguo's mouth dropped open, his jaw almost dropping to the ground. He looked at the still-smoking Mauser pistol in his hand and suddenly felt like he was holding a fire poker.

"This...this is a gun?"

He didn't care whether the submachine gun was hot or not, and he touched it with great affection.

"This firepower...it's utterly unsportsmanlike!"

I just saw you firing in bursts, and the muzzle barely jumped!

"That's the charm of 'modification'."

Shen Jinghong explained with a smile, "That muzzle brake can counteract most of the recoil, and with the optimized center of gravity distribution, even a greenhorn can control the gun with a little practice."

"Great! Great gun!"

He raised his gun, aimed at the sky, and his eyes shone brighter and brighter—the ecstasy of seeing the dawn of victory.

He turned around, looking at the guards behind him who were still carrying old, outdated rifles of various countries, and his voice was loud and clear:

"Comrades! Look at this! This is the kind of equipment we need!"

"Now we're all set. With this, the firepower of our platoon is equivalent to that of an entire company before!"

Shen Jinghong handed it to Chen Weiguo, who had been eyeing it with drooling eyes, "This is just a light weapon. As long as the raw materials keep up, we can make five thousand a month!"

Five thousand?!

Chen Weiguo, clutching the gun, grinned so hard his teeth were showing. "Chief, you're not kidding me, are you? If we really have that many, can our guard battalion get new equipment first? I dream of sleeping with one of these!"

"Promising!"

Shen Jinghong chuckled and scolded, "Don't worry, you'll get your share. Not only will we have submachine guns, but also matching squad automatic weapons and general-purpose machine guns. If we're going to do this, we'll do a complete family of weapons!"

The firing range was filled with jubilation.

Seeing how powerful the weapons they had built with their own hands were, the workers straightened their backs, their faces filled with pride.

This is the power of industry.

This is the dignity of technology.

However, after the excitement,

He handed the gun to Chen Weiguo, put his hands behind his back, looked at the collapsed wall in the distance, frowned slightly, and sighed deeply.

"Jinghong, the gun is a good gun, I have no doubt about that."

"But having guns alone isn't enough."

"The opponent we are about to face is the Americans, who are armed to the teeth. They not only have guns, but also planes, tanks, and an overwhelming amount of heavy artillery."

He pointed to the ground beneath his feet:

"In mountainous battlefields like those in Korea, light weapons are only effective in close combat. Once the enemy creates distance and bombards us with heavy artillery, our soldiers become sitting ducks."

"Just like Li Yunlong in 'Bright Sword' said, he couldn't have taken Ping'an County without Italian artillery. These days, military leaders all seem to have 'firepower insufficiency phobia,' constantly clamoring for artillery and heavy firepower!"

"Our industrial base is still too weak. It's easy to make guns, but difficult to make cannons. Especially those large-caliber heavy artillery pieces that can flatten a mountain with a single shot... Can we even make them?"

He straightened his wind-blown trench coat, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and lit one for himself.

Looking at the deep mountains at the far end of the shooting range, his tone was casual, yet it revealed an arrogance that could pierce the sky:

"I brought more than just a pedicure knife with me this time."

"Does Li Yunlong want an Italian cannon?"

Shen Jinghong sneered, threw the cigarette butt on the ground, and crushed it out with his toe.

"That thing is too outdated and is not good enough for our volunteer army."

"Since everyone has a fear of insufficient firepower, I'll give you all a proper cure."

He turned around, waved at a huge hangar deep inside the firing range, and shouted:

"Pull that big guy out for me!"