When I went home for Chinese New Year, I spent a million times more money on my foreign wife.

The message was brought back by Lei Zi.

As soon as the winery's car pulled back to the manor gate, Lei Zi came up from the side gate with an encrypted telegram in his hand.

"Boss, they've made their move across the Atlantic."

Chen Yang took the telegram and scanned it.

The US intelligence agency completed a reverse tracking operation within 48 hours—extracting the main control chip from the wreckage of a frontline drone, tracing the chip's serial number to the foundry, then tracing the foundry's purchase orders to Skyhawk Aviation, and finally tracing Skyhawk Aviation's shareholding structure to Snow Palace Group.

The conclusion is quite straightforward: Chen Yang is the mastermind behind DJI drones.

The latter half of the telegram contained a copy of the sanctions order. The U.S. Department of Commerce has issued an executive order prohibiting all chip manufacturers worldwide that use U.S. technology licenses from supplying DJI.

The list includes eleven chip foundries.

It covers the sources of all three main control chips currently used by DJI.

Chen Yang folded the telegram and put it into the inside pocket of his suit.

How many chips are left in stock at the Mocheng factory?

"Seventy thousand. At a production rate of ten thousand aircraft per day, that'll last seven days."

"What about domestically?"

"Skyhawk Aviation received the news earlier. Their supply was cut off by the supplier this morning, and their production line has already stopped."

Chen Yang entered the manor and dialed Chen Yue's number.

Ice City, Snow Palace International Global Center, top floor.

Chen Yue was processing the fourth batch of documents for drone export permits. The dedicated line rang, and she answered it.

"elder brother."

"The chip is stuck."

"I know. Mr. Wang from Skyhawk called me half an hour ago, his voice was hoarse. He said that the foundry people returned the wafers this morning, they wouldn't acknowledge the contract, saying there was a ban from above, and violating it would mean being kicked out of the US's technology alliance."

"What did Mr. Wang say?"

"He asked us if we had any alternatives. If not, all three domestic production lines would have to shut down. He said he wasn't afraid of losing money, but he had to pay the workers' wages, and he couldn't hold out for long."

"Tell him that the Snow Palace Group will cover the workers' wages, so he should stay put and not lay off any people."

"Brother, just paying wages isn't enough. Without chips, the production line is just a pile of scrap metal."

"I know. Keep Mr. Wang calm for now."

Chen Yang hung up the phone.

Katyusha stood at the living room doorway, still holding the bottle of Pinot Noir she had brought back from the winery.

"What happened?"

"The US has cut off DJI's chip supply."

"Can you cut it?"

"Those three production lines in China have already shut down. The inventory here in Mo City is only enough to last for a week."

Katyusha placed the bottle on the table.

"They chose this time to act because of the battle reports from the front lines. One hundred thousand drones destroyed a combined arms battalion, and the US couldn't sit still."

"That's the right thing to do, you can't sit still."

Chen Yang didn't say anything more. He went into the study and closed the door.

The system interface popped up on the phone.

He flipped to the tech tree archive he had unlocked three months ago—[Military-grade semiconductor self-manufacturing process: 28-nanometer full-chain design blueprints].

He hasn't touched these blueprints.

It's not that I don't want to act, it's just that the time isn't right.

We've arrived.

He dialed the phone number of the microelectronics laboratory at Harbin Institute of Technology.

"Professor Xu, I sent you the drawings three months ago. Has the chip fabrication been completed yet?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

"It's done. The yield rate is 91%. Mr. Chen, I've been studying this process for three months, and I still haven't figured out how you bypassed the bottleneck of photolithography precision."

"As long as the yield rate is high enough, that's fine. How many chips can we produce in the first batch?"

"The small production line in the lab can produce three thousand units a day. If we want to mass-produce them, we need to use a large production line."

"I'll have Chen Yue transfer the money. List what equipment you need, and it will arrive within 24 hours."

"I need eight ion implanters and a complete packaging and testing production line. These things are available domestically, but we need to coordinate their allocation—"

"You don't need to worry about that. Just focus on producing the chips."

Chen Yang hung up the phone and sent a message to Chen Yue.

"Professor Xu from the microelectronics lab at the Iceberg University of Technology. He will send you the equipment list. Purchase according to the list and expedite air freight. The mass production line will be housed in the building in Zone B of the Snow Palace Industrial Park. Renovation will begin today."

Chen Yue's reply was only one word: "Receive."

-

three days later.

Mochette, Geneva Hotel, rooftop banquet hall.

Ivan's old rival, Griffin, the Western Energy Alliance's representative in Mo City, hosted a private dinner. Invitations were sent to every well-known oligarch in Mo City.

Ivan received it too.

Chen Yang also received it.

Inside the banquet hall, crystal chandeliers, silver tableware, and thirty round tables arranged in a semicircle.

Chen Yang and Katyusha sat at Ivan's table.

Griffin walked over with a wine glass in his hand.

He was in his early fifties, wearing a gray suit and a sapphire set in his tie clip. Two assistants followed behind him.

"Mr. Chen, I heard your drone factory is closing down?"

The table fell silent.

Griffin didn't lower his voice, and people at the three surrounding tables could hear him.

"My friends in the US told me that your chip supply chain has been completely cut off. Without chips, your DJI is just a pile of plastic waste."

He turned to Ivan.

"Ivan, it seems you've run out of cards as a son-in-law of China."

Ivan held his knife and fork, but didn't move.

Katyusha put down the napkin in her hand.

She stood up, picked up the vodka glass from the table, and walked over to Griffin.

Griffin smiled and opened his arms, making a hugging gesture.

The wine was splashed on his face.

The entire glass of vodka dripped down his forehead, soaking through his shirt collar.

There were thirty tables and over sixty people in the banquet hall, and they all looked over.

"If you talk to my husband like that again, I'll crush your head."

Katyusha put the empty cup into Griffin's breast pocket, turned around and walked back to her seat.

Griffin's face turned from red to white.

His assistant behind him offered him a handkerchief, but he didn't take it.

"Mr. Chen, you can't even control your own woman—"

"Why should I care?"

Chen Yang took something out of the inside pocket of his suit.

A chip.

The size of a fingernail, in a silver-gray package, has four characters etched on the front: "Binggong Dazao".

He stood the chip upright on the dining table and flicked it. The chip spun three times on the silver plate and then stopped.

"Mr. Griffin, these are our own chips. They are manufactured entirely in-house using a 28-nanometer process, and they just rolled off the production line in Harbin this morning. The first batch of 30,000 chips has already been loaded onto trucks and will arrive at the Mo City factory tomorrow."

He picked up his phone from the table, found a message Chen Yue had sent ten minutes earlier, and held the screen outwards.

Message content:

"Brother, the first batch of 30,000 chips has passed all inspections, been packed, and the cargo plane has taken off. Mr. Wang from Skyhawk Airlines asked if we could get an extra 50,000 chips; his production line will restart tonight."

Chen Yang put his phone back.

"Your friend cut off my supply chain? No problem. I'll build one myself."

He stood up and pulled out Katyusha's chair.

"I'm leaving. The food here isn't good."

Katyusha picked up the handbag from the table and took his arm.

The two walked through the banquet hall, where no one at the thirty tables of guests spoke.

Griffin stood there, vodka still dripping down his face.

At the door, Lei Zi opened the car door.

Before getting into the car, Chen Yang glanced back at the lights in the banquet hall.

"Lei Zi, how many companies does Griffin have in Mo City?"

"Three energy trading companies, one logistics company, and one real estate company."

"Find out his financial channels and give me a complete report within three days."

"clear."

The car doors closed, and the black convoy drove into the night of Mo City.