World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

8:00 AM, Fuxing Auditorium.

Three hundred oak chairs were filled with people, a mix of dark blue Zhongshan suits and military uniforms, the air thick with the smell of ink and leather briefcases. Uncle Wang stood by the side door of the auditorium, looking at the packed hall, and softly said to Chen Feng beside him, "Young Master, everyone's here."

Chen Feng nodded and straightened his collar. He was wearing a dark gray stand-up collar Zhongshan suit today, the only decoration being the fountain pen tucked into his left breast pocket.

"Everyone, please be quiet."

The hall fell silent the moment Chen Feng stepped onto the podium. Behind him hung a huge yellow dragon flag, below which was a panoramic view of the Persian Gulf, marked with numerous construction projects in red and blue.

"Today is January 15, 1911." Chen Feng's voice echoed throughout the auditorium through the newly installed German-made loudspeakers. "Three years ago on the same day, we were here—at that time, this was just an empty lot—to announce the launch of the 'Three-Year Offensive' plan."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over every face in the audience.

"Now, the three-year term is over." Chen Feng pulled a thick report from his briefcase. "This is a summary prepared by Minister Wang Wenwu. But I'd like to ask everyone here first—how do you think we've done these past three years?"

A low murmur arose from the audience. Liu Yongfu, sitting in the first row, adjusted his glasses, intending to stand up and speak, but Chen Feng waved him off.

"No need to report data, just share your feelings." Chen Feng stepped down from the podium and slowly walked down the aisle. "Commander Zhao, you go first."

Zhao Dashan stood up abruptly, his back ramrod straight: "Reporting to the Commander-in-Chief! The feeling is—I can stand tall again! Three years ago, our army only had two thousand broken guns, but now? My soldiers have machine guns, submachine guns, artillery—whatever they need!"

Laughter and applause erupted.

"Chief Engineer Liu, what about you?"

Liu Yongfu slowly stood up. He had specially worn a newly made Zhongshan suit today, but the collar was habitually left open. "General, I just want to tell you one thing—last month, a delegation from the German Krupp company came to visit our special steel plant. After the chief engineer finished looking at the rolling mill, he secretly asked me, 'Did you travel back from the future?'"

An even louder laugh.

Chen Feng laughed too: "Why did he ask that?"

"Because our steel plate tolerance is controlled within 0.5 millimeters, while theirs is still struggling with 1.5 millimeters," Liu Yongfu said. "And there's the full welding process, while they're still using riveting. When that old German man left, he kept shaking his head and sighing."

There was thunderous applause.

Chen Feng walked back to the podium: "Okay, now I'll report the data."

He turned to the first page of the report.

Population: 460,000 at the end of 1906. 1,527,300 at the end of 1910. An increase of 1,060,000 in three years.

Turn the page.

"Industry: Annual steel production increased from 50,000 tons to 350,000 tons. Electricity generation increased from 20,000 kilowatts to 120,000 kilowatts. Shipbuilding capacity increased from three main warships per year to eight."

Turn it over again.

"Navy: Twelve main warships have been delivered, and four are under construction. More than 5,000 foreign sailors have been trained."

"Army: Expanded from three regiments to two full divisions, all equipped with domestically produced weapons."

"Infrastructure: 800 kilometers of new railways, 1,800 kilometers of highways, 24,000 housing units, 60 schools, and 1,000 additional hospital beds."

Chen Feng closed the report and looked up.

"These figures are the result of 300,000 people working more than ten hours a day for three years. Every ton of steel, every kilowatt-hour of electricity, and every bullet is made by our own workers."

He paused for three seconds, letting his words settle.

"So today, we're not planning how to survive the next three years," Chen Feng's voice suddenly rose. "We're planning—how to win the next three years!"

The venue was completely silent.

"What do we want to win?" Chen Feng asked himself, answering his own question. "To win back our homeland. To win back the dignity that the Chinese in Southeast Asia have enjoyed for a hundred years. To win back a home where our descendants can live in peace."

He turned and pointed to the map behind him.

"But the current speed is not enough," Chen Feng said. "We need to be even faster. Faster than the enemy can react to, fast enough that history can't catch up with us."

Liu Yongfu exchanged glances with the engineers around him. They knew that whenever the president spoke in this tone, it meant…

"So today," Chen Feng patted the three steel boxes on the podium, "I'm going to show you something. Something that might keep you up at night."

Three steel boxes were placed side by side on a long table. Each box was half a meter long and thirty centimeters wide, with a rust-proof paint coating and brass corner protectors. White labels were affixed to the lids, with the words "A - Top Secret," "B - Top Secret," and "C - Top Secret" written in calligraphy.

Chen Feng took three keys out of his pocket and handed them to Uncle Wang: "Open it."

"Click, click, click."

Three crisp metallic clangs rang out as the latch snapped open. Uncle Wang stepped back, and Chen Feng personally lifted the first box lid.

drawing.

A thick stack of blueprints, wrapped in linen, the edges already slightly yellowed. Chen Feng took out the top one and unfolded it with both hands—it was a side view of a battleship, the lines clean to the point of being almost cold.

"What is this?" Liu Yongfu had already stood up, his eyes fixed on the blueprints.

"Our next generation of capital ships," Chen Feng said, "is internally codenamed 'Bismarck-class.' We believe this battleship will be exported to Germany in the future, so we're giving it a German name."

He walked to the blackboard and wrote down a few numbers with chalk:

Standard displacement: 41700 metric tons.

Full load displacement: 50300 metric tons.

Total length: 251 meters.

Waterline length: 241.60 meters.

Width: 36 meters.

Standard draft: 9.30 meters.

Power source: 12 Wagner-type oil-fired superheated water tube boilers, 3 geared turbines, and 3 three-bladed propellers.

Power output: 110450 kilowatts.

Speed: 30 knots (56 kilometers per hour).

Range: 8525 nautical miles (at a speed of 19 knots).

Crew: 103 officers and 1962 soldiers.

Weapons and Equipment:

Main guns: 8 x 380mm SK C/34 rapid-fire guns, 4 twin-mounted, with a maximum range of 36520 meters and a muzzle velocity of 820 meters per second. The main guns carry a total of 940 to 960 shells.

Secondary armament: 12 C/28 150mm rapid-fire guns, 6 twin-mounted; 16 SK C/33 105mm anti-aircraft guns, 8 twin-mounted.

Anti-aircraft weapons: 16 37mm SK C/30 rapid-fire guns, 20 20mm Type 30 anti-aircraft guns (20 x 1).

Armor protection:

Main armor belt: 320 mm.

Main turret: 130-360 mm.

Upper deck: 50-80 mm.

Third armor plate: 80-120 mm.

Command tower: 220-350 mm.

With each number written, a gasp rippled through the audience. When "thirty sections" was written, several naval officers jumped up from their chairs.

"Thirty knots?" Li Te's voice changed. "Commander-in-Chief, the fastest battleship in the world right now is only twenty-three knots! The 'Restoration' has a limit of thirty-one knots, but that's under light load!"

"So this is the next generation," Chen Feng said calmly. "Fuel-fired boilers plus steam turbines, four-shaft propulsion. We've calculated that if we adopt the new design, we can achieve 29 knots."

Liu Yongfu had already stepped to the front of the stage and picked up the blueprints to examine them carefully. His hands were trembling.

"Anti-aircraft firepower?"

Chen Feng nodded. "The Americans have already taken to the skies; the future belongs to the skies!"