World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Two seconds later, Chen Feng was the first to rush out.

"Help! Help!"

The ground crew and trainees then realized what was happening and rushed over. Inside the wreckage, Zhao Tianxiang was trapped in the deformed cockpit, his face covered in blood, and he was unconscious.

"Stretcher! Bring a stretcher!"

The crowd hurriedly got him out and carried him to the infirmary—which was actually just a small room with a hospital bed and some basic medicines.

Chen Feng stood beside the wreckage, looking at the twisted fracture surface of the wing. The break was clean, not from the impact, but from cracks in the wood itself that caused it to snap open under stress.

Master Ma squatted down beside him, touching the broken surface with his hand, and tears suddenly streamed down his face.

"It's my fault... I didn't detect it... this wood has hidden damage..."

Chen Feng remained silent. He crouched down, carefully examining the fracture surface and the connections of other parts. The problem wasn't just with the wood. The bolts securing the wing were too thin, the joint design was flawed, and the wing itself wasn't strong enough…

News came from the infirmary: Zhao Tianxiang had a fractured left arm, three broken ribs, and a concussion, but his life was not in danger.

Chen Feng breathed a sigh of relief, but his mood remained heavy.

In the evening, the base held an emergency meeting.

The atmosphere was oppressive and suffocating. Master Ma kept blaming himself, and the engineers remained silent with their heads down. The trainees were even more devastated—they hadn't even learned to fly yet, and they had already witnessed the crash.

"The responsibility for today's events lies with me," Chen Feng was the first to speak. "I was too hasty. Knowing that the materials and the process were subpar, I still insisted on conducting the test flight. Professor Zhao is still lying in a hospital bed; this is a lesson learned in blood."

He paused, then continued:

"However, the plan will not stop. Starting today, we will adjust our direction."

Everyone looked up.

"First, suspend the manufacture of complete aircraft. Second, Minister Wang, contact Europe immediately and, no matter the cost, buy two ready-made, top-of-the-line aircraft. We need real aircraft so that the trainees can see what an aircraft actually looks like and how it flies."

Wang Wenwu nodded: "I've already made contact. France has responded and can sell us two 'Blélio XI' monoplanes, the fastest kind."

"Okay. Second, Master Ma, your team's mission has changed. We're no longer focused on building complete aircraft, but on studying these purchased planes, disassembling them, analyzing them, and learning from them. Then, using our own materials, we'll replicate the key components. We'll work on each component one by one until we achieve the same level of quality as the original."

Master Ma rubbed his eyes: "Yes, Engineer Chen."

"Third, the theoretical classes cannot stop while Teacher Zhao is recovering from his injury. I will teach them myself," Chen Feng said. "We will start from the very basics, not rushing the pace, but ensuring a solid foundation."

He looked at everyone present. Their faces showed frustration and confusion, but not despair.

"I know today is difficult. But I want you to remember: three years ago, when we were building our first ship, the keel of the 'Fuxing' broke on the slipway. Two years ago, when we were smelting our first batch of special steel, molten steel gushed out and injured eight workers. A year ago, when we were building our first machine gun, it exploded twelve times in a row."

His voice echoed in the simple conference room:

"Every time we failed, we thought it was all over, that we couldn't do it anymore. But every time, we got back up. Why? Because we had no way back but to move forward."

"The same applies today. If a plane crashes, it can be rebuilt. If a person is injured, they can be healed. But if we become afraid, stop, or give up, then we are truly finished."

Outside the window, night had completely fallen over the desert. In the distance, there were faint lights in the sky towards Dubai—the lights of the city, the home that 1.5 million people were building.

"The sun will rise as usual tomorrow," Chen Feng concluded. "Tomorrow, work will continue."

The meeting ended, and people dispersed. Chen Feng was the last to leave. He walked to the edge of the runway and looked at the pile of wreckage.

Under the moonlight, the shattered wings looked like a bird with broken wings.

Uncle Wang appeared beside him at some point and handed him a coat.

"Young master, it's chilly at night."

Chen Feng took the coat, but didn't wear it.

"Uncle Wang, do you think I was too hasty?"

The old man was silent for a moment: "Young master, I don't know anything about airplanes. But I remember that when you were learning to walk as a child, you fell many times. Your father—the old master—always said that falling is not the problem, but the problem is not daring to walk again."

Chen Feng smiled, a bitter smile on his face.

"This time is different. This time, it's not just me who's fallen, it's someone else's life."

"I've arranged all of Mr. Zhao's medical expenses and compensation," said Uncle Wang. "His family will receive the best care. This is also the rule you set: we are not responsible for anyone."

"Rules are rules, and conscience is conscience." Chen Feng sighed. "Uncle Wang, sometimes I'm really afraid... afraid that the future I see will require too many people's blood to buy."

Looking at his profile, Wang Bo noticed a weariness beyond his years on the young man's face in the moonlight.

"Young master, you often say you want to go home. Back to Southeast Asia, back to Borneo. I think the road home is never easy. There will be storms at sea, and thorns on the road. But we can't stop going to sea just because we're afraid of storms, or stop setting off just because we're afraid of thorns."

Chen Feng turned to look at him.

"You're right." He took a deep breath; the night breeze was cool. "No matter how difficult the road is, we must keep going."

February 8, 1912, 9:00 AM, conference room at the "Oasis" base.

The room was filled with smoke. Chen Feng sat at the end of the long table, a wreckage analysis report of "Young Eagle-1" spread out in front of him. Wang Wenwu sat to his left, taking notes rapidly with a pen. Liu Yongfu, Li Te, and Wang Bo sat around the table, while Master Ma and several engineer representatives sat at the lower end.

"I've finished reading all the reports." Chen Feng closed the folder, his voice hoarse—he had barely slept last night. "The conclusion is clear: insufficient material strength, design flaws, and failed process control. In short—we were too hasty."

Master Ma had his head down, his fingers twisted together.

"The responsibility isn't yours, Master Ma," Chen Feng said, looking at him. "It is. I gave an unrealistic timetable, used substandard materials, and still insisted on flying."

Liu Yongfu cleared his throat: "Commander-in-Chief, there's no use talking about this now. The question is, what do we do next? The base has over a hundred people, and the daily expenses are over a thousand pounds. We can't just keep going like this."

"So we need to make adjustments." Chen Feng pulled three documents out of his briefcase. "The new plan will proceed in three steps."

He pushed the first document to the center of the table.

"The first step is to buy them. Minister Wang, contact the French side. When will the two 'Blélio XI' helicopters arrive?"

Wang Wenwu opened his notebook: "It's settled. The unit price is £12,000, including basic training and spare parts. The seller is an agent for Blériot Company, and they can provide a pilot to train us for three months. But the requirements are very strict—the aircraft can only fly in designated areas, cannot be disassembled for research, and cannot be used for military purposes."