World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Feng walked over: "What did you see?"

"I see... I see the earth is curved." Zhou Afu struggled to organize his thoughts. "Really, Your Excellency, the horizon is curved! And the wind, the sound of the wind is different, completely different from the wind on the ground! And... and that feeling, it's like... like turning into a bird!"

Chen Feng smiled. He knew that at this moment, a seed had been planted in the hearts of these young people. A seed about the sky, about freedom, about the future.

For the next two weeks, Charles took two students up into the air each day. Everyone who came back was a completely different person—more focused, more hardworking, and more eager to learn.

During the day, the trainees learned the basics of flight from Charles: how to inspect an aircraft, how to start the engine, how to taxi, and how to determine wind direction. In the evenings, Chen Feng gave them extra theoretical lessons: aerodynamics, principles of flight, and instrument reading.

The progress is visible to the naked eye.

Meanwhile, Master Ma's team had secretly drawn up the complete blueprints for the first Blélio XI. Although not 100% accurate, it was enough for them to begin replicating it.

"We can't build the engine, but we can try the fuselage structure," Master Ma reported to Chen Feng. "We'll use top-quality fir wood from Fujian and process it according to the measured dimensions. The cover will be made of the best linen, coated with three layers of shellac. Although it will be 15 percent heavier than the original, the strength should be sufficient."

"Build a fuselage frame first," Chen Feng instructed. "Don't install the engine or the skin, just build the frame. We need to test the structural strength."

"It's already being done."

Everything seems to be moving in a positive direction.

That afternoon, Charles suddenly said during training, "Mr. Chen, my contract expires in a week."

Chen Feng was looking at the blueprints when he looked up and said, "I know. We hope to renew the contract."

"I'm not renewing," the French pilot shook his head. "The conditions here are terrible, the sandstorms are too intense, and I'm not used to the food and lodging. Besides... I always feel like you guys are secretly studying my plane."

"How could that be?" Chen Feng asked without changing his expression. "We're just learning."

"Learning requires measuring airplanes every night?" Charles sneered. "I'm not stupid, Mr. Chen. You want to copy it, don't you?"

The meeting room fell silent.

Wang Wenwu was about to explain when Chen Feng raised his hand to stop him.

"Yes," Chen Feng readily admitted. "We want to learn advanced technology. What's wrong with that? We paid for the plane and you to train us. We have the right to learn."

"The contract clearly states that it cannot be disassembled for research!"

"We didn't dismantle them." Chen Feng pointed to the intact planes outside the window. "Aren't they still there, perfectly fine?"

Charles was speechless. Indeed, both planes were intact, at least on the surface.

"In short, I'm not renewing my contract," the Frenchman insisted. "I'll be leaving in a week. Before I leave, I'll complete my final training, but don't expect to learn anything more from me."

"Okay." Chen Feng nodded. "Then please ask Mr. Charles to take as many students as possible for flights this week. The fee will be the same as always, one hundred pounds per flight."

Upon hearing about money, Charles's expression softened: "That's fine."

After the Frenchman left the meeting room, Wang Wenwu said worriedly, "President, what if he goes back and talks nonsense..."

"He won't," Chen Feng said confidently. "First, he has no evidence. Second, he's made a lot of money and doesn't want to cut off his source of income. Third, the French are currently focused on Europe and can't afford to concern themselves with this trivial matter in the Persian Gulf."

"But we haven't learned to fly yet..."

"So this week is crucial." Chen Feng looked out the window, where several trainees were doing routine checks by the plane. "We need to let them fly as much as possible and get a feel for it. Once Charles leaves, we'll have to rely on ourselves."

He paused, then added, "And it's time to start building our 'Swift-I'."

February 12, 1912, 4 PM.

Charles left. With his six thousand pounds in payment and a bellyful of complaints, he boarded the ship back to France. Before departing, he did say something truthful: "Some of your trainees are quite talented. Especially that Zhou Afu, he's daring and has a good touch."

The two Blériot XIs remained at the base. Now, they belong entirely to Lanfang.

"From today onwards, we will fly on our own," Chen Feng announced to the entire team on the runway. "But I want to emphasize three points: First, safety first. Second, proceed step by step. Third, absolutely no risks."

Zhao Tianxiang was already able to get out of bed and walk, but his left arm was still in a sling. He stood next to Chen Feng, pointing at the airplane with his still-mobile right hand:

"I'll train them first. I'll train one person at a time, starting with low altitude and slow speed to familiarize them with the flight. Once everyone can take off and land independently, I'll gradually loosen the restrictions."

Training has resumed.

With their previous foundation, the trainees progressed rapidly. By the end of April, eight people were able to independently complete the basic operations of takeoff, level flight, and landing. Although their movements were still clumsy and the plane often experienced severe turbulence, at least they could take off and land safely.

Zhou Afu was the most outstanding among them. On his fourth solo flight, he dared to make small-angle turns. On his fifth flight, he attempted to climb to 500 meters—the base's current record.

"How are you feeling?" Chen Feng would ask him after each landing.

"Getting better and better!" Zhou Afu always replied. "Commander-in-Chief, I feel like I was born to fly!"

In May, the desert enters its hottest season. Daytime surface temperatures exceed fifty degrees Celsius, limiting training to early morning and evening. Even so, the cockpit remains like a sauna; after a flight, your flight suit is soaked with sweat.

But no one complained. Everyone was determined to fly higher, farther, and better.

On May 18, tragedy struck.

That afternoon at five o'clock, the temperature dropped slightly. According to the plan, it was trainee Lin Guodong's turn to undergo high-altitude acclimatization training. He was the son of an overseas Chinese; his father was a businessman from Penang who sent him to study in Lanfang, and he secretly signed up for the selection.

Lin Guodong is highly educated and learns theory the fastest, but his flying skills are only average. The purpose of this training is to help him overcome his fear of altitude—he used to get nervous when he flew to 300 meters.

Zhao Tianxiang couldn't carry Lin Guodong because his arm hadn't fully recovered. So this time, Lin Guodong flew solo, while Zhao Tianxiang directed from the ground using flag signals.

"Inspection complete!" Lin Guodong shouted from the cockpit.

"Take off!" Zhao Tianxiang waved the green flag.

Blélio XI skids, lifts off the ground, and climbs. Everything is normal.

When the plane reached 400 meters, it began level flight. Lin Guodong followed instructions and flew a rectangular flight path over the base. On the third loop, he suddenly began to climb—this was not part of the planned maneuver.

On the ground control tower, Zhao Tianxiang frowned and waved a yellow flag to signal "stop climbing".

But the plane continued to ascend. Five hundred meters, six hundred meters, seven hundred meters…