I accidentally joined a group of charlatans, so I immediately called the police and handed it over t

The autumn wind in Beijing carried a touch of desolation, swirling fallen leaves that pattered against the glass curtain wall of the National Convention Center.

Even outside the venue, you could feel the tense and oppressive atmosphere.

Hundreds of media outlets around the world have already set up their cameras and microphones, and countless eyes are fixed on the door that is about to open.

This is the "Second Global Strategy Launch Conference" announced by China.

In Western media, this has been jokingly referred to as a "last struggle" or a "decent surrender ceremony."

David, the BBC's chief correspondent, was facing the camera with that typical Western, condescending, fake smile.

Behind him was a group of specially arranged protesters dressed in comical Qing Dynasty robes, holding huge wooden abacuses, performing a humiliating piece of performance art.

"Dear viewers, as you can see..."

David shrugged, his tone flippant as if he were narrating a circus.

"In this winter of complete chip blockade, the Eastern dragon seems to be preparing to show us a mysterious magic that does not require lithography machines."

He pointed to the abacus behind him, which drew laughter from the Western reporters around him.

"Perhaps they're going to announce that they've invented a smartphone powered by an abacus, or that they're about to lead the world back to the steampunk era."

"After all, according to reliable sources, without ASML's equipment, they can't even light up a decent OLED screen."

The camera then switched back to the studio, where the CNN host made no attempt to hide his mockery.

"This is a farce. If I were a decision-maker in China, I would choose to beg for the resumption of negotiations at this time, rather than hold this kind of bluffing press conference."

The atmosphere inside the venue was equally eerie.

Western journalists gathered in small groups, looking relaxed. Some were even making bets in hushed tones about what kind of "model" China could come up with to fool people this time.

In the front row of VIP seats sat Professor Hans, a Nobel laureate who was once an unparalleled authority in the field of lithography machines.

He crossed his arms and stared at the huge, dark screen on the stage with a complicated expression.

He still harbors resentment from the previous humiliation, and today he's here to watch the spectacle and witness the complete downfall of this Eastern rival.

"They've lost their chance."

Hans spoke softly to his assistant, his tone resolute.

"Physics doesn't lie, and manufacturing processes don't lie. Without EUV, it's a dead end."

Just then, the lights in the venue suddenly dimmed.

There was no rousing music, no dazzling opening light show.

There was only a steady, powerful sound of footsteps, as if they were stepping on the rhythm of everyone's heartbeat.

A middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit walked steadily from behind the scenes to the front of the stage, all by himself.

He is the spokesperson for this event, Lin Feng.

His face showed no sign of panic or humility, only an unfathomable calm like a deep pool.

Faced with the countless flashes that instantly lit up from the audience, Lin Feng simply adjusted the microphone slightly.

"Mr. Lin!"

A reporter from The New York Times stood up eagerly, without even waiting for the Q&A session.

"Does this press conference signify that your country is preparing to send a signal of seeking peace with the international community regarding the chip sanctions issue? Is your country prepared to restart negotiations?"

This question is sharp, rude, and highly suggestive.

The entire room fell silent.

Everyone was waiting to see Lin Feng's reaction, waiting to see his embarrassment.

Lin Feng slowly raised his eyelids, his gaze sharp as a knife, piercing precisely into the reporter's eyes from dozens of meters away.

"negotiation?"

A faint smile appeared on Lin Feng's lips, a smile that carried three parts indifference and seven parts disdain.

"You seem to have misunderstood something."

"We don't need to negotiate with rules that are outdated."

Lin Feng placed his hands on the podium, leaning slightly forward, and an invisible sense of pressure instantly swept over the entire audience.

"We are not standing here today to seek peace."

"We are here to inform you that the definitions of energy and computing power have been rewritten from this moment on."

As soon as he finished speaking, the huge screen behind him suddenly lit up.

Five powerful, vigorous calligraphic characters, like golden dragons breaking through a wall, suddenly appeared—

Nantianmen Energy

At that moment, Professor Hans's eyelids twitched suddenly, and a strange unease welled up in his heart.

"First, please allow me to introduce a small consumer-grade product."

Lin Feng took out a palm-sized black cube from his pocket and casually placed it on the display stand.

"Kuafu-1, solid-state energy storage module."

The audience erupted in uproar, followed by a chorus of boos.

"A battery? My God, is that their trump card? A battery?"

"Will this solve the chip problem? It's just a distraction!"

Lin Feng ignored the noise and snapped his fingers.

The screen behind me switched to a live broadcast of a closed test site located in the Gobi Desert in Northwest China.

In the video, a fully loaded heavy mining truck roars and speeds across the desert like a steel behemoth.

This vehicle has a load capacity of over 300 tons, making it a true gas guzzler.

But at this moment, there is no roaring diesel engine under its hood, only a battery pack that is not particularly large.

"This car has already driven 100,000 kilometers without stopping."

Lin Feng's voice was as calm as if he were reading an instruction manual that he already knew by heart.

"It uses the commercial version of the Kuafu battery pack."

A huge data box popped up on the screen, showing the truck's real-time status.

All eyes were focused on the green progress bar that represented the remaining battery power.

The sarcastic remarks that the Western journalists had prepared caught in their throats.

Remaining battery level: 98.5%.

"That's impossible!"

Professor Hans, sitting in the front row, suddenly stood up, his movement so forceful that it overturned the chair behind him.

He pointed at the screen, where the face, usually filled with academic arrogance, was now distorted with extreme shock.

"This violates the energy density limit! This is fake! This is special effects!"

Hans's voice cracked with excitement, sounding particularly jarring in the quiet hall.

"Unless you've crammed a miniature nuclear reactor inside, there's absolutely no way you could achieve that kind of endurance!"

Faced with the Nobel laureate's loss of composure, Lin Feng simply smiled faintly.

That smile was like a modern person holding a smartphone, looking at a caveman making a fuss over a torch.

"Professor Hans, your intuition is very sharp."

Lin Feng's tone was gentle, yet every word was piercing.

"In a sense, this is a nuclear reactor."

"However, we used a special process to fold it into a nanoscale wafer."

"Oh, right."

Lin Feng seemed to suddenly remember something and added a sentence.

"It supports instant charging in 0.1 seconds."

"The premise is that your country's power grid can withstand that kind of instantaneous energy burst."

boom--!

If the previous reaction was merely shock, now the entire venue has completely erupted in chaos.

Instant charge in 0.1 seconds?

100,000 km range?

This isn't a battery; it's a perpetual motion machine!

"Liar! This is a complete scam!"

"This is Eastern witchcraft! I don't believe it!"

Western media outlets began to clamor wildly, unable to accept this fact, because if it were true, their proud petrodollar system would collapse in an instant.

Faced with this overwhelming wave of doubts, Lin Feng did not argue.

He simply raised his hand and gently pressed it down.

"If a battery can make you all lose your composure like this, then I'm afraid your hearts won't be able to handle the next main course."

Lin Feng's gaze swept across the entire scene, his eyes revealing the coldness of a hunter watching his prey fall into the net.

"I know what you're waiting for."

"You're waiting for us to produce the chips so you can laugh at our outdated manufacturing process."

"You're waiting for us to admit that without lithography machines, we can't move an inch."

Lin Feng shook his head, a mocking smile curving his lips.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."

The screen behind me changed again.

The once bright scene instantly dimmed, and a huge black outline, seemingly containing an endless abyss, slowly emerged.

That's not a traditional chip architecture diagram.

It was more like a labyrinth, a star map, a temple.

A line of small characters quietly lit up in the darkness, carrying a chilling aura of judgment from the future—

When silicon meets a miracle.

"Today, we're going to teach you what computing power is."