Chapter 115 Supply Chain Disruption! The Quadrilateral Panic

Virginia, Ugly Country.

Inside the Naval Operations Command Center of the world-renowned Pentagon.

On a massive electronic screen, a live broadcast was showing White House spokesperson Johnson mocking Eastern Country's embargo.

“Hahaha! That guy Johnson still has such a sharp tongue.”

Admiral McCain, Chief of Naval Operations, held a cup of black coffee and couldn't help but laugh as he watched the spokesperson on the screen make an exaggerated shrugging gesture.

He turned his head and said to the group of staff officers and generals around him, “Did you hear that? A beggar sanctioning a king? That metaphor is just too accurate. The Eastern Country people probably couldn't think of any other tricks, so they could only issue this waste-paper-like announcement to save some face.”

...

The surrounding officers followed with a burst of relaxed laughter.

An air of casual arrogance filled the room.

In their view, Eastern Country's meager naval assets weren't even enough to fill the gaps between the teeth of their Seventh Fleet. As for a technological blockade? Don't be ridiculous; they were the ones who blockaded others, how could others blockade them?

“Alright, the joke's over, time to get to work.”

Admiral McCain took a sip of coffee and tapped the table cheerfully. “The Seventh and Ninth Carrier Strike Groups are heading to those waters next week for routine ‘Freedom of Navigation’ exercises. How are the logistics preparations coming along?”

Just as he finished speaking, the heavy blast-proof door of the command center was suddenly pushed open.

A lieutenant colonel in charge of logistics support stumbled in. His face was deathly pale, his forehead drenched in sweat, and he clutched a red urgent folder tightly in his hand, not even caring that his military cap was crooked.

“Sir... Sir! Something has happened!”

The lieutenant colonel's voice trembled visibly, as if he had just witnessed a disaster.

Admiral McCain frowned, his smile fading slightly, and said displeasurably, “What’s the panic? Has the sky fallen? Do you still have the bearing of a naval officer!”

“It's more serious than the sky falling...” The lieutenant colonel swallowed hard, rushed to the desk, spread the folder open, and pointed a trembling finger at a line of red data.

“Just five minutes ago, the carrier strike groups sent in emergency inventory self-inspection reports.”

“Our ‘MK-7’ carrier Arresting Cables—the core consumable... the inventory is all in the red!”

“What?” Admiral McCain froze for a moment, seemingly not understanding. “What do you mean, all in the red?”

“It means there are none! Not a single spare left!”

The lieutenant colonel shouted with a sob in his voice, “According to regulations, new Arresting Cables must be replaced before every high-intensity exercise. But now, there isn't even a hair left in the warehouse! If we can't replenish the inventory within three days, those two carrier strike groups won't just be unable to exercise—their carrier-based aircraft won't even be able to fly! They'll just have to sit in the port and sunbathe!”

“Absurd!”

Admiral McCain slammed his coffee cup heavily onto the table, scalding coffee splashing onto his hand. “What about Titan Heavy Industry? What are those damn suppliers doing? I remember placing an urgent order with them last month! Tell them to ship it immediately!”

“We contacted them... I've been in contact just now...”

The lieutenant colonel's expression became even stranger, as if he were telling a ghost story. “Titan Heavy Industry's CEO, Smith, replied saying... due to force majeure, the supply chain has been severed, and they cannot ship.”

“Force majeure? To hell with force majeure!” McCain roared. “Is he implying he wants more money? Tell that greedy fat man I'll give him twenty percent more! Tell him to get the goods to me immediately!”

“No... Sir, it's not a matter of money.”

At that moment, a senior intelligence analyst in a dark suit walked over with a solemn expression. He held another newly decrypted document, his eyes filled with a deep sense of helplessness.

“We just conducted an emergency deep-dive investigation into Titan Heavy Industry.”

Bob, the intelligence officer, placed the document in front of the Admiral and said in a low voice, “It turns out we've all been deceived. Titan Heavy Industry doesn't have a production line for Arresting Cables at all. For the past five years, all the top-tier Arresting Cables they supplied to the Navy were imported from overseas through shell companies.”

“Imported?”

Admiral McCain stared at him blankly, his brain momentarily unable to process it. “Imported from where? An ally? Hans Country? Or Foot Basin Chicken?”

Bob took a deep breath, as if it took all his strength to say the answer:

“No, Sir.”

“There is only one source.”

“Eastern Country, Lu Province, Baishui City... Li Family Toy Factory.”

Silence.

A deathly silence.

The previously noisy and busy command center seemed to have been hit by a mute button in that instant.

Every officer who heard those words stopped their work, their mouths hanging open, expressions frozen on their faces, eyes filled with disbelief.

‘A... toy factory?’

Admiral McCain felt a buzzing in his head, as if hundreds of flies were swarming around.

‘Our grand Ugly Country Navy, our nuclear-powered aircraft carriers that roam the globe—the core equipment used to stop warplanes weighing dozens of tons... was actually made by an Eastern Country toy factory?’

‘What kind of third-rate screenwriter wrote this script?’

He felt speechless and even wanted to laugh, but his lips twitched and he couldn't manage it.

“This... how is this possible...” he muttered to himself.

“There's worse.”

Bob, the intelligence officer, gave him no room to breathe and pulled another sheet of paper from beneath the documents.

It was a printed announcement bearing the seal of Eastern Country's Ministry of Foreign Affairs—the very same embargo notice they had all been mocking just minutes ago as a beggar sanctioning a king.

Bob pointed to the text specifically highlighted in red and read it out word by word:

“Prohibited Export Product List: Special Polymer Composite Cables (and related manufacturing technologies).”

“Sir, after technical comparison, the technical parameters of these so-called ‘composite cables’... are identical to the ‘MK-7 Arresting Cables’ we urgently need.”

These words were like a bolt from the blue, striking Admiral McCain right on the crown of his head.

He felt his vision go dark, his body swayed, and he slumped into his chair.

He looked at the announcement, then at the screen where Johnson's mockery was still playing on a loop, and felt a burning pain on his face, as if he had been lashed dozens of times with a whip dipped in salt water.

What beggar sanctioning a king?

What joke?

We are the clowns!

It turns out the Eastern Country people knew everything all along! They knew that rope was our lifeblood!

That “toy factory” has the Ugly Country Navy by the throat!

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!”

Extreme humiliation instantly transformed into towering rage. McCain violently swept the coffee cup and documents off the desk, sending them crashing to the floor with a series of shattering sounds.

“We've been played! Completely played!”

He jumped up from his chair, his face turning the color of pig liver, and roared at his subordinates who were as quiet as cicadas in winter:

“Is this your intelligence work? Is this our logistics support? Whether our aircraft carriers can move or not actually depends on the whim of a toy factory owner in Eastern Country?!”

“This is a disgrace! The greatest disgrace since The Pentagon was built!”

Everyone in the command center lowered their heads, their scalps tingling, not daring to make a sound.

“Investigate!”

Admiral McCain leaned on the table with both hands, breathing heavily, his eyes vicious:

“Use every resource! Even if you have to flip the Earth over! Find out exactly what the background of this ‘Li Family Toy Factory’ is!”

“I don't believe a toy maker can truly have such heaven-defying capabilities!”

“And! That owner named Li Jiajun! I want all his information! Information on eighteen generations of his ancestors!”

But they were destined to find nothing.

Old Li was truly just an ordinary toy factory director.