Chapter 144 alarmed the president.

Lighthouse Country, Langley.

Intelligence Agency, Strategic Analysis Room.

The projection screen on the wall was frozen on a blurry satellite photo—Over the Northwest Gobi Desert, three satellites from China were performing precise orbital maneuvers.

"This is a catastrophic intelligence misjudgment."

Deputy Director Smith stubbed out his cigarette.

He threw a ballistic analysis report marked "Top Secret" onto the table with a crisp thud.

"The bearing supply cut-off plan for Switzerland's SKF was executed perfectly."

"According to industrial logic, their machine tool precision cannot meet the standard."

"Relying on manual labor, it is impossible to process a sufficient quantity of micron-level separation hooks in time."

"This launch should have either been postponed or failed."

Smith's voice was hoarse, filled with a deep sense of powerlessness.

"But what was the result?"

"Millisecond-level orbital maneuvering, micron-level separation."

"This is a resounding slap in the face!"

Across the table, the senior analyst in charge of industrial technology analysis wiped cold sweat from his forehead.

He pulled up another set of data charts, his voice trembling.

"Director, that is not all."

"Since the beginning of this year, a company called Red Star Technology has frantically registered over four hundred patents."

"From hydrostatic spindles to rare-earth permanent magnet algorithms, it covers almost all core nodes of precision manufacturing."

The analyst swallowed, feeling his throat dry:

"This does not conform to the laws of technological development at all."

"It is just like..."

"It is just like they have completed decades of our machine tool development path in just one year."

"This is not a technological breakthrough, this is a technological leap."

"Enough!"

Smith stood up abruptly and walked to the huge whiteboard.

It was densely covered with photos and various keywords: a profile of Lin Xi promoting machine tools at the Canton Fair, "south heaven gate" and "Innate Primordial Energy" sent back by Natasha, that copy of "the secret of qi" that was selling like crazy on the other side of the ocean, one rocket with three satellites, low-earth orbit...

He picked up a red marker.

He drew several rough lines between these seemingly unrelated clues.

"Gentlemen, we must abandon our arrogance."

Smith turned around, his eyes filled with the certainty of "I already know the truth."

"Exclude all impossibilities, and the one that remains, no matter how absurd, is the truth."

"The Chinese did not obtain our technology; they are engaging in 'archaeology'."

"Archaeology?" The analyst was stunned. Was this a bit of a stretch?

"Yes, archaeology."

Smith took the gold-leaf covered copy of "the secret of qi" from his briefcase and flipped to a dog-eared page.

"Leibniz realized binary from the 'I Ching' back then; this is not a coincidence."

"The 'human magnetic field' and 'dantian nuclear reactor' mentioned in this book were things we always treated as quack literature."

"But what if..."

"What if this is a high-energy physics model of some lost civilization?"

The conference room was deathly silent.

Smith pointed to a description in the book, speaking very quickly:

"Look here—'controlling objects with qi'."

"If we understand 'qi' as a high-energy particle stream, and 'controlling objects' as the control of strong interaction forces at the microscopic level."

"Combined with a possible brand-new computer language—'natural philosophy language'."

"There is only one truth!"

Smith slapped the book:

"China obtained some 'Eastern Metaphysics' technology through archaeology in the early 1980s, and based on this, they achieved this two-year technological leap!"

The analyst's mouth hung open, and the pen in his hand dropped to the floor.

This sounded like listening to a script for "Star Wars."

But in the face of the undeniable precision of the "one rocket with three satellites," this actually became the only logic that could explain it!

Smith closed the book, his face livid.

"I am going to see the Director. Now."

White House, Oval Office.

The atmosphere was slightly oppressive.

The President sat behind the Resolute Desk, holding the comprehensive report submitted by Kane, the Director of the Intelligence Agency.

This President had just taken office in January of this year.

Internally, he promoted economic reform; externally, he turned completely hawkish.

During his term, the COCOM technology blockade tightened unprecedentedly.

"So, you are telling me."

"The 'COCOM' defense line we spent hundreds of millions of dollars to build."

"Was pierced by a crappy book that teaches people how to breathe?"

The President threw the report on the table, his gaze as sharp as a hawk, scanning Kane and Smith in front of him.

"Those old men in Congress are questioning me."

"Why can the satellites of the East dance on top of our heads?"

"While our intelligence department is researching how to sell electric fans!"

Director Kane stepped forward, his expression solemn:

"Mr. President, this is not a problem about electric fans."

"This is 'south heaven gate'."

"south heaven gate?" The President frowned.

Smith quickly projected a composite image on the projector.

On the screen, a huge space station floated in low-earth orbit, like the legendary gateway to the Heavenly Court.

Countless high-energy laser beams and particle cannons extended from the "gate," aimed at every corner of the Earth.

"According to intelligence."

"The target person named Lin Xi personally admitted the existence of the 'south heaven gate project'."

Smith's voice echoed in the empty office.

"That is the entrance to the Heavenly Realm in their mythology."

"But in a modern context, our analysis team unanimously believes."

"This is the code name for a 'low-orbit space-based strategic strike platform'."

"Space-based weapons..."

The President stood up and walked to the window.

Looking at the fountain on the lawn, his back was a bit stiff.

"Yes."

"The so-called 'Innate Primordial Energy' is not Qigong at all."

Smith took a deep breath and threw out the conclusion that made the entire Western intelligence community tremble.

"That is the Eastern code name for 'high-energy directed-energy weapons'."

"Their one rocket with three satellites was not for communication at all."

"That was to test multi-warhead independent targeting technology and orbital parallel devices!"

The President turned his head sharply, a flash of light in his eyes.

If it were conventional industrial catching up, the Lighthouse Country would have the confidence to crush the opponent with sheer volume.

But this unreasonable "metaphysical technology," this military deployment that directly jumped to the space level, completely shattered the sense of security of the White House.

"What about our infiltration?" The President asked.

Director Kane gave a bitter smile and spread his hands:

"Mr. President, our intelligence network in China is almost paralyzed."

"That country has a mysterious organization called the 'Chaoyang Masses,' which is omnipresent."

"Our agents don't even dare to take a second look at a map on the street, otherwise, they will be pinned to the ground by a few aunties wearing red armbands in the next second..."

The office fell into a long silence.

Only the old grandfather clock was ticking.

"We cannot let them seize the high ground."

The President walked back to the desk and braced his hands on the table.

"Since the East wants to engage in the 'south heaven gate' and use mythology to counter reality."

"Then we will use science fiction to fight back against mythology!"

He pressed the intercom on the table:

"Call the Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the Pentagon in."

"Also, call the Appropriations Committee."

Smith and Kane looked at each other, both seeing the fanaticism in each other's eyes.

"Mr. President, what do you mean?"

"Accelerate the launch of the 'Strategic Defense Initiative'."

The President took a pen from the drawer and wrote a line of words heavily on a blank sheet of letterhead.

"Tell Congress that to deal with the 'south heaven gate' threat from the East."

"We need to build a global missile defense shield."

"We want to send laser weapons, electromagnetic railguns, and particle beam weapons all into space!"

The President raised his head, his gaze burning:

"No matter how much it costs."

"One hundred billion, two hundred billion, we must suppress their 'south heaven gate' for me!"

"This is—the 'Star Wars' program!"

Smith felt a current run down his spine, and goosebumps rose all over his body.

This was truly a historic moment!

"In addition," the President said,

"Convene a COCOM meeting to discuss countermeasures."

"Also, increase intelligence infiltration into China."

"Since our people cannot get in, then we will bribe their people!"

The autumn of 1981.

Because of a joke from the future, because of a made-up health book.

The largest, most expensive, and craziest space arms race in human history was accelerated in an office in the White House.

And at this moment on the other side of the ocean, Lin Xi was squatting at the entrance of the canteen at the Northwest Base.

Holding a bowl of lamb paomo, chatting with netizens in the live broadcast room, completely unaware of the world-class storm he had just caused.

He even sneezed.

"Who is thinking of me?"

Lin Xi rubbed his nose and looked at the clear blue sky above his head.

"It's probably that old man Klaus complaining about me slacking off again."