Chapter 152 Too Thick a Neck, Broke His Hand

...

At the same time.

Thousands of miles away.

City of the Iron Tower, France.

A gray stone building hidden among Haussmann-style architectural complexes.

This was the site of a secret COCOM meeting.

Seated on both sides of the long table were representatives from major Western industrial nations, including the Lighthouse Country, the Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets, Switzerland, and Germany.

The atmosphere of the meeting was oppressive.

"Ahem."

The representative of the Lighthouse Country, sitting at the head of the table, cleared his throat.

In his hand, he held a thick document—the embargo list against China.

Along with it was a "Red Star Technology Technical Assessment Report" from the intelligence department.

"Gentlemen."

The Lighthouse Country representative's voice carried a deep sense of exhaustion and absurdity.

"According to the protocol, we must review the results of our blockade over the past period."

He flipped to the first page.

"Clause 1082: Strictly forbid the export to China of CNC machine tools with positioning accuracy better than 10 microns and repeatability better than 5 microns."

After reading, he paused and glanced at the report in his hand.

"Current Status: Red Star Technology's machine tool processing accuracy has reached 1 micron."

*Slap.* The first slap.

"Clause 1355: Strictly forbid the export of high-performance CNC systems and closed-loop feedback devices."

"Current Status: They used the z80 chip to develop a CNC system with software compensation algorithms, with performance on par with Siemens..."

*Slap.* The second slap.

"Clause 1560: Strictly forbid the export of high-response precision servo motors."

"Current Status: ..."

The Lighthouse Country representative took a deep breath.

"They developed neodymium iron boron servo motors, and they're even better than ours."

*Slap.* This slap was the loudest.

"Clause 1701: Strictly forbid the export of special structural materials with a thermal expansion coefficient lower than 5×10⁻⁶."

"Current Status: They extravagantly quarried a piece of five-hundred-million-year-old granite to use as a base."

As the bans were read out one by one.

A surreal atmosphere gradually filled the once-serious conference room.

Every ban intended to strangle the other party's industrial capabilities...

...had now turned into a resounding slap, fiercely striking the face of every Western elite present.

The representative from Japan said with a dark expression:

"Our country's Yamazaki Iron Works was also deceived!"

"They claimed they would give up developing their own machine tools and fully adopt our standards."

"Now it seems it was an absolute scam!"

"This is impossible!"

A representative from Germany slammed his pen onto the table.

"That's China!"

"They can't even smelt decent bearing steel!"

"How could they possibly bypass so many physical and chemical constraints?"

"What is the intelligence department even doing?"

"Do they have an alien engineering team or something?"

Everyone's gaze turned toward the corner.

A senior CIA intelligence officer from the Lighthouse Country sat there.

The officer's face flushed red as he stood up awkwardly, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.

"Well... regarding this point, we have a theory."

"We believe that China has mastered an ancient Eastern power."

"What?" The entire room was stunned.

"It's... 'Qi'."

The officer said, bracing himself.

"It's a field similar to a high-energy particle stream."

"This falls under... the realm of Eastern metaphysics, which current science cannot explain."

A group of Western elites who believed in science looked at each other in bewilderment.

Normally, such nonsense would get someone sent to a mental hospital on the spot.

But in the face of Red Star Technology's outrageous technological leaps, this had actually become the only 'reasonable' explanation.

Otherwise, what?

Admit that a group of Chinese people who were still riding bicycles had higher IQs and better technology than them?

They might as well admit that magic exists!

"Enough!"

A cold shout interrupted everyone's wild theorizing.

An old man with an aquiline nose and sinister eyes stood up.

He was a senior member of the COCOM Core Committee, codenamed "Vulture."

"Gentlemen, we are not here to discuss Eastern myths."

Vulture looked around coldly.

"The fact is, we originally wanted to grip them tightly by the throat."

He extended a withered hand and made a choking gesture in the air.

"But the reality is..."

Vulture gave a bitter laugh and uttered a famous line that left everyone present breathless:

"Their neck is too thick."

"Not only did we fail to choke them, but it actually broke our hands!"

A wave of lamentation filled the conference room.

This sense of powerlessness was unprecedented.

"But that doesn't mean we've lost."

Vulture's tone shifted as he pulled a new list from his briefcase and slapped it on the table.

"The machines are built, but they have to run, don't they?"

"For a machine to run, it needs to eat and drink."

"Since we can't block the whole machines or the core components, we'll blockade the 'consumables'!"

The representatives leaned in to look.

On the list were clearly listed:

High-performance water-based synthetic cutting fluid (the core of cooling and lubrication).

Carbide tool coating materials (the core of processing lifespan).

High-purity grease (the core of hydrostatic spindle maintenance).

"These things involve complex polymer chemistry and materials science."

Vulture smiled sinisterly.

"Even if they have god-like machine tools, without good cutting fluid, tool wear will increase tenfold!"

"The precision will drop like an avalanche!"

A cold light flickered in Vulture's eyes.

"Have companies like Dow Chemical, Mobil, and Sandvik all issue announcements."

"Say that... the factories have encountered 'force majeure'."

"Or that workers are holding an indefinite strike to fight for the right to an extra cup of coffee per hour."

"In short, starting tomorrow, not a single drop of high-end cutting fluid or a single top-tier tool tip shall find its way into China!"

...

Dongfeng Auditorium.

The originally solemn graduation ceremony now looked exactly like a wet market.

"Old Zhou! Have you no shame?"

The deputy director of the Fengtian Second Machinery Plant rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

He pointed at the nose of Chief Engineer Zhou from the Hanjiang Machine Tool Plant and cursed.

"This lad is from the Northeast; he's one of our Shenyang boys!"

"Why are you dragging him to Hanjiang?"

"Can he even get used to eating hot dry noodles?"

"Nonsense!"

Chief Engineer Zhou tightly gripped a young technician wearing glasses.

As if he were holding onto his own long-lost son.

"What do you mean 'one of yours'?"

"For the sake of industrial construction, all men from the four seas are brothers!"

"Little Zhao, come to our Hanjiang."

"If you come, we'll assign you housing immediately—a two-bedroom apartment!"

The seven or eight young people surrounded in the middle were the remaining 'ones that got away' from 'Lin Xi's list.'

For various reasons, they hadn't been able to come to Red Star Technology right away.

Now, after the ten-day training, these factory directors finally understood.

They discovered that anyone Lin Xi had named, even if they were just a boiler operator, had some secret expertise up their sleeve.

He Zhenhua leaned against an iron frame, watching the farce with cold eyes.

"Feeling heartache?"

Lin Xi approached, holding a tea mug.

"Regretting giving them the list earlier?"

He Zhenhua gave a cold snort and said nothing.

Lin Xi held his enamel mug, a smile hanging on his lips, but his gaze was distant.

He looked at the young man whose face was flushed red because Chief Engineer Zhou had promised to 'arrange a partner' for him, and said softly:

"Old He, broaden your horizons."

"As long as they are highly valued."

"As long as they are going to build machine tools."

"As long as the hammer is striking for our country's industry."

"Does it matter if it's at Red Star or Hanjiang?"

In his mind's streaming room, the bullet comments were flying.

[Vision! Now that's what I call vision!]

[The Streamer's level is straight up in the stratosphere!]

[Gathered, they are a flame; scattered, they are a sky full of stars. These are the seeds of industrial revival!]

"Bang!"

The door of the grand auditorium was violently pushed open, abruptly cutting off the clamor inside.

Zhang Zhengguo strode onto the rostrum, his face ashen.

Without even a greeting, he snatched the microphone.

"Everyone, stop for a moment!"

"Something has happened."