341: Chapter 341 Heavenly Lightning Descends - Xihe No. 1

In October, Command Center, the sea breeze carried a salty scent from the Qiongzhou Strait.

Outside the launch site, palm leaves rustled in the wind, and a few seagulls skimmed across the sky, seemingly oblivious to what was about to happen.

But inside the launch site, the atmosphere was thick enough to cut with a knife.

On Launch Pad 3, a massive, milky-white rocket stood towering.

It was even larger than the previously launched tianlong-1—this was the tianlong-Heavy rocket, with a takeoff thrust exceeding 3,000 tons, equivalent to twenty Boeing 747s accelerating simultaneously.

On the fairing, four large red characters were particularly striking: "Xihe-1".

The observation deck was three kilometers from the launch tower and was currently packed with special guests from around the world.

The CEO of Saudi Aramco, Nasser, stood in the front row.

At sixty, he wore traditional white robes, making him particularly conspicuous in the crowd.

His gaze was fixed on the rocket, his face devoid of expression, but his tightly clenched hands betrayed his inner turmoil.

Beside him was the Australian Minister for Energy, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair, who was whispering to the Chilean Minister of Mining.

Further away were the CEO of Equinor, the Senior Vice President of Shell, the board members of ExxonMobil—the top brass of global energy giants were almost all present.

Thirty minutes to countdown.

Chu Tianming walked out of the command center, passed through the crowd, and stood at the edge of the observation deck.

The fifty-year-old CEO of Xingchen Aerospace was wearing dark blue work clothes, his hair slightly disheveled by the sea breeze, but his eyes were exceptionally calm.

Nasser walked up to him.

The two stood side by side, looking at the rocket in the distance.

Nasser spoke, his voice low, with the slow, deliberate pace typical of Saudis:

"Mr. Chu, Saudi Arabia still has eighty years of oil underground. Once this thing of yours comes out, eighty years might turn into eight."

Chu Tianming did not turn back.

He looked at the rocket, the corners of his mouth slightly raised:

"Mr. Nasser, when the steam engine appeared, the carriage drivers thought the same thing."

Nasser was silent for three seconds, then gave a wry smile:

"And what happened to those carriage drivers?"

Chu Tianming finally turned his head to look at him.

"They learned to drive trains."

The two locked eyes.

A complex expression flashed across Nasser's face—anxiety, helplessness, and a hint of something elusive, perhaps anticipation.

He extended his hand:

"Saudi Arabia wants to buy. Name your price per kilowatt-hour."

Chu Tianming shook his hand, his grip steady:

"Mr. Nasser, let's talk price once it lights up the lamps."

Ten seconds to countdown.

The whole place held its breath.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one—"

"Ignition!"

Flames gushed from the bottom of the rocket.

White steam instantly engulfed half of the launch pad, orange-red flames rolled within the steam, emitting a deafening roar.

The earth trembled, and people on the observation deck felt the concrete beneath their feet vibrating.

The tianlong-Heavy rocket slowly left the launch pad.

One meter, ten meters, one hundred meters.

It began to accelerate.

Thirty seconds later, it pierced the clouds, trailing a long tail of fire, straight into the heavens.

Nasser looked up at the increasingly small point of light, muttering:

"Eighty years of oil, just like that, flying away."

2:00 PM, Jiuquan, Gansu.

The Gobi Desert was boundless, with yellow sand extending to the horizon.

The wind whipped up fine sand, stinging the face.

It was as desolate as the surface of Mars, with nothing growing but a few camel thorns.

But at this moment, a huge silver ring appeared on this desolate land.

A ring-shaped receiving antenna array with a diameter of 500 meters lay quietly in the center of the Gobi.

Tens of thousands of receiving units were neatly arranged, reflecting blinding light under the sun.

From a distance, it looked like a giant eye gazing up at the sky.

The command center was right next to the antenna array, in an inconspicuous gray building.

Engineer Liu Yang sat in front of the main control console.

He was forty-five, wore thick glasses, and his palms were sweaty.

He stared at the data being transmitted in real-time on the screen, not daring to blink.

On the screen, Xihe-1 was displayed, 1,000 kilometers away from Earth.

It was a huge cross structure—the control module in the center, with solar battery arrays extending from both sides.

The battery arrays had fully deployed, covering an area equivalent to 1.4 football fields.

The 10,000 square meters of flexible thin film shimmered with a deep blue light under the sun.

Chen Guangming stood behind Liu Yang.

The sixty-year-old veteran engineer had completely white hair and had worked in Jiuquan for thirty-five years, participating in countless satellite launches.

But at this moment, his hands were also trembling slightly.

"Xihe-1 is aligned with the ground station," Liu Yang's voice sounded a bit dry, "Microwave transmission initiated."

On the screen, the energy curve began to climb.

Ten megawatts. Twenty megawatts. Fifty megawatts. Eighty megawatts. One hundred megawatts.

Liu Yang's voice began to tremble:

"Receiving power stable at one hundred megawatts. All simulated loads for 100,000 households are lit up."

The command center fell into a deathly silence.

Then, applause suddenly erupted.

Some cheered, some embraced, some took off their glasses to wipe away tears.

Chen Guangming took off his glasses and wiped the corners of his eyes.

He looked at the data on the screen and muttered:

"Old Liu, do you know what this means?"

Liu Yang nodded, his voice choked with emotion:

"It means that humanity will never have to fight for oil again."

Outside the window, the huge silver ring on the Gobi Desert silently gazed up at the sky.

The microwaves transmitted from space were lighting up the homes of 100,000 households.

4:00 PM, New York Mercantile Exchange.

In the trading hall, red numbers were jumping wildly.

Crude oil futures price: $78 per barrel. $75 per barrel. $72 per barrel.

Traders stared at the screens, unable to believe their eyes.

"What's happening?!"

"Xingchen's 'Xihe-1' has successfully transmitted power! Space-based photovoltaics!"

"So what? It's only 100 megawatts!"

"100 megawatts is just the beginning! They say they're going to build 100 of them within five years!"

The price continued to fall.

$70. $68. $65.

At the close, the single-day drop was fixed at 8%—the largest single-day drop since the Gulf War.

5:30 PM, Vienna.

At the OPEC headquarters, an emergency meeting was underway.

Representatives from twenty-three member countries sat around a huge ring-shaped table.

The giant OPEC logo hung on the wall, but at this moment, those symbols seemed to be mocking them.

The Saudi Oil Minister stood up, his face grim.

"Gentlemen, our enemy is no longer shale oil; it is space."

The Kuwaiti representative raised a hand:

"What do we do? Cut production?"

The Saudi Oil Minister shook his head:

"Cutting production is useless. The cost of space-based photovoltaics is much lower than we imagined. The cost of their receiving stations is only one-third of that of a photovoltaic power plant."

The Iranian representative sneered:

"Then shoot it down."

The room went quiet.

The Saudi Oil Minister looked at him:

"Shoot it down? With missiles? And then what? Go to war with Huaxia? Go to war with Xingchen? Their Peregrine Falcon can shoot down our missiles. Don't forget we are still using Xingchen Defense weapons; do you dare to turn against Xingchen?"

The Iranian representative fell silent.

8:00 PM, Riyadh, Saudi Royal Palace.

Prince Fahd was woken up in the middle of the night.

Thirty-five-year-old Fahd was wearing a white robe, his hair slightly messy, but his eyes immediately became clear.

An assistant handed over a tablet, and the screen showed news of the oil futures crash.

"Your Highness, oil futures plunged 8%. OPEC emergency meeting tomorrow morning."

Fahd looked at the screen, silent for a long time.

Then he picked up the phone and dialed Su Chen's number.

It rang three times, and the call connected.

"Mr. Su, sorry to bother you."

Su Chen's voice came through the receiver, as calm as if nothing had happened:

"Fahd, still awake this late?"

Fahd gave a wry smile:

"Oil dropped 8%, can't sleep. Your 'Xihe' lit up 100,000 households, and it also lit up my sense of crisis."

Su Chen laughed, the laughter devoid of mockery, filled only with understanding and respect:

"Fahd, oil won't disappear. But space-based photovoltaics can help Saudi Arabia save more oil for chemical use and export. We can cooperate—build ground receiving stations in Saudi Arabia, use Xingchen's light to refine Saudi oil."

Fahd's eyes lit up.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the lights of Riyadh extended to the horizon; that was the prosperity bought by oil.

"This idea is worth discussing."

He paused, then added:

"Mr. Su, Saudi Arabia wants to be the first country to receive celestial electricity on the ground. Name your price, set your conditions."

Su Chen's reply was very brief:

"Tomorrow, I will send someone to Riyadh."

The call ended.

Fahd stood by the window, watching the night sky of Riyadh.

In the distance, one star was exceptionally bright.

He didn't know what that star was called, but he knew that from today, the rules of the world had changed.