393: Chapter 393 Then let's let him burn it.

Zhao Gang turned to the second page of the draft agreement and pointed to a bolded clause: " 'Shuguang Group is responsible for providing key technologies for deep-sea natural gas liquefaction and transportation, including but not limited to core equipment for floating liquefied natural gas platforms, cryogenic pipeline welding processes, and modular devices for converting natural gas into hydrogen energy.' — Zhang Cheng, do you really possess these technologies?"

"Yes." Zhang Cheng picked up his teacup and took a sip. "The core equipment for the floating liquefied natural gas platform has completed prototype testing at Shuguang Heavy Industry. Its liquefaction efficiency is 12% higher than Shell's Prelude platform, and the construction cost is 40% lower. The patent for the cryogenic pipeline welding process has passed through the system—via the Shuguang Research Institute—and the international PCT application is complete. The South African Bureau of Standards just issued the certification last week."

Wang Mingyuan and Zhao Gang exchanged a glance. It was very brief, lasting less than half a second, but Zhang Cheng caught it—it was the kind of look that said, "We knew you would say that, but we were still taken aback by the data you just reported."

"The division of labor on the Dragon Country side: infrastructure, financing, and maritime transport escort." Wang Mingyuan flipped the agreement to the last page. "You have already built the liquefied natural gas receiving station at Kyaukpyu Port. From the Mozambique deep-sea gas field to Kyaukpyu, the shipping route passes through the Mozambique Channel, rounds the Cape of Good Hope, enters the Indian Ocean, and passes through the Andaman Sea—the entire journey avoids Malacca completely. Once the Kra Canal opens, secondary transshipment from Kyaukpyu to the southern coast of the Dragon Country won't need to detour either. President Zhang, you have effectively eliminated the possibility of replacing Malacca by securing every segment of the energy corridor."

"Not blocked off." Zhang Cheng put down his teacup. "It's about making Malacca an option, not a choke point. You can have multiple options, but there can only be one choke point."

Wang Mingyuan was silent for a few seconds, then took a fountain pen out of his briefcase, unscrewed the cap, and signed his name on the signature line on the last page of the agreement. The ink dried quickly, seeping into the paper fibers and turning into an indelible deep blue within the texture of the confidential agreement paper.

Zhang Cheng took the pen and signed his name next to it.

Li Lanzhi collected the signed document and placed it into a titanium alloy briefcase, which bore the "Shuguang Security" logo. She pressed the fingerprint lock, and the mechanical sound of the case automatically locking echoed in the silent conference room.

"There is one more piece of news." Zhao Gang pulled another document from his briefcase—the paper was light gray, with the red words "Ministry of State Security" printed at the header. "Our people in Maputo intercepted a communication yesterday. Council of Elders has a new chairman—Barrett. He is the former CEO of Raytheon and led the upgrade projects for the javelin missile and the tomahawk cruise missile. After retiring, he held a nominal position on the Defense Policy Board for five years. The first thing he did upon taking office was to approve an action plan codenamed 'Global Choke Point Blockade'."

Zhang Cheng took the document and flipped through a few pages. The appendix contained a recent photo of Barrett—short gray hair, metal-rimmed glasses, deep nasolabial folds, and corners of the mouth permanently turned downward; even when smiling, he looked as if he were frowning while evaluating the kill radius of a weapon.

" 'Jointly blockade the Mozambique Channel with the US Navy, incite South Africa, India, and other countries to impose sanctions on Myanmar, and secretly contact Mozambican opposition forces.' " Zhang Cheng placed the document on the table. "A plan with such a high security classification only took three days from proposal to approval—Barrett is more anxious than Greenberg."

"Because he isn't as rich as Greenberg," Zhao Gang said. "Greenberg is a banker; he can accept the slow decline of the empire, as long as his own assets can be transferred out. Barrett comes from the military-industrial complex; all his wealth, connections, and power are built on the continuous operation of the war machine. If the empire's wheels stop turning, Greenberg can choose to break up—but Barrett can only make the wheels turn faster, even if it means burning the entire bearing."

Zhang Cheng tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the agreement.

"Then let him burn."

Forty meters underground in Manhattan, Council of Elders conference room.

Barrett sat at the head of the long table, his back straight. For a seventy-six-year-old man, his shoulders and back showed no stoop—that was the muscle memory left by thirty years of Marine Corps service. On the table in front of him was a satellite chart of the Mozambique Channel, with water depths marked accurately to the meter, current arrows outlined with a blue marker, and the Guinea Current and Mozambique Current intersecting on the chart to form an arc curving southward.

"We have four to six weeks left." Barrett's voice was hoarse, swallowing half a syllable at the end of every word, like sandpaper rubbing against metal. "On the coastline of Cabo Delgado Province, the agents of Myanmar have already begun to take root. In four to six weeks, they will have established a sufficient social foundation locally—and then there will be the first permanent summoning coordinate. Once the summoning coordinate is established, Zhang Cheng can directly project equipment and personnel into Mozambique, just as he did in Yemen and Gaza."

Twelve people sat on both sides of the long table. Hedge fund manager Abramovich was still there, but his seat had moved from Greenberg's right to the corner—the new chairman didn't like bankers being too close to him. Raytheon director Haskins sat on Barrett's left, with a military-grade rugged laptop in front of him. The others included a former deputy secretary of defense, a former deputy supreme allied commander Europe for NATO, three private equity fund partners, and a woman in a dark gray suit—her public identity was a senior partner at an international law firm in London, and her real identity was the asset custodian for Council of Elders in Europe.

"Step one: The Mozambique Channel." Barrett drew a circle on the chart with a laser pointer. "After the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower carrier strike group withdraws from the Red Sea, it is regrouping in the Arabian Sea. Move it south to form a dual-carrier strike group with the 'Reagan' cruising in the Indian Ocean, and conduct a 'freedom of navigation' exercise at the northern entrance of the Mozambique Channel—nominally for anti-piracy, but in reality, to cut off the shipping route from Myanmar to Mozambique. Shuguang Group's cargo ships must pass through the North Indian Ocean when heading south from Kyaukpyu, and our carriers will be positioned in the middle."

"Step two: Sanctions." He looked at Abramovich across the long table. "How much more can we leverage within the voting weights of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund?"

"Not much." Abramovich didn't look up. "Myanmar is not a borrowing country. Shuguang Group is not a public company and does not rely on international capital markets for financing. The export market for chips and energy equipment is mainly in East Africa, Southeast Asia, and South America—the tools available in the sanctions toolbox are ineffective against Shuguang Group."

"Then sanction their partners." Barrett pointed the laser pen at the table. "Any engineering company participating in the Mozambique natural gas project that uses our patented technology, our financing channels, or our insurance market—all will be placed on the Specially Designated Nationals list. I don't want them to go bankrupt; I want them to hesitate before signing a contract."