89: Chapter 89 Global Technology Race

The White House, Situation Room.

The air had frozen.

On the giant display screen, that highly blurred video from the Dragon Country press conference was looping for the seventeenth time.

Light spots like Moths.

Silent explosions.

Tanks melting into molten iron.

Every frame of the footage was like a heavy hammer, smashing against the nerves of everyone in the room.

The Secretary of Defense took off his glasses and rubbed his brow forcefully.

The CIA Director's expression was even worse than his three-day-old stubble.

The President of Uncle Sam Country, sitting in the main seat, loosened the Windsor knot of his tie; he felt like he was about to suffocate.

"Doctor."

The President's voice was as raspy as sandpaper rubbing together.

"I'll ask one more time. Tell me in words I can understand—can we build this thing?"

Everyone in the room turned their gaze toward the gray-haired man in the corner.

He was the chief scientist of the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, a titan in the world of physics.

The old doctor looked at the screen and remained silent for a full thirty seconds.

He pushed up his glasses. The look behind the lenses was filled with confusion, frustration, and even a hint of... fear.

"Mr. President."

His voice was dry.

"If this footage is real..."

He paused, seemingly searching for a word that wasn't so hurtful.

"It means that what Dragon Country possesses isn't next-generation technology."

"But technology that has leaped across one, or even two eras."

"It's not a question of whether we can build it."

"But... we can't even understand its theoretical foundations."

"It's like, while we are studying gunpowder, they have already mastered controllable nuclear fusion."

Controllable nuclear fusion.

This term caused the temperature in the Situation Room to drop several more degrees.

The President closed his eyes.

He leaned back in his chair, seemingly aging ten years in an instant.

When he opened his eyes again, only determination remained.

"Launch the 'Prometheus' Project."

He said it word by word.

"Budget: no upper limit."

"I don't care what method you use—steal it, snatch it, or develop it yourselves."

"Ten years."

"Ten years at most. I must see our own 'God's Light'!"

...

Moscow, inside the The Kremlin.

The same video was playing on an equally massive screen.

But the atmosphere was completely different.

No arguing, no panic.

Only a cold, deathly silence, like a Siberian cold current.

An old man wearing a Marshal's uniform with golden stars on his shoulders watched the screen quietly.

He didn't speak.

But the Secretary of Defense and the Director of the Main Intelligence Directorate behind him didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

Finally.

The video ended.

The old man turned around, picked up a pencil from the table, and drew a simple scale on a piece of paper, representing the balance of power.

On one end of the scale, he drew the eagle of Uncle Sam Country.

On the other end, he drew the dragon of Dragon Country.

Then, he forcefully added several heavy weights to the dragon's side.

The scale tilted completely.

"How many 'Ghost Projects' did we mothball during the Cold War?"

The old man spoke; his voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shock through everyone present.

"Reporting to the Marshal, there are a total of seventeen involving high-energy physics, bioengineering, mind control, and other fields."

The Secretary of Defense answered immediately.

"Unseal them all."

The old man gently placed the pencil on the table.

"Bring back our best minds from the universities and nursing homes."

"Tell them the motherland needs them to fight for survival once again."

His gaze swept across everyone present, calm yet carrying an unquestionable authority.

"The people of Dragon Country have already placed their sword against our throats."

"We cannot just sit and wait for death."

...

Brussels, NATO Headquarters.

The sound of arguing almost blew the roof off the meeting room.

"This is intimidation! Pure strategic intimidation!"

The French representative waved his arms vigorously. "The Dragon Country people want to use a forged video to throw us into chaos! We can't fall for it!"

"Forged?"

The German representative sneered. "Then how do you explain the cold case of those four hundred Chinese Soldiers collectively disappearing 89 years ago? How do you explain that melted tank?"

"That was just a battlefield rumor! An exaggeration by reporters!"

"A rumor?"

The British representative took out a document labeled 'Top Secret'. "This is our MI6 investigation report from back then. All physical evidence indicates it wasn't a rumor."

The meeting fell into a stalemate.

Some proposed sanctions, some proposed dialogue, and others suggested they should request Uncle Sam Country to share intelligence.

They argued incessantly, unable to reach any consensus.

Like a noisy, chaotic, and disjointed big family.

...

Tokyo, Prime Minister's Official Residence.

The atmosphere was so oppressive it felt like it was about to drip water.

The Minister of Defense, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, and the head of the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office all lowered their heads, not daring to look at the Prime Minister's terrifyingly grim face.

Shame.

An unprecedented, double shame.

89 years ago, their Imperial Army lost all face at the small Sihang Warehouse.

89 years later, their descendants can only sit in their offices and watch their former "defeated foes" show the whole world a "divine power" they cannot understand.

"That 'Ghost'..."

The Prime Minister's voice sounded like it was squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Is he still under our control?"

The head of the Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office trembled, and cold sweat instantly began to pour down.

"Reporting to the Prime Minister, the target... we've lost contact."

"Lost contact?"

The Prime Minister suddenly looked up, his eyes looking like he wanted to devour someone.

"A key figure who triggered a global tech earthquake, and you lost him for me?!"

"Hai!"

The person in charge gave a heavy ninety-degree bow, his head almost buried in the ground.

"We are doing our best to track him down! Please give us a little more time!"

The Prime Minister didn't speak again.

He just slumped weakly into his chair.

He knew the situation was beyond saving.

From today on, that neighbor they once trampled underfoot has already stood at a height they need to look up to, a distance that is unreachable.

...

Year 226, Dragon Country, cyberspace.

In stark contrast to the oppression and tension of the rest of the world.

This place was an ocean of joy.

Master Xi's Livestream room was still a black screen, but the bullet chat was more active than ever.

[Brothers! I just came back from the foreign internet! Uncle Sam Country's stock market has hit the circuit breaker! Hahahaha!]

[The lights in the The Kremlin were on all night! I heard Emperor Putin invited all the retired old scientists back from Siberia!]

[Laughing my head off! One livestream from Master Xi has driven all the physicists in the world crazy!]

[This is what you call strategic composure (leans back tactically)! We just released two pixelated clips, and they've already imagined an entire "Three-Body Problem"!]

[This is an open scheme! Whether you believe it or not, the stuff is right there. Whether you keep up or not, we are making progress. It'll worry you to death!]

[Master Xi: I just wanted to play a casual game. The whole world: No! You don't!]

An unprecedented sense of national pride and an intellectual superiority of "we're on the fifth floor while they're in the basement" filled the entire internet.

Every Dragon Country person felt a sense of shared glory.

...

"Great Wall" Project, Command Center.

Elder Long stood with his hands behind his back, quietly watching the giant screen showing real-time global dynamics.

A staff officer came forward and reported in a low voice.

"Reporting to the Chief, the 'Prometheus' Project has been launched with an initial budget of three trillion."

"The The Kremlin has unsealed all seventeen 'Ghost Projects'."

"The EU emergency summit failed to reach any effective consensus."

"Our goal has been achieved."

Elder Long nodded.

A faint, imperceptible smile of satisfaction appeared on his face.

He turned to look at another screen.

On the screen were Chen Xi's stable vital signs and his face, which still had a furrowed brow even in sleep.

Elder Long's gaze instantly softened.

He walked to the screen, reached out, and gently stroked the young face through the display.

"Kid."

He said softly, his voice full of gratification and pride.

"This stone you threw out..."

"...it has certainly caused quite a massive wave."