151: Chapter 151

As a Reincarnator, Fu Haoran's greatest advantage was his knowledge of the historical trajectory of the Warhammer World.

For instance, he knew what awaited him two years from now.

It wasn't just the mortal armies of the Seven Hive Alliance; later, there would be the vanguard of the traitor Space Marine Iron Warriors, which included an Emperor-class Titan—the Omnia Victrix.

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According to the original timeline, the Horus Heresy would officially break out in a year and a half. Kroeger's fleet would arrive in this sector within months of the rebellion's start. Factoring in warp jump preparation time, the window for Fu Haoran's preparations in the Warhammer World was a tight two years at most.

And in six months, the first wave of the Seven Hive Alliance's siege would begin. He had no time to breathe.

Speaking of which, it was also bad luck.

As the premier master of siege defense during the Great Crusade, the first thing Danteoche did upon arriving at Planet Scylla IV was to build a fortress.

Bristling with gun barrels like an iron tortoise, it was a headache for anyone to look at.

However, after the Horus Heresy broke out, Warsmith Kroeger of the Iron Warriors 14th Grand Company, loyal to the Warmaster, would bring an entire Grand Battalion's strength along with that Emperor-class Titan belonging to the Legio Argentum to take over this sector.

Kroeger would find Danteoche and arrogantly demand he hand over control of the Schadenhold fortress and join him in the attack on Terra.

Danteoche would not agree.

After the negotiations broke down, a bloody year-long siege ensued.

Danteoche managed to hold out for an entire year.

In the end, this fortress that even Space Marines couldn't crack quickly fell before the Emperor-class Titan.

In the original story, the moment the Titan arrived, Danteoche completely abandoned the idea of defending the city.

His only chance to turn the tables was a desperate 'all-or-nothing base trade'—teleporting an elite squad onto Kroeger's flagship to seize control of the vessel while simultaneously detonating all the reactors and ammunition depots in the fortress. He used the entire fortress as a funeral pyre to take down Kroeger's Grand Battalion and that Emperor-class Titan with him.

Even for a once-in-a-generation defensive genius like Danteoche, the only way to find a path to survival against an Emperor-class Titan was a mutual destruction tactic.

And now, the Schadenhold fortress was only three months away from completion.

After that, what he had to face was this God-Machine that even Danteoche could only destroy by self-destructing.

There were methods, but the conditions for each were so harsh they were nearly impossible to achieve.

The most common method was saturated long-range fire strikes.

The Emperor-class Titan was powerful, but not invincible.

Although it had 12 layers of Void Shields, they could still be depleted under sustained, high-intensity concentrated fire.

For example, using multiple Warlord-class Titans or orbital bombardment from heavy warships for saturation strikes could gradually weaken its defenses.

But where was he, a mere planetary Governor, supposed to get those?

The second method was to use the environment and terrain to limit its mobility.

Since Emperor-class Titans lacked melee weapons and relied on long-range firepower.

Luring it into narrow terrain could restrict its fire delivery, allowing high-speed units like Warhound-class Titans to attack weak points from the flanks or rear, such as leg joints and weapon mounts.

Then, using boarding harpoons called 'Ursus Claws' to hook the massive Titan, they could pull it down and dismember it.

In the original novel 'False Gods', a group of Warhound-class Titans passed through an Emperor-class Titan's Void Shields, destroyed the point-defense cannons on its legs, and fired a bunch of magnetic harpoons to latch on tight, pulling it down.

And then, the Imperium's strongest Titan never got back up.

Therefore, large Titans always required smaller Titans and tanks to provide cover around them, operating similarly to a fleet.

Of course, if one's combat power was like that of the Primarch Sanguinius, the Great Angel, and they could fly, they could fly onto the Emperor-class Titan and dismantle it with their bare hands.

But this also had a small prerequisite: you'd need a squad of loyalist Space Marines to jump with you.

Even a Primarch didn't go to dismantle a Titan single-handedly.

So, it wasn't that there were no ways to defeat an Emperor-class Titan, but the conditions were invariably harsh.

The only referenceable tactic was Danteoche's mutual destruction strategy.

But while Danteoche could blow up the fortress and flee, he could not.

"Alpha Hive is my root, my greatest reliance."

"If I abandon this place and run, what will I have left?"

Facing this dead end, even Fu Haoran, a Reincarnator with the script of omniscience, felt a bone-deep sense of helplessness.

He took a deep breath, picked up the encrypted phone on the desk, and dialed Cheng Beixiao's number.

The phone rang less than twice before the other end picked up.

There were slight footsteps in the background, clearly Cheng Beixiao walking quickly to a quiet place to take the call.

"Fu... President Fu!"

His voice was laced with obvious restraint and tension, along with a trace of imperceptible panic.

Cheng Beixiao's palms were soaked with sweat.

He had been on the job for over six months and had always communicated with his superior, Jarvis, but this was the first time he was speaking directly to the boss on the phone.

If it weren't for the caller ID on his work phone, Cheng Beixiao wouldn't have known the big boss was calling.

So his current state was the most authentic reaction of most workers when facing the big boss who held their future in his hands.

"Mm." Fu Haoran's voice was flat, devoid of emotion. "Report on the current situation."

"Yes! President Fu!" Cheng Beixiao subconsciously straightened his back.

"The good news is that several core domestic military-industrial enterprises have explicitly stated they can sell basic equipment and high-end five-axis linkage CNC machine tools."

"The bad news is... they temporarily cannot sell complete machines or full production lines of military grade."

Cheng Beixiao tried his best to sugarcoat the wording.

In fact, the domestic attitude was very clear: an absolute no-sale. They would only sell categories that were legal, compliant, and permitted by international civilian trade.

But Cheng Beixiao didn't dare say it that way.

"They stated there is no precedent for selling complete production lines and technology to individuals, and it doesn't align with international practice..."

Cheng Beixiao's voice grew quieter and quieter.

Fu Haoran didn't speak; he wasn't surprised by this result.

"Understood. Now, begin executing the next task."

"Next, I will give you a list. I need you to go to hundreds of private factories in the Yangtze River Delta, Pearl River Delta, and other regions to buy up every high-end machine tool and production line available."

"Whether they produce motorcycle engines, seamless steel pipes, gas cylinders, or civilian radar, laser sensors, and avionics components—as long as they are willing to sell the technology and processes, buy them all."

"If the production lines can be moved, pack up the whole line and bring it over."

"If they are difficult to pack and move, sign exclusive procurement agreements and make them our suppliers."

Fu Haoran paused and added, "Remember, the only prerequisite is that the production lines must be complete, the capacity must be large, and the workforce must be ready. I need them to be able to start work as soon as they are bought."

Cheng Beixiao didn't know what the boss wanted these things for.

Gas cylinder production lines, motorcycle engines, seamless steel pipes... these were either low-end, third-rate, or even obsolete items in need of phasing out.

This didn't seem like something a large multinational corporation would be interested in at all.

He couldn't figure it out, but he didn't dare ask.

Whatever the boss told him to buy, he would buy.

"Yes, President Fu. I'll get on it immediately."

...

Fu Haoran hung up the phone and began the second step of his plan.

"Jarvis, have the domestic branch find a sufficiently large industrial park, buy up the office areas, and then start recruiting talent from across the country."

"The external name... will be the DYB Yangtze River Delta Intelligent Equipment Industrial Park."

"Since others won't sell, we'll start from scratch ourselves."

"Sir, how should the recruitment threshold be set?" Jarvis asked.

Fu Haoran thought for a moment: "Heroes aren't judged by their origin. Anyone with ability can be recruited."

Fu Haoran forgot that Jarvis was just an artificial intelligence, an import with purely American logic.

When Jarvis translated this Chinese hiring philosophy, he simplified it directly to: 'Education and past resume are not core assessment criteria; individual results and technical ability take priority.'

The final recruitment notice read boldly: No regard for education, background, or age; as long as you can produce tangible results, the salary has no ceiling, and project bonuses are separate.

Fu Haoran was completely unaware of this.

As long as the budget wasn't exceeded, Fu Haoran almost never questioned Jarvis's arrangements.

However, Fu Haoran never imagined that this offhand remark would eventually attract a group of unexpected people—retired old aero-engine engineers from state-owned enterprises, radar algorithm backbones laid off from big tech firms, top flight-control gods from the domestic model aircraft circle, and even grassroots inventors who had been working on unmanned boats for over a decade.

Of course, that's a story for later.

Fu Haoran's idea was simple.

Since he couldn't buy complete production lines, it didn't matter; he would just go through the process quickly himself.

Anyway, most of the technology for mainstream weapons nowadays was public.

He believed that with Tech-Priest Kallen leading the support, overcoming technical hurdles wouldn't be difficult.

Fu Haoran felt he didn't need top-tier fighters like the J-16 or F-22 because they wouldn't be useful.

Many weapons in the Warhammer World weren't despair-inducing in terms of raw stats.

For example, the Thunderbolt Fighter, the backbone equipment of various Imperial Navy Aeronautica Imperialis wings, was a rugged, heavily armed, and armored heavy fighter with multi-role capabilities.

The Thunderbolt Fighter had a high maximum speed, better-than-average maneuverability, powerful nose-mounted weaponry, and underwing hardpoints for missiles or bombs, making it a favorite among pilots and ground crews.

If you just looked at it that way, it seemed pretty good.

But don't forget, the Thunderbolt was nicknamed the 'Flying leman russ'.

Its top speed was around 2,200 kilometers per hour, roughly Mach 1.8.

Its primary weapons were two nose-mounted Laser Cannons and four autocannons, with secondary weapons being four Hellstrike Missiles or four aerial bombs.

The primary weapon ammunition was thirty rounds, and the secondary was four hundred rounds.

It was a typical representative of 'brute force flight'.

In Fu Haoran's view, this kind of fighter wasn't excellent; much of the thinking was still stuck on dogfighting.

The missiles carried were pitifully few. No matter how powerful the autocannons were, if you could shoot down an enemy aircraft from beyond visual range, who would still play at aerial dogfighting?

Beyond-visual-range (BVR) strikes were the mainstream.

However, Fu Haoran also considered that perhaps it wasn't that the Thunderbolt wasn't good enough, but rather the context of the era was different.

Fu Haoran had researched it; the reason the Warhammer 40K Imperium of Man built 'brute force' aircraft like the Thunderbolt was, on one hand, the loss of basic technology, making it hard for them to design aerodynamically sound fighters.

Often, they just applied space fighter logic directly to atmospheric craft.

And space fighters didn't need to consider aerodynamics at all; they only needed to consider if the armor was thick enough.

The most typical example was the Thunderhawk Gunship.

Therefore, in Fu Haoran's view, if it was just combat within the atmosphere, third-generation fighters from the 2K era were enough to handle Thunderbolts.

But Fu Haoran didn't really want to take this route for no other reason than the cost-effectiveness being too low.

Building a third-generation fighter production line from scratch would require tens of billions.

"Sigh, for an entrepreneur to prop up an entire interstellar war is just too difficult."

Fu Haoran leaned back in his chair and couldn't help but complain.

"Even if I build it, I have to find a sucker to share the cost. I can't rely entirely on selling minerals to fill the hole."

...

With Fu Haoran's orders issued, a massive recruitment of talent and industrial layout quietly unfolded domestically.

Military-grade avionics, radar, and fire control systems couldn't be developed openly, so they were launched under civilian guises.

Things like 3D obstacle avoidance radar systems for unmanned port cranes and unmanned mining trucks.

Laser ranging and aiming instruments were externally called industrial-grade laser cutting equipment or 3D mapping LiDAR for mines.

Weapon launch systems were agricultural crop protection or forest fire prevention launchers, as well as cloud-seeding tools...

Such a large commotion naturally caught the attention of the National Security Bureau immediately.

Old Zhou and his team spent three days and nights flipping through DYB's project data, industrial and commercial filings, and cooperation contracts. In the end, everyone was baffled.

Someone frowned: "Something's not right. We previously predicted he was going to do military goods, but how come everything we found are civilian projects? Mining equipment, agricultural drones, port automation—they're all legitimate industries that can even drive employment in SMEs and help domestic products go overseas."

Someone muttered: "It's just that the technical standards are too ridiculous."

"Using military-grade phased array technology for civilian obstacle avoidance radar—if that's not a technical lunatic, what is?"

Old Zhou finished the last page of a cooperation contract, tossed the files onto the table, and didn't know whether to laugh or cry: "Alright, stop investigating."

"The man is just a boss in the industrial sector. Using military-grade standards for civilian products—his vision is larger than we thought."

"Besides, he saved domestic steel mills over a hundred billion in iron ore costs. Just for that, as long as he doesn't cross red lines, there's no need for us to keep an eye on him."

The group studied it for a long time and finally concluded: this boss was just a technical fanatic with a passion for the military industry, doing all this just to push civilian products to the extreme, without thinking about military applications at all.

They could never have imagined that the civilian projects in their eyes would, in the near future, give the world a little shock.

Meanwhile, an unexpected yet expected guest arrived at Fu Haoran's place.

"Fu! My friend! Long time no see!" Admiral Jensen pushed the door open and walked in, wearing a crisp military uniform with a chest full of medals.

Seeing Fu Haoran, his face was piled with an exaggerated smile as he strode over and extended both hands.

Fu Haoran stood up and shook his hand politely.

"Admiral Jensen, what wind blew you here?"

"I'm here to thank you!" Jensen pulled a contract from his briefcase and handed it over. "After the Capitol Hill incident, the military owes you a big favor. I specifically secured an order for you as a small token of our appreciation."

Fu Haoran took the contract and glanced at it.

Ten thousand sets of military uniforms and boots.

Requirements included wear resistance, tear resistance, flame retardancy, and infrared detection protection, capable of adapting to extreme environments from minus thirty to plus fifty degrees.

The unit price was $2,800 per set, with a total amount of $28 million.

"What's the kickback?" Fu Haoran looked up and asked bluntly.

Jensen waved his hand, his face beaming: "Twenty percent, generous enough, right? Between us, there's no need for formalities."

Fu Haoran raised an eyebrow, asked no more, picked up a pen, and signed.

"Pleasure doing business."

"Pleasure doing business!" Jensen tucked away the contract, exchanged a few more enthusiastic pleasantries, didn't stay long, and hurriedly left.

Fu Haoran stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Jensen's car drive out of the World Trade Center.

"Jarvis, check the final use of this batch of uniforms and the flow of the order funds."

However, a minute later, Jarvis gave an unexpected answer: "Sir, I'm sorry, no specific information was found. All related information has been classified as top-secret projects."