Chapter 120: Azure-class Battleship

“These may all sound wonderful, but I still cannot agree to your request,” Xu Dezheng once again refused Zhu Lan’s plea.

“Is it because it involves too many complications?” Zhu Lan asked.

Xu Dezheng nodded slightly, saying nothing—an unspoken acknowledgment that it indeed involved much more than Zhu Lan might have hoped. Yet, this nod was not entirely unacceptable to Zhu Lan.

“No room for negotiation?” Zhu Lan persisted, looking at Xu Dezheng with unwavering resolve.

Xu Dezheng didn’t close the door completely. “What do you mean?” he inquired.

“This film is very important to me. I don’t want it to fail. I’ve already announced an investment of five hundred million dollars for its production!” Zhu Lan said earnestly.

“Are you talking about Chenwen Port?” Xu Dezheng asked.

Zhu Lan nodded directly, admitting it.

“Zhu Lan, you know our country’s policies. Mobilizing that many troops and advanced weaponry is simply impossible,” Xu Dezheng warned.

Zhu Lan shook his head. “In my view, nothing is impossible; it’s just a matter of interests not aligning.”

Xu Dezheng said nothing but studied Zhu Lan carefully. If anyone else had said such a thing, he would have immediately ordered the guards to detain them. But Zhu Lan was different—he had repeatedly pushed the military’s boundaries and had become adept at navigating these delicate lines. Xu Dezheng neither confirmed nor denied but waited for Zhu Lan to continue.

“The exclusive rights to the Level One Gene Optimization Serum would almost guarantee the possibility of a sequel. And the ‘Zhonghua’ aircraft carrier described in the script is not fictional,” Zhu Lan explained.

“What do you mean by that?” Xu Dezheng questioned.

The Zhonghua—nicknamed by netizens as China’s first aircraft carrier, the vessel built at the Modern Shipyard—was recognized domestically and internationally as China’s first aircraft carrier, with a second one under construction. Compared to the second, the first was more certain, and netizens had affectionately named it the Zhonghua.

It was China’s first domestically produced carrier, modeled after the Liaoning, employing a ski-jump takeoff system. Although some speculated it was a hybrid of ski-jump and electromagnetic catapult, many believed the electromagnetic system would be on the second carrier, while the first remained a 60,000 to 80,000-ton carrier inspired by the Liaoning.

Zhu Lan implied that the sequel wouldn’t be a fabrication but would actually feature the Zhonghua—an idea that seemed impossible.

“Zhu Lan, do you even realize what you’re saying?” Xu Dezheng’s anger flared. The Zhonghua had been over a decade in research and hadn’t even launched yet. The notion that it would be used in a film was madness.

Zhu Lan grew a bit flustered but quickly regained composure.

“Xu Lao, do I look like someone who would make reckless demands?”

“Alright then, tell me,” Xu Dezheng said. “Listen, Zhu Lan, the military’s patience has its limits. Don’t think you can keep probing the boundaries. Sometimes, you’re playing with fire. Do you understand that?”

Zhu Lan sighed softly. “I understand, Xu Lao, but this is not a challenge. I’m offering you an opportunity. Have I ever done anything against the country? Haven’t I contributed enough?”

Xu Dezheng calmed down, nodding slightly, encouraging Zhu Lan to continue.

“The ‘Zhonghua’ carrier in the sequel isn’t the real one being constructed by the state—it’s a model ship,” Zhu Lan said.

“A model ship? The one from the War Club?” Xu Dezheng inquired.

He had personally approved the War Club and knew exactly what it entailed.

Zhu Lan nodded. “Yes, but this model is much larger—about seventy percent scale, displacing around seventy thousand tons. Although not a real carrier, it can still carry some models onboard.”

“You want to build a fake one?”

“A movie prop! I’m not a fool; why would I target the real Zhonghua?”

“You want the military’s help to build it?”

Zhu Lan shook his head. “No, I just want to see the real Zhonghua and build a scaled replica accordingly.”

Xu Dezheng nodded in understanding. In this era, few secrets remained, especially for such a massive warship like the Zhonghua. Absolute secrecy was impossible, and on this point, Xu Dezheng was somewhat agreeable.

“So, the battleship is also a prop?”

Zhu Lan shook his head. “No, the battleship is real.”

“Real?” Xu Dezheng was puzzled. If the aircraft carrier was fake, why was the battleship genuine?

“That’s actually why I came today,” Zhu Lan said. “Fantasy Technology has acquired a medium-sized shipyard. In the future, all naval models for the War Club will be constructed there, including the Zhonghua.”

“You don’t have the technology!”

Zhu Lan smiled and shook his head. “I do. Apart from some national-level technologies, there’s nothing money can’t buy. I’ve recruited hundreds of highly experienced shipbuilders worldwide and over a hundred naval architects. I’ve already secured equipment in Europe. After the holidays, the Azure Shipyard will be completely revamped, fully equipped to build any hundred-thousand-ton-class super freighter, even warships.”

“What do you intend to do with it?”

The battleship, born in World War I as a naval superweapon evolved from dreadnoughts, reached its zenith in World War II. The advent of aircraft carriers nearly ended battleships, and post-war missile technology—especially ship-to-ship missiles—completely pushed battleships off the world stage.

Modern aircraft development also rendered battleships ineffective against supersonic jets, while a single anti-ship missile carried by a fighter-bomber could cripple a battleship entirely. Two to three missiles could send a once-mighty battleship to the cold ocean floor.

Zhu Lan wanted to build a battleship, but Xu Dezheng couldn’t fathom why.

“Xu Lao, consider it my regret,” Zhu Lan said.

“Before I made my fortune, I often discussed history on forums. I love World War II history, but sadly, when it came to naval history, we had nothing to show—no battleship. Even Japan and Germany, both defeated nations, remain proud of their once-powerful navies. While we resented that, there was nothing to argue; we simply never had battleships.”

“Battleships are not just a nation’s prized asset, but a symbol of spirit. I’ve seen many modern warships and even the battleship Mississippi docked in the Hawaii naval base. Nothing compares to the majesty of a battleship, not even an aircraft carrier. Standing beneath its main guns is an indescribable awe. That’s when I understood why Japan and Germany, as defeated nations, are so proud of their navies—they were once maritime powers, their battleship fleets feared worldwide.”

Xu Dezheng fell silent. Modern naval warfare had no place for battleships—not only because of their exorbitant cost but because they were practically useless now. A few missile strikes could obliterate one. Modern naval battles are fought over hundreds or thousands of kilometers, launching missiles and aircraft from afar. A battleship’s firing range, peaking at about a hundred kilometers, pales compared to detection ranges of several hundred kilometers. Faced with a barrage of missiles, it could only defend passively. Modern submarines were even deadlier; a single torpedo could sink an aircraft carrier, let alone a battleship, despite its thicker armor.

“Do you understand what this entails?” Xu Dezheng asked.

Zhu Lan nodded. “Battleships are military vessels and require military approval. I’m not worried about funding or construction issues—they can be solved. But to build such a behemoth, I’ll need your consent.”

“Do you have any designs?”

Zhu Lan’s face lit up. He carefully took out a sheet of parchment from his bag, laid it on the table, and unfolded it. “Xu Lao, this is a preliminary design.”

Xu Dezheng only asked out of politeness but was surprised Zhu Lan actually had something prepared. He shook his head in resignation—Zhu Lan truly had thought this through.

Xu Dezheng examined the blueprint, nodding occasionally.

The Azure-class battleship was designed with a displacement of 76,000 tons, fully loaded at 88,000 tons.

Its main armament consisted of four 500-millimeter gun turrets, arranged with eight forward and three aft—a design that would have been an ultimate battleship in World War II, rivaled only by Germany’s fantasy-class battleships.

The Azure-class incorporated modern manufacturing techniques. Its main guns were propelled by electromagnetic launchers, with fifty-four laser cannons for defense—enough to intercept any incoming fire.

Around the aft triple turrets, twenty-four missile launchers were arranged, capable of firing twenty-four missiles simultaneously—be they anti-aircraft, anti-ship, or anti-submarine.

“This is a fine design. It looks like you’ve put a lot of effort into this,” Xu Dezheng remarked.

Zhu Lan smiled sheepishly. The Azure-class design was inspired by Germany’s World War II fantasy-class battleships, reimagined with modern technology. Its original design displacement was 95,000 tons, but fearing it might be rejected for being too large, Zhu Lan reduced it to 76,000 tons. Even so, it remained a colossal vessel.

“You’ve incorporated many new technologies? Does Fantasy Technology have these?” Xu Dezheng quickly noticed a problem. Electromagnetic guns and laser cannons were still under development worldwide, not yet deployed. Yet Zhu Lan had clearly marked them on the design.

Zhu Lan shook his head. “Xu Lao, do you think I have access to such technologies? The electromagnetic guns are just models, more like artillery replicas. But laser cannons are possible. The Azure base already has laser defense systems, so I do have access to laser technology.”

(To be continued.)