Chapter 82 Modular Manufacturing

In front of the S Military District, Zhu Lan’s specially licensed Red Flag car led the way. Before they even reached the entrance, the guards stopped them. Zhu Lan rolled down the window and handed over a credential. The guard inspected it, sized Zhu Lan up and down, then returned the credential, saluted, and signaled the others to let them through.

“Let’s go,” Zhu Lan said to Kang Nuo.

The Red Flag drove into the S Military District, followed by a long flatbed truck carrying a massive object, its identity concealed beneath a tarp.

“Greetings, Commander!” Several people saluted Zhu Lan as they stepped out of the car.

Zhu Lan waved them off and strode toward the building. Security was tight, with guards every few steps. If not for the badge pinned to Zhu Lan’s chest, he would have been shot on sight.

“Zhu Lan?” As Zhu Lan entered, he nearly collided with Li Hongjin, who regarded him with surprise.

“Director Li, is Commander Luo available?”

Li Hongjin nodded. “Do you need something?”

Zhu Lan nodded. “It’s about the previous matter.”

Li Hongjin glanced at Zhu Lan and nodded again. “Come with me. You’ll get into trouble if you wander here.”

Zhu Lan nodded. He had planned to ask where Luo Guoqiang’s office was, but running into Li Hongjin was unexpected. Though this wasn’t the command headquarters, it was still a confidential building. Zhu Lan wasn’t foolish enough to wander.

“Old Li? Why are you back?” Luo Guoqiang looked puzzled as he saw Li Hongjin return.

Li Hongjin said nothing, stepping aside as Zhu Lan appeared before Luo Guoqiang.

“Zhu Lan?” Luo Guoqiang shook his head helplessly upon seeing him.

“Commander Luo, sorry to intrude!”

Zhu Lan had originally wanted to make an appointment, but realized he didn’t have Luo Guoqiang’s number. He tried to reach Xiao He, only to find she’d gone to Yanjing on business. The remaining people at Fantasy Tech were unreachable, so Zhu Lan decided to come directly, knowing he had credentials to enter.

“What brings you here?” Luo Guoqiang was curious. Zhu Lan had never come here before. He wasn’t surprised Zhu Lan could get in, since Zhu Lan’s major rank credentials made entry easy, especially with the S Military District’s stamp. Zhu Lan was, in effect, a major in the S Military District. In peacetime, major rank was rare—most were over thirty-five, but Zhu Lan was in his twenties. Moreover, Zhu Lan’s rank wasn’t simply army, navy, or air force—it belonged to the research division, a confidential unit.

“There are two matters I’d like to discuss with you, Commander Luo.”

“Go ahead, what is it?” Luo Guoqiang put down his book, looking at Zhu Lan with resignation.

“Commander Luo, do you remember the model club I mentioned before?”

Luo Guoqiang nodded.

“I’ve found partners. The first round of funding—twenty billion—will be ready in a few days.”

Both Luo Guoqiang and Li Hongjin were stunned. Twenty billion! It had only been a week, and Zhu Lan had already secured it?

“This seems unrelated to us, doesn’t it?” Li Hongjin asked, puzzled.

Zhu Lan nodded, then shook his head. “It was unrelated, but when choosing a location, my partners and I looked at many places and found a promising site in S City. But you know the models are inherently dangerous, and with your military base nearby, I’m concerned, so I wanted your opinion.”

“In S City?” Li Hongjin frowned, now understanding why Zhu Lan sought out Luo Guoqiang.

Zhu Lan nodded. “This is a famous tourist city, and with the South Sea Naval Port, the transportation, entertainment, and environment are superior to other locations. If the war club is established near an actual military base, it’ll be hugely attractive.”

“War club? Who came up with that name?” Li Hongjin asked.

Zhu Lan smiled awkwardly. “I did.”

“War club? Are you really planning to replicate the previous one perfectly?” Luo Guoqiang pointed at Zhu Lan, unable to contain his frustration.

Zhu Lan said nothing, only smiling sheepishly.

“Old Luo? What’s wrong?” Li Hongjin didn’t understand why Luo Guoqiang was suddenly angry.

“War club—that name, think about what it means.” Luo Guoqiang looked at Zhu Lan with exasperation and spoke to Li Hongjin.

“War club? War? War?” Suddenly, realization dawned on Li Hongjin, and he stared at Zhu Lan in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious, Zhu Lan! Do you know how dangerous that is? If someone exploited it, have you considered the consequences?”

Li Hongjin was well aware of the incident where Fantasy Tech’s -14 Panda fighter models attacked mercenaries. After testing the Panda brought back from Fantasy Tech, the results were surprising—it was no less capable than military armed drones, and better than many. Fantasy Tech’s Panda could carry not just four missiles, but up to ten, though full loads decreased combat radius due to increased weight and fuel consumption.

The missiles were only about 1.3 meters long and several centimeters wide, but they could carry considerable munitions. Their explosive power rivaled small missiles. A full saturation attack from two Pandas—twenty missiles—could destroy an entire building. A single missile, if designed for penetration, could pierce a standard car.

The evaluation results had only come out yesterday, and Li Hongjin had just sent the data to the Southern Military District. He’d planned to await their response before contacting Zhu Lan, but now Zhu Lan had shown up, presenting him and Luo Guoqiang with a huge dilemma.

“Zhu Lan, drop it. This is extremely dangerous. If someone used model fighters to attack the port, you couldn’t bear the consequences.”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking you.”

Li Hongjin was deeply dissatisfied with Zhu Lan’s attitude and nearly called for his arrest.

“Enough, Old Li. Calm down,” Luo Guoqiang interjected.

He turned to Zhu Lan. “Zhu Lan, I assume you’ve prepared thoroughly?”

Zhu Lan looked slightly surprised at Luo Guoqiang and nodded. “Based on earlier vague ideas, I’ve refined the war club model. It won’t be limited to air power; it will expand to land and sea forces. I brought a model of a main battle tank—the one completed just yesterday.”

“You brought it?” Luo Guoqiang and Li Hongjin were both astonished.

Zhu Lan nodded.

“Let’s go take a look!” Luo Guoqiang and Li Hongjin exchanged glances. Luo Guoqiang strode out, speaking as he went.

The three went outside, immediately drawn to the massive object on the flatbed.

“Uncover it, let me see!” Li Hongjin instructed the nearby guards.

The guards nodded, hurried to the truck, untied the ropes, and pulled back the tarp, revealing a 3:1 scale Leopard 2 model.

“Leopard 2? Well done, kid—you actually built this!”

“Wait, what’s that?” Li Hongjin was drawn to another object beside the Leopard 2.

Luo Guoqiang turned at Li Hongjin’s words. Seeing the item in front of the Leopard 2, he shook his head helplessly. “Zhu Lan, how many times have I told you—stop messing with these things, you’re asking for trouble!”

In front of the Leopard 2 sat a row of shells, short and about thirty-five millimeters in diameter.

“Commander Luo, these are blanks, completely harmless.”

“Since you brought it, is this Leopard 2 operational?”

Zhu Lan nodded. “Of course. This is the control system. The remote control system is too large, so I made a short-range one.”

Zhu Lan went to the Red Flag, took out a control device, and handed it to Luo Guoqiang, who inspected it, then looked at the Leopard 2 on the truck.

“Go, call over the leader of the fourth battalion!” Luo Guoqiang ordered a guard behind him.

“Yes, sir!” The guard saluted and ran off.

“Zhu Lan, what’s your real intention?” Luo Guoqiang handed the controller to someone nearby and frowned at Zhu Lan.

“Commander Luo, do I look like someone who stirs up trouble? This project benefits you as well!”

“Benefits us?” Luo Guoqiang was curious—how could a club benefit the military?

“Commander Luo, I’m sure you’ve seen the Panda fighter. Compared to your military drones, how does it fare?”

Luo Guoqiang frowned. The Panda wasn’t weak—it was too strong. As a model, it outperformed military drones, lacking only in materials, power, and range.

“Continue.”

“I build models to the exact proportions of real aircraft. You can think of it as a real Panda fighter. You know that a dozen Pandas can match real attack strength. The key is, they’re controllable—perfect for simulating war, like drone operation. That’s why I named it the war club.”

“Though the Panda is only a generation 2.5 fighter, I’m now working on -15, -16, -18, S-27, S-35, -11, Rafale, and other fighters. They may differ from the real ones, but I believe they’ll reach at least 80% realism. With remote control systems, model fighters can do what real ones do: close combat, long-range attacks, ground-air infiltration, etc. This isn’t just electronic simulation—it’s real, with planes carrying actual missiles, chaff, even guided missiles.”

“You mean, the military can use your models to simulate war?”

Zhu Lan nodded. “Exactly. Most war simulations are electronic. They’re close, but still virtual—not real. Of course, mine are remotely controlled, so not actual combat, but because they can be destroyed and are cheap, they enable war of attrition.”

“Cheap? Are your planes inexpensive?”

Zhu Lan smiled and nodded. “If built individually, they cost about 150,000 to 200,000. On a production line with modular manufacturing, each would cost only fifty or sixty thousand. For greater realism, better materials could be used.”

Zhu Lan was right. The Red Queen had calculated that modular manufacturing for scale fighters didn’t require the complexity of real aircraft. The whole process was automated, from materials to assembly, all handled by robots.

Currently, the Panda and Leopard 2 models were built by fabricating parts and assembling them, which was time-consuming. For the Leopard 2, it took more than two days from start to finish. On a production line, fully automated, it would take less than an hour to make a tank, and likewise for planes.

All circuitry was modular, so the products were expendable—not overly complex. As long as they could fly, launch missiles, maneuver, etc., destruction was trivial—a matter of a few tens of thousands. This was Zhu Lan’s trump card for the war club: models were so cheap, they could be destroyed at will.

(To be continued.)