Chapter 135: Test Flight

At this, Li Zhiyuan’s expression tightened slightly. “Colonel, I’m afraid that may be difficult. You have already consumed ninety-five percent of the Republic’s supply. Even if you agree to give up your own share, the authorities still won’t approve it.”

Spirit Awakening Pills, a drug suspected of stimulating the nerves and accelerating the activity of spiritual energy within the body, had long since been classified as a strategic resource. At present, Xuanlu acquired them mainly through trade and cultivation. Cultivation had only just begun, however, and accounted for very little of the total output.

It was said that because this region lay close to the Death Marshes and was affected by some unknown influence, Spirit Awakening Grass grew extremely slowly and produced very little. Xuanlu had never figured out the reason, and none of the other powers had an answer either. Perhaps they did not know themselves.

The only thing anyone knew for certain was that the closer one came to the Death Marshes, the more every supernatural substance was affected. As a result, the Dawn Kingdom’s annual output of Spirit Awakening Grass was extremely low, with half of its supply relying on imports.

This also meant that the quantity of Spirit Awakening Grass Xuanlu could obtain through trade was rather limited. Over the course of six months, it had acquired only five thousand plants—and that was after various powers had forcibly squeezed out a quota for them out of consideration for the title of Grand Duke of the Eastern Frontier. On top of that, Xuanlu had not yet fully mastered the crude process of making Spirit Awakening Pills by boiling them in a pot, so a certain percentage of the medicine was inevitably wasted. The actual output had to be reduced by another third.

“My spiritual energy is already close to reaching my feet. In a few days, I should be able to complete the circulation and become a First-Rank transcendent,” Qin Le said.

The Republic had given him more than ninety percent of its supernatural resources in the hope that his increased strength would allow him to expand the Gate and raise the upper limit of its transportation capacity once more. Even if he could not expand the Gate, merely increasing its operating time from half an hour to one hour would represent an enormous improvement.

It would allow them to transport more resources, provide stronger logistical support, and station more troops there.

Li Zhiyuan rubbed his chin, his face thoughtful. “In that case, it might be possible. There are currently more than four hundred retired elite soldiers in the country. Excluding those who died from the aftereffects, at least three hundred should still be alive. Three hundred Spirit Awakening Pills would be equivalent to two months of your consumption.”

The moment Aimo Ya heard that number, her heart began to twitch involuntarily.

What outrageous wealth. They had absolutely no sense of moderation.

Because the manufacturing process was complicated, every dose of a Spirit Awakening Pill had to be measured with extreme precision to ensure success. Adding even a little too much of any ingredient could turn the medicine into poison. This was why the pills were so expensive. Their market price was one gold coin each.

In reality, even having the money did not guarantee that one could buy them. They had to be obtained through one of the major powers or nations.

Otherwise, the only option was to purchase them on the black market, where the price could sometimes be driven up to fifty gold coins—a markup of more than fifty times. It was pure profiteering, intended specifically to fleece those without money or influence, such as ordinary merchants.

Even the children of nobles could not consume three hundred Spirit Awakening Pills in two months like this man. They would consider themselves fortunate to obtain a single pill per month. If those resources were given to someone else, they might be enough to produce a hundred novice knights.

There was only one way to describe these people: they were so wealthy that they had reached the point of no longer treating money as money.

“I’ll do my best to arrange it, but you shouldn’t set your hopes too high. The authorities may not approve it.”

Qin Le’s expression remained calm. “They shed so much blood to establish the Republic. Now that there is a way to cure them, who would refuse? Don’t they deserve to enjoy this prosperous age?”

“Of course they do. You can use that argument to apply pressure, and the process will proceed smoothly. If I were the one making the request, it would not be nearly as effective. However, you should also be aware that once these elite soldiers recover, they will inevitably be deployed to the battlefields of the New World. After all, they have already come into contact with the things of that world.” Li Zhiyuan adjusted his glasses, a meaningful glint in his eyes.

“You are unique within the Republic. No one dares oppose you openly, but you still need to be careful. The elite forces are an extremely sensitive matter.”

“I’ll resign as commander of the elite forces and hand the position over to someone else.”

“In that case, there shouldn’t be any problem.”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Two soldiers in camouflage uniforms opened it.

Qin Le looked over in confusion and saw them carrying an enormous rectangular crate nearly two meters tall.

They tilted the crate as they brought it inside, then carefully set it down and raised their hands in salute.

“Sir, the item you requested has arrived.”

“The item I requested?” Qin Le asked, bewildered.

Li Zhiyuan smiled as he explained, “Colonel, this was decided by the Academy of Sciences. We wanted to send it to you as thanks for bringing us to this New World and allowing us to witness such a strange and wondrous place.”

“Open it.”

“Yes, sir.”

The four corners of the crate were secured with special fasteners. Once twisted loose, the crate quickly came apart into panels of plastic. Inside was a massive television-like device.

“A television? Why did you bring this here?” Qin Le asked, puzzled.

The technological level of this world was roughly that of the Cold War, perhaps even the post-Cold War period. There were black-and-white televisions, computers, jet fighters, and satellites.

“This is not a television.” Li Zhiyuan pulled a rectangular panel from the crate. It was covered in rows of small square keys.

The sight of that panel left Qin Le stunned. In a daze, wave after wave of memories surged through his mind.

“This is the personal computer you once told me about. After several years of unremitting effort, the Academy of Sciences has finally succeeded in shrinking a room-sized computer down to a device measuring two meters by one and a half.”

Li Zhiyuan introduced it with undisguised pride. “Although computers of this size already existed several years ago, they were specially designed to be installed in aircraft, tanks, warships, antiaircraft missiles, radar systems, and similar weapons. Too many functions had been removed. Strictly speaking, they were not computers.”

“This is a third-generation integrated-circuit computer. Using our latest technology, we combined electronic components onto a tiny silicon wafer, allowing more components to be integrated into a single semiconductor chip. This made computers smaller, reduced their power consumption, and increased their speed. I also optimized the operating system according to what you told me before, and added a mouse and keyboard—”

“Stop!” Qin Le hurriedly interrupted when he saw that the other man was gradually becoming fanatical.

“Has Xuanlu’s technology really advanced this far?”

In his memory, Xuanlu’s technology was still at the level of the Cold War. Now they even had personal integrated computers—technology straight out of the 1960s.

Li Zhiyuan explained, “Colonel, the Republic’s technological level has actually remained in the first tier since the war, and has even held a vague lead in some areas.”

“It’s that advanced?” Qin Le’s face was filled with astonishment.

He had lived in Xuanlu society before. Life there had essentially remained at the level of the 1960s. Aside from basic food and clothing, there was a shortage of almost everything.

“Most people have been blinded by the Republic’s poverty.” Li Zhiyuan adjusted his glasses. “Of course, poverty also buried most of our technology. We developed it, but lacked the means to popularize it. Even the things that could be made widely available were all poured into the military.”

The Republic’s military expenditure was the highest in the entire world, accounting for twenty percent of its total GDP every year and sometimes reaching as high as twenty-five percent. It was practically a militarized state.

There was no alternative. When the entire world was hostile, only strength could guarantee survival.

If Xuanlu did not maintain a vast army and possess sufficient deterrent power, the enemy’s blade would soon be at its throat.

“That’s why ordinary people cannot sense the Republic’s technological level,” Li Zhiyuan continued. “We are simply too poor. Most of our technology has no way to benefit society.”

As he spoke, outside the window, a silver-white steel eagle rose into the air above the enormous turbine.

It was a MiG-29.

...

The steel eagle soared through the sky. The roar of its engines, combined with the tremendous friction of the fuselage tearing through the air, reverberated across the heavens.

A slight commotion broke out at the base below. Most of the civilians stared at the sky in panic. Although they had received notice in advance, those who had never seen an aircraft before were still frightened.

“Control tower, Control tower, this is Five-Five-Three-Two. Current altitude is three thousand nine hundred meters. Straight-line distance from the airfield is approximately thirty kilometers.

“Signal is stable. The pressure gauge inside the cockpit is behaving abnormally, fluctuating from time to time. The variation is one hundred hectopascals.”

The pilot continually adjusted the aircraft’s instruments while reporting to the control tower.

The pressure gauge seemed to be malfunctioning, jumping erratically every now and then. At times, the aircraft itself shook as though affected by some unknown force.

“Five-Five-Three-Two, this is the control tower. Adjust the data according to the procedures in the mission manual. The New World’s atmospheric conditions are strange and unpredictable. The pressure disturbance you are experiencing may be caused by a cluster of wind-element particles gathered at high altitude. Continue flying one hundred kilometers along your current heading, then return to base. If you encounter any unforeseen circumstances along the way, you may turn back.”

“Understood.”

After ending the communication, the pilot, Li Xiang, gazed at this vast and unfamiliar world, his heart filled with excitement.

He had once thought that if the World War ended and he ever had the opportunity to fly beyond his homeland, it would be to intercept the enemy or deliver a fatal strike.

He had never imagined that his first mission outside the country would take place in a completely unfamiliar world.

This was the New World’s first test flight—a flight destined to be recorded in history.