A few days later.
Fengtian, Anshan Armaments Industrial Park.
Inside the enormous factory, machines roared and sparks flew, filling the place with a scene of feverish activity.
Two Prussians in crisp suits, Manstein and Lucas, followed a Feng Army officer, their eyes wide with shock as they took in everything around them.
"My God, this place is even larger than the biggest Krupp Factory back home," Lucas couldn't help murmuring in admiration.
Manstein pushed up his glasses, his gaze sharp.
"Size is secondary. The key is their production line. Look, it's all assembly-line work. The efficiency is incredible."
They had come here with a clear goal.
They wanted to purchase the Feng Army's newest tank, the "Type 2 Tank."
That terrifying weapon of war had routed White Bear Country's armored units on the battlefield.
The Feng Army officer assigned to receive them listened to their conversation in German. He couldn't understand much, but a proud smile still spread across his face.
"Gentlemen, this way, please. Our Type 2 Tank production line is just ahead."
Just then, another group came walking toward them.
At its head were several arrogant-looking British men.
The two groups met in the factory corridor and both paused in surprise.
Manstein recognized the aquiline-nosed man at the front of the other group.
"Sir Humphrey? What a coincidence. I thought you British would be busy squabbling with Sam Country over world supremacy. What brings you to this 'backwater'?"
His German-accented English dripped with sarcasm.
The British knight known as Humphrey gave a cold snort.
"General Manstein. We're here, naturally, to purchase the most advanced weapons in the world. Unlike certain countries that are constrained by treaties and have to build even a tractor in secret, for fear someone might discover a cannon barrel hidden inside."
Their gazes collided in midair, thick with hostility.
The Feng Army officer beside them was sweating bullets.
Good heavens, how did these two start fighting?
One was a Prussian representative, the other a British delegation. Both were here to buy things and both were big spenders he couldn't afford to offend.
"Now, now, gentlemen, please. You've come a long way. A friendly atmosphere means good business, right..."
He rubbed his hands together, caught between them and at a loss. His face had practically turned into a bitter melon.
"What's all the racket about?"
A calm voice, tinged with a hint of laziness, cut in without warning.
"Do you think this is a market? You're haggling now?"
Manstein and Humphrey, who had been arguing until their faces were red, stiffened at the same time and turned toward the voice.
Zhang Xueming had appeared there at some point, with Yang Yuting following behind him, his face stern. Zhang had his hands in his pockets and a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips, but his eyes made them look like two children misbehaving.
The two men, who had been at each other's throats just moments ago, practically ready to pull out pistols and shoot, changed expressions in an instant.
Their smiles couldn't have been more cordial.
"Zhang Shaoshuai!"
"Zhang Shaoshuai, you're here!"
They spoke almost in unison, their enthusiasm unmistakable.
The Feng Army officer, who had been caught between them and nearly squeezed into a meat patty, finally breathed a sigh of relief. He hurriedly wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped aside.
"One wants to buy our new tanks, and the other wants to buy our new planes." Zhang Xueming strolled over, swept his gaze across their faces, and cut straight to the point.
"Right?"
The smiles on Manstein and Humphrey's faces faltered.
They felt completely transparent in front of the young Eastern commander. They couldn't hide a single thought from him.
"Since you're both here to do business with us, you're our guests." Zhang Xueming clapped his hands, as if brushing off some dust.
"Come on. Don't just stand around here."
"I'll take you to see something good."
He turned and headed deeper into the factory. The Prussian and British delegations hurried after him. The hostility from moments ago had vanished, replaced by an uncanny harmony.
Soon, they reached a workshop that was even larger and more orderly.
The moment they saw what lay before them, both Manstein and Humphrey drew in a sharp breath.
A huge gantry crane moved slowly overhead, lifting a complete tank turret. Below it, on an assembly line that stretched out of sight, workers were methodically putting together the chassis of one tank after another.
Sparks flew, but there was no disorder.
Machines roared, but in rhythm.
From installing road wheels to laying tracks, from welding armor to mounting turrets and engines, every stage flowed seamlessly into the next, brimming with the brutal beauty unique to the industrial age.
"My God..." Lucas, from the Prussian delegation, was completely dumbfounded. "Compared to this place, our factories are nothing but workshops!"
Behind his glasses, Manstein's eyes were filled with shock.
He had seen his share of grand spectacles, but the terrifying efficiency of the production system before him had completely overturned his understanding.
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