The Shortcomings of the Warhammer World

The tech tree of the Warhammer World is a little crooked, especially in the air force.

Valkyrie Attack Aircraft, Thunderbolts, Marauder Bombers... all uniformly brick-shaped designs.

Engines exposed, canopy edges sharp, not even bothering with a bubble canopy, let alone radar stealth.

Fu Haoran seriously doubted that even the most primitive radar screens from the 2K era could clearly pick up Warhammer World aircraft.

"Across the entire Warhammer World, only the Orks' fighters barely qualify as aerodynamic, counting as something that can actually fly properly."

Complaints aside, the cheapest jet fighter in the 2K World still cost tens of millions of dollars.

There was no time to train qualified pilots in the short term.

So from the start, Fu Haoran abandoned the idea of buying fighter jets.

"Joe, I want to buy a batch of military drones. Do you have any channels?" Fu Haoran asked over the phone.

Jobs answered readily: "No problem. MQ-9 'Reaper'? RQ-4 'Global Hawk'? X-47B 'Pegasus'? I've got channels for those too. I'll give you a friends-and-family price."

Jobs agreed quickly, but when Fu Haoran saw the so-called friends-and-family price, he suddenly felt like a poor man.

Plain and simple, it was too expensive!

The "Reaper" drone cost 30 million USD. The "Global Hawk" drone's bare unit price was 50 million USD, and with all the equipment, it exceeded 70 million USD, about the same price as an F-35A fighter jet.

"Pick my ass, this 'friends-and-family' price is still robbery!" Fu Haoran cursed inwardly.

"I'd be heartbroken if I lost even one. Besides, the Warhammer World's air defense systems aren't that pathetic."

"Those modified laser cannons mounted on the Promethium Factory guard towers, once the Cogitator unifies the fire control, their ability to lock onto high-speed targets is still considerable. The interception rate is definitely not low, and the key point is they have long range!"

"If I only have a few drones, I can't complete a penetration mission at all."

"Conservative estimate, I need at least a dozen drones to completely paralyze the factory's defensive forces. That means one battle, and hundreds of millions are gone!"

"A nouveau riche's money is still money."

"What I want is cost-effectiveness. Drones I won't feel bad about losing."

After politely declining Jobs' offer, Fu Haoran began researching the drones of various countries in the 2K World.

Flipping through the drone catalog, a model suddenly caught his eye—Persia's Shahed-136, nicknamed the Moped Drone.

In terms of performance, this thing was pure bottom of the barrel.

Slow speed, small size, carrying only a few dozen kilograms of explosives, and its accuracy was terrible—it could miss a stationary target by several meters. It radiated a vibe of "barely good enough."

But it had one unique advantage that crushed everything else: cheap.

One unit cost around 20,000 USD.

Fu Haoran smiled. "This thing is practically tailor-made for me."

The Moped Drone was steeped in the philosophy of "barely good enough" and half-assedness.

The engine was directly modified from a civilian motorcycle.

The fuselage heavily used fiberglass, plastic, and wood.

No missile? No, the fuselage is the missile. Just ram it directly.

What's cheaper than a missile body?

Not accurate enough? Make up for it with quantity.

When something is cheap enough, the way you use it changes completely.

"To put it bluntly, this is the drone version of human wave tactics!"

Fu Haoran stared at the screen, his mind quickly calculating.

One anti-aircraft shell from a Warhammer World Manticore missile platform cost at least a few hundred thousand Throne Coins. Converted by purchasing power, that was at least a million USD.

Shoot down one of his 20,000 USD "little mopeds"?

Every one they shot down was a loss for them.

More critically, the Cogitator system's fire channels were limited.

A standard Hive City air defense Cogitator could lock onto a maximum of 16 targets simultaneously and handle 8 fire channels.

If it wasn't facing a few expensive brick-shaped fighters, but hundreds, thousands of buzzing "little mopeds" swarming in from different directions and altitudes...

"The system will definitely overload."

"Either it can't calculate fast enough, or it runs out of ammo."

"This is the one."

Fu Haoran made his decision on the spot.

He glanced at the system countdown: 29 days.

Enough time.

"The problem is, this kind of drone is classified as arms, and from a sensitive region at that."

"A Chinese guy like me going to buy them directly isn't realistic."

"Can't buy it? Then build it yourself."

The first thought that popped into his head was his alma mater, the Industrial University School of Mechanical Engineering.

Back when he was a student, their lab had worked on small drone development—solid foundation. More importantly, his alma mater didn't go in for flashy nonsense; they kept things grounded, which was exactly what cheap mass production needed.

Without hesitation, Fu Haoran booked the fastest flight back home.

"The industrial chain the Warhammer can't piece together? Any prefecture-level city back home can handle it. The sprawling industrial Cthulhu of the domestic market—that's my real trump card."

Domestic, Industrial University School of Mechanical Engineering, Lab Building.

Three hours later, Industrial University School of Mechanical Engineering, Lab Building.

"Professor Wang, we really can't fix it." A bespectacled student crouched beside a machine tool, face bitter.

"The motherboard's fried completely. Swapping it out might as well mean buying a new one—cost difference is negligible."

Professor Wang's hair was a mess, stubble clinging to his chin. "Sigh, think of something. Next month's undergrad final projects need it. We can't exactly have students build models out of cardboard, can we?"

It wasn't that Professor Wang didn't want to fix it—the real problem was that the funding simply couldn't be approved.

At the end of the day, this stuff just wasn't profitable right now.

The military thought it was too low-end, the civilian market had no demand. They'd published a pile of papers, but couldn't find anyone willing to foot the bill.

Another student held up their phone, face grim. "Teacher Li's in the same boat over there. Their lab's 3D printer broke down too. And companies are poaching people—offering eight thousand a month salary. A lot of classmates are choosing to go work in the factory."

The lab fell into dead silence.

A few grad students crouched in the corner, packing things into a cardboard box. The words "Delivery Rider Application Materials" printed on the side were painfully glaring.

On the lab bench sat a small drone prototype. Its body was carbon fiber, but the wing edges were cracked, held together with transparent tape.

Professor Wang stared at the prototype, his eyes dim.

They'd finished this machine three years ago—flight control, aerodynamics, all tuned. All they needed was funding for a small-batch trial production.

But they'd published paper after paper and still couldn't attract investment. Companies said it was too low-end. The school said there was no path to industrialization.

The truth was, they weren't lacking in ability—just in funding and projects.

Now the lab's machine tools were rusted, and students' graduation projects were built from cardboard.

A coastal electronics factory was poaching talent, offering monthly salaries over ten thousand. Several second-year master's students were already wavering, wondering if they should abandon research and go tighten screws in a factory.

Professor Wang knew they had the skills and the ideas. But without money, it was all empty talk.

Just then, the lab door swung open.

Fu Haoran walked in, swept his gaze across the room: "Professor Wang, I have a project. Would you and your team be interested?"

"What kind of project? The school's requirements might be a bit high." Professor Wang was already hesitating.

He vaguely remembered Fu Haoran—his family only ran a small factory, nothing wealthy.

Professor Wang worried that agreeing would end up being more trouble than it was worth.

Ask for too much, and the guy would balk.

Ask for too little, and they'd be wasting everyone's time.

Fu Haoran pulled out a contract. "Building... a firefighting drone."

"I can put in 20 million upfront. I need results within a week, and mass production guaranteed within half a month."

"If everything goes smoothly, I'll add more funding."

For Fu Haoran, who now had a net worth in the tens of billions—all in liquid cash—20 million was truly a drop in the bucket.

But to everyone else in the room, it was a completely different story!

"H-H-How much?!" Professor Wang's voice cracked. He thought he'd misheard and quickly reached for the contract.

It wasn't that he'd never seen money before—it was that he'd never seen a student casually toss out a budget that his research group couldn't secure in years of applications.

"Really... 20 million?!"

"If you sign now, I'll prepay five million right away," Fu Haoran said.

Professor Wang opened his mouth, but no words came out.

In the corner, the student clutching the delivery rider application cardboard box visibly stiffened.

The next second, the box crashed into the wall with a clatter. He practically lunged at Fu Haoran, eyes red like a starving wolf:

"Senior! No, Boss! This job is ours! The lab is my home! If you don't abandon me, I'd gladly swear allegiance as your adopted son!"

"Professor, this is our sugar daddy! Say yes!"

The other students who'd followed him out erupted:

"Senior! I'm a coding beast! I can handle automation control!"

"Senior, I'm in materials science! I can analyze circuit boards!"

Professor Wang quickly pulled up the student who was shouting "Godfather." "Don't be ridiculous, call him President Fu!"

He turned to Fu Haoran with a gentle expression. "President Fu, rest assured, we absolutely won't let your funding go to waste!"

Then he spun around and roared, "Everyone! Throw away the takeout boxes! We're pulling an all-nighter tonight!"

The students cheered and rushed back into the lab, not even bothering to pick up their discarded instant noodle cups.

Watching the lab ignite with energy in an instant, Fu Haoran let out a sigh of relief.

"We have to finish the work before the Promethium runs out."

"I really can't wait to see that beautiful scene when the air raid sirens blare across the factory."