The Trump Card

Fu Haoran and Lucifer descended the boarding ramp, and the officer greeting them stepped forward briskly, neither servile nor arrogant as he said:

"Please follow me, both of you. The chief and Director Zheng of the S.P.E.A.R. Bureau are waiting for you in the command center."

Fu Haoran nodded, his expression calm, his stride unbroken.

The alloy door of the temporary command center slid open slowly. Fu Haoran entered first, his gaze sweeping quickly over the three people inside.

The theater commander sat in the main seat, his demeanor steady as a pine.

Director Zheng Xian of the S.P.E.A.R. Bureau stood to one side, his eyes sharp.

In the corner sat an elderly academician with white hair, wearing reading glasses.

All eyes landed squarely on Fu Haoran—scrutinizing, wary, and tinged with an irrepressible curiosity.

Fu Haoran pulled a chair over and sat down without ceremony, then fished a palm-sized metal device from his pocket and tossed it casually onto the table.

Yet no one minded his casualness, because not a single person present failed to recognize that thing!

The old academician's eyes lit up. He leaned forward, reached out, and gently touched the reactor, his voice trembling: "This is... Tony Stark's Arc Reactor!!"

Fu Haoran didn't stop him.

The Arc Reactor in Tony's chest was no secret, especially since Stark Industries had already pivoted, with the energy sector becoming its mainstay.

Fu Haoran explained: "This is the second-generation miniaturized Arc Reactor. I have the complete technology, along with Tony Stark's Iron Suit blueprints."

"Furthermore, I also possess a more advanced third-generation Arc Reactor."

The old academician's face lit up with joy. His thoughts were pure—only a thirst for technology.

But the old commander and Zheng Xian both knew that nothing in this world came for free.

Zheng Xian, in particular, as director of the S.P.E.A.R. Bureau, knew far more—especially about the mysterious iron man who had appeared recently.

"What do you want?" the old commander asked.

Fu Haoran didn't beat around the bush: "I want three things, corresponding to three bargaining chips, a fair exchange."

"First, I want a massive quantity of canned food—any type will do."

"In exchange, you may board the ship and observe any technology you're interested in. I'll have my people accompany you the entire time and explain everything."

"However, how much you learn and how much you master—I won't guarantee that."

That simple?

The commander raised an eyebrow and pressed further: "Canned food? You don't want anything else?"

"Correct. The currency of your world is useless to me, and I don't lack ordinary resources."

"The only things I'm short on are food, water, and some equipment."

Fu Haoran's words defied common sense, but they followed logic.

"How many cans do you want?" This time it was Director Zheng Xian of the S.P.E.A.R. Bureau who asked. He felt things couldn't be that simple.

"Very simple. The ticket price is one ton of canned food per person per day. I'll allow you to bring recording equipment inside, but all technological observation results must be copied in real time and archived by my technical team."

Everyone found Fu Haoran's request a bit odd—why would he, as the ship's owner, need to copy their observation data?

What they didn't know was that this particular ship owner really did lack basic observational data.

The commander and Zheng Xian did the math.

One ton of canned food sounded like a lot, but at market price, it was only a few tens of thousands of yuan.

Plus, they could bring equipment and have someone explain things.

Seemed like a pretty good deal.

Besides, trading technology for food was reasonable. Back when the Soviet Union collapsed, the Russians traded planes for canned food.

The requirements were that low?

The old commander asked uncertainly: "Any type of canned food will do?"

"Yes, as long as it meets food safety standards."

"Alright, I agree to the first condition." The old commander accepted readily.

He silently calculated: "This deal isn't hard. Arrange for a thousand people with equipment, and in one day, they'll definitely get a good look at most of the technology."

"At worst, I'll send more people and have them stay a few more days. I don't believe we can't figure out the core tech in ten days or half a month."

Zheng Xian felt that Fu Haoran's demands were too simple, but he couldn't find a flaw.

"Maybe the later conditions are the trap," Zheng Xian consoled himself.

Fu Haoran continued: "Second, I want a full industrial chain production line capable of manufacturing batteries and conventional weapons, plus a powered armor production line. I also need your industrial technology and production capacity support—send workers, provide raw materials. I'll have my technical staff collaborate with you to make it happen."

"In exchange, I'll share the battery technology, weapon technology, and armor technology with you."

"But you must ensure the production lines run normally, and you must guarantee the production of three thousand units before it's considered qualified."

Zheng Xian frowned. This condition was very straightforward—it was about helping to build an army.

The old chief also saw the problem, but he didn't rush to respond. Instead, he let the old academician look at the design drawings.

The old academician studied the blueprints and couldn't help asking, "Is this an improvement on Mr. Tony Stark's Iron Suit?"

"Not entirely." Fu Haoran didn't hide it. "The prototype for this design is Tony's first-generation Iron Suit, plus improvements and upgrades by others, putting it at the third to fourth generation level."

"Then, combined with technology already existing in another world, I made modifications that focus more on practical combat than Tony's version."

"Weakens flight capability, strengthens defense and power output, making it more suitable for mass production."

The old academician examined it for a long time, took off his reading glasses, and said with undisguised amazement in his voice:

"This powered exoskeleton is a revolutionary mass-production optimization built on Tony Stark's design foundation!"

"This force feedback system and protective structure design completely surpass current technological levels. Even Tony himself might not be able to produce such a mature mass-production plan."

"But the problem is obvious—materials."

"Without sufficiently lightweight yet high-strength materials, this armor can at most defend against small arms fire, not proper anti-materiel weaponry."

Hearing the old academician say this, the chief actually felt relieved.

Powered armor was good, but not enough to cause a qualitative change.

In his view, war still depended on steel torrents.

Clearly, Blue Star in this timeline had yet to have its understanding overturned by small drones.

After some discussion, the chief nodded and said, "We agree to your second cooperation. What about the third?"

"I want the complete technology and production line for intercontinental supersonic missiles. In exchange, I can give you the complete technology for the Arc Reactor."

The old chief's expression instantly darkened, and he said bluntly, "Intercontinental supersonic missiles are a national treasure, touching on the bottom line of national defense. Your condition is too heavy."

"Oh? You mean these primitive kinetic weapons driven by chemical propulsion? Do you realize you're rejecting a ticket to the interstellar age?" This time, it was Lucifer who spoke.

This sovereign had no kinship with them—she was simply making an observation.

The chief and Zheng Xian looked at this woman who had been silent all along. The contempt in her tone wasn't an act; it was a natural disdain for such "primitive technology." For the first time, they realized she was the harder one to deal with.

Fu Haoran had a headache. He didn't want things to get too tense, so he smoothed things over, saying, "Precisely because the technology is so important, it matches the value of controlled nuclear fusion technology, doesn't it?"

"Imagine this: once controlled nuclear fusion is realized, it can completely change the energy landscape. The Eagle Nation already has it now. Don't you want it?"

"Besides, I came to you first to cooperate because we share the same roots."

"Otherwise, I would have more suitable trading partners."

Fu Haoran's meaning was very clear—if you won't give it, someone else will.

That's right, the Bears.

"We need a little time. Excuse us." The chief stood up and left.

This matter was too important; he had to hold a small meeting.