Upper Capital, before the round table in a top-secret conference room.
Several elderly figures appeared as steady as mountains beneath the halo of light.
On the screen before them scrolled the detailed terms of Bald Eagle Nation's latest round of sanctions, along with reports analyzing their projected impact.
There was no heated debate in the conference room, only prolonged silence.
And the occasional sound of fingers lightly tapping the tabletop, as though weighing a thousand tons.
"Chips, drones, information platforms... They intend to lock down our path of advancement from hardware to software."
An elderly man slowly spoke, his voice carrying little emotion, only the calm tempered by time.
"Combined with their previous illegal arrests, they want to crush our leading enterprises.
Intimidate our international partners, and delay our overall pace of development."
Another elderly man wearing glasses took over, the gaze behind his lenses turning sharp.
"This is a coordinated blow—ruthless and impatient. It seems our progress in certain areas has truly made them unable to sit still."
"If they cannot sit still, they will flip the table."
The elderly man seated at the head of the table finally spoke, his tone even.
"Since they have chosen methods that go beyond commercial competition and disregard international rules.
Then we need not remain confined to the traditional scope of countermeasures.
If we are going to strike, we strike where it hurts most—where they cannot find replacements in the short term, and where the entire global industrial chain will tremble."
Several gazes met. No further words were needed; a consensus had already been reached.
It was an unspoken understanding born from a thorough grasp of their own strength, the international situation, and their opponent's weaknesses.
The words "rare earths" were spoken clearly, like a chess piece landing heavily on the board