The Lin Family Dynasty

"Are you delirious with a fever?"

Lin Chengjun sat behind his desk, the teacup in his hand frozen halfway through the air. He was in his early fifties, his temples already gray, but his gaze remained as sharp as a laser cutting through steel plate.

Lin Yuan stood before him in a crisp military uniform, his expression calm.

The top-floor office of the Lin Military-Industrial Building was spacious, but the air within seemed frozen solid.

"Every word I said was serious." Lin Yuan repeated himself. "East Asia must establish an independent Mobile Suit research and development system. We won't follow the Atlantic Federation's Short Sword route, and we won't copy PLANT's high-mobility elite-unit route. We'll forge our own path."

Lin Chengjun slowly set down his teacup.

"Do you know what you're saying?"

He rose and walked to the window, turning his back on Lin Yuan. Outside lay the full expanse of Lin Industrial Park. From here, he could see six heavy manufacturing plants, two ballistic missile assembly lines, and the skeletal frame of a space vessel under construction in the distance.

"East Asia has the world's greatest heavy industrial capacity. That's true." Lin Chengjun's voice was heavy. "But high-end Mobile Suits? We can't even fully grasp the Atlantic Federation's Short Sword control system. We have to buy semi-finished operating systems from them for secondary development. Power cores? United Army standard models, every single one requiring Atlantic Federation certification. Armor? The Phase-Shift Armor patents are in their hands."

He turned and stared at his son.

"Tell me, what are you going to use to 'forge your own path'?"

Lin Yuan did not back down.

"Ceramic Steel."

"What?"

"A new composite armor material." Lin Yuan spoke evenly, like he was delivering a technical report. "It has extreme defensive capabilities against both kinetic and energy weapons. I already have a preliminary laboratory design. What I need are industrial-grade smelting equipment and a materials team."

Lin Chengjun's brows twisted into a knot.

"When did you start researching materials?"

"It's part of my personal technical reserve. The source is not convenient to disclose for the moment."

"Not convenient to disclose?" Lin Chengjun's voice abruptly rose. "You're telling your own father that it's 'not convenient to disclose'?"

The two stared at each other.

The air remained taut for several seconds.

Lin Yuan offered no explanation. He knew he could never tell anyone about the existence of the Warhammer Technology Tree. But he also knew that convincing an old fox who controlled East Asia's military-industrial lifeline with nothing but words was harder than fighting a war.

He changed his angle.

"Father, how much do you know about the Atlantic Federation's G Project?"

Lin Chengjun's eyes shifted slightly.

"That is one of their highest classified projects."

"Yes. Five Mobile Suits based on entirely new concepts, codenamed the GAT-X series: Strike, Duel, Buster, Blitz, and Aegis." Lin Yuan rattled off the five names in one breath. "Every one of them surpasses the current Short Sword in performance. Phase-Shift Armor, beam weapons, even transformable frames. The Atlantic Federation has kept them hidden, refusing to let even an 'ally' like East Asia touch them."

Lin Chengjun's expression changed.

"How do you know this?"

"That isn't important." Lin Yuan stepped forward. "What matters is that ZAFT will seize them soon."

"What?"

"ZAFT has already acquired intelligence on the G Project, and a raid is being prepared. The target is the Heliopolis colony satellite. It will happen within two weeks."

Lin Chengjun's fingers unconsciously clenched.

His instinct for war told him that his son was not spouting nonsense. Information as specific as project codenames and unit names could not have been fabricated out of thin air.

"Assuming what you said is true." Lin Chengjun lowered his voice. "ZAFT seizes the G Weapons, and the Atlantic Federation suffers losses. What does that have to do with us?"

"It has everything to do with us."

Lin Yuan walked to the desk, picked up Lin Chengjun's pen, and drew three circles on a blank sheet of paper.

"The Atlantic Federation. PLANT. East Asia."

He drew a thick line between the first two circles.

"After the G Project is stolen, direct conflict between the Atlantic Federation and PLANT will rapidly escalate. Their Mobile Suit technologies will evolve at breakneck speed in the flames of war. Freedom Gundam, Justice Gundam, Providence Gundam—within the next few years, countless high-performance units that surpass the current framework will emerge."

He paused.

"And what about East Asia?"

The pen tip landed on the third circle without drawing a single line.

"We'll still be using other people's Short Swords." Lin Yuan's voice grew low. "Still waiting for scraps of technology from others. By the time the Atlantic Federation and PLANT decide a victor, East Asia will either be annexed or turned into a dumping ground."

"Future wars will be decided by Mobile Suits. Not naval artillery, not nuclear weapons, and not political negotiations. Mobile Suits."

"Whoever masters the strongest Mobile Suit technological system will be the one who writes this world's rules."

The office was silent for a long time.

Lin Chengjun sat back down, folded his hands, and stared at the three circles on the paper.

"How many resources do you need?"

"Workshop Seven of the Lin Family. Transfer Xu Yanqiu's team from the materials division. Grant me full access to the plasma controlled-fusion data from the energy laboratory." Lin Yuan did not hesitate, clearly having planned this long ago. "In addition, I need to establish an independent research institute under the name of the Special Equipment Bureau, codenamed 811. Personnel, budget, and technical direction must all be autonomous."

Lin Chengjun did not answer immediately.

He looked at his son, his expression complicated.

This young man's performance today was completely unlike before. The Lin Yuan of the past had been clever, but cautious—more like a qualified heir than a pioneer.

But the man standing before him today had something in his eyes that Lin Chengjun had never seen before.

It was not ambition.

It was certainty.

As though he had already seen the future, and that future deeply unsettled him.

"You understand," Lin Chengjun said slowly, "that once you break away from the United Army's standard technological system, the Atlantic Federation will place East Asia on its technology blockade list. Those domestic military-industrial conglomerates that survive on United Army contracts will strike back like mad. The Compromise Faction in the parliament will make you their sacrifice."

"I understand."

"Can you bear the consequences of failure?"

"I can."

"If you fail, it won't just be you who is finished." Lin Chengjun's voice hardened. "The political resources, military-industrial connections, and foundations within East Asia's defense system that the Lin Family has accumulated over three generations will all be carved up by our enemies. Your father, your grandfather, and the thousands of employees and technicians within the Lin system will all be buried with you. Have you thought this through?"

Lin Yuan remained where he was, not taking even half a step back.

"Father."

His voice was not loud, but every word was heavy.

"If East Asia keeps waiting, it won't even have the right to fail."

The room fell silent.

Outside, the sky had already darkened. Lights came on one after another across the industrial zone, like a sea of stars forged from steel. This city consumed enough electricity, steel, and chemical raw materials each day to support a small nation, yet in the field of advanced warfare technology, it remained a giant with its throat in someone else's grip.

Lin Chengjun closed his eyes for a moment.

He thought of his father, Lin Dingyue. Twenty years ago, when East Asia had first attempted to independently develop a space vessel propulsion system, the Atlantic Federation threatened technological sanctions, and the project died halfway through. Lin Dingyue had remained silent for an entire year afterward.

The following year, he had bet every resource the family possessed back on the United Army's standard technological system.

From then on, East Asia had never again attempted to "forge its own path."

Lin Chengjun opened his eyes and looked at his son.

"You can have Workshop Seven."

Lin Yuan's expression did not change. He waited.

"Xu Yanqiu's team will need his personal agreement. That old man's temper is harder than Ceramic Steel. Go convince him yourself. As for the plasma laboratory's data, I can sign off on its declassification."

Lin Chengjun opened a drawer and took out an electronic authorization card.

"I'll register the establishment of the 811 Institute with the Ministry of Defense under the name of the Special Equipment Bureau. But remember this—"

He pushed the authorization card across the desk, his finger still pressing down on it.

"This is only the first batch of authorization. Only the first batch. As for future resources, earn them with results."

Lin Yuan reached out and took the authorization card.

The metal surface was icy cold.

"That's enough."

Lin Chengjun leaned back in his chair, seeming to age several years in an instant.

"Leave."

Lin Yuan turned toward the door.

"Lin Yuan."

He stopped.

"Your grandfather will return from East Sea Sanatorium tomorrow. If he asks about this, explain it to him yourself."

"I will."

Lin Yuan pushed open the door and walked out.

Sheng Lan was leaning against the wall in the corridor, holding a stack of documents. When she saw him emerge, she immediately stepped forward.

"Director, the Intelligence Bureau's outer-perimeter files on Heliopolis have arrived. Also, Ye Qingluan has replied to confirm that the Spark Project infiltration personnel are assembling and are expected to depart within forty-eight hours."

Lin Yuan took the documents and flipped through them as he walked.

"Where is Xu Yanqiu?"

"At the materials laboratory building in the 811 Industrial Zone. I heard he hasn't gone home in three days. He's been wrestling with a new heat-resistant coating."

"Go find him."

"Now?"

"Now."

Sheng Lan matched his pace, hesitating for a second.

"Director, Professor Xu Yanqiu's temper..."

"I know."

"The last time people from the Ministry of Defense went to inspect his laboratory, he threw them out with beakers."

"I'm not from the Ministry of Defense." Lin Yuan did not look back. "I'm the man bringing him raw materials."

The elevator doors closed.

Sheng Lan stood behind him, watching the authorization card in the director's hand reflect a cold gleam.

A strange feeling suddenly came over her. The young man who had woken up in the hospital room today seemed like a completely different person from the director who had collapsed yesterday.

But she did not ask.

The elevator reached the underground parking garage.

Lin Yuan opened the car door and sat in the back seat, his fingers habitually tapping against his knee.

The Spark Project had already begun. In forty-eight hours, East Asia's people would infiltrate Heliopolis.

ZAFT's Red Coats believed they were carrying out a raid.

The Atlantic Federation believed the G Project was impregnable.

No one knew that the real hunter had already set out.

The vehicle drove out of the building and merged into the capital's nighttime traffic.

And deep within Lin Yuan's mind, the vast Warhammer Technology Tree stood silently.

Cold and silent.

At the edge of a missing page somewhere near its base, something seemed to be faintly glowing.