Chapter 286 Flying Sword Cuts Off Supply
Kyoto's second fortress city, a Class A military industrial and weapon-refining joint factory.
At 6:27 a.m., the seventh, ninth and twelfth production lines, which should have been roaring up on time, were simultaneously shut down.
Red alarm lights circled above the factory, casting flickering light on the steel and explosion-proof glass dome. The giant psionic forge still retained temperatures of over a thousand degrees, and white mist hissed as it rose from the cooling tanks. However, the batch of sword blanks that had just been pressed into their embryonic shapes on the transport track were abruptly stuck halfway.
A murmur quickly rose in the workshop as the workers exchanged bewildered glances, still clutching the high-frequency etching pens used to imprint spirit patterns.
"What happened?"
"Did the spiritual pressure furnace trip?"
"Impossible! The Ninth Line order is an urgent one for the East China Sea Theater. Yesterday, the factory manager said that even if the sky falls, this batch of goods still has to be shipped!"
No one could answer that.
A few minutes later, the factory's loudspeaker, accompanied by a strong electrical noise, coldly announced:
"Following the joint instructions from the Coordination Agency and the Military Industry Administration, effective immediately, the production plan for the 'Po Jun Type III' standard flying swords is completely suspended; all high-level array pattern superposition experiments are suspended; all unfinished swords are sealed in place pending re-inspection."
As soon as the broadcast ended, the entire giant factory, capable of holding 30,000 people, fell into a deathly silence.
This is not a temporary maintenance.
This was the sprint phase at its highest speed, when the top management slammed on the brakes and killed it.
……
The atmosphere in the factory manager's office was so oppressive that it made one's chest feel heavy.
"Production suspended?!"
The burly man, his face covered in coal dust and engine oil, and wearing a badge that read "Advanced Refiner" on his chest, slammed the official document onto the table, veins bulging on his forehead.
"The Third, Fifth, and Eighth War Zones are all desperately needing supplies! The casualty rate of the flying swords at the front lines is rising every day; they're risking their lives to replenish them! And now you're casually announcing a production halt? Do you expect the brothers at the front lines to go on patrol with entrenching tools, or do you expect them to go into the air and fight monsters bare-handed?!"
The special envoy sent by the Coordinating Agency did not refute this.
He simply opened the metal combination lock box he had brought with him, took out three items, and placed them on the table one by one.
A "Broken Army Type III" sword with a severely chipped blade.
A fragment broken off from the middle of the sword's spine.
And a battle damage recovery slip with bloodstains and mud marks.
The factory manager was initially suppressing his anger, but when he saw the terrible state of the sword with the eyes of an old weapon refiner, the muscles on his face twitched violently.
The sword is still intact, but the problem is not on the surface.
The spirit-guiding plating, representing the pinnacle of modern craftsmanship, has largely turned gray and peeled off. The fine array patterns that were originally embedded in the spine of the sword seem to have been forcibly burned away by the high temperature from the inside.
The most fatal flaw is the location of the break.
It wasn't a smooth gap severed by external force, but rather a result of layers of fine metal fatigue cracks spreading out and breaking off from the inside.
"This was recovered by the forward patrol team of the Fifth War Zone last night." The special envoy's voice was deep. "It wasn't the main battlefield, it wasn't a beast tide outbreak, and it wasn't a head-on clash with monsters."
"It was just a routine high-frequency patrol, plus two rounds of medium-intensity clearing and sweeping operations."
"However, the average lifespan of this batch of newly manufactured flying swords is less than a week, and the first batch's failure rate has already exceeded 38%."
The factory manager didn't say anything, but simply turned the sword over and looked at it, then rubbed his fingers heavily on the brittle, sandy fracture.
"If it's just a chipped blade, a dent, or even broken in two, the factory can remelt it." The special envoy pulled up the second report and pushed it in front of the factory manager. "But the problem with this batch of flying swords lies inside..."
The holographic main screen lights up.
Microscopic cross-sectional images of the metal were magnified. Fine, spiderweb-like cracks were spreading to both sides along the crystal structure of the sword ridge, while large areas of repulsion and separation appeared between the guiding layer and the substrate.
"Now, investment has increased in all directions, but the resources we receive have actually decreased. Patrols, mopping-up operations, escorts, and perimeter security of historical sites are all being carried out at high frequency and under heavy load with our true energy."
"Once a flying sword is on the battlefield, it becomes a consumable item that is used continuously. I have also read the high-level flying sword test report you submitted. It incorporates the remnants of an ancient thunder magic array, and the design theory is excellent. However, during the physical verification, cracks appeared on the spine of the sword after only 30% of the true essence was injected. After injecting 50%, it exploded on the spot."
The special envoy stared intently at the factory director: "It's not that we don't want you to build better flying swords, but the common materials currently available on this planet simply cannot create swords capable of supporting the next era."
Faced with the harsh reality, the entire weapon-making plant bowed its head in frustration.
This is neither the technician's fault nor the fault of the blueprints.
This is a classic case of "even a skilled cook can't make a meal without rice."
......
After news of the suspension of Flying Sword's supply spread, the entire society fell into deeper anxiety.
The military was frantic; the lack of qualified flying swords for highly mobile cultivators was like a tiger with its teeth pulled out.
Those astute powerful families immediately pounced like sharks smelling blood. The Wang and Li families began secretly selling their privately held "exquisite flying swords" mixed with ancient cold iron on the black market, driving prices to outrageously high levels.
That afternoon, the Kyoto High Coordination Agency.
A tense, closed-door meeting was underway. Top materials science experts from the Academy of Sciences, chief engineers from military factories, and powerful military leaders were all present.
On the holographic projection in the center of the conference room, the exploration data of all known mineral veins and associated spiritual veins on Earth are densely listed.
The top line of text is extremely eye-catching:
[Monthly consumption increase of high-level Spirit Inheritance materials: 287%]
The following lines are more like a countdown:
[Companion Spirit Gold Fragment Inventory: Falls into Red Alert Zone]
[High-purity cold iron powder inventory: only enough to replenish current battle losses]
[Recovery of Relic Fragments: Only Enough to Support the Next Round of Mass Production of Sword Emblems]
A war zone general, unable to contain his anger any longer, slammed his fist on the table, shattering the deathly silence.
"Stopping production now is fine! But how will we fill the gaps at the front lines?"
"The Flying Sword is life itself for the mobile forces! If you stop today, who will cover the high-mobility patrols, air support, and short-range breaching of the defenses tomorrow? Are you going to throw lives at them?!"
Professor Wang Mingyuan stood up and displayed a set of data on the main screen.
On one hand, there's the soaring combat losses curve of flying swords in various war zones over the past three months.
On one side is a flat curve showing the inventory and purification speed of high-grade raw materials.
The two lines, one steep and one flat, intersect to form an ugly, deadly scissor gap.
"Our proud industrial refining system has been driven into a dead end of raw material depletion by the high intensity of war preparedness," Wang Mingyuan said calmly, but every word was like a heavy hammer blow.
"We can continue to make low- to mid-tier standard flying swords, but they can only be used as consumables. The reserves of high-tier materials that can withstand high-frequency spirit infusion, long-term patrols, and the shock of actual combat are already very limited on this planet."
"Exoskeletons, mechs, city defense bases, military heavy cybernetic bodies... all the production lines are using the same batch of high-grade raw materials."
Wang Mingyuan scanned the entire room: "Continuing to blindly open up production is not saving the front line, but burning down the very foundation for the future survival of all mankind."
The room became completely quiet.
Technology has not lost, but at this moment, humanity's industrial machinery must bow its head in embarrassment and acknowledge a cold reality:
Without high-grade spirit-inheriting materials, it's impossible to create higher-level flying swords and mechs. This isn't admitting defeat; it's reality.
The atmosphere became increasingly tense as the meeting progressed.
The military should prioritize protecting the defense lines, and the city's defense system should prioritize protecting the base of the defenses.
And the powerful clans also reached out their hands at almost the same time.
They began to proactively offer their stockpiled high-grade raw materials and exquisite flying swords, willing to "cooperate in overall planning," on the condition that priority access to trial use, priority in price negotiation, and priority in research and development be granted to them.
But this time, the Coordinating Agency firmly chopped off the powerful factions' claws.
"Wartime raw materials will be centrally managed! Any high-grade spirit-inheriting ores, associated spirit metals, cold iron concentrates, and remnant recovery materials will be given priority for inclusion in the highest-level military and theater-level support systems!"
The chief executive of the Coordinating Department's eyes were icy cold: "Anyone who dares to hoard, smuggle, or profiteer at this critical juncture... shall be executed on the spot!"
With the ten-year deadline looming overhead, this violent machine finally bared its sharpest fangs, leaving no room for further negotiation.
……
It was in this stifling silence, almost solidified, that everyone grew restless and anxious because they couldn't find a way out.
A young researcher sitting in the corner slowly raised his head.
He wasn't a weapon refiner, nor a military general. He belonged to the peripheral "Orbital Resources Group," where his usual work involved near-Earth observation and space debris analysis. At this level of meeting, he wouldn't normally be the one to speak.
But he had been staring at that "Global Raw Material Inventory Map" for a long time.
"The newly formed mineral belts on the earth's surface are indeed growing."
"We can still risk our lives to dig deeper into the ruins."
"But the production speed of these two lines is absolutely insufficient to make up for our current consumption gap in the short term..."
His voice wasn't loud, but it made all the arguing bigwigs in the room instinctively look over.
The young researcher pursed his chapped lips, as if trying to bolster his courage. Then, he slowly raised his hand, reaching across the crowd, and pointed to the massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall at the far end of the conference room.
The night was deep.
The fortress city below shone with a divine light, while thick clouds pressed down on the sky like an iron curtain.
At the end of that gray curtain, a slender, cold, massive silhouette, constructed entirely of steel and almost reaching the sky, stood silently, its beacon light flickering faintly.
Space elevator.
The meeting room was completely silent.
The young researcher stared intently at the colossal metallic shadow hanging high in the night, extending into the outer atmosphere, and uttered a sentence with difficulty:
"Generals, Professor..."
"Since the high-level materials on the surface are no longer sufficient."
"Shouldn't we... look up and look at the sky?"