Dreadnought

This book is somewhat of a documentary, without a protagonist who single-handedly defeats the world; it also utilizes external forces. It features cunning and ruthless tactics. The main timeline revolves around the founding of the nation, defeating the "Little Rizhi" (a fictional character), plunging them into an economic crisis, and the protagonist's intervention to help them. He establishes the Lanfang Labor Service Company, sending the "idle" Little Rizhi's division to Europe as mercenaries. The protagonist not only earns small sums of money from Britain, France, and Germany, but also takes a cut of Little Rizhi's labor fees.

Note: "Little Days" refers to chapters 170 and onwards!!!

Note 2: Because this book involves intimate details, it might get locked up in a dark room, so please add it to your bookshelf to prevent losing it!

The core of this book is not "how to win a war," but rather "war itself is a business, and international politics is a survival competition." It profoundly exposes the operating logic of imperialism, colonialism, and nationalism, weighing "human life," "dignity," and "national interests" on a scale, and is full of realistic cruelty and reflection.

The salty sea breeze, carrying the unique heat of the Persian Gulf, blew across the simple wooden pier of Dubai Port. Chen Feng stood on a newly built concrete viewing platform, his gaze sweeping over the row of steel behemoths before him, and a genuinely relaxed smile, unseen for three years, finally appeared on his lips.

Ten ships.

Ten Dreadnought-class battleships, as if measured by a divine ruler, were neatly moored on the azure waters of the Persian Gulf. Each ship was over 160 meters long, 25 meters wide, and displaced 18,000 tons. The ten twin 305mm main gun turrets gleamed with a cold metallic sheen in the June sun of 1905.

"Young master, the sea breeze is getting strong."

An aged yet respectful voice came from behind him. Chen Feng didn't need to turn around to know that it was Uncle Wang—the person he trusted most in this era, one of the few remaining elders among the remnants of the Lanfang Republic, who was now serving as his chief steward.

"Let them watch a little longer." Chen Feng didn't turn around; his gaze remained fixed on the massive steel ships. "For the past three years, all of us have been waiting for this day."

Three years ago, Chen Feng was "exiled" from a 21st-century librarian to this era. The system provided him with an Industry 1.0 base. He also had a laptop computer, its memory crammed with information downloaded from Baidu Encyclopedia, ranging from metallurgical processes to ship design, from the principles of internal combustion engines to chemical production.

No internet, but plenty of knowledge.

More importantly, the person he transmigrated into was also named Chen Feng, twenty years old, whose ancestors were high-ranking officials in the Lanfang Republic of Southeast Asia. After the Dutch annexed the Lanfang Republic at the end of the 19th century, the Chen family went into exile overseas, and by his generation, they were the nominal leaders among the Lanfang orphans.

"The system's choice of this identity is truly well-thought-out," Chen Feng once chuckled bitterly at the desert night sky. The Lanfang Republic—a Chinese nation established in Borneo from 1777 to 1884—though defunct, still has hundreds of thousands of its remnants scattered throughout Southeast Asia. They retain the Chinese language, the memory of their homeland, and the humiliation and resentment of being expelled by colonizers.

Three years ago, Chen Feng issued a call to action to various parts of Southeast Asia in the name of "Lanfang Restoration". The response was unexpectedly large - 30,000, 50,000, 100,000... In three years, more than 300,000 Lanfang descendants or their descendants crossed the Indian Ocean and came to the southern shore of the Persian Gulf, which was almost ignored at the time.

"The Ottoman Empire's control here was limited to collecting taxes once a year," Chen Feng once explained. "The British were busy managing India and Egypt, the French were making a fuss in North Africa, and the Americans hadn't extended their reach that far yet. As for oil..." Chen Feng shook his head, "That black gold wouldn't be discovered on a large scale for another decade or so. But right now, it's all mine!"

Favorable timing and advantageous location.

With the support of the people, there are 300,000 Lanfang residents who yearn to rebuild their homes.

"Have the last batch of workers been evacuated from the shipyard?" Chen Feng finally turned around and looked at Uncle Wang.

The old man wore a simple gray long gown, his hair gray but meticulously combed. "They were all evacuated yesterday. All ten warships, according to the young master's design, are complete. The ammunition depots are full, the coal bunkers are full, and the freshwater system has been tested." He paused, "but..."

"Just what?"

"But these ten ships are too deep. Most of the Persian Gulf isn't deep enough, so they can only anchor in this deep-water area for now." Uncle Wang pointed to a small area outside Dubai Port on the map. "If they really want to sail out, they'll have to carefully navigate the deep-water channels."

Chen Feng nodded: "That's enough. We're not going to use them to fight a war—at least not now."

He stepped down from the observation deck and onto the wooden floor of the dock. Three years ago, this was just a barren beach; now, three large dry docks, five wharves, and an industrial zone stretching for several kilometers have been built here. Black smoke billows from the chimneys of the steel mill, the rhythmic rumble of steam hammers echoes from the workshops of the machine shop, and the steam turbines of the power plant run 24 hours a day.

Three hundred thousand people.

Among them, 50,000 were skilled workers of various trades—there was never a shortage of skilled craftsmen among the Chinese in Southeast Asia. Carpenters, blacksmiths, shipwrights, mechanics... Under the guidance of modern knowledge provided by Chen Feng, they completed in three years what would have taken twenty or thirty years in the early stages of the Industrial Revolution to achieve.

"Have all the emails been sent out?" Chen Feng asked.

"Send them all out according to the list given by the young master." Uncle Wang took out a list from his pocket, "British Admiralty, French Admiralty, German Admiralty, Austro-Hungarian Admiralty, Italy, United States, Japan, Russia, Argentina, Brazil, Chile... a total of seventeen countries."

"What about a reply?"

A complex expression appeared on Uncle Wang's face: "Only three are willing to come."

Chen Feng stopped in his tracks: "Which three?"

"Germany, Austria-Hungary, Argentina." Wang Bo handed him a telegram. "The other countries either didn't reply or politely declined. The British Admiralty's reply was the briefest: 'The Royal Navy of the British Empire has no interest in shipbuilding outside of Britain.'"

Chen Feng took the telegram, glanced at it, and suddenly smiled. He naturally knew that the British had begun working on dreadnoughts, but their dreadnoughts were still on paper; the first keel wouldn't be laid for another three months!

"Young master, are you not disappointed?"

"What's disappointing?" Chen Feng handed the telegram back to Uncle Wang. "The British are number one in the world now, so it's normal for them to look down on other countries' products. The French are just like the British. Japan and Russia are locked in a fierce battle in the Far East and have no time to care about things thousands of miles away. The Americans are pursuing the Monroe Doctrine and are very wary of European arms dealers."

He looked at the ten giant ships on the sea: "Three clients, that's enough. The Germans are building ships like crazy to challenge Britain, Austria-Hungary wants a place in the Mediterranean, and Argentina and Chile are engaged in a naval arms race—they're all coming."

"But ten ships, three customers..."

"Uncle Wang, do you know what the Dreadnought-class battleships mean to the navies of various countries today?" Chen Feng interrupted him.

The old man shook his head.

"It means obsolete," Chen Feng said, making a startling statement. "It's not just these ships that are obsolete, but all the capital ships currently in service worldwide—they are all obsolete."

He pointed to the nearest warship: "305mm main guns, steam turbine power, 21 knots speed, and full heavy armor protection. What are the capital ships of various countries now? Mixed caliber main guns, reciprocating steam engines, 18 knots is considered fast, and the armor distribution is unreasonable." He paused, "The British have already designed the HMS Dreadnought, but its keel won't be laid until this October, it will be launched next year, and commissioned the year after. And us—"

Chen Feng opened his arms: "There are already ten."

Uncle Wang took a deep breath: "I understand now. Young Master wants to... lead the trend?"

"No," Chen Feng shook his head, "We need to sell them for a good price. With the money from these ten ships, we can build more factories, smelt more steel, and build more ships. Then..." He looked eastward, "Lanfang needs a real piece of land, and Nanyang, in the end, must be returned to."