Tech Giants: Starting from Bankrupt Companies

247: Chapter 247 Dragon’s Roar Unsheathed1:30 PM, outside Hall 5 of the Shenzhen International Convention and Exhibition Center

If the security check at Hall 4 in the morning was called strict, then the security at Hall 5 could only be described as ”militarized.”

Three cordons were distributed in concentric circles:

Outer layer: Convention center security, verifying eligibility to enter the area.

Middle layer: Golden Shield security special task force, conducting initial screening with portable security equipment.

Inner layer: Military personnel and National Security joint duty, performing final identity verification.

Every entrant needed to pass through:

Verification of identification documents and ”military-grade invitations” (invitations with built-in RFID chips and optical anti-counterfeiting watermarks).

Iris scanning.

Fingerprint comparison.

Full-body metal detection plus detailed scanning with handheld detectors.

Inspection of personal electronic devices (phones, tablets, and recording pens were all temporarily stored and returned upon departure).

Signing a non-disclosure agreement: Prohibiting photography, recording, or documenting technical parameters.

”Sir, your invitation cannot pass verification.”

At the security checkpoint, a middle-aged white man wearing glasses, claiming to be a ”representative of a Canadian Mining Equipment Company,” was stopped.

”That’s impossible, I am formally invited,” he protested with a heavy American Midwestern accent.

The National Security officer on duty pulled up tablet data expressionlessly: ”Mr. John Mitchell, your company was founded three months ago with a registered capital of only 100,000 Canadian dollars and no actual business. According to the risk assessment, you do not meet the entry criteria.”

”This is discrimination! I want to complain...”

”You may complain,” the National Security officer made a ”please” gesture. ”The complaint window is over there. But please do not obstruct the entry of those behind you.”

Two Golden Shield security personnel stepped forward, politely but firmly escorting this ”John Mitchell” away from the line.

At an observation point not far away, Lei Zhan reported through an encrypted headset: ”The third one. David Cohen from the U.S. Department of Defense’s Office of Technical Assessment; his disguise was seen through. The first two were from MI6 and the French Directorate-General for External Security.”

In the second-floor command center, Su Chen watched the surveillance footage: ”Let them go. Today is not suitable for conflict.”

”Understood.”

1:45 PM, VIP entrance

When a motorcade consisting of eight Rolls-Royces and twelve Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUVs drove in, all the media lenses instantly focused.

The door of the Rolls-Royce Phantom in the center of the motorcade opened, and a man in his thirties, wearing a white robe and a red-and-white checkered headdress, stepped out.

The Deputy Minister of Defense of Saudi Arabia—Prince Fahd bin Salman.

This member of the royal family, known for being shrewd and pragmatic, had a legendary track record in the field of defense procurement. Three years ago, he had defied all opinions to cancel a $12 billion procurement of the American ”THAAD” anti-missile system at the last moment, turning instead to introduce China’s Red Flag-9 air defense missiles, causing an uproar in the West.

”Your Highness, may I ask what your target procurement amount is for today?” an Arabic-speaking reporter who had squeezed to the front row shouted.

Prince Fahd smiled slightly and replied in fluent English: ”That depends on what Xingchen Defense can show us. If the goods are good enough, money is not an issue.”

A typical Saudi-style answer—bold, but never blind.

Just as he was about to enter, another black Audi A8 slowly pulled up. A burly Slav in his fifties, wearing a dark gray suit and a serious expression, stepped out of the car.

The Vice President of Rosoboronexport—Igor Petrov.

The two met at the security checkpoint, locked eyes, and then simultaneously reached out their hands.

”Igor, I didn’t expect Moscow to be interested as well.” Fahd’s grip was strong when they shook hands.

”New technology is always worth a look,” Igor’s voice was low, ”especially... new technology from a friend.”

The two walked side-by-side toward the security channel. This scene was recorded by dozens of cameras; one could almost foresee that an hour later, the headlines of Western media would be: ”Sino-Russian Military Cooperation Heating Up? Changes in Middle Eastern Geopolitical Landscape?”

The security process was equally strict for these two, but more efficient—because their identities had long been registered in the database.

After passing security, Prince Fahd whispered to Igor: ”I heard you want missile technology?”

Igor remained impassive: ”I heard you want production lines?”

The two looked at each other and smiled, sharing a tacit understanding.

They knew that today was not just about the relationship between buyer and seller, but also a delicate balance between potential partners and competitors.

1:55 PM, second-floor command center

The large screen in the command center was divided into sixteen frames, displaying all key points inside and outside Hall 5 in real-time.

Su Chen sat in the center position with three touchscreens in front of him: the left showed a heat map of people in the venue, the center showed the real-time dynamics of various national representatives, and the right was Xingchen Defense’s core data panel.

”32 people from the Saudi delegation, 18 from Russia, 12 from Iran, 15 from Pakistan, 10 from the UAE, 8 from Qatar...” Lin Wan reported quickly. ”Official representatives from Europe and the US were all rejected, but seven ’commercial representatives’ from defense companies like Raytheon, Lockheed, Boeing Defense, and BAE Systems managed to get in; they are all under surveillance.”

”What about Japan and South Korea?”

”Representatives from Japan’s Mitsubishi Heavy Industries and Kawasaki Heavy Industries applied under the guise of ’civilian technology exchange’ and were rejected by us. On the South Korean side... people from Samsung C&T wanted to enter and were also rejected.”

Su Chen nodded: ”Today is not a technical exchange meeting; it’s a weapons trade show. We only welcome real buyers, not spies.”

The video call interface lit up, and Xingchen Defense CEO Gu Xinghe appeared on the screen. Today he was wearing a dark green military-style casual uniform without rank insignia, but his posture was upright and his eyes were as sharp as an eagle’s.

”CEO Gu, are you ready?” Su Chen asked.

”All demonstration equipment is in place, the live-fire test range is ready, and the satellite broadcast link is encrypted,” Gu Xinghe’s voice was steady and powerful. ”President Su, what goal are we aiming for today?”

Su Chen was silent for three seconds before slowly saying: ”Three goals: First, let the world know that China’s military industry is no longer just a chaser; second, provide our true friends with the tools they need; third...”

He paused: ”Set the rules. From today on, our voice must be heard in the rules of high-end weapons trade.”

”Understood.” A cold light flashed in Gu Xinghe’s eyes. ”Then let those who are used to setting the rules see what the new rules look like.”

The call ended.

Lin Wan walked to Su Chen’s side and handed over a piece of intelligence just received: ”Over at the The Pentagon, Admiral Anderson, commander of the Pacific Command, has canceled his scheduled trip to Japan; his private plane is flying to Washington. An emergency Ministry of National Defense meeting is scheduled for two hours after our press conference begins.”

The corners of Su Chen’s mouth curled up slightly: ”Then let their meeting... be a bit more exciting.”

He looked at the large screen; Hall 5 was already packed to capacity.

Military representatives from various countries sat in the front VIP area, each looking serious. In the middle rows were defense procurement officials and technical experts from various nations, with notebooks and recording equipment (allowed after inspection) ready. In the back rows were reporters from a few friendly national media outlets, their lenses all aimed at the empty stage.

A complex mixture of expectation, skepticism, and tension permeated the air.

This was a true ”big man’s game,” and the stakes were the regional balance of power for the coming decades.

Su Chen took one last look at the time: 1:58 PM.

Two minutes remained before the Dragon’s Roar was unsheathed.