Chapter 80: The Grand Entertainment Complex

During the landing, Huang Shang nearly crashed the plane into the side, but fortunately, the intelligent system corrected the course in time, allowing for a safe touchdown. Even though it wasn't a real fighter jet, this Panda model was still quite expensive. Huang Shang removed his helmet and, upon closer inspection, found sweat on his face, and a large part of his suit was already soaked through.

He glanced at Zhu Lan and walked outside. The other four, noticing his state, hurried after him, while Zhu Lan shook her head with a smile and followed along. After stepping off the remote-control system truck, they could see the freshly landed Panda securely parked not far away.

Huang Shang practically climbed onto the Panda, inspecting every detail of the craft. Zhu Changming looked at him, puzzled, and asked, "What's wrong?" But Huang Shang didn't answer, instead continuing his thorough examination around the Panda. Zhu Lan made no move to stop him, letting him check as he pleased.

By the end of his inspection, Huang Shang's clothes were stained all over, with smudges of black on his face and hands.

“Wow!” Gu Xiaobei was startled by his appearance.

“Sorry, I got a bit too excited!” Huang Shang grinned, his white teeth flashing—looking for all the world as though he'd just returned from Africa.

Shangguan Qiaoning covered her mouth, chuckling and shaking her head in resignation.

“Zhu Lan, I have a question.”

“Go ahead,” Zhu Lan replied with a gentle smile, standing quietly without laughing.

“In my opinion, this aircraft is already on par with current military drones. If I’m not mistaken, the military must be aware of this kind of model fighter's existence, right?”

Zhu Lan was a bit surprised; it seemed the military’s information lockdown had been truly effective. Even people like them knew nothing of the incident that occurred around the city the day the dealership rights changed hands.

But it was understandable. After that day, the military and the provincial government jointly issued a public notice, claiming spies had stolen state secrets—it was just a cover for the arrests and ensuing skirmishes. With the military and state going to great lengths to cover things up, very few people knew what had actually happened.

As for the mercenaries who managed to escape, they certainly wouldn’t broadcast their humiliating failure, so both sides tacitly avoided mentioning it, and the whole affair gradually faded from memory.

Zhu Lan nodded.

“Then why are there still some left here?” Huang Shang couldn’t understand. If the Panda fighter was so formidable, why hadn’t the military confiscated them all? And with Fantasy Tech as the manufacturer, why hadn’t anything happened to them?

Zhu Lan shook her head with a smile. “I built sixteen Panda-14s, including prototypes—it’s nineteen in total. But right now, apart from a single prototype, only eight remain here. The rest were taken by the military four days ago.”

“I see,” Huang Shang nodded, finally understanding.

The others, though a bit confused by the technicalities, got the gist of what Huang Shang meant.

Now, the four found themselves even more astonished. Huang Shang’s high praise for the model plane proved the War Club wasn’t just some frivolous endeavor.

They had been skeptical of Fantasy Tech’s manufacturing capabilities—after all, their main product was a gene optimization serum for biologicals, and making models was an entirely different field. But now it was clear their earlier concerns were unfounded.

On the very day Luo Guoqiang came demanding answers, Li Hongjin had taken ten planes and a set of remote-control systems away. Zhu Lan had no idea what the military thought about these model planes she’d built on a whim—once taken, there was no further news, but she didn't concern herself with them anyway.

The Panda-14 was based on the previous generation of American carrier-based aircraft, and detailed information was readily available online. After the U.S. switched to the -18, they sold off many retired -14s, even listing China among the potential buyers.

Unfortunately, there weren’t many countries with a need for carrier-based aircraft, and those unable to manufacture them didn’t consider the American models. At the time, the Soviet and European carrier aircraft were just as capable as the -14, and, more importantly, the -14 was prohibitively expensive. Few could afford it, and besides the high price, the U.S. set many political conditions.

So, despite selling a fair number, most -14s ended up in storage or were scrapped for parts. Many countries simply dumped obsolete -14s in underground warehouses. Thus, finding detailed data online was easy. With Red Queen’s help, building a 1:5 scale replica posed no problem at all. As for the engines, Zhu Lan simply manifested real fighter engines and had Red Queen scale them down for the model -14.

“You’ve seen the plane; now let’s take a look at the tank we finished just yesterday,” Zhu Lan said, waving to some people in the distance. They brought bottles of water over to Huang Shang.

Huang Shang didn’t stand on ceremony, cleaning himself up as he looked at Zhu Lan in surprise. “You made a land warfare model too?”

“Of course. I have high hopes for this project. The moment I returned, I had the team start on it. It was a rush, but we managed to finish a prototype.”

“Let’s go have a look!” someone suggested.

Warehouse One opened, and though it was mostly empty, the tank in the center was impossible to miss—about the size of an off-road vehicle, but larger.

“Leopard 2?” Huang Shang immediately recognized the Leopard 2 main battle tank.

“That’s right, it’s the Leopard 2—currently, the only land warfare model we’ve built.”

Compared to other famous tanks like the American M1, Russian T-90, or China’s Type 96 and 99 main battle tanks, the Leopard 2 was more suitable for Zhu Lan’s current needs.

First, the Leopard 2 was a German joint venture, serving in many countries. Though modernized, it still wasn’t as advanced as the M1, T-90, or Type 96A. Second, information on the Leopard 2 was easier to find, and building this model wouldn’t bring complications. Zhu Lan had wanted to make a Type 99, but lacking the necessary data, she could only construct a shell at best.

“Is it just like the Panda?” Zhu Changming asked, looking at Zhu Lan.

“Of course. I’ve said it before: built as realistically as possible. Although this Leopard 2 doesn’t match the real tank in every aspect, the major components—the weapon systems, power systems, reconnaissance systems—are all faithfully reproduced.”

“Can I give it a try?”

“Certainly. The remote-control system isn’t ready yet, but you can operate it manually.” Zhu Lan beckoned someone over, who handed her a device resembling a remote control, which she then passed to Zhu Changming.

“While the long-range control isn’t finished, the short-range controller works. Want to give it a go?”

Zhu Changming grabbed it instantly. “How does it work?”

“The two red buttons control forward and reverse, blue handles each track, and the joystick rotates the turret.”

Zhu Changming fiddled with it, but the Leopard 2 didn’t respond.

“Why isn’t it working?”

“You idiot, you didn’t even turn it on. Let me!” Gu Xiaobei snatched the controller, flipped the power switch, and, once the signal was fully synced, pressed the button with a grin.

The Leopard 2 belched a puff of black smoke and started to move slowly.

“Wow!” Seeing the tank actually move, Gu Xiaobei was delighted, operating the Leopard 2 out of the warehouse and onto the open ground outside.

Fortunately, the area was originally designed for eight lanes—enough to line up eight tanks side by side—so a single Leopard 2 had plenty of space to maneuver.

Gu Xiaobei would occasionally accelerate, drifting at top speed and nearly crashing into the warehouse wall, but managed to stop in time. Seeing his excitement, Zhu Changming took over, then Huang Shang had a turn as well. They all felt the allure of the model tank, only stopping when they were dripping with sweat under the hot sun.

Zhu Lan tossed the remote to a bodyguard to drive the tank back into the warehouse and led the group to the office. Kong Yan had already prepared tea, and the group, feeling comfortable with Zhu Lan, helped themselves without hesitation.

Zhu Lan said nothing, waiting until they’d all cooled down.

Ding Jiacheng and Shangguan Qiaoning sipped their tea slowly.

“So, what do you think of the War Club?” Zhu Lan asked, smiling.

“In a word—fantastic!” Gu Xiaobei blurted out, unconstrained.

The others all nodded. Though they’d agreed to invest in the War Club on the surface, they’d been doubtful of Fantasy Tech’s capabilities. Today’s hands-on experience with the plane and tank had erased those doubts—even if the rest of the project was mediocre, these two features alone were enough to make the War Club a success.

They all understood that the War Club wasn’t about making money—it was about building connections.

Once it opened, only the wealthy and powerful would come. The older generation might not be interested, but among the younger elite, most would be drawn in. With the club as a platform, many would come to play, and in time, the War Club would become a nexus of influence, connecting countless power players across the country. In China, nothing is more important than connections—not power, not money. With the right network, anything is possible, even getting away with murder or arson.

Though each of them was already a “prince” or “princess” of the elite, who wouldn’t want more connections? Right now, they relied on the influence of their elders. But if those elders were to lose their positions, a lack of connections could spell the abrupt downfall of even the most illustrious family.

Why do the children of the powerful flock to exclusive clubs? To build their networks, of course.

“We all know the true nature of the War Club; no need to say more. I’m increasing my investment—from the original 1.5 billion to 3 billion,” Ding Jiacheng announced, his words stunning the others. Quiet as he was, he saw things more clearly than anyone.

“I’ll increase mine too!”

“So will I!”

Aside from Huang Shang, even Shangguan Qiaoning raised her investment by five to two billion each. The five of them now had a total investment of 17 billion, nearly doubling the original sum—a testament to their understanding of the War Club’s potential. If they could secure a leading share, the benefits would far outweigh those of mere profit.

The biggest obstacle for the War Club was the military, but with Zhu Lan’s arrangements, that issue was already resolved. Any remaining minor problems—land, for instance—could easily be handled by anyone present.

“Your requests aren’t an issue; in fact, I was considering turning the War Club into a large-scale entertainment complex, combining leisure and recreation.”

“A large entertainment complex?” Zhu Lan’s words caught everyone’s attention. The War Club had originally been envisioned as a model-based war game venue, but with additional entertainment options, it could become far more—a new elite entertainment center, perhaps. There were only three places in all of China capable of gathering large numbers of the elite’s children; if they could leverage the War Club into a new venue, the impact would be far greater.

“In that case, the current budget won’t be enough,” Shangguan Qiaoning noted, more aware than anyone of the enormous investment such a project would require.

Just the hotel investment for the one in Yanjing alone exceeded fourteen billion, its luxury rivaling even Dubai’s seven-star hotels, with over two hundred entertainment halls and a constant stream of models and second- and third-tier celebrities hoping for a lucky break.

(To be continued.)