I built an armada.

Behind him, on the display shelf, a crudely made metal model that showed no resemblance to electromagnetic weapons—probably the so-called "Ganges God of War" K-type prototype—was deliberately placed in the most conspicuous position, gleaming with a cheap metallic luster!
"Send the contract over now...sign it electronically...payment...immediately...to your account..."

Trump's voice was hoarse and low, like the curse of a demon from hell, almost as if each word was ground up and squeezed out from between his teeth!

He looked at the smug, self-satisfied black face in the picture and wished he could reach through the screen and tear this shameless fat pig to pieces!

"remember--!
One month!!!

"It's a pleasure doing business with you! My good chief! Shiva blesses you!"

The Indian king laughed exaggeratedly, raised his grape glass in the distance towards the screen, and made a mock toasting gesture.

The moment the screen went out, a murderous intent, like frozen ice, emanated from the depths of Trump's eyes!

This debt... once he gets his hands on that damn "Shiva Purification" and uses it to slap Long Xia's face in front of the whole world... he'll definitely make those mudskippers of India pay!
Tenfold! A hundredfold repayment for the blood debt! With interest!

New Delhi.

Block D3 is a secret underground research base of the Indian tribe's Ministry of National Defense.

The air was filled with an indescribable stench—a mixture of cheap spices, sweat, the fishy smell of Ganges mud, and a thick, pungent electrical odor reminiscent of burnt expired grease.

"Clang! Crash—!"

A cheap, rough-hewn ceramic cup was slammed onto the greasy, water-stained alloy test bench! The dark brown, low-quality milk tea liquid immediately mixed with shards of white porcelain and scattered everywhere!

"Useless! They're all useless!!"

Lieutenant General Shaha, the chief of the Indian Defense Strategic Science Project, with tanned, shiny skin, a thick Mediterranean hairstyle, and a bloated, decaying belly, roared furiously at a group of trembling technical officers in wrinkled white lab coats! His spittle sprayed onto the tangled, crackling coils next to him!
"One month! King Raman only gave us one month! We need to produce an electromagnetic pulse weapon prototype to complete 'shipborne testing'! It also needs to be able to disable warships! To create an effect that shocks the world! Tell me..."

He grabbed several sheets of paper on the experimental table, which were covered with complex circuits but marked with red crosses and large oil stains, and shook them loudly!
"...Just these piles of electronic waste?!"
How can these junk salvaged from garbage collectors be made into the 'Shiva Purification' that Mr. Eagle paid 10 billion US dollars for?!

The atmosphere in the entire underground laboratory was so oppressive it was almost palpable! Deathly silence! Only the pile of experimental subjects cobbled together from the cores of discarded industrial microwave ovens continued their futile buzzing, emitting dizzying low-frequency vibrations and a smell of burnt… um? Curry lamb chops?!

Shah's eyes were bloodshot with rage! Sweat soaked through the front of his worn-out general's uniform, its original color long since faded. Fear coiled around his heart like a venomous snake! King Raman didn't want any real weapons!

That king is a warlord who plays politics and only knows how to line his own pocket!

He doesn't care about electromagnetic principles or pulse spectrum!
What he wanted was an explanation that he could use to get by!
A "big commotion" that will satisfy the Eagle Master in the video!
A new leverage point for further blackmail at the negotiating table!
One month! If we can't build it! Forget about our official positions! We'll all be dead, drowning in the mud of the Ganges!

"General... General..."

A middle-aged technical officer, also covered in sweat and with lamb chop grease stains on his white coat, peeked out shakily from behind a pile of old equipment in the corner, his voice trembling so much it was almost falling apart.

"I...we...don't we...have some 'that' too?"

"Which one?!"

Shaha turned around and roared furiously!
The officer swallowed hard and pointed to the deepest part of the base, towards a row of warehouse doors firmly sealed by thick radiation-proof lead plates!

“...It was...it was last year, obtained from...from intelligence dealers on the periphery of the ‘Far East Dragon Nest’...the Dragon Summer Tribe...early...EMP Lab...design...concept fragments…”

He spoke very vaguely, his eyes darting around!

Those weren't obtained at all! Instead, they took advantage of a so-called "international cooperation data sharing conference," bribed the guards and cleaners with a few pretty girls and US dollars, and secretly took a few blurry scraps of draft paper with a miniature camera. These scraps were probably discarded as waste paper in the trash cans of the old Longxia research base!

"A few scraps of paper!!! What good are they?!"

Enraged, Shaha kicked over a plastic stool next to him that was filled with discarded resistors and capacitors!

"But General!"

The officer suddenly raised his voice slightly, a glint of madness and desperation flashing in his eyes!

"Those things... mentioned... a new type of... conductive... or confinement material concept called 'Dragon Scales'! There were also several key... high-energy capacitor energy storage waveform diagrams! And... fragments of sketches of spatial field distortion models during pulse bursts!"

He was breathing heavily, and his voice was very low.

"...Longxia has that damned 'dragon scale' material as its core; their EMP is like Shiva's Eye of Destruction! But we... have nothing! But! Our ideas! We can..."

Like a drowning man grasping at a last straw, he abruptly turned and pointed to the pile of "Ganges" brand industrial microwave ovens that were billowing black smoke—

"...We can turn the power up to the maximum! And then add our most advanced... ultra-high voltage microwave beamforming technology! We can forcefully simulate that damned spatial distortion field! And then... and then..."

The veins on his forehead were bulging.

"...Then we'll use video! Post-production editing! And find a few shills! To make the scene look real! To create a fake 'destruction scene'! On a deserted island! Or...or find an old target ship! Plant explosives in advance! When the microwave hits, we'll control the detonation! Let it explode in a blaze of fire! Film the shattered, scrap metal! And say..."

His voice trembled with excitement.

"...Just say that the purifying light of Shiva instantly destroyed the electronic nerves of the steel warship!!! General! His Majesty...isn't this exactly what His Majesty wanted?! The eagles' lords are just watching the video from across the ocean!"

What do they know about electromagnetic pulses or microwave grilling?!

Shah's angry and terrified eyes suddenly froze!
He stared intently at the officer's almost distorted face, then slowly turned to the buzzing, increasingly pungent microwave weapon that reeked of roasted lamb chops.

That thing can only grill a fish until it's crispy on the outside and tender on the inside; it can't even interfere with a broken computer!
Silence. A deathly silence enveloped the laboratory.

Suddenly! "Gagaga..."

A piercingly sharp and extremely neurotic laugh erupted from behind the pile of microwave equipment! Saha's fat trembled violently with the hysterical laughter!
"Good! Good! Good!!"

He shoved aside the officer blocking his way and rushed to the pile of "barbecue machines," slamming his greasy, fat hand down on the largest switch, which was wrapped in red, yellow, and blue tape!

"Let's do it! Let's get started! Let's get started!!"

He yelled at the group of terrified technicians.

"Push the maximum current up! Turn this damn can up to its limit! Isn't it supposed to be roasting lamb?! I'll turn it into a light bulb! To illuminate! To illuminate our 'great achievement'!!"

The entire laboratory instantly erupted into chaos, like a swarm of wasps!
The power lines were being roughly pulled! The voltmeter needle soared wildly into the dangerous red zone! Capacitors were forcibly connected in parallel, hoping to squeeze out a pitiful amount of "power"! The acrid smell of burning grew stronger! The piercing alarm wailed incessantly!
Occasionally, small, broken parts would burst out of the dilapidated metal casing due to overheating, flying everywhere! The back of Shah's general's uniform, soaked with sweat, was stained with a dark, round wet stain from the immense heat!

He didn't care at all! Completely disregarding the danger of the equipment about to explode! He personally rushed to a dusty, high-speed camera and shouted instructions at the top of his lungs.

"Aim! Aim at that old cell tower!"

That one! Almost scrapped! Yes! That's it! Shoot! Turn on the camera! Get filming! Special effects team! Where's your smoke?! Get more smoke cans! Make the shots a bit blurry!
It makes our microwave jet look like a shockwave! Editing! Where's the editing?! In a moment, cut this shot to the explosion of the target ship model on the beach! Make it seamless! Turn up the firepower! Make it so loud it blots out the sky! Explosion sound! Turn the sound effects up to the maximum! Make it feel like it's going to burst your eardrums! Add Shiva mantras!!

The entire laboratory was in complete chaos, like a disaster movie set! This scientific research and development facility was turning into a large-scale, live-action "technology fraud" show with added special effects!
A few hours later.

Sahar lay sprawled on his cot in his equally greasy and smelly office, panting heavily like a whale that had just been brought ashore and was about to be sunburned to death.

He trembled as he pressed a greasy towel to his burning forehead. On the table lay the newly "meticulously crafted" high-definition video disc of the "Ganges God of War" K-type electromagnetic pulse weapon's "live" attack at the sea range, along with a printed, illustrated, and "shocking" test report.

On the first page of the report, a line of shocking, bold, blood-red text is overlaid on a huge, cheaply computer-generated image of an explosion.

"Shiva's Wrath! Ganges K-Type EMP - Shield Forged in the Seas!"

The report's core "achievements" section uses every flamboyant and convincing term that can fool laymen.

What "breakthrough space-focusing array technology" achieves an "instantaneous megaton-level shock wave effect," triggering a "chain reaction of electronic neurons in the target ship, causing its collapse"?

...They even solemnly listed a dense, unverifiable list of "key data," as well as several extremely blurry, fabricated screenshots depicting the so-called "moment of the target ship being attacked," complete with explosion effects and smoke obscuring the view.

A young technician, forced to sign, held the photocopy of the report, which reeked of strong ink and curry, with trembling hands and a deathly pale face.

"General...is this...is this okay? We didn't actually measure that 'waveform distortion' parameter at all. It's...it's just that I added three zeros to the approximate value from Long Xia's scrap paper draft..."

"Enough!!!"

Shaha suddenly sprang out of bed! His loud shout interrupted the young man's words!

His bloodshot eyes swept fiercely across the young man's pale face!
"I said yes! That means yes! The report His Majesty wants! The video he wants! I dare to do it! You dare to submit it! Stop with the nonsense! If you keep trembling, I'll send you to the bottom of the Ganges right now to be used as silt! Sign! Press your fingerprint! Immediately! Right now! Get out of here!!"

The young man was so frightened that he almost collapsed to the ground. He dared not say another word, and with trembling hands, he picked up the pen and wrote his name on the absurd military order with a grip that was almost too loose to hold.

Watching his assistant flee the office as if chased by a ghost, Shah finally let out a long breath of stale air, thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and despair.

He felt as if all his bones had been removed, and he slammed himself back onto the bed with a creaking sound that made your teeth ache.

Exhaustion washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet, little by little, a smile crept across his face, reaching towards his ears!

A sense of liberation that was both absurd to the extreme and incredibly clear, mixed with unspeakable irony and madness, twisted into an extremely eerie smile on the face of the laboratory's top leader.

"Dragon scale materials... Ha! If we don't have them, so be it..."

The smile grew increasingly exaggerated, but the eyes were cloudy and empty, devoid of any warmth!
"...What I want is an explanation...If even His Majesty doesn't believe it...why should I bother with this! Report...the video...send it! Send it to the palace right now! Let the great Indian King, in the name of Shiva,...light up the eagle's beacon!"

As dawn breaks through the fog of the Indian Ocean, it spills shimmering golden light onto the turbulent surface of the sea.

The lights in the precision manufacturing factory of the Eastern Wilderness tribe have been burning day and night for three consecutive months, just like the gradually expanding blood vessels deep in Noda Taro's eyes.

A huge debt weighed heavily on his mind, refusing to leave.

The core components, worth over 10 billion US dollars, are currently lying quietly in boxes in the heavily guarded warehouse of the Indian tribal defense ministry.

That was a "treasure" that Noda Taro had painstakingly produced by exhausting the top manufacturing capabilities of the Donghuang tribe and nearly emptying the working capital of several related departments.

The sweat hadn't even dried, yet the cold bill remained unclaimed. Letters demanding payment seemed to vanish without a trace, and the agents sent were repeatedly turned away by the slippery, sycophantic officials of the Indian defense department with the excuse, "It's in process."

An ominous premonition took hold and grew in Noda Taro's heart.

He could no longer sit still. He picked up the dedicated phone line and sent the signal across the vast Pacific Ocean to the Pentagon, the symbol of the power center in the Eagle Tribe.

"Hello, Lord Dalang."

Williams, the assistant minister in charge of military procurement for the Eagle Tribe, spoke with his usual lazy tone.

Noda Taro tried his best to make his tone sound calm and normal.

"Lord Williams, I apologize for disturbing you. (End of Chapter)"