Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

Chen Weiguo stared at the dark muzzle of the gun, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.

Cold sweat trickled down his temples and dripped onto his collar.

Although he had absolute trust in Shen Jinghong and was willing to take a bullet for the bureau chief, the feeling of being held at gunpoint at close range was something no normal person could bear.

"Chief...Chief, are you really going to drive?"

Chen Weiguo's voice was dry, and his chest was straight, a soldier's instinct. "If you can really defend against it, you can fire a whole magazine, let alone just one shot! But if you can't defend against it... you'll have to send my family a martyr's certificate."

The generals around them also held their breath.

That's incredibly dangerous.

If this so-called "bulletproof vest" turns out to be just a facade, then this joke has gone too far.

"Alright, I was just kidding."

Seeing Chen Weiguo's fearless stance, Shen Jinghong smiled, put away her gun, and patted him on the shoulder.

"You're my guard battalion commander. If I hurt you, who will protect my home?"

"call--"

Chen Weiguo let out a long breath; his calves were cramping a bit.

"Go, send someone to the mess hall and bring me that half-slaughtered pig's carcass!"

Shen Jinghong gave the instructions.

Soon, two cooks came running over, panting, carrying half a white pork carcass. Following Shen Jinghong's instructions, they put the drab gray vest over the pork and tied it to the target frame.

"Look at everything carefully."

Shen Jinghong raised his pistol again, this time his eyes were no longer mocking, but filled with murderous intent.

He was standing five meters away.

This distance is the death distance in close-quarters combat on the battlefield.

That's also when the bullet's penetrating power is at its strongest.

"Bang!"

A crisp gunshot rang out.

A flash of light, and the vest shuddered violently, as if it had been struck by a heavy hammer.

Everyone craned their necks.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Shen Jinghong didn't stop, firing three shots in quick succession, hitting the chest, abdomen, and side ribs respectively.

The smoke of battle has cleared.

The pork on the target stand remained hanging there, motionless.

"That's it?"

Minister Zhang asked with some doubt, "It didn't penetrate?"

"Target inspection!"

Shen Jinghong blew away the smoke from the muzzle of the gun and put it back in his waistband.

Chen Weiguo was the first to rush forward. He quickly untied the waistcoat's straps and lifted up the seemingly undamaged vest, which only had a few dents.

The lower half of the pork was exposed.

Smooth and fair.

Apart from a few minor bruises at the point of impact, not a single inch of skin was broken!

"Amazing!"

Chen Weiguo let out a strange cry, touched the piece of pork in disbelief, and then looked at the lining of his vest.

There were no bullet holes.

Where did the bullets go?

"It's here."

Shen Jinghong walked over and reached out to pick at the bullet hole on the front of the vest.

"Ding-dong."

A deformed brass bullet fell to the ground.

Then came the second one, and the third one.

All the bullets were stuck firmly in the vest's lining, like being trapped in a quagmire, unable to move an inch.

"What...what kind of material is this?"

Old Li came closer and carefully examined the broken edge of the vest with a magnifying glass.

He saw layers of fine, hair-like white fibers, and in between, pieces of hard, gray wood.

"This is a miniature version of composite armor."

Shen Jinghong explained, her tone tinged with pride:

"The outer layer is made of high-strength nylon fiber, which is used to delay the tumbling of the projectile; the middle layer is made of special alumina ceramic sheets, which are harder than steel and are specially used to crush the projectile; the innermost layer is a soft buffer layer to absorb kinetic energy."

This is the combination of the "early Kevlar formula" and the "ceramic insert technology" that he redeemed in the system.

Although it couldn't compare to the heavy bulletproof vests of later generations, in 1950, it was an impenetrable shield against close-quarters firepower, mainly consisting of submachine guns and pistols!

"Great stuff...it's really great stuff!"

An old general, who had been silent all along, walked forward shakily.

He had a full head of white hair and only one arm, the empty sleeve fluttering in the wind.

He stretched out his only remaining hand and stroked the vest, so carefully and gently, as if he were caressing his dead comrade-in-arms.

"Old Liu, what's wrong?" Marshal Nie asked with concern.

The old general remained silent.

His tears fell in a steady stream onto his vest, soaking a small patch.

"It reminds me of the Long March..."

The old general's voice choked with emotion, filled with endless sorrow:

"When we were crossing the grasslands, Little Tiger... he was only sixteen years old. Just to shield me from a stray bullet, he got a huge hole in his chest... right in my arms, the bleeding just wouldn't stop..."

"If only we had this back then..."

"If only we had this back then!"

The old general suddenly gripped his vest tightly and cried like a child:

"My guard platoon, twelve brothers, how many of them will survive? Huh? Is it even possible?"

The scene was deathly silent.

Only the cold wind howled, as if countless heroic souls were responding.

Every one of you here, who hasn't crawled out of a pile of corpses? Who hasn't had several brothers who died on the way to the front lines?

That's a body of flesh and blood.

They used their chests to block gun emplacements and their bodies to roll over landmines.

We were poor back then, and we had no other choice.

but now……

"Old general, don't cry."

Shen Jinghong stepped forward and gently supported the one-armed general, her eyes also reddening.

He looked at everyone present, his voice low and deep, yet each word as firm as iron:

"We didn't have that before because we were incompetent and caused our ancestors to shed blood."

"But starting today!"

Shen Jinghong suddenly stood up straight, her voice rising to a crescendo that soared to the heavens:

"As long as I, Shen Jinghong, am alive, as long as the Shenzhou Bureau exists!"

"I will never again let our soldiers use their flesh and blood to withstand the enemy's steel!"

"We want every child who goes to the battlefield to wear this armor! So that they can all come back alive to see their parents!"

"good!"

Marshal Nie slammed his fist heavily on the table, his eyes filled with tears:

"Well said! This is the significance of our involvement in the military industry!"

"Jinghong, how many of these can be made?"

"As long as there's enough raw material, the production line will run 24 hours a day!"

Shen Jinghong held up one finger, her tone resolute:

"Before entering North Korea, I want to manufacture 100,000 sets!"

"I want every soldier in the first batch of volunteers to cross the Yalu River to have armor!"

"approve!"

Marshal Nie waved his hand dismissively, "We'll provide manpower and funding! Anyone who dares to cut off our access to raw materials, I'll execute them!"

……

Night falls.

The Shenzhou Bureau's compound was still brightly lit.

Trucks came and went, and the roar of machinery was incessant. The entire base was like a war machine running at full speed, gathering strength for the coming storm.

Shen Jinghong dragged her tired body back to the office building.

He was exhausted that day.

First, they inspected the old factory, then they modified machine tools, followed by testing guns and cannons, and finally they had to provide the generals with popular science education and psychological support.

Even someone made of iron would be falling apart by now.

"I wonder if Qinghan is asleep yet..."

Shen Jinghong rubbed her sore neck and pushed open the office door.

The main lights were not on inside; only a table lamp was lit.

A slender figure was sitting at his desk, with his back to the door.

It is Lin Qinghan.

She wasn't organizing documents or drawing diagrams.

She held a long list of supplies in her hand—the same "purchase list" that Shen Jinghong had shown at the shooting range today.

Hearing the door open, Lin Qinghan did not turn around.

She kept her head down, staring at the list as if it contained not supplies, but some unsolvable mystery.

"Qinghan? Why aren't you asleep yet?"

As Shen Jinghong took off her trench coat, which reeked of gunpowder, she walked over with a smile. "You didn't see what happened today, even the old general cried... By the way, are you hungry? Should I ask the canteen to cook some noodles?"

He walked to the table and was about to reach for his water glass.

"Shen Jinghong".

Lin Qinghan suddenly spoke.

The voice was very soft and cold, with a chilling depth that sent shivers down one's spine.

She slowly turned around and raised her head.

Those eyes, which usually carried a scholarly air, were now sharp as a scalpel, piercing straight into Shen Jinghong's eyes.

She gently pushed the list in front of Shen Jinghong and tapped it with her finger.

"I've done the math."

Lin Qinghan pushed up her glasses, the lenses reflecting the cold light of the lamp, obscuring the emotions in her eyes:

"According to you, the Federal Reserve's gold, Lockheed's machine tools, and these steel rails, artillery, bulletproof vest materials..."

"The total weight exceeds 50,000 tons."

"Moreover, according to the warehouse entry records of the past few days, these items seem to have appeared out of thin air. There are no truck transport records, no customs declarations, and not even a single porter."

She stared intently into Shen Jinghong's eyes and asked, word by word:

"Shen Jinghong, don't tell me that this was also created by you using 'spatial folding technology'."

"Even if Einstein were to be resurrected, he couldn't explain how you managed to hide 50,000 tons of supplies in that tattered leather suitcase that couldn't even fit your underwear."

"In your space..."

Lin Qinghan stood up and approached step by step until their noses almost touched:

"Just how much...secret money is he hiding?"