Reborn in 1950: Shorting the Federal Reserve at the Start

Washington, D.C., the Pentagon.

This pentagonal building, a symbol of the highest military power in the United States, is currently shrouded in a low-pressure atmosphere known as "panic."

The command center was filled with smoke, as if a fire had just taken place.

General Wilson sat behind the large mahogany desk, his face ashen and his eyes puffy. Beside him was a cup of coffee that had gone cold, and in front of him was a battlefield observation report, classified as "top secret," that had just been sent back from the front lines in Korea.

The cover of the report still bore dried, dark red bloodstains.

"General, this is a dictation personally given by Commander Smith of the 1st Marine Division, which was compiled and sent back by the intelligence officer overnight."

The CIA intelligence chief, standing at the table, lowered his head, his voice dry and even slightly trembling. "Although it sounds...absurd, after verification from multiple sources, the testimonies of the frontline soldiers are surprisingly consistent."

"absurd?"

Wilson sneered, extended his age-spotted hand, and turned to the first page of the report.

After reading only a few lines, his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

**[Battlefield Observation Report on the New Individual Soldier Equipment of the Chinese Military]**

**1. Immortality:**

"I saw it with my own eyes, my bullet hit that Chinese soldier in the chest! It was close range! He only staggered for a moment, then continued charging as if nothing had happened! Were there steel plates hidden in their clothes? No, it looked like some kind of soft, impenetrable magic armor!"

**2. Night Vision Demon:**

"They don't need flares. In pitch black, they can see our every move like cats. Some soldiers claim to have seen a green glow in their eyes—a sign of the devil!"

**3. Infinite Firepower:**

"Their automatic weapon coverage is alarmingly high, and they never seem to conserve ammunition. Their logistics seem endless; even when surrounded, they can still enjoy hot stews! Meanwhile, we're stuck eating frozen biscuits!"

Wilson's expression grew increasingly grim as he looked at it.

Until he turned to the last page and saw the almost insane conclusion that Commander Smith had highlighted in bold:

**In conclusion, we are not facing an army composed of peasants.**

**They possess advanced individual protective equipment, night vision reconnaissance capabilities, and space delivery capabilities (referring to the airdrop of the steel bridge at the Water Gate Bridge).**

**[Frontline soldiers generally believe the enemy may be equipped with some kind of superweapon, such as a 'mechanical exoskeleton' or 'single-soldier mech.' Repeat, they might have Gundams! Requesting retreat! Requesting nuclear strike!]**

"Snapped!"

Wilson slammed the folder shut, grabbed the unfortunate coffee cup beside him, and smashed it against the wall.

"F**k! Gundam? What the hell is Gundam?!"

The sound of shattering porcelain rang out in the deathly silent office, startling the intelligence chief.

Wilson stood up and paced back and forth in the office like an enraged lion, his roars making the glass rattle.

"They've gone mad! They've all gone mad!"

"Is Smith terrified of the Chinese? What immortality? What green-eyed demon? Why doesn't he just say the Chinese can fly?"

"This is clearly a technological gap!"

He stopped abruptly, placing his hands on the table, a chilling glint in his cloudy eyes:

"Bulletproof vests! Night vision goggles! And those damn automatic rifles!"

"We haven't even figured out these things in the lab yet, how could the Chinese possibly equip them on a large scale?"

Suddenly, an image of a young, refined Chinese man with gold-rimmed glasses flashed into Wilson's mind.

That "ghost" that emptied half of the American industrial system in New York.

"Shen Jinghong..."

Wilson spat out the three words through gritted teeth, his hatred blazing, "It must be him! No one else could have made this kind of monstrosity!"

"Investigate! Investigate for me!"

He pointed at the intelligence chief's nose, spitting as he spoke:

"Use all our resources in the Far East! I need to know what Shen Jinghong brought back! I need to know what kind of monster's lair that 'Shenzhou Bureau' really is!"

"If we don't uncover this person's background, we...can't win this battle!"

……

Thousands of miles away, in Beijing.

Shenzhou Bureau, Director's Office.

The heating was on full blast, and the daffodils that Lin Qinghan had grown on the windowsill were in full bloom.

Shen Jinghong sat on the sofa, holding a telegram that he had just intercepted and deciphered, laughing so hard he almost fell over.

"Gundam? Hahaha!"

He handed the telegram to Lin Qinghan, who was watering the flowers, and was overjoyed.

"Qinghan, look! Americans have quite the imagination; they've even come up with the word 'Gundam'."

"Although this term wasn't invented in our time, its meaning is quite apt."

Lin Qinghan put down the spray bottle, took the telegram, glanced at it, and couldn't help but smile slightly.

"They've been beaten into submission."

She adjusted her glasses, her tone calm and rational:

"Bulletproof vests stop bullets, night vision goggles allow us to see in the dark, and we have ample logistical support. In the eyes of those starving, freezing, and mentally broken American soldiers, our soldiers really are no different from iron robots."

"but……"

Lin Qinghan changed the subject, her intelligent eyes turning to Shen Jinghong with a hint of inquiry:

"Gundam-like things are basically single-soldier exoskeletons... You don't actually have any in your 'future warehouse,' do you?"

Shen Jinghong was stunned for a moment.

Looking at Lin Qinghan's serious expression, he suddenly felt a strong urge to tease her.

"Well..."

He stroked his chin and winked mysteriously.

"Not yet."

"However, since the Americans have already bragged about it for us, we can't let them down, can we?"

Shen Jinghong stood up and walked to the huge world map on the wall.

His gaze fell on the peninsula, which was currently engulfed in war, and then slowly turned westward, looking towards the vast uninhabited area of ​​the Northwest.

"Gundam can't be built yet, it consumes too much electricity."

"but……"

Shen Jinghong's voice deepened, carrying a stirring ambition:

"We're on our way to something even more exciting and despair-inducing than Gundam."

Just then.

Suddenly, a burst of loud firecrackers came from outside the door, followed by deafening gongs, drums, and cheers.

The sound grew louder and louder, and even through thick walls and double-glazed windows, the heartfelt joy could be clearly heard.

"What's going on?" Lin Qinghan walked to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Outside the compound, red flags were waving and crowds of people were everywhere on the street.

Countless people flocked to the streets, waving newspapers and beaming with smiles as if celebrating the New Year.

"A great victory! A great victory at the front!"

"The Chinese People's Volunteer Army has recaptured Pyongyang! They've driven the American devils back to the 38th parallel!"

The newsboy's clear shouts pierced the cold wind and echoed throughout every corner of Beijing.

"We won."

Shen Jinghong walked behind Lin Qinghan, looking at the bustling crowd outside the window, her eyes slightly moist.

The First Battle, the Second Battle.

This was a war to establish the nation, and also a war to establish its prestige.

In this time and space, thanks to the equipment provided by the Shenzhou Bureau, and thanks to the 100,000 bulletproof vests and countless self-heating rations, we won more decisively, more beautifully, and with less bloodshed.

"Qinghan, look."

Shen Jinghong pointed to the snowflakes swirling in the air outside the window, and the victory report flyers, even denser than the snowflakes:

"This is the best way for us to return the favor to the US."

"They think we have Gundams? No, what we have are bones harder than Gundams, and blood hotter than steel!"

"Walk!"

Shen Jinghong grabbed the coat hanging on the hanger, draped it over Lin Qinghan's shoulders, and then took her hand:

"Let's go outside for some fresh air."

"Listen to the sound of victory, and while you're at it... go and bring our heroes home!"