Courtyard House: From Deputy Division Commander to Civilian, Progressing All the Way

Lin Yang walked to the huge control panel, looking at the flashing indicator lights, his deep eyes reflecting the most advanced industrial achievements of the West.

"Mr. Hans, the speed of the Chinese stems from hunger, from an extreme desire for power."

Lin Yang replied calmly in fluent German.

Hans was taken aback for a moment, then became respectful.

"Brother, light the fire." Lin Yang turned his head and looked at Lin Fan.

Lin Fan took a deep breath, walked to the main control panel, and firmly grasped the red main valve switch with his calloused hands.

Without the slightest hesitation, he pressed down hard.

Boom—!

A deep, violent roar quickly spread throughout the entire factory area through the underground pipes.

A few seconds later.

Suddenly, a huge orange-red flame, more than ten meters long, spewed out from the top of the towering torch tower, which is hundreds of meters high!

The flames burned fiercely in the dark night sky, illuminating the entire Ten Thousand Mountains and the two identical, resolute faces of Lin Fan and Lin Yang.

A deafening cheer erupted in the control room.

The German engineers were also applauding and marveling.

The ammonia synthesis plant was successfully ignited and put into operation on the first attempt!

This means that this industrial behemoth will continuously produce chemical fertilizers that can fertilize the land of China.

Completely thwart those political conspiracies that attempt to undermine the foundation of the nation through famine.

Lin Yang, wearing a coat, walked out of the control room and stood on the high iron corridor, looking up at the torch soaring into the sky.

The wind whipped his clothes, making them flutter loudly.

He took out a neatly folded map of the national heavy industry defenses from his pocket and, by the light of the torch, spread it out on the cold iron railing.

The gaze swept across the nuclear weapons bases in Northwest China, across the agricultural machinery stations on the North Jiangsu Plain, and finally settled on the black soil of Northeast China, which is rich in iron ore.

Lin Yang pulled a red and blue pencil from his shirt pocket and drew a striking red circle heavily on the black soil.

Then, he put the pencil cap on and slammed his hands together.

With a crisp "click," it turned and strode towards the special train heading to the next battlefield.

In the spring of 1974, the biting cold of winter finally gave way to the warm, earthy scent of the winds of Beijing.

With the successful ignition of the complete 300,000-ton synthetic ammonia production line in Southwest China, the prestige of the Ministry of Heavy Industry in the national industrial system has reached an unprecedented peak.

At Fengtai Railway Station, a military train without any markings slowly came to a stop in front of the platform.

With a hissing sound of the airlock depressurizing, the carriage door was pushed open.

Lin Yang, wearing his signature dark gray woolen overcoat, strode off the special train. His steps were steady and powerful, and his deep eyes carried the scent of industrial gunpowder he had just brought back from the southwestern front.

Zhao Lichun had already been waiting on the platform for a long time with two Hongqi sedans bearing top-secret license plates.

"Minister, you must be tired from your journey." Zhao Lichun quickly stepped forward, took the black briefcase from Lin Yang's hand, and reported in a low voice, "Everything is normal in the ministry. As per your instructions before you left, the production quota for the first batch of 700 high-horsepower mining dump trucks has been fully allocated to the various heavy machinery plants."

Lin Yang nodded slightly and walked towards the Hongqi sedan, saying in a cold voice, "The situation in the southwest has been stabilized. Next, our strategic focus will shift entirely to the north."

The image of the black soil circled on the map with red and blue pencils in the iron corridor of the Southwest Petrochemical Plant resurfaced in his mind.

"The Northeast is the eldest son of our new China's industry, with the strongest foundation, but it's also the most prone to stagnation." Lin Yang sat in the back seat of the car, gazing into the distance through the window. "Of the 156 projects the Soviets helped build back then, more than half were completed there. But now, more than a decade later, the equipment is outdated and management is rigid. If we want to win the industrial battles of the future, we must thoroughly reform the heavy industrial base in the Northeast. You go back to the ministry and immediately lead a special investigation team to find out the true state of affairs of our big brothers like Ansteel, FAW, and Harbin Electric."

"Understood, I'll get to it as soon as I get back." Zhao Lichun replied respectfully from the passenger seat, then changed the subject, pulling a top-secret document bearing the official seal of the Central Security Bureau from his briefcase and handing it to the back seat.

"Minister, there's one more thing. This is a commendation order and appointment letter that the Central Security Bureau just issued yesterday. It's about Comrade He Yuzhu."

Lin Yang took the document, glanced at it, and a faint smile appeared on his usually cold lips.

"This kid has really done a great job this time."

The document records a thrilling confrontation that took place two weeks ago at a top-secret weapons factory on the outskirts of Beijing.

With the rapid advancement of national industry and military technology, especially the emergence of cutting-edge technologies such as new tungsten alloy armor-piercing projectiles and rocket engines, some hostile forces and commercial spies hiding in the shadows have begun to frantically try to steal these core secrets, like sharks smelling blood.

Two weeks ago, in the dead of night, a sabotage team of six well-trained armed agents took advantage of a torrential rain to cut off the power grid surrounding the arsenal, attempting to sneak into the archives to steal the blueprints for the turbocharger of a new main battle tank engine.

He Yuzhu, who was in charge of the area's security, discovered the anomaly in the power grid during a routine patrol, relying on his keen intuition honed over many years on the battlefield.

In order to avoid alerting the spies and prevent them from detonating the explosives they were carrying in a desperate situation and destroying the precision equipment of the arsenal, He Yuzhu made an extremely bold decision.

He didn't order the shooting to begin, nor did he sound the alarm. Instead, he took off his shoes and, braving the heavy rain, silently crept into the office building where the archives were located, like ghosts in the night.

In the narrow, dark corridor, a fierce hand-to-hand battle suddenly erupted.

He Yuzhu took the lead, carrying a triangular military dagger, and smashed open the door to the archives room.

Facing six desperate men armed with Soviet-made silenced pistols, He Yuzhu displayed chilling close-combat skills. His family's Bajiquan style, combined with special combat techniques he had learned in the Korean War, was deadly and ruthless.

Just as one of the agents raised his gun, He Yuzhu delivered a powerful slam to his chest, shattering his sternum and sending him flying like a broken sack.

In the chaos of the fight, the spy chief drew a poisoned dagger and stabbed it viciously towards He Yuzhu's throat. Instead of retreating, He Yuzhu advanced, raising his left arm sharply and blocking the blow with his forearm. The sharp blade instantly sliced ​​through his flesh, revealing the bone.

But He Yuzhu didn't even utter a sound. Taking advantage of the moment when the opponent's move was exhausted, his right hand's military dagger, like a viper's tongue, pierced directly through the spy chief's shoulder, pinning him firmly to the wall.

The battle ended in less than five minutes.