I started with a ship full of max-level veterans, and I'm just a complete noob.

"Lightning-7 sent its last message to cover the northward retreat of the spark of radio technology."

As Director Wang read those words aloud, his voice was hoarse from the long journey, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged out.

Factory Director Zhang pulled over a wooden chair and sat down, his gaze fixed on those two lines of text.

His fingers gripped the hem of his military green Zhongshan suit, creating several wrinkles.

"So, we might have been wrong before."

Factory Director Zhang raised his head, his eyes revealing the sharpness unique to retired veterans.

The phrase "protect this last seedling" in the interlayer may not necessarily mean that Lao Lei left behind a bloodline, but more likely it refers to the technological sparks that were brought out from enemy-occupied areas through countless near-death experiences.

Director Wang took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes with filters from his shirt pocket, pulled out two, and handed one over.

"Back then, Lao Lei was running an underground shortwave radio station in Shanghai. In order to destroy the codebook, he even blew himself up to cover the retreat of the blueprints and the radio operator behind him."

Director Wang struck a match and lit a cigarette; the flame illuminated the weathered face around his eyes.

"Over the years, Lao Lei's dead files have been kept in absolute secrecy because that old shortwave network has not been cleaned up properly."

"The enemy has also been trying to retrieve that fragment of the code and the technical route."

Director Zhang took a deep drag on his cigarette, the smoke spreading through the cramped guesthouse room.

"Xiao Jiang returned from the United States with radar notes and blueprints, and happened to land in Guangzhou Port. He also has a face that looks about 70-80% like Lao Lei's."

Director Zhang paused here, tapping his cigarette butt twice on the edge of the glass ashtray.

"Those enemy agents probably heard the commotion in the Northwest and, smelling the scent, set their sights on Beijing."

"They thought that the spark left by Lao Lei back then had taken root and sprouted again in the hands of this young man who looked like Lao Lei."

Director Wang exhaled a heavy smoke ring and stuffed the tattered document back into the brown paper bag.

"Regardless of whether he is Lao Lei's son or not, as long as he is still involved in defense communications electron tubes, he is the thorn that those bastards want to remove the most."

Factory Director Zhang stood up and stubbed out his cigarette.

"This matter must be kept secret from the outside world; Xiao Jiang must not know a single word about it."

Factory Director Zhang walked to the window and glanced at the night view in the direction of the factory area.

"That kid is now completely focused on the workshop, hand-making vacuum pumps and rare earth cathodes."

"We can't let these uncertainties about his identity throw him off balance."

"We veterans will take the blame for Lao Lei."

The sky was bright.

The smell of engine oil in Workshop No. 1 was largely dissipated by the cold morning air.

The old vacuum pump roared loudly again.

Da Liu squatted next to the copper cold trap, holding a roll of tin foil that Jiang Ming had found in the logistics warehouse last night, and was wrapping it around the asbestos cloth layer by layer.

"Jiang is right. Covering it with this layer of glitter will slow down the evaporation of the liquid nitrogen inside."

Da Liu tied the last seam tightly with wire, stood up, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

On the workbench, there are three half-pieces of nickel-based base, each about the size of a fingernail.

The surface has been covered with a micron-sized intersecting grid by Lao Sun using a watch repair screwdriver.

Jiang Ming stood in front of the control cabinet, holding a notebook filled with Russian derivation formulas from the previous night, his eyes fixed on the mercury vacuum gauge.

"0.9% doped sample, put it on the test bench."

Jiang Ming pulled down the black rubber switch and connected the high-voltage power supply.

Xiao Zhao sat in front of the testing table, his thick-rimmed glasses almost touching the glass cover of the microammeter.

"The initial current is only 150 microamps."

"It's stable, but the value is too low."

Xiao Zhao picked up the record board and drew an X on the form with his pen.

Jiang Ming looked at the data without the slightest surprise.

This perfectly confirms what that hot-tempered pioneer said last night.

There was too little material, so the porous skeleton simply couldn't stand up.

"This set is obsolete; it doesn't even meet the minimum military standard. We'll replace it with 1.3% of the standard."

Without the slightest hesitation, Jiang Ming instructed Lao Sun to use long-handled iron pliers to clamp the scorching nickel-based sheet into the scrap tray.

On the edge of the 1.3% group, Lao Sun has already polished a 15-degree bevel according to Jiang Ming's requirements.

The power was turned on again.

The test bench emitted a soft beeping sound.

The black hand on the microampere meter broke through the 300 microampere mark.

Several young technicians in the workshop were watching intently, rubbing their hands together.

But before they could be happy for long, the black needle began to swing back and forth at a high frequency between 300 and 280.

"The pointer is shaking like a leaf."

Xiao Zhao bit the pen cap, staring at the fluctuating data.

"Its thermal cycling resistance is poor."

"As soon as the current is high, localized pulverization begins to appear on the surface."

Jiang Ming pointed to the shadows cast by the sidelight under the microscope, his voice becoming somber.

Those beveled buffer layers prevented large-scale peeling.

However, the unevenness caused by excessive impurities remains a fatal flaw.

"Push up the group with 1.1%."

Jiang Ming turned to the next page of the notebook, his palms already damp with sweat.

Twenty grams of cerium oxide—this is our last hope.

Old Sun put on asbestos gloves, inserted the last sample into the electron emission test slot, stepped aside, and started puffing on his pipe.

Close the black rubber switch.

Everyone in the workshop paused their breathing a beat slower.

The black needle climbed steadily, surpassing 200 microamps, and finally nailed itself to the 290 microamp mark.

There was no boiling.

The pointer did not swing.

The mercury column in the vacuum gauge showed no sign of rebounding.

"Record the data and check the pressure drop during thermal cycling every ten minutes."

Jiang Ming didn't relax his shoulders; instead, he tightened his gaze even more.

An hour has passed.

Two more hours passed.

Xiao Zhao didn't even have time to drink water; sweat dripped down his face, shattering into eight pieces on the cement ground at his feet.

"Engineer Jiang, keep the launch efficiency above 285 microamps."

"The thermal cycling decay is less than three-thousandths, the vacuum level remains at the negative fifth power, and there is no air leakage."

Xiao Zhao held up the record board, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement.

For the first time, he felt that he was not copying the remnants of the Soviets.

Instead, they are building their own domestic formulas.

Wu Hanzhang walked over carrying the chipped enamel mug, his eyes gleaming behind his reading glasses.

"The formula ratio is correct."

"We've finally pulled this thorn out."

Wu Hanzhang lowered his voice, afraid of disturbing the steady, unwavering micro-announcement.

"It's not over yet."

Jiang Ming put the pen back into the pocket of his Zhongshan suit jacket.

"Military standards cannot be based on a single, accidental data point."

"The verification must be repeated three times under the same conditions to ensure that the curves overlap each time."

Da Liu listened intently, but still obediently went to move the next batch of spare bases.

Time was shattered by the roar of the vacuum pump.

The sun has set outside.

Outside the city of Beijing, the sky was pitch black.

Jiang Ming leaned against the wall next to the control panel.

While Lao Sun was loading the second round of test samples, he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into his mind.

After midnight, the bronze cover of the Tongtianlu once again emitted a faint glow.

The daily limit for three psychic summons has been reset.

Without hesitation, he contacted his classmate in materials interface physics.

"Senior, the 1.1% doping ratio has passed the pressure resistance test."

"But the thermal cycling curve has a slight fluctuation in the latter half. Should we adjust the scale?"

Jiang Ming directly cut to the core of the matter in his mind.

The young pioneer shook his head, speaking as fast as machine gun fire.

"The proportions are already at the limit of hard balance."

"The remaining problem is not with the formula, but with the fine-tuning of the sintering temperature steps."

"The 800-degree insulation tape is too stiff."

"Change it to slowly ramping up from 780 degrees to 810 degrees, allowing the crystal lattice growth to have an adaptation period, and those minor setbacks will naturally subside."

Jiang Ming noted down the characteristics of the temperature rise curve, and without wasting the remaining two quotas, quickly exited his sea of ​​consciousness.

Three o'clock in the morning.

The incandescent lights in the workshop were buzzing.

Xiao Zhao filled in the last line of data for the third repeated test and let out a long sigh of relief.

He was almost completely exhausted and collapsed on the stool.

"The three thermal cycle curves completely overlap."

"The launch efficiency has never fallen below the passing mark of 280 microamps."

Xiao Zhao handed the thick stack of record sheets to Jiang Ming, his eyes red from staying up all night.

Jiang Ming took it and scanned it from beginning to end.

My previously tense back finally relaxed.

He casually slapped the record sheet onto the metal surface of the control panel.

Wu Hanzhang stepped forward and stared at the three ink curves that were drawn as smoothly as if they were carved with a knife.

He slammed the enamel mug he was holding onto the table and turned to look at the young man beside him.

"Xiao Jiang, you can start using the whole tube now."