Chapter 380: Spaceport Plan

Chapter 380: The Airport Project

While Huang Meng, Yu Qian, and Guo Xu’s teams pressed full‑steam ahead with the Net‑Road Initiative, striving to carve a ground corridor, a debate over “transport” unfolded in the mountain city.

Chen Jian sat in the operations command room, listening in silence to Lei Jie’s report from distant Base 011.

“So, taking the current situation as a whole, in truth we could push a massive ground‑transport infrastructure, but the cost‑benefit ratio is rather low.”

“At present, the whole nation faces conditions identical to those the United States confronted before the Great Cataclysm.”

“That is, vast lands sparsely populated, a tangled surface environment, construction difficulty high, standards exacting, and a severe shortage of equipment and personnel.”

“Thus, if we aim to rebuild a nationwide transport network, it is simply unattainable.”

“Given the existing population, resources, and equipment, I have already ordered Fuxi to run a precise calculation.”

“If we were to erect a nationwide network capable of bearing large‑scale equipment, the required time would exceed fifty years.”

“And that assumes rapid population growth and a high level of education.”

“If we settle for a more modest goal—just basic unpaved roads to guarantee safety—the timeline still stretches beyond ten years.”

“Moreover, that ten‑year span presupposes that we devote more than twenty percent of our available labor force.”

At this point Lei Jie paused briefly, then continued:

“Can we ever recoup those investments?”

“Frankly, we can.”

“But the expectation of cost recovery rests on humanity’s long‑term survival and development.”

“A simple arithmetic: suppose a road costs fifty units to build; each subsequent year we retrieve one unit of profit. Even then, we need at least fifty years to break even.”

“According to the Spark Plan, we simply do not have fifty years at our disposal.”

“Therefore, in my view, such a massive infrastructure undertaking holds little meaning for us.”

The words hung in the air as Chen Jian slowly nodded.

Indeed, it was meaningless.

In fact, even his own “Net‑Road Plan” was nothing more than a scheme to stitch together existing simple paths into a relatively safe corridor for lightly armed civilians to migrate.

As for grand construction?

Don’t take it as a joke.

In this terrain, even restoring the pre‑cataclysm infrastructure is almost an impossible task, let alone launching new megaprojects.

Otherwise the Huaxia forces would not abandon the many pre‑existing transport facilities and insist on forging their own routes.

Some bridges cannot be crossed, some roads are impassable.

In some cases, even repair is futile.

Do you truly think building a bridge is easy?

It is not a matter of having a large population, strong industry, or good organization—any one of those alone won’t suffice.

Only when all three converge can such feats be achieved.

Look at the neighboring Eastern power for a counterexample.

Hence Chen Jian raised no objection to Lei Jie’s assessment.

After a brief silence, he asked:

“So your recommendation is to construct an airport?”

“Exactly!”

In the video, Lei Jie nodded gravely and replied:

“Building a large‑scale airport is our optimal choice at present.”

“First, our primary—indeed, for the foreseeable future, the sole—purpose for transport infrastructure is massive population relocation.”

“And ‘people,’ as a divisible cargo, align perfectly with air transport.”

“If we can fly, we load more; if we cannot, we load less—remarkably flexible.”

“Second, the technological route for developing an airport dovetails with the technologies we already command.”

“Objectively, we have already established a relatively mature aircraft‑manufacturing process.”

“Moreover, once the piston‑engine program is completed, fault tolerance will rise further.”

“Preliminary estimates suggest that starting this month we can produce three electric‑propulsion aircraft each month.”

“When piston engines come online, we can manufacture at least five long‑range, heavy‑load transport planes per month.”

“In merely three months, our aerial transport capacity could swell beyond thirty aircraft.”

Is that a rather conservative figure?

In fact, Fuxi’s report indicates that a monthly output of five planes is a severe underestimate.

Should the industrial capacity of the mountain city and Base 011 be fully unleashed, ten planes a month would be well within reach.

The only snag is the shortage of pilots.

Of course, that is not a fatal problem.

With full network coverage, take‑off and landing can be crudely handled by swarms of ant‑robots.

And because we need not perform overly complex flight missions, pilot training speeds are accelerating steadily.

Completely feasible!

With that in mind, Chen Jian asked:

“According to your calculations, what transport capacity could we achieve within three months?”

“That hinges mainly on the construction of the facilities,” Lei Jie replied.

“From a pure capacity standpoint, thirty transport aircraft would grant us the ability to move between 1,600 and 1,800 people daily.”

“Of course, not every region will rely solely on air; water and land routes will supplement, pushing daily passenger dispatch to over three thousand.”

“In a month we could relocate ninety thousand souls—more than enough given our current population size, right?”

Absolutely sufficient.

The nation’s total populace hovers around the million‑mark, and the airport’s dispatch capability easily covers it.

The plan is sound.

Only one issue remains.

Fuel, and the supporting infrastructure.

Chen Jian exhaled softly, then said:

“It seems we must hasten the revival of oil‑field production.”

“Or we will need a massive strategic oil reserve.”

No, a large strategic oil depot is unlikely to work.

The storage conditions of a massive reserve depot are far beyond what subterranean disaster‑proof works can match; even the oil we might locate would scarcely be usable.

We still need an oil field.

Will you solve this problem?

As the words hung in the air, Lei Jiezhen nodded gravely and said:

"I'll take care of it!"

"Extracting oil isn’t that hard; the equipment is relatively simple."

"Give me two months."

"In two months' time, oil production will be restored!"

Half an hour later, every task was fully arranged.

Chen Jian stepped out of the makeshift command room and beheld a thriving scene across the mountain city.

More and more merchants streamed into the city; though their numbers were not yet great, compared with the prior desolation the city had been reborn.

At the same time, order was gradually taking root.

A volunteer company hastily drawn from Base 011 had joined the city guard, shouldering the duty of maintaining public security.

Under their imposing presence, no one dared to cause trouble in the city.

Though crowds chattered and clashes between the Mechanical Cultists and the so‑called “free residents” flared often, no one lifted a weapon against the other.

For past skirmishes had taught them that a quarrel is one thing, a fight another, but once knives or guns are drawn, the outcome is no longer negotiable.

Chen Jian was pleased with this order.

He did not crave democracy or harmonious ambience; at this stage, all he desired was order.

A strict law‑born order with an absolute bottom line. He watched a moment longer, observing a heated exchange between an ordinary merchant and a Mechanical Cult bishop who obstructed trade, then seeing the volunteer company escort both parties away to cool their tempers, before withdrawing his gaze.

Then he called Ji Xing over, and together with Li Shi they got into a vehicle and drove away from the city centre.

Their destination, of course, was Jiangbei Airport near the mountain city; seated in the car, Chen Jian addressed Ji Xing:

"We must restore the full functionality of Jiangbei Airport."

"In the coming period, this area will become very busy."

"But now, we have a problem."

"The airport lies outside the defensive umbrella of the central zone, and the surrounding terrain offers no natural cover we can use."

"Should monsters strike, the airport could be forced into shutdown."

"And frankly, our aircraft have a very limited margin for error."

"Under high‑intensity operations, a single plane failing to land on schedule could trigger a grave scheduling disaster."

"Therefore, I need to erect a ring of defenses extending outward around the airport."

"Or, more precisely, an alarm line."

"I intend to entrust this task to the Sanctified Blood."

"Do you think it’s possible?"

As the words faded, Li Shi stared dumbfounded, his mouth agape, saying nothing.

His thoughts were simple.

"Can it be done?"

"Why not do it?"

Seeing his expression, Chen Jian could only shake his head helplessly.

In any case, the question wasn’t really directed at him, so he remained in his stunned silence.

He turned his gaze to Ji Xing, who, after a brief pause, replied:

"If we designate this region as a placement for the Sanctified Blood under our command, I think it’s feasible."

"They indeed possess the capability and are suited for the job."

"Essentially, it’s akin to a scout’s post."

"Stationing them there would also facilitate our subsequent management of them."

"However, if we push too fast in the early stage, I fear a backlash may arise."

"Thus my suggestion is to establish a rotation system."

"The Sanctified Blood are born to take risks—just like me; if I were to perform a monotonous job, I would soon grow restless."

"Why not integrate them into the Netway program, rotating them with the airport guard duties."

"In this way, this batch of Sanctified Blood will finally be settled."

When Ji Xing finished speaking, Chen Jian nodded in satisfaction.

Otherwise, how could one call her clever?

I merely suggested “guarding the airport,” and she instantly grasped my true intention.

Guarding the airport is not the end; there are countless ways to protect it.

The real aim is to find the Sanctified Blood a relatively independent, somewhat isolated yet still connected to the main community settlement.

This is the necessary path to stabilize and assimilate them, and also a means to gradually dissolve the organization.

"Then it’s settled; you’ll handle the arrangements."

Chen Jian exhaled softly, then abruptly shifted his tone and asked:

"Do you think such an arrangement is unfair to you Sanctified Blood?"

Ji Xing’s expression remained unchanged, her voice a shade lower as she said:

"One must always pass through this stage."

"Commander, the times have changed."

"As you said, after the Beast Tide ended, the world’s primary conflict is no longer between humans and monsters."

"So, do the Sanctified Blood still have a purpose to exist?"

"If mishandled, our conflict with humanity will instantly become dominant."

"I’ve heard that too!"

Li Shi suddenly interjected, and Chen Jian, speechless, looked at him and said:

"Drive your car!"

Li Shi fell silent at once, obediently keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Chen Jian then continued addressing Ji Xing:

"Thus, this is one of my greatest concerns."

Monsters, in truth, are a non‑renewable resource.

At this stage, they could even be called lubricants for the myriad conflicts among the factions.

Yet, this lubricant will inevitably be exhausted one day.

When that day comes, how will you all conduct yourselves?

I, for my part, am not worried about myself.

Ji Xing shrugged his shoulders and burst into sudden laughter.

Captain, don’t you think I no longer resemble a Saint‑blooded one?

That may be so.

Chen Jian said pensively:

You no longer leap about as you used to.

.Did I ever leap about before?

Ji Xing asked, bewildered:

Why can’t I recall?

.I remember.

Chen Jian chuckled and said:

Back then I always thought this world looked different through your eyes than through ours.

Take stairs, for instance; they seemed utterly unnecessary to you.

Yet they are indeed needed, after all we—

Bang!

Ji Xing’s words were cut short when a deafening crash erupted from the window of the heavy assault vehicle.

In the same instant, a tiny fissure blossomed across the glass.

Attack!

Li Shi slammed the accelerator, racing toward the forward bunker.

Chen Jian swiftly brought up the drone feed, scanning the surroundings.

At that moment, they were less than a kilometer from the airfield.

Though they had left the city’s core behind, they were still within the sphere of the Huaxia army’s influence.

In a place like this, who would dare launch a reckless assault?

Chen Jian was rendered utterly dumbfounded.

He had no idea who possessed such audacity—or perhaps such sheer stupidity.

The drone’s footage streamed back instantly; the anti‑sniper radar pinpointed the source of the gunfire, locating the enemy with effortless ease.

Yet when Chen Jian saw the group that had fired at him, his brow furrowed immediately.

These people—

—are they refugees?

—no, why are they shooting at us?!

(End of Chapter)