"Yes, because only models belong here."
A sharply dressed man with glasses and a self-assured smile stepped up behind Ethan Chen. He'd overheard Ethan's quiet comment and clearly decided to butt in.
Trailing behind him was a crowd of reporters snapping photos furiously. Unfortunately for Ethan, standing so close to this man meant he was now getting caught in the photo barrage, too.
"Hammer Industries has always taken pride in contributing to the development of fifth-generation aircraft. The F-22 fighter jet is arguably the most advanced in the world, and the B-2 stealth bomber? Absolutely unmatched. They even call it the 'Sky Ghost'—a machine capable of rewriting warfare itself!"
The man turned to Ethan with a politician's practiced grin. "Nice to meet you, friend from the East. I'm Justin Hammer."
Despite his friendly tone and smile, Ethan instantly picked up on the subtle arrogance in his eyes.
Is he looking down on me?
"Hello, Mr. Hammer. I'm Ethan Chen, visiting from China," Ethan replied flatly, sensing that this man wasn't approaching in good faith.
"America has always been the most powerful and civilized nation on Earth. We're proud to welcome visitors from all over the globe," Hammer went on smoothly. "And of course, you're welcome here too, Mr. Ethan Chen from China."
Hammer didn't miss a beat, his PR-trained smile never faltering in front of the flashing cameras.
"I've been observing you for a while, Mr. Chen. Saw how closely you examined the firearms on display earlier—touching every piece. You seem quite intrigued. So tell me, what do you think of this cutting-edge tech? Does your country have the means to produce anything remotely close?"
Ah, so that's what this was—he wasn't just making small talk. He was setting Ethan up, trying to use his curiosity as fuel for national mockery. A subtle dig disguised as diplomacy.
"Kakaka..."
The camera shutters fired like machine guns, catching Ethan's reaction. The press loved drama, and the tension between an American arms executive and a Chinese visitor was too juicy to ignore.
Hammer gestured to the aircraft models behind him with grand flourish. "Just look at these masterpieces. The F-22 and B-2 bombers—unparalleled power and elegance. Can your nation even dream of matching such marvels?"
"Hmph. That's laughable," Ethan scoffed, his voice ice cold.
A man can endure insults to himself, but not to his homeland. That line had been crossed.
He straightened, no longer trying to play it cool.
"I've examined your weapons, yes. They're impressive in certain ways, but far from perfect. Frankly, it's no surprise that most of them aren't used by your own military."
Now it was Hammer's turn to look annoyed. That hit a nerve. It was well known that the U.S. military heavily favored Stark Industries over Hammer Industries, relegating Hammer's company to the sidelines. Having that called out publicly stung—especially on camera.
Ethan wasn't finished.
"Your armored vehicles are sleek, sure. Probably fun to show off on the road. But in actual combat? Useless. I doubt any serious military force has placed an order for them."
Hammer's grin was now strained, the flush creeping up his neck.
"As for those two aircraft—the F-22 and B-2—yes, they're top-tier. But let's not pretend your company built them alone. How much of their tech did Hammer Industries actually contribute?"
The tables had turned. Now all the cameras swung toward Hammer, eager to capture his reaction.
He couldn't admit the truth—that his company contributed less than one percent to those aircraft, mostly something minor like landing gear. Putting them on display like Hammer Industries was behind their creation? It was a façade.
He'd tried to humiliate Ethan Chen and instead walked into a public embarrassment.
"And let me be clear: I believe China will build fighter jets more advanced than the F-22 and B-2. It's only a matter of time."
"Hahaha, now that's rich. You? China? Please."
Hammer laughed dismissively.
Ethan didn't flinch. He took a step forward, eyes locked on Hammer's.
"Mr. Hammer, are you mocking my country? Are you showing contempt for China? You're publicly belittling a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council."
The press froze. The room went tense.
Hammer's smile dropped completely. The cameras were still rolling. He couldn't afford to say anything reckless now—not here.
"...Yes, you're right. I misspoke. My apologies."
His voice was tight with restraint. Under the pressure of flashing cameras and potential diplomatic fallout, Hammer had no choice but to backpedal.
He'd crossed a line, and he knew it.
As a public figure, it's career suicide to insult another country—especially one with global influence and massive economic power. China wasn't some minor nation to ridicule. It was the world's second-largest economy, and Hammer Industries had investments that depended on access to its markets.
In short, Hammer couldn't afford this fight.
"Thirty years east, thirty years west," Ethan said firmly. "Remember my words—China will rise."
He meant it. Deep down, Ethan believed that one day, he'd help usher in that future with his own hands.
"Bravo!"
The defiance in Ethan's voice struck a chord. Several in the crowd—particularly those from China—clapped and nodded in support.
Whatever your politics, defending your homeland with dignity and pride deserved respect.
"Mr. Ethan Chen, please feel free to continue your tour. Enjoy your visit."
Hammer forced a polite exit, practically fleeing the scene under the glare of cameras.
What was meant to be a PR stunt where he humiliated a "foreign nobody" had turned into a total disaster. Instead of making himself look strong, he'd been publicly called out and shut down.
Ethan stood tall, calm and unshaken, his reputation intact—and maybe even elevated.