Chapter 61: First Flight of the Type 95 Fighter

From Chinatown to the old cowboy's motel wasn't far. When he returned to the motel, it was already close to six-forty in the evening. Gandy Duff hopped out of the car, looking radiant and clutching a large package of clothes to share her joy with her friends.

Zhou Zhihan returned the car keys to the old cowboy, and by the way, placed the two bottles of fine Yanghe Daqu in front of him. Then, amidst the old cowboy dropping ice cubes into his glass, opening the bottle, pouring a drink, and shouting "Good wine, China!" in praise, Zhou Zhihan returned to his room and hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob.

At seven o'clock, dressed entirely in black, Zhou Zhihan opened the rear window of his room, crawled out, and left the window slightly ajar. Then, moving as silently as a ghost, he slipped downstairs, mounted a bicycle he had prepared in advance, and vanished into the gathering darkness.

A little past eleven, Zhou Zhihan returned to the motel. He squatted quietly beneath his room's window for twenty minutes, listening for any movement inside. Hearing none, he gently pushed open the window and climbed back into the room.

Half an hour later, after taking a shower, Zhou Zhihan opened the system and clicked on the "Overlord of the Skies" cheat code to enter.

As usual, two hangars materialized before his eyes.

Zhou Zhihan felt a flutter of apprehension in his chest, thinking to himself that it couldn't possibly still be the Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer and the Stearman PT-17 biplane trainer.

The flight hours he had accumulated on those two trainers were more than enough to cover the primary flight training of ten rookie cadets at an aviation academy combined.

What was even more valuable was that he had experienced a genuine mid-air emergency, successfully piloting the power-loss Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer away from the school, crashing it in a safe, uninhabited area, and successfully parachuting to safety at the very last second. That heart-stopping ordeal was something not only the newly minted academy rookies, but even seasoned veteran pilots, might never experience in a lifetime.

This crash and parachute jump were an incomparably precious experience for Zhou Zhihan. Not only did it bolster his confidence, but it also enabled him to remain utterly calm and respond with composure when facing any crisis in his future flights.

"God bless, God bless, give me two new planes, give me two new planes, no Tachikawa, no Tachikawa, no Stearman, no Stearman... abracadabra..."

Zhou Zhihan muttered under his breath, hoping the system would let him pilot a new type of aircraft today.

It was just like playing a video game; you never knew how many levels lay ahead, but if you spent too much time on the first level and replayed it over and over, it started to feel stale and devoid of novelty.

The hangar doors slowly parted, and as the two aircraft came into view, the hangars vanished.

What appeared before Zhou Zhihan's eyes were not the Stearman PT-17 biplane trainer and the Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer, but indeed the Type 95 fighter and the P-26 fighter unlocked by the system.

Although the Type 95 fighter was also a sesquiplane, its performance left the Stearman PT-17 biplane trainer and the Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer far behind in the dust.

Compared to the trainers, the appearance of the Type 95 fighter and the P-26 fighter made Zhou Zhihan's eyes light up and his heart race with excitement.

These two were genuine fighters. Compared to trainers, whether in exterior design or raw presence, they were vastly more formidable.

The most dramatic change was at the nose: the two-bladed propeller of the Type 95 fighter had been replaced with a three-bladed propeller, capable of providing significantly more power support for its liquid-cooled engine during high-speed flight.

To improve the stability of the Type 95 fighter, its fuselage had been lengthened, giving it a sleeker profile. Although the wingspan remained unchanged, the four wings still provided ample lift during flight.

The P-26 fighter's propeller blades remained two-bladed, but the blade surface area had been substantially increased, generating greater lift during climbs.

Zhou Zhihan decided to fly the Japanese Type 95 fighter first.

Until now, he hadn't yet laid eyes on the magnificent yet sinister Type 96 carrier-based fighter, but he could familiarize himself first with its stablemate, the Type 95 fighter.

The Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer was the preferred training aircraft for flying Japanese fighters during World War II. Throughout the subsequent development of fighter aircraft, the instrument panels of various fighters remained largely consistent, striving for simplicity and clarity.

Zhou Zhihan first flipped the power switch of the Type 95 fighter,
switched on the cockpit lights,
checked that the fuel was normal,
verified the oil pressure gauge was normal,
and pressed the engine start button.

"Roar!"

The Type 95 fighter erupted into a powerful thunder, the three-bladed propeller spinning into a blur instantly. One could immediately feel that the power of a fighter and the power of a trainer were worlds apart.

The power output of the Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer was smooth, whereas the Type 95 fighter felt surging and immense. The auditory impact of their respective engines was also distinctly different—much like the difference in sound between an ordinary sedan and a sports car, the latter being full of tension and explosive force.

He opened the fuel cock to ensure maximum fuel supply to the engine at all times.

Zhou Zhihan gently pulled back on the control stick and inched the throttle forward with microscopic increments.

"Boom, boom, boom!"

Zhou Zhihan could feel the fuselage of the Type 95 fighter pushing forward with thrust, and the nose possessed an upward tension that only a pilot could truly sense.

Damn!

This feeling was utterly exhilarating.

It was akin to the thrill a driver experienced when revving the engine of a sports car.
It was like a wild stallion reined in by its bridle, its four hooves stamping restlessly on the spot, waiting only for the reins to be slackened so it could gallop away.

Zhou Zhihan returned the control stick to its neutral position; the upward tension of the plane vanished, but the surging forward momentum remained.

Zhou Zhihan backed off the throttle just a fraction, and the roaring sound diminished.
Then, his right hand released the wheel brake lever.

Slowly, the Type 95 fighter began to roll forward.

He flipped the cowl flap switch,
engaged the oil dilution switch,
checked that the carburetor pushrod was normal,
confirmed the fuel gauge was normal, and opened the fuel tank shut-off valve—the function of this valve was that if the aircraft caught fire in the air, it would instantly cut off the fuel supply, buying the maximum possible time for the pilot to bail out of danger.

He adjusted the tail trim wheel,
set the propeller pitch control,
engaged the supercharger control breaker,
and the automatic triple pressure gauge began to operate, displaying normal readings a few seconds later.
The airspeed indicator was normal,
and the altimeter was normal.

At the upper quarter mark of the Type 95 fighter's altimeter, there was a yellow reference line—7,300 meters.
This indicated that the normal combat ceiling of the Type 95 fighter should be below 7,300 meters; exceeding this altitude would result in a drop in engine performance.

One centimeter above the yellow line lay a red line—11,500 meters.
This indicated that the absolute service ceiling of the Type 95 fighter was 11,500 meters. Exceeding this limit risked stopping the engine altogether.

In reality, it was exceedingly difficult for the Type 95 fighter to climb to 11,500 meters. Even a factory-fresh engine would struggle to reach that altitude, let alone one that had suffered wear and tear from extended flight operations.

It was much like every heavy truck having a redline marking its maximum speed—in practice, it was virtually impossible to reach, and even if forced to that speed, the engine would suffer a certain degree of damage, making the cost outweigh the gain.

However, this meant that when the Type 95 fighter climbed above 9,000 meters and pushed its nose down to initiate a diving attack, exchanging altitude for speed, its striking power would be terrifyingly lethal.

The direction indicator setting knob was normal.
A glance in the rearview mirror: clear and normal.

The rearview mirror of the Type 95 fighter was larger, wider, and positioned further forward, angled slightly upward. This expanded the pilot's field of vision toward the airspace behind and above the tail assembly, improving the ability to spot enemy fighters rapidly approaching from the high six, eleven, and one o'clock positions.

Such a rearview mirror also had a drawback: it sacrificed visibility directly below the horizontal plane at the four and eight o'clock positions behind the aircraft. In actual combat, if a pilot wished to check whether an enemy plane was attacking from the blind spot at the six o'clock low position behind the tail, they would have to execute a half-roll maneuver and then glance back over their shoulder.

The engine tachometer was normal.
The oil temperature gauge was normal, steadily rising.

Zhou Zhihan pushed the throttle forward with slow, measured increments.
Surging power poured forth, completely different from the smooth output of the Tachikawa Ki-95c trainer.

Speed:
30,
36,
40,
50...

Zhou Zhihan gently pulled back on the control stick, and all four wings tilted upward simultaneously to increase lift.

"Whoosh!"

The nose bobbed up once, twice, three times.
As the nose bobbed for the third time, Zhou Zhihan pushed the throttle forward just a bit faster.

"Roar!"

The entire nose lifted, the front wheel broke contact with the ground instantly, and immediately afterward, the two rear wheels bounced twice on the tarmac. With the nose high and the tail low, the aircraft leaped into the air.

Zhou Zhihan pushed the throttle forward all the way.

"Boom!"

The Type 95 fighter's liquid-cooled engine churned out 710 horsepower, unleashing a torrent of raw power. Like a ferocious falcon spreading its massive wings, it shrieked as it pierced straight up into the sky.

At this moment, Zhou Zhihan finally experienced the profound differences between a trainer and a fighter in terms of power, speed, and handling.