{TN: Hey everyone,
I'm reaching out to you today with a personal update and a heartfelt request. As many of you know, I pour my passion into creating and translating these stories, and your support means the world to me but living in a third-world country like Nigeria, however, comes with its unique challenges, and securing a stable income is a constant struggle.
Recently, my iPhone 6s got damaged, which has made updating much harder. On top of that, like many Nigerian homes, we don't have a router for Wi-Fi, so I've been relying on my mom's phone for internet access and her hotspot data to work on my laptop. She doesn't know I'm writing novels – to her, I'm diligently "researching" for my final university project: "Conversion of UPS Lead-Acid Battery into Lithium Ion Phosphate Battery (LiFePo4) Using a Centralized Battery Management System (BMS)." (No judgment, please, and it's a real project!). As you can imagine, constantly using her data makes her quite annoyed, and if she knew I was writing fiction instead of just pure academic work, well, let's just say I'd be in big trouble unless it was bringing in a profit. So, until I can gather money to repair my phone, updates will be slow.
This is why I've recently applied for a contract on WebNovel. I'm truly hoping it gets accepted. While I know they take a significant portion of profits – sometimes more than 50% – right now, it feels like my only real option to turn my writing into a sustainable income. This isn't just about covering my daily expenses; it's about being able to invest more time and energy into my stories, bringing you better content, and building a future where I can continue to share these worlds with you for a long, long time. (I know, I'm starting to sound like Elias and his grand cosmic plans, but it's true!).
I'm really hoping this opportunity works out, and I'd be incredibly grateful if you could send some positive vibes my way(i.e Power stones and Reviews). Your continued readership and encouragement truly keep me going, especially through these challenging times.
Your Support Can Make a Difference
In the meantime, for anyone who feels moved to help directly, I would be incredibly grateful for any monetary aid you might be willing to offer. Every little bit makes a real difference in helping me cover my daily living expenses here in Nigeria. Just for context, $15-$30 is often an average monthly income for many citizens here – don't let the media paint a different picture. Your support would genuinely allow me to dedicate more time and focus to writing for you, without the constant worry of basic survival.
Please know that this is entirely voluntary, and your continued readership is already a huge source of motivation. If you are able to help, please reach out to me directly at sorion479@gmail.com. Unfortunately, services like Patreon or BuyMeACoffee aren't supported in Nigeria, so I can only provide details on how you can contribute, which would likely involve sending money to my aunt in the US, who would then send Nigerian currency back to me.
Thank you again for being such an amazing and understanding community. Your support, in any form, means the world to me.]
Science Island was located in the Bund area of Xiangjiang District, spanning over 6,000 acres. With its pleasant climate and beautiful scenery, the island remained largely undeveloped due to its distance from the central area of Binhai City and sparse population.
Once the nuclear fusion project was approved, Chen Mo officially applied for the island to serve as the research site. What was once an obscure and quiet island quickly became the focus of attention in Binhai City, soon dubbed the "Science Island."
Adjacent to the island, an armed police detachment was stationed, naturally serving as its initial layer of security.
After it was designated as the official site of the Nuclear Fusion Research Institute of Huaxia Nuclear Energy Group, Binhai City authorities also moved the nearest police station onto the island to provide additional protection for the surrounding area.
On top of that, Huaxia Nuclear Energy Group hired veterans to serve as the island's dedicated security force.
Under the escort of special police, Chen Mo and his team arrived by convoy. After getting out of the vehicles, they began familiarizing themselves with the island's environment in preparation for future work.
The research facilities and dormitories had already been completed. Construction of other infrastructure and support buildings was still underway, with numerous workers and machines active within the fenced-off construction zones.
They were currently standing in the island's central zone, where the main nuclear fusion research institute was located.
The core experimental facility—codenamed [Star Ring]—was situated underground, with only a five-story structure visible above. At first glance, it resembled an ordinary, large, arched white building. However, advanced security systems, including fingerprint and facial recognition, were embedded at the entrance. If an unauthorized individual was detected, the AI security system would immediately trigger an alert and lock down access points.
The institute's most critical experimental data center could only be accessed by Chen Mo and Wan Yuanqi. Not even Zhao Min or Yang Mingqi were permitted near it. Security there included not only fingerprint and face recognition, but also voiceprint and gait identification. Even copying data required identity verification.
With these four layers of intelligent identification, it would be near-impossible for any outsider to infiltrate or steal sensitive research data.
After registering their biometric data, Chen Mo's team entered the building. While the institute's exterior appeared modest, its interior was ultra-modern and futuristic.
The facility followed a sleek, minimalist tech style. Thanks to the technical support from the Marching Ant Company, the entire institute was fully automated and smart. Security patrol robots from the Army Ant division operated alongside human guards at the entrance.
Inside a smart elevator, the team made their way to the laboratory housing the [Star Ring] installation site. This lab was a circular chamber, ten meters in diameter and four stories high.
"This is the construction zone for [Star Ring]," Chen Mo said, standing at a corridor overlooking the empty space below. "The device will be built right here. Your mission is to assist with its construction."
"But Chen Mo," said a young female researcher with a side ponytail and round metal-frame glasses, "we don't understand the design structure of this [Star Ring]. How exactly are we supposed to help?"
Her name was Bai Lijing, a graduate from a world-renowned physics department. She was a few years older than Chen Mo, yet felt oddly small in his presence. Standing in front of a legend, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of inferiority—even though Chen Mo was technically younger.
"This is why you'll be learning," Chen Mo replied, leading them into another lab.
This second lab was also circular, equipped with high-performance computers and several holographic projectors.
"Start system," he commanded into a console microphone.
The lab dimmed, and a holographic projector illuminated, displaying a three-meter-tall instrument in the center.
While its internal structure was hidden, the exterior differed greatly from traditional Tokamak reactors. The device looked oddly bulky around the middle—like a bloated figure—and lacked the excessive piping typical of other nuclear fusion machines.
Everyone stared in amazement at the lifelike holographic image before turning their attention to the [Star Ring] itself.
"Is this device even usable for experiments?" someone muttered quietly. "What about superconducting tech? Without superconductors, how can it create the magnetic fields needed for fusion?"
He didn't dare raise the question loudly, but his doubt spread through the group.
The Oriental Super Ring, the world's most advanced full-superconducting Tokamak device, used superconductors and cryogenic tech to generate the powerful magnetic confinement necessary for stable fusion.
Did Chen Mo even have superconducting materials? Divertor components?
These were core technologies that the state wouldn't just hand over to an individual. While the device looked impressive, many questioned whether it was truly capable of nuclear fusion experiments.
Their skepticism was understandable.
Achieving nuclear fusion required temperatures in the hundreds of millions of degrees, along with powerful magnetic fields to confine helium nuclei. With conventional tech, such conditions were nearly impossible to reach.
Even if Chen Mo's theories were sound, did he have the necessary infrastructure to realize them?
Chen Mo, of course, had heard the doubts, but didn't take offense. A project of this scale was bound to raise questions. If they immediately believed it would succeed just from looking at a model—that would be abnormal.
"This is the [Star Ring]," he said calmly. "As for the underlying technology, you don't need to worry. I've made the necessary preparations. Your job is to assist in assembling the components."
"There are 30 of you here, with expertise in plasma physics, superconducting materials, condensed matter, magnetism, and so on. Based on your specialties, you'll be assigned to your respective labs. Each lab is equipped with AI assistants, computers, and holographic projectors."
"Your first task is to understand the working principles behind the module you're assigned. If you spark any new insights or discoveries, you're welcome to submit a proposal. If it's feasible, the group will provide funding."
"But remember, all materials you'll encounter from this point forward are strictly confidential. Don't get too excited and start writing papers or publishing findings. This isn't a place for padding your resume."
"You're here to work—not show off."
His voice grew sharper.
"If you feel this research isn't going anywhere or that you're wasting your time, you can leave now. I won't stop you. The Academy of Sciences can reassign you elsewhere—experts like you are in high demand."
"But if you choose to stay, follow my arrangements. Otherwise, I'll personally ask you to leave—and I won't be polite about it."
"Of course, if you have questions during your work, you can ask me. If conditions allow, I'll answer them in detail."
Chen Mo's tone was firm, commanding the room. The entire group went silent.
Though many of them were older and had more degrees, no one dared to object. In this research institute, Chen Mo's word was law. Here, they were effectively his students—and defying the lead researcher could have consequences.
While Chen Mo felt confident using all kinds of robots back at Building 1, this was the Nuclear Fusion Institute. Some tasks still required human oversight and finesse—something no robot could fully replace. That was why he needed their help.
After laying everything out, Chen Mo assigned the researchers to their labs and proceeded with Wan Yuanqi to the institute's core data center.