"This is the data center. All of the institute's experimental materials are stored here. Academicians can access them with the proper authority."
Chen Mo led Wan Yuanzhen into the institute's data center.
The room carried the same sleek, metallic aesthetic as the rest of the facility—a minimalist vision of future technology. Along with a 24-hour monitoring robot, the room was dotted with cameras and various environmental sensors.
Behind a wall of thick tempered glass stood the central host of the data center. Without Chen Mo's personal authorization, no one could get near it.
The lab computers were all linked to this host. To access or copy high-level technical data, one had to physically enter the lab. No external electronics were permitted inside, and the data security level here rivaled that of any top-tier research institute worldwide.
"Then I'll go ahead and take a look," Wan Yuanzhen said, unable to hide his anticipation.
At Chen Mo's prompt, he began browsing through the available research. Even with his status, he only had viewing rights—no copying.
Ever since he'd first seen Chen Mo's simulation data, he'd been fixated. Theoretically, the technology for a controlled nuclear fusion energy output was feasible. If successful, it would mark a turning point in humanity's energy history.
Though he didn't expect Chen Mo to develop it so quickly, this new nuclear fusion model hinted at a different path forward. The current Tokamak approach had hit a bottleneck—Chen Mo's theory might be the new direction they needed. Even if the full theory wasn't viable, parts of it could still provide crucial insight.
As he browsed Chen Mo's full theoretical framework, Wan Yuanzhen was soon engrossed, scrutinizing every equation and paragraph.
"This... this..."
The deeper he read, the more serious his expression became.
There were tens of thousands of simulated experiments here, and each dataset was far more comprehensive than what had previously been shared. He now realized that the initial data Chen Mo gave them had only scratched the surface. Seeing the complete theory left him in awe.
According to the theory, the [Star Ring] reactor could achieve self-sustaining fusion.
One of the main issues with sustained fusion is that helium ash builds up in the reactor, disrupting the reaction. Eventually, the declining tritium concentration prevents the reactor from maintaining a stable state, and the fusion reaction ends. This self-sustainability problem has long been a major technical hurdle.
Chen Mo's theoretical model offered a solution.
Though untested in practice, the logic was sound.
Currently, tritium is usually produced by bombarding target materials like lithium fluoride, lithium carbonate, or lithium-magnesium alloy with reactor-emitted neutrons, then separating the tritium via thermal diffusion.
In nature, tritium is also produced by cosmic-ray-induced high-energy neutron bombardment of atomic nuclei.
The fundamental fusion reaction is:
Deuterium (²H) + Tritium (³H) → Helium (⁴He) + Neutron (n) + Energy
Each D-T fusion generates a neutron with 14 MeV of energy.
Chen Mo's data showed that in an extremely strong magnetic field, the high-energy neutrons produced from D-T fusion could be used efficiently to maintain the reaction. Because each reaction only produces one neutron, there's no uncontrolled chain reaction like in nuclear fission. And if some neutrons miss the lithium target, small tritium refills at proper intervals would solve the issue and reduce waste.
This concept had been speculated on before, but no one had a viable technical solution—until now. Chen Mo's [Star Ring] theory offered the foundation.
If proven feasible, this could mean a breakthrough in controlled nuclear fusion.
However, Wan Yuanzhen soon noticed a missing piece.
While the theory of self-sustainability was well-documented, the specific technical implementation was not included. The complete technical schematics for the [Star Ring] device were absent.
"Is there any information related to the self-sustaining technology?" he asked.
"That part isn't here," Chen Mo replied. "We do have it, but this theoretical dataset is what we've chosen to share with the Nuclear Energy Group. The group's researchers will need to develop the supporting technology themselves. As for the core components of [Star Ring], the March Ant Group will handle production."
The core components involved advanced materials for the divertor, room-temperature superconductors, and the self-sustaining mechanisms. Chen Mo had no intention of handing all of this over unconditionally. He had to be cautious.
If the Academy of Sciences gained unrestricted access, there was always the risk of regret later.
"So the theory confirms that the self-sustainability issue has been solved?" Wan Yuanzhen asked, still focused on the bigger picture.
"Yes. Once we build the first [Star Ring] device and run experiments, we can confirm whether the theory holds up."
"Amazing."
Wan Yuanzhen's face lit up with excitement. He had spent most of his life researching fusion technology, and now he finally saw hope—at least theoretically.
With his decades of experience, he could tell at a glance that the formulas weren't fake.
Even more convincing was the presence of a plasma turbulence model in the simulations. This was a huge deal.
In Tokamak devices, plasma is notoriously unstable. Scientists have long struggled to understand and control these instabilities, limiting improvements to the reactor design.
A turbulence model—simulated or not—was a major step forward.
Before today, he'd had doubts about whether Chen Mo could truly develop nuclear fusion. Now, those doubts had evaporated.
"Academician Chen, I have a request."
"Go ahead."
"Can I copy this theoretical data and send it to the Academy of Sciences in Huizhou? This theory could be a huge help in advancing controlled fusion research," Wan Yuanzhen asked carefully.
"Sure," Chen Mo said. "But just a heads-up—don't publish any papers based on this."
"Of course. We completely understand," Wan Yuanzhen replied happily. He hadn't expected Chen Mo to be this cooperative.
"What about the plasma turbulence model?"
"That part can't be copied," Chen Mo said, shaking his head. "If they want to view it, they'll need to join the team. I'll authorize access, but the data stays here."
Wan Yuanzhen was a bit disappointed, but said nothing more. That was the core of the project—of course it wouldn't be shared freely. Chen Mo had already given them a lot.
"Would you like to see the lab next?" Chen Mo asked.
"Absolutely."
As he reluctantly tore himself away from the computer screen, Wan Yuanzhen felt like a child forced to put down a favorite toy. Even with just a cursory read, he had already found numerous surprises. A deeper study would undoubtedly reveal more.
But there was time—he had only just arrived.
That evening, with Chen Mo's approval, Wan Yuanzhen copied the theoretical fusion data and contacted Li Chengzhi to send it back to the Huizhou Academy of Sciences.