At the Huizhou Academy of Sciences—the nerve center of the Tokamak project—a group of core researchers sat clustered around a desk, deep in discussion. They were poring over the newly arrived theoretical data on controlled nuclear fusion, sent by Li Chengzhi. The excitement in the room was palpable.
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant."
"No wonder Academician Chen is so confident about cracking fusion technology."
"If this theory were to be published in a paper, it would likely set off an entirely new wave of research in the field. These new formulas... Academician Chen is a genius. This might just bring our Tokamak experiments to a new level."
"Don't even think about publishing it," one of the elder scientists warned, his voice stern. "This material is top secret. We were allowed into the ITER program, yes—but we've never been given access to the core. The Russians and Americans are all doing their own private research on the side. These theories are one of the few areas where we have a real lead. And if we leak it, we'll be facing more than just professional consequences—Academician Chen won't forgive us."
"Old He is right. Still, it's hard not to get excited," another academician added. "After reading this, I want to drop everything and join their project."
"Our project is China's national project," Li Jian interjected. "Academician Chen's project may be semi-private, but there's only so much talent to go around. Old Wan joining was already pushing it. For now, let's focus on fully digesting this theory. I believe we can optimize our Tokamak design based on it."
Just a theory, yet it had already given them a new perspective on controlled nuclear fusion. Though they weren't the world's top scientists, China's progress in the field was thanks to this very team's collective wisdom. Controlled fusion was never going to be about individual accolades. No one was going to publish personal breakthroughs in academic journals—the research was classified, and the honors were shared by the whole team.
Still, if someone broke a bottleneck, recognition would certainly follow.
The theory that Wan Yuanzhen had forwarded to them, with Chen Mo's approval, was now being pored over on Science Island at the Huizhou Institute. Though Chen Mo retained control over the core technology of Star Ring, the theory alone was a significant contribution—equivalent to a groundbreaking paper in any other context.
Meanwhile, an update came through.
Zhao Min's holographic projection flickered to life next to Chen Mo in the lab, prompting him to pause his work.
"News from Yang Mingqi. The Star Ring parts we ordered from the Nuclear Industry Group have arrived on Science Island."
"They're finally here," Chen Mo said with a smile. "Let's get to work."
The scientific team had already settled on Science Island, studying the theories and preparing for construction. Now that the hardware had arrived, it was time to build.
"I'm heading over. Want to come with me?" Chen Mo asked Zhao Min.
"Of course," she nodded.
"Mo Girl, inform the Transportation Department to move the Star Ring components to Science Island."
"Already done," Mo Girl replied.
Chen Mo removed his lab coat and walked toward the exit of Building No. 1, Zhao Min following behind in her tailored professional attire, exuding elegance and efficiency.
At the entrance, the transport and security teams from the Marching Ant Group were already waiting. Under robotic guidance, three special containers were loaded onto vehicles.
With a formation that included three motorcycle police escorts at the front, four armored vehicles from the Marching Ant security corps, two SWAT cars at the rear, and the cars carrying Chen Mo and Zhao Min in the middle, the convoy drew immediate attention from pedestrians and drivers alike.
"Whoa. Is the Marching Ant company about to pull off something big?"
"They're heading toward Science Island. Must be related to the nuclear fusion institute."
"With this kind of police escort? Looks like it's state-level."
"Don't be jealous. The Science Island project is a semi-official collaboration between Marching Ant and the Academy of Sciences. When you're transporting billions worth of sensitive tech, you better have the police guarding it."
Videos and photos of the convoy were quickly posted online, sparking speculation. But no one outside the project knew what was inside those heavily guarded containers.
Twenty minutes later, the caravan crossed the bridge and entered Science Island.
On the coast, Dong Quan observed the scene through a telescope. Having been stationed there for months, he'd witnessed the institute's rapid development. From what he could tell, the main infrastructure was complete, and the Academy of Sciences' team had moved in.
And now, with two large-scale shipments in a single day, it was clear something major was underway.
Still, Dong Quan knew this project would take time. He lowered the telescope and returned to his fishing rod. His mission was long-term; there was no need to rush.
Elsewhere, others who had their eyes on nuclear fusion technology also shifted their attention to Science Island.
Inside the Institute, Wan Yuanzhen and the team had already gathered, eagerly awaiting the new parts. After studying the theory for weeks, they were finally going to put it to use.
When the trucks bearing the Marching Ant logo rolled in, Wan Yuanzhen's eyes lit up. Ever since arriving, he'd been amazed by Chen Mo's inventions. Now, the real work was about to begin.
In controlled nuclear fusion, the biggest hurdles were the magnetic confinement system, self-sustaining operation, and the divertor—the first wall material.
Chen Mo's theory had solved the self-sustaining issue. Now, the divertor materials and the field system remained key.
Divertors had to endure long-term exposure to temperatures over 800°C, brief spikes up to 2000–3000°C, neutron bombardment, and radiation—all while maintaining low activation and resisting plasma erosion.
The Academy of Sciences had made some progress with divertor materials, but Chen Mo's version remained a mystery. Wan Yuanzhen was curious to see what Marching Ant had developed.
And then there was the field system. Traditional superconducting magnets required ultra-low temperatures to function. Chen Mo's Star Ring design had no cryogenic systems—implying a room-temperature superconducting material. Another mystery.
"Do the components include the divertor and magnetic system?" Wan Yuanzhen asked.
"Yes. All the core components are here," Chen Mo replied.
"Can you tell us what materials you used?"
"The divertor uses a gallium–copper–graphite–tungsten alloy, mixed with rare earth and other heat-resistant metals. It forms a new kind of liquid metal that retains some of gallium's properties and tungsten's thermal fatigue resistance. The inner reactor walls are coated with a fine-grained tungsten–copper alloy," Chen Mo explained.
"You've developed a liquid metal divertor?" Wan Yuanzhen blurted out in disbelief. "That's a huge breakthrough!"
"What about the magnetic system material?"
"That's confidential—for now," Chen Mo said with a sly smile.
The room-temperature superconducting material would be revealed only after Star Ring was operational. Right now, he needed everyone focused on the immediate task.
After briefing Wan Yuanzhen, Chen Mo turned to the rest of the team.
"In the coming days, each of you will be responsible for your assigned tasks. Robots will assist with construction. If anything is unclear, ask me. I'll be on-site the entire time. And remember—ensure absolute secrecy during the process."