"Start the power."
At Chen Mo's command, the researcher responsible for the main switch pressed the button in his hand.
"Power supply successfully activated."
"[Star Ring] field system operating normally."
"The background vacuum pressure is 4×10⁻⁶ Pa. Water cooling system activated and running normally. Divertor functioning normally..."
"I'm increasing the current of the B-coil—10,000 amps... 100,000 amps... 200,000 amps... 1.3 megaamps..."
Following a successful start-up, the artificial intelligence of the Star Lab began reporting data alongside the researchers.
Inside the command center, everyone's gaze was fixed on the large LCD screen displaying a live feed of the [Star Ring]. The reactor was now going through pre-ignition procedures, and tension hung thick in the air. Cold sweat dampened many foreheads.
The AI continued to report each new reading. As long as no anomalies appeared, it was a good sign.
To harness the power of controlled nuclear fusion, two key conditions had to be met: first, the helium fuel had to be instantly heated to over 100 million degrees Celsius; second, the fusion reaction had to last for more than 1,000 seconds.
To achieve that first condition, the B-coil had to generate a powerful induced current in the vacuum chamber to trigger high-energy collisions that would ionize the fuel into plasma.
"Fuel injection initiated... Charging complete... Ohmic (E-coil) heating coil current at maximum..."
"Divertor operating normally, water cooling system stable, longitudinal magnetic field normal..."
Soon, the current and magnetic field reached preset values. With the fuel fully charged, tension thickened. Even the breathing of the expert academicians grew heavier.
The next step—ignition—was the most critical.
The B-coil's circuit was instantly adjusted to induce current in the vacuum chamber, ionizing the helium fuel and generating plasma.
Chen Mo remained calm. He had already simulated this scenario countless times in the lab using the superconducting computer, holographic tech, and Mo Nu's cutting-edge AI. Even in case of failure, it wouldn't be disastrous.
Now that all systems were stable, Chen Mo focused.
"Ignite."
His simple, two-word instruction caused hearts to tighten and eyelids to twitch. The data on the screen shifted dramatically.
"Ignition successful."
"Plasma beam temperature: 80.14 million degrees Celsius. Vertical magnetic field: 10.2 Tesla. Plasma current: 1.4 megaamperes. Operating frequency—"
"Fuel reaction underway. Plasma density rising. Pressure increasing. Plasma heating..."
Ignition was successful.
Those four words from the AI hit everyone in the command center like thunder, and the room exploded with applause and cheers. Some researchers burst into tears.
No one had expected a successful ignition on the first attempt—let alone plasma temperatures surpassing the 50 million degrees Celsius mark achieved by the 'Ultra Ring.'
Once the euphoria subsided, everyone quickly calmed. Now that plasma had formed, the next challenge was sustaining the reaction.
If it surpassed previous experiments in discharge duration, this would mark an unprecedented breakthrough.
It would also mean that, beyond Tokamak and stellarator devices, a third viable nuclear fusion reactor had emerged.
Seconds ticked by as the AI reported data, and researchers held their breath.
After 60 seconds, anticipation hit a new high. If the plasma could last just one more minute, they would surpass the 100-second record of the 'Ultra Ring' at 50 million degrees. It would bring them even closer to usable fusion energy.
99... 100... 101... 102...
When the counter passed 100 seconds, the lab erupted again. Their first [Star Ring] test had already set a new world record.
Li Jian clenched his fists, eyes red. This was the moment they had worked their entire lives toward—bringing controlled nuclear fusion within reach.
And the one who led them here was a young man—Chen Mo, who now seemed synonymous with miracles.
Li Jian hadn't expected much from this first test. Even a 10-second plasma discharge would've been a win in his eyes. But this? This was beyond imagination.
Next to him, Wan Yuan's hands trembled. Despite his age, he hadn't felt this exhilarated in decades. He was one of the pioneers of China's high-temperature plasma research, a witness to the nation's nuclear fusion journey from nothing to global relevance.
His lifelong wish was to see a working nuclear fusion power plant in his lifetime.
Originally, he'd only come to Chen Mo's lab to learn about his new theory—not expecting any real breakthroughs in such a short time.
But today, he saw hope.
This first experiment had outpaced decades of their work.
He was happy—ecstatic even—but a part of him couldn't help but feel a little melancholic. All their years of effort had been eclipsed in one leap by this young man. Still, what mattered most was that nuclear fusion might finally become a reality.
Elsewhere, Ke Jianye and Guo Changming were just as emotional.
Outsiders wouldn't understand how they felt—even if they weren't directly responsible for the [Star Ring] tech, they had now seen China's future in fusion energy with their own eyes.
They'd spent their lives working toward this—and finally, in their lifetime, they could witness it.
Several of the older academicians openly shed tears. The plasma discharge had reached 150 seconds. If it could sustain beyond 1,000 seconds, it would prove that [Star Ring] was capable of producing usable fusion energy.
Unlike the others, Chen Mo remained composed.
He stared at the operational [Star Ring], his mind racing with data, analyzing potential optimizations.
"Cooling system nominal. Divertor normal. Longitudinal field stable. Angular field holding..."
The plasma discharge reached 280 seconds. Chen Mo frowned in thought.
The initial ignition hadn't reached the 100-million-degree mark instantly, meaning there was a slight deviation from the simulation. He wasn't entirely sure how long the beam would hold.
For a stable and sustainable plasma discharge, the temperature needed to exceed 100 million degrees for over 1,000 seconds—something Earth couldn't naturally support due to the lack of solar core pressure. Without spontaneous reaction, fusion had to be artificially sustained.
Once the continuous reaction conditions were achieved and the fuel efficiency improved, self-sustaining net energy output could become a reality.
Now, everyone in the control center stared without blinking, waiting for a historic moment.
At 495 seconds, the high-intensity plasma discharge finally ended.
The command center erupted again with wild cheers.
495 seconds—far beyond expectations. With plasma temperatures nearing 90 million degrees Celsius, it had maintained discharge for nearly eight and a half minutes.
This wasn't just a milestone—it was a leap toward real-world fusion energy. Releasing this data would send shockwaves through the scientific community.
Chen Mo let out a soft sigh, but his expression showed no satisfaction.
This wasn't enough. He didn't want just a few minutes of operation—he wanted years, decades.
Although this was a tremendous success, it didn't meet his personal standard. Without net energy output, the experiment was a failure in his eyes.
"Prepare for the second experiment," Chen Mo said, pouring cold water over the celebratory mood.