Chapter 155: Fuxi's Heart

Chapter 155 – The Heart of Fuxi

The sun rose, and morning mist streamed through the ruinous forest of steel girders.

Mutated banyan branches pierced the wreckage of wings that rose ten stories high, like countless veins pulsing within an iron‑gray skeleton.

As he walked over the ground blanketed in loose earth, Chen Jian heard a hollow echo beneath his feet.

This iron leviathan, enmeshed in banyan roots for three centuries, still emitted a dying moan.

“Radiation index: 207.”

Lei Jie’s Geiger counter flashed red; he turned toward the gash in the fuselage, a scar as ferocious as a wound, and continued:

“The radiation source is the engine of this thing.”

“Four‑engine design, same as Diagram‑119.”

“But it’s obvious the engine structure is brand new—strange, if the plane caught fire during the forced landing, why do we see no obvious scorch marks here?”

“The burning engine was abandoned.”

Chen Jian pointed to the nearby ringed hill and said:

“That’s the true radiation core. There are two such rings, meaning the aircraft had jettisoned two engines before the crash.”

“This plane—this formation must have encountered an unexpected emergency, forcing it to land here.”

As he spoke, Chen Jian switched on his tactical flashlight.

A bright column of light cut through the damp air, revealing the faded August 1st emblem on the aircraft’s interior wall.

Fluorescent spores from some vine drifted through the crack, coalescing inside the cabin into a ghostly river of stars.

Chen Jian had already donned his respirator; a thin veil of white fog gathered on the crude mask of his protective suit.

Through his blurred vision he saw rows of honeycomb‑style racks lining the hull.

Each hexagonal compartment was large enough to hold a massive main battle tank; though the doors were now weathered and rusted like mottled reliefs, they still stood cold, hard, and steadfast.

When the beam swept over the massive engine bay at the heart of the fuselage, Chen Jian saw two voids opening to the ground and scattered, crystallized fragments of nuclear fuel rods.

The stray shards glowed with an uncanny emerald light, unabashedly radiating a power capable of killing any organic life.

Yet it was clear that three hundred years had passed, and the energy once contained within them had long since faded.

Chen Jian did not rush forward; after circling the colossal beast once, he spoke again:

“This is a super‑large transport aircraft, armed but not carrying nuclear weapons.”

“Just like the four bombers we found elsewhere, they are equipped solely with conventional armament.”

“Clearly this was a ferry flight, not an emergency combat mission.”

“All the planes belong to the Air‑10th Division; at the time they tried to transfer these five aircraft to another airfield, a decision made in great haste, which explains why no fighter escort was dispatched.”

When Chen Jian finished, Lei Jie shook his head and said:

“Not necessarily.”

“The four bombers were indeed on a ferry mission, but the transport’s status is less certain.”

“It was clearly flying at full load; every compartment held something.”

“That tells us it was meant to carry those items elsewhere, and those items must be important.”

“Under those circumstances it could not have been without fighter escort.”

“Only that the fighters may have avoided mishap, not crashed, or simply did not land here with the five planes.”

“Makes sense.”

Chen Jian gave a slight nod, tightened his mask, brushed the visor clean with the built‑in fleece, and continued:

“But now the question arises.”

“If it was a transport mission, what was it carrying?”

“We’ll know once we go inside.”

Lei Jie lifted his foot and began climbing the vines that grew from the fissure, Chen Jian following close behind, while Xie Liu vaulted into the compartment with a shout:

“I’ll check first, you wait!”

Lei Jie paused; after Xie Liu surveyed the interior and confirmed there was no danger, the three entered in turn.

From inside, the aircraft’s cabin space was astonishingly vast.

Tracks for loading and unloading stretched across the floor, and mechanical arms hung low from the ceiling like massive tentacles.

“This is definitely a strategic transport—so what’s its code? YUN‑40?”

When Lei Jie finished, Chen Jian shook his head:

“It could be YUN‑100.”

“This is an extreme long‑range strategic delivery platform—huge payload, ultra‑long range, and extraordinary endurance. I can’t even imagine what its combat scenario would look like.”

“What’s most incongruous is the nuclear‑powered engine—bombers need long‑duration endurance for a triad deterrent, but why would a strategic transport need such endurance?”

“A cargo run from point A to point B is a short hop; refueling can be done during loading, so a nuclear drive makes no sense at all.”

“Indeed, it makes no sense.”

Lei Jie nodded thoughtfully, then said:

“So this isn’t really a transport at all.”

The words hung in the air, and Chen Jian’s eyes widened in realization.

“So it’s a prototype of an airborne carrier, or at least an experimental model?”

“That’s the most likely explanation.”

Lei Jie pointed to the hexagonal compartments on the hull and added:

“There are twenty‑four of them in total, twelve on each side, each too small to house a medium‑or‑larger fighter.”

“But they could easily accommodate drones.”

“Its primary role must be airborne early warning, combined with air command, strategic transport, and drone deployment—a strategic support function.”

“When you put it that way it sounds reasonable—wait, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“How do we open this compartment?”

“Blow it open.”

Chen Jian said decisively:

“The contents are long dead; centuries have corroded them clean.”

“What matters is what’s inside, not preserving it intact.”

“Detonate the main lock; the weight of the aircraft should drive the doors shut.”

“Understood.”

Lei Jie stepped forward at once to rig the explosives, while Chen Jian glanced down at his watch and warned:

“Radiation level 240; we must evacuate within the hour.”

“Copy that!”

Lei Jie immediately quickened his pace, and within minutes the explosives were fully deployed.

The few of them slipped out of the cabin, accompanied by a relentless cascade of explosions and a harsher, grating clatter of metal.

The hexagonal pod’s hatch slammed shut, its tracks linking with the lower rail, weaving a labyrinth of tangled pathways.

When the smoke cleared, Chen Jian rushed into the cockpit, only to be taken aback by the scene before him.

“It’s not combat equipment.”

No tanks, no infantry fighting vehicles, no drones.

What he saw were simple packages forced into standardized transport crates.

The wooden and engineering‑plastic casings were already cracked and broken—perhaps they had never been handled properly during loading.

With the contents exposed, Chen Jian gestured for Ji Xing to pry open the crate lid; as three centuries of dust settled, everyone finally discerned what lay inside.

Yet in that instant, no one could name the object on the spot.

“What the hell is this? A tile?”

Lei Jie lifted the so‑called tile, tapped it lightly, and said:

“It feels like some kind of metal, its surface polished.”

“Is it a ballistic insert, or some new‑type armor?”

Hearing him, Chen Jian also picked up a piece, weighed it in his hand, and replied:

“It isn’t very heavy; it can’t be solid metal.”

“It resembles a ceramic‑composite material—indeed very much like a ballistic insert, and the width is about the same.”

“It looks to be about 30 × 30 cm, right? If it’s a ballistic insert, why make it square?”

“That would mean it isn’t an insert at all—perhaps it’s a component of modular armor.” Lei Jie set the tile down, rummaged through the crates for a while, then said:

“This whole box is filled with these, each piece individually wrapped, though the outer packaging has corroded.”

“Mirror‑polished anti‑laser armor?”

“Possibly. Let’s check the next one.”

Chen Jian turned toward the second fallen crate; without him speaking, Ji Xing had already pried the lid, and what lay within left the group even more baffled.

A crate full of hoses.

A crate of serpentine water pipes, stainless‑steel, entirely free of rust.

“Cooling apparatus.”

“These appear to be water‑cooling tubes, but made of stainless steel rather than brass.”

“What are they for? To waste all that effort just to transport these?”

Chen Jian, bewildered, tried to lift a segment of pipe, examined it closely, and shook his head:

“There’s a small opening at the top—likely an outlet for high‑pressure coolant or cooling gas.”

“Nothing special about it; a standard cooling‑tube design.”

“Lei Jie, what do you think?”

“What do I think? I’m looking at it right now.”

Lei Jie threw his hands up in helpless resignation and strode straight to the third crate.

Inside the third crate were only various fasteners—bolts, nuts, and the like—nothing out of the ordinary.

Yet after this round of inspection, they could roughly conclude that the aircraft was ferrying components of some device.

From the clues at hand, it might be a protective system, or perhaps an unassembled weapon.

The contents of the other crates would become the key to solving the puzzle.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Chen Jian ordered Ji Xing to pry open all the remaining crates.

Most of what lay inside those boxes was decidedly “scattered,” clearly in a raw, unassembled state.

They uncovered more armor plates of similar dimensions but evidently different materials, along with a plethora of fiber‑optic cables and beam splitters.

As each crate was unveiled, a tentative hypothesis began to stir in the minds of Chen Jian and Lei Jie.

When the final crate was opened and the heavily wrapped sealed box was revealed, even before it was unsealed, both men already sensed the answer.

“Shall we open it?”

Lei Jie asked.

“Let’s open it.”

Chen Jian nodded, then reached out to twist the safety latch of the sealed box, and opened it.

Six tiny glass spheres, arranged side by side within the sealed container, came into view.

“This is—”

Beside them, Xie Liu stared curiously at the glass spheres and tentatively asked:

“Is this some kind of… reagent?”

“No.”

Chen Jian shook his head and said:

“These are target pellets.”

“Target pellets? What are they?”

“Fuel for inertial‑confinement nuclear fusion.”

Chen Jian drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then, with a weighty tone, declared:

“What this aircraft is carrying is an entire inertial nuclear‑fusion apparatus!”

“No, we shouldn’t call it a whole set.”

“Here we have only the laser‑driven system, the target chamber, and the pellet system.”

“It transports the primary components, including the first wall; the ancillary power‑output systems are not included.”

“Even so, it is astonishing enough.”

“Is this device’s volume comparable to a small fusion reactor?”

“It’s micro‑scale.”

Lei Jie spoke up:

“If fully assembled, the entire system would occupy no more than a hundred square meters, with a height of roughly five to six meters.”

“Compared with the fusion devices we had back then, it’s unbelievably compact.”

“How big was the American INF system again? Tens of meters tall?”

“It isn’t that high, but the domestic Shen Guang II is, after all, no small thing.”

Chen Jian lifted the target sphere from the sealed box, examined it closely, and said:

“It can still be used, yet filling it with fuel must not be easy.”

“Not merely difficult—it’s fundamentally impossible.”

Lei Jie shook his head and said:

“We lack the capability to produce deuterium‑tritium gas; even if we could locate it, the filling process exceeds our technical reach.”

“Honestly, merely recognizing this contraption is already the limit of our ability.”

“Assembling it and putting it into operation is harder than hopping on my left foot and flying to the moon with my right.”

As his words fell, Chen Jian could not help but sigh in disappointment.

Yet he immediately spoke again:

“It’s all right; at least we have a clue now.”

“That aircraft is indeed on a transport mission, and its task is to carry the fusion device stored at the Air‑Ten Division base to some destination.”

“Where do you think their destination might be?”

“From the route, there is no doubt it is Jinling.”

Lei Jie answered without hesitation:

“After the Great Cataclysm, Jinling will surely make a bold move.”

“I have always thought that, although their disaster‑preparation measures are thorough, they are never unified.”

“It’s as if every department fights its own battle, merely trying to perfect its own slice of the work.”

“That is nothing like the style I am accustomed to.”

“When it comes to that moment, how could they possibly be so… passive?”

“They will spare no cost to accomplish something monumental.”

“Jinling may well be the foothold of that great undertaking.”

“Yes, I think so too.”

Chen Jian glanced at his watch once more, then said:

“The time is about right; let’s withdraw!”

“We can’t take the other items; just haul the sealed box up!”

“Understood!”

Everyone sprang into action, swiftly packing their gear and exiting the cockpit.

Without lingering, Chen Jian led the team away without a hint of regret.

As the silhouette of the massive transport plane behind them faded, a question suddenly sprang to mind.

Could this fusion reactor be the so‑called “Fuxi” device?

No, that cannot be.

The Fuxi project is led by 096; they are not the type to dabble in nuclear fusion.

Most likely, this is the power source for the Fuxi project, the Fuxi apparatus.

It is merely the heart of Fuxi.

Then its main body… is it in Jinling??

(End of Chapter)