212: Chapter 212 Fifty Hours: Humanity's First True Touch of Infinite Energy

The second round started in the evening.

Outside the control hall, the sky gradually darkened, but inside, it was as bright as day.

No one left.

Even dinner was just a few hasty bites.

Because everyone knew that what truly defined the significance of this wasn't the 1630 seconds from the last round.

It was this round.

Lu Li stood behind the main console, still in his usual lazy posture, holding a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. He seemed completely out of place compared to the experts and researchers around him who were as tense as taut strings.

Yet, the more this was the case, the less anyone dared to mistake his laziness for a lack of seriousness.

Because in the previous two hours, he had used the most brutal method to force everyone into submission.

The countdown ended.

The second round of the experiment officially began.

All parameters were refreshed.

The control hall was so quiet that only the hum of equipment and the faint sound of breathing remained.

Thirty seconds.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

During this initial phase, everyone was still nervous.

After all, this was the first full verification after readjustments.

Everyone was afraid of another problem arising.

But as time ticked by, the reaction curve was surprisingly stable.

The confinement field was stable.

Energy recovery was stable.

The rhythm of heat exchange was also significantly smoother than the previous round.

At the thirty-minute mark, some people in the control hall began to have bright eyes.

An hour later, almost everyone barely dared to breathe.

Because this had completely exceeded their most optimistic expectations.

When the time broke the 1630-second mark of the previous round, no one in the hall made a sound.

It wasn't that they weren't excited.

They were too excited to move.

As if afraid that a louder voice would startle this curve that was running wildly forward.

Three hours.

Six hours.

Twelve hours.

The experiment didn't show the rapid decay in the middle and later stages as it had in the past; instead, it remained increasingly stable, more and more like a truly opened path.

At this point, the entire research institute wasn't just excited.

They were numb.

Completely numb.

Some people stood until their legs were stiff, yet refused to sit.

Some simply had camp beds moved next to the control hall.

But even with the beds brought in, no one slept.

Who dared to sleep?

Who could sleep?

This was no longer just an "improved experimental result" in the ordinary sense.

This was a door that had truly been forced open.

The next morning, when the sky outside the main control hall brightened again, the curve was still running.

Everyone's eyes were bloodshot.

But no one was willing to leave the screen for even a step.

A young researcher stared at the main screen until his eyeballs felt dry and his throat was hoarse, yet he kept repeating:

"It's still stable..."

"Still stable..."

"How can it still be this stable..."

By the afternoon of the second day, the time approached fifty hours.

Finally, the experiment was steadily concluded under active control.

It wasn't a collapse.

It wasn't failing.

It was an active stop.

In that instant, there was a strange silence in the hall for a second.

The next moment, as if the emotions suppressed for two whole days had finally found an outlet, all voices erupted at once.

Someone slammed a fist onto the table, eyes turning red instantly.

Someone stepped back, lowering their head to reach for cigarettes in their pocket, but held them backward for a long time without realizing it.

Another young researcher stood there, mouth agape, as if his brain had short-circuited, unable to utter a complete sentence for a long time.

The Institute Director stood before the main screen, staring fixedly at the final curve, his hands trembling.

He moved his lips a few times, his throat hoarse, and finally managed to spit out:

"Fifty hours..."

"Nearly fifty hours..."

After this, even he couldn't continue.

Because everyone knew what this meant.

This wasn't just "Nuclear Fusion lasted a bit longer."

This meant that Nuclear Fusion truly possessed the potential for commercial application.

It meant that infinite energy was no longer just a phantom pursued by papers, laboratories, and countless generations of scientists with their lives.

It meant that for the first time, energy had truly begun to loosen the roots of the word "scarcity."

And once energy is no longer scarce, what will happen?

That's no longer just a matter for laboratories.

It's a matter for the whole world.

Manufacturing costs will be drastically suppressed.

Energy-intensive industries will be reshuffled.

Logistics, materials, energy storage, computing power, transportation, urban operations... everything deeply tied to energy will be completely reshaped from the ground up.

For ordinary people, the most direct change might just be that monthly electricity bill.

What used to be one hundred might become ten in the future.

But the problem is—when everyone thinks "a drop in the electricity bill" is just a small matter, what is actually being leveraged is the pricing system of the entire era.

High costs will, for the first time, begin to be truly loosened from the energy end.

The hall grew noisier.

But that noise wasn't chaotic.

It was the loss of control after being suppressed for too long.

Someone laughed until their eyes turned red.

Someone wiped their face hard, their hands trembling.

The young doctor who had first questioned Lu Li was standing by the equipment, staring at the frozen data on the main screen, motionless for a long time.

After a long while, he murmured in a low voice:

"So it really could be modified like this..."

His voice wasn't loud.

But the people around him heard it.

The Institute Director finally turned around to look at Lu Li, who had been standing in the back and hadn't shown much excitement from start to finish.

The old man's eyes were truly red.

He stared at Lu Li, his voice hoarse.

"Consultant Lu."

"This step is enough to be written into history."

In the control hall, all eyes gathered instantly.

Lu Li stood there, his coffee almost finished, but his expression remained that lazy look.

He glanced at the big screen, then at the room full of people who seemed to be going crazy, and finally replied indifferently:

"Don't get excited yet."

"We are still far from commercialization."

When these words came out, the whole place froze for a moment.

Immediately, someone laughed first.

Then, everyone in the hall seemed to be half-awakened by this "far from," laughing and feeling convinced, while still numb with excitement.

Because everyone knew Lu Li wasn't being humble.

He really thought so.

Fifty hours was enough to completely overturn the global Nuclear Fusion landscape.

But to him, it was still just "having touched the door."

And this was the most hair-raising part.

Soon, the emotions could no longer be suppressed.

A group of experts and engineers who were usually the most disciplined and composed actually couldn't help but crowd around, erupting into a long-suppressed cheer.

It wasn't an exaggeration.

Yet it was more sincere than any celebration speech.

Because everyone knew in their hearts that the significance of this moment was no less than the success of the first atomic bomb test.

It wasn't just a breakthrough in a single project.

It was a node of national destiny, truly pushed forward by a big step.

The Institute Director even stepped forward personally, gripping Lu Li's hand tightly, the excitement in his eyes impossible to suppress.

"This generation didn't suffer in vain."

His voice was very low.

But this sentence was heavier than any technical judgment just now.

Lu Li looked at him, paused for two seconds, then nodded.

"Yeah."

"It's alright."

Several young researchers nearby, whose eyes were already red, almost lost it again upon hearing this "It's alright," and nearly laughed out loud.

This guy is... outrageous.

You pushed the entire human energy era forward by a huge step, and the result is just an "it's alright."

Yet, precisely because it was him, this sentence felt even more formidable.

The control hall was brightly lit.

No one wanted to leave.

No one wanted to sleep.

Finally, someone simply suggested:

"Let's open the cafeteria."

"No one go back tonight."

When this suggestion came out, not a single person opposed it.

And the Institute Director, looking at the room full of red-eyed people who were as excited as if they had been injected with adrenaline, finally managed a rare smile.

"Open it."

"Extra food for everyone in the cafeteria today."

The entire research institute, this night, was brightly lit.