Chapter 22: Continuing to Revise the Thesis for Another Day

Old Ji wiped a rag across the hull of the Red Lotus, lifting a thin layer of black ash. He rubbed it between his fingers and held it to his nose to sniff.

This black powder and debris clung to the hull and the jagged edges of the machine, feeling hard and gritty against his fingernails.

"What is this?"

Old Ji turned his head, paused for a moment, then stepped forward, raising his foot as if to kick someone.

"Damn you, you little brat! I told you to go to the shelter! I told you to go to the shelter!"

Shang Lu raised his hands in surrender, sidestepping the kicks, and put on his white hard hat. "The giant mech has already arrived at the port. According to the engineering office’s regulations, I’m here to inspect the workshop, Teacher Ji. I’m strictly following protocol."

Old Ji snorted through his nose. "You little rascal."

Shang Lu stood on the work platform, his gaze sweeping over the horrifyingly large wound on the Red Lotus's left shoulder. The shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles were the primary load-bearing joints, composed of thick, high-strength alloy skeletons and hydraulic systems—massive, forged components of immense durability. Yet, the shoulder joint had been sliced through with effortless smoothness. Through the opening in the shell, one could see the complex internal mechanisms; gears, joints, and crankshafts had been severed. The high-strength titanium alloy looked no different from soft butter—the power of the Lighthouse Angel was truly staggering.

What caught Shang Lu’s attention were the specks of black powder clustered along the severed edge. It wasn't just on the forged metal parts; the composite external armor was also coated in this mysterious dust and debris. It covered large areas, looking as if a layer of light ink had been splashed across the surface. Old Ji handed the rag to Shang Lu, who rubbed it between his fingers and frowned.

"Do you have a key?" Old Ji asked. "A steel one."

Shang Lu reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring. Old Ji took it and pressed the keys against the rag; when he lifted them, the black debris clung to the metal.

"Magnetic iron oxide," Old Ji said. "Magnetite. It definitely didn't come from the Red Lotus itself; it doesn't contain that much iron."

"Is it from the Lighthouse Angel?" Shang Lu asked.

"Damn it, we miscalculated that thing," Old Ji muttered. "That red line isn't some high-energy laser, nor is it a high-temperature plasma jet. Kid, what kind of thing produces iron?"

Shang Lu paused, stunned.

"Iron... iron ore?"

"Nuclear fusion," someone suddenly said. "Stars produce iron."

Old Ji and Shang Lu turned to see Shen Jiang leaning against the elevator by the work platform. She must have arrived some time ago, and she was leaning against the railing, tidying her damp hair. Her eyes swept over Old Ji’s dirty lab coat and the hard hat on Shang Lu’s head, showing a hint of surprise before her sharp, beautiful eyes suddenly clouded with confusion.

"Supervisor?"

Shang Lu was more surprised and confused than she was. They had just passed each other in the hallway without recognizing one another, so why was she identifying him now?

"It's been a few days, I hope you've been well." He offered a standard, formal greeting.

Shen Jiang nodded at him and walked straight over, saying, "Our predictions about the Lighthouse Angel are deeply flawed. That red line isn't something it fired; on the contrary, the red line *is* the body of the Lighthouse Angel. Its interior isn't made of photons, so it’s not a high-energy laser; it’s not made of gas, so it’s not a high-temperature jet. The internal structure of the red line must be a highly dense celestial body undergoing thermonuclear fusion at an incredible speed."

"Nu—nuclear fusion?" Shang Lu asked.

"Exactly," Shen Jiang nodded. "From our frame of reference, the essence of the Lighthouse Angel is a star over ten kilometers long and less than a micron thick."

"Are you sure?" Old Ji asked.

"Intuition," Shen Jiang replied. "When that red line was closest to me, it was only ten meters away. I felt like I was staring at the sun."

Old Ji thought for a moment and nodded. "Your intuition is usually right."

Shang Lu was already stunned. Although he was an engineer, not a theorist, he had studied physics for years and could hardly imagine a star existing in such a way. A star over ten kilometers long and less than a micron thick—what kind of bizarre gravitational forces would exist inside such a strangely shaped object?

It would be a long time before Shang Lu received an answer. Shen Jiang would later tell him that in four-dimensional space, all long-range forces no longer follow the inverse-square law, but the inverse-cube law. This meant the decay of force was far greater than in three-dimensional space, making it difficult for objects in four-dimensional space to maintain large configurations. Gravity would no longer be the primary factor determining the shape of a celestial body—and because of their mass, their projections in three-dimensional space would be influenced by the spatial curvature of that dimension, often resulting in bizarre, distorted shapes.

Humans in three-dimensional space could never know the true measure—the volume—of four-dimensional objects like the Angels. However, theory predicted that the nature of four-dimensional space limited them from forming larger structures.

Therefore, we can conclude that the true volume of all Angels is incredibly small, perhaps only a few millimeters, microns, or even nanometers in diameter. If an Angel could be placed entirely within our universe, it would be as insignificant as a grain of sand, a speck of dust, or even a molecule or atom. It is humans who would be the giants they could barely look up to.

Regrettably, Angels are high-dimensional entities; their projections in three-dimensional space are often massive. They are large and thin, long and slender. Because their measure remains constant, the more they expand, the thinner they become; the more they stretch, the smaller their cross-section becomes. Mathematically speaking, every Angel is a sheet of paper with negligible thickness.

—That was what Shen Jiang taught Shang Lu.

Not long after, she died.

"092 is still closing in. We have no time to waste. We have to carry out a second interception tonight... What are you looking at?" Shen Jiang paused.

Shang Lu said nothing, silently pulling a tissue from his pocket and handing it to her.

"Damn it." Shen Jiang touched her nose and knew immediately that she was having another nosebleed. She took the tissue, wiping and wiping as the blood continued to flow, eventually having to plug her nostrils with it.

"The state of the Red Lotus still needs evaluation; it might not be ready to sortie again," Old Ji said, looking worried. "The worst part is we only have two rounds of ammunition left."

"Two rounds are enough," Shen Jiang commanded urgently. "We’re going to have a meeting with the Joint Command Center to finalize the second interception plan as soon as possible. We cannot let 092 get within five kilometers of the defense line! Speed up the work in Workshop 110 to restore the Red Lotus. If the Red Lotus doesn't recover, we're all finished. Call back everyone who went to the shelters. Dammit, the house is on fire and you're still hiding—hiding my foot."

The girl kicked the railing hard twice.

Shang Lu knew she was suffering from a splitting headache.

"Damn—"

Shen Jiang hunched over, clutching her leg.

Shang Lu knew that besides her head, her leg was hurting now, too.