The device looked bulky—fat and cylindrical, with a smooth metallic finish. At the top were several large coils encased in reinforced glass, resembling magnetic field detectors found in advanced physics labs. To some of the scientists onboard, they looked like oversized ears growing out of the seismograph.
Three mechanical arms extended from the body, making the device resemble a strange three-legged, big-eared crab. The logo and name of the Marching Ant Company were clearly printed on its polished surface.
As seasoned scientists, the team had seen all manner of odd-shaped instruments in their careers. Compared to some of those, this one's design was rather… unassuming.
"This is the device from the Marching Ant Company?" one expert asked, circling the instrument. Aside from the coils, he couldn't see anything particularly special about it.
All this effort for just six machines—and yet no one on the ship was quite sure what they were even for.
"What's its function?" someone finally asked, turning toward Wu Zhen.
"It's a seismograph," Wu Zhen replied.
That statement silenced the entire deck.
They exchanged glances, unsure how to react. Most of them had assumed this was a standard geological survey instrument. A seismograph? Really?
"Is this based on that paper from Chen Mo? The one about earthquake prediction?" a geologist asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Wu Zhen nodded. "This seismograph was designed based on the principles outlined in that paper."
"I read it. The idea was novel, sure—but it's theoretical. Way too idealistic. Turning it into something practical is a whole different story," another geologist scoffed.
"Maybe," Wu Zhen said calmly. "But if we don't test it just because we're afraid of failure, then we're not scientists—we're cowards."
That shut everyone up.
"Decades of earthquake research have brought us only to early warning after seismic waves are detected. That's barely enough to evacuate a building. If someone's proposing a new approach, why not test it? Even if it doesn't work, we might learn something. The mountain's stone can sharpen our jade."
No one argued. Wu Zhen was the most senior and respected expert among them. And he was right.
"Let's stop speculating and start evaluating," he said, inserting the USB drive into a laptop.
The research vessel cruised quietly across the Pacific, drawing no attention. People might see a calm ocean and think little of it. But behind the scenes, scientists and engineers were hard at work.
Location was critical.
The chosen fault zones had to be areas of high tectonic activity—and under no more than 2000 meters of water. That was the seismograph's design limit. Go any deeper, and the crushing pressure would destroy it.
Fortunately, this expedition had frequently surveyed the Mariana Trench. The team already understood the geology, so suitable deployment locations were quickly identified.
It was now autumn. The weather was relatively stable, with minimal wind and waves. Deployment had gone smoothly.
What few people knew was that the Marching Ant Company—often underestimated—had not only developed a new kind of seismograph but was already deploying them across land and sea.
They were nearly done.
The Eastern Pacific, where the Pacific Plate meets the Eurasian Plate, was one of the most earthquake-prone regions in the world. Wu Zhen stayed glued to the computer monitor, reviewing the instrument data. A few other experts watched behind him, silent.
It had been half a month since they set sail.
This expedition covered marine biology, chemistry, physics, and geology—but the installation of the seismographs was now the most important mission. Five of them had already been successfully deployed. This was the final one.
"Installation complete," Wu Zhen announced, eyes fixed on the screen.
The others applauded. It was a small moment, but an important one.
Meanwhile, on another ship...
Shi Tengchuan stared at the radar display. The red dot represented a Chinese scientific research vessel—currently releasing equipment into the ocean. This time, they'd tracked it from a distance and had a rough idea of what was going on.
His orders were clear: find out what the Chinese were deploying. If possible, retrieve one of the devices.
As the red dot moved off the radar, Shi Tengchuan gave the order: "Head to their previous location."
The sea was calm. Shi stood on the deck, peering through binoculars. Nothing visible on the surface.
"Deploy sonar," he commanded.
Two sonar devices were lowered into the water with a mechanical hum.
"Captain, we've got something!" a soldier shouted from the cabin.
Shi rushed inside.
"There's a metallic object here," an officer said, pointing to the sonar display. "Could be a submersible... or something else."
Shi thought for a moment before issuing the next command: "Prepare for retrieval."
Back at the Marching Ant Company...
Chen Mo was in the lab, focused on the electron microscope.
The seismographs installed in the Tibetan Plateau had all been set up, and their monitoring stations were already transmitting data.
So far, they'd detected several magnitude 3.0 quakes—too weak for humans to feel, but the data confirmed that the devices were operational. Once the quakes reached magnitude 5 or higher, the system would automatically issue warnings.
Deployments in the Pacific were nearly finished. Chen Mo was confident that everything would soon be in place.
Now, his focus had shifted to his next major research topic: room-temperature superconductors.
According to the Science and Technology Library, he had to master eight core technologies in this domain. Until he completed this particular material, the next project in the sequence wouldn't unlock.
All the equipment he needed had been delivered. The current challenge was synthesizing a material called silicon-carbon, a compound with a honeycomb hexagonal molecular structure—similar to graphene.
He adjusted the microscope, then resumed mixing chemicals. The synthesis required precise high-pressure reactions and specific chemical concentrations.
Earlier, a trial run had produced some silicon-carbon, but the purity was too low. Multiple rounds of purification would be needed to extract a usable amount.
The higher the purity, the better the superconductivity.
And for fabricating superconducting chips, ultra-high-purity silicon-carbon was non-negotiable. Just like modern silicon wafers in microchips, even the tiniest impurity could ruin performance.
While Chen Mo carefully prepared the next chemical mixture, Ink Girl's voice suddenly echoed in the lab:
"Mergo, someone from the island nation just took one of the seismographs."