Chapter 3: 2045's Countdown and the Burden of Solitude

The atmosphere in the highly confidential meeting room was heavier than the eternal darkness on the far side of the moon. After Professor Lin revealed the true nature of the "Primal Chaos" and the countdown to its awakening in 2045, every backbone of the Republic present felt an unprecedented pressure. This was more than just a war; it was a damn judgment, humanity's final verdict on its own destiny.

"If we disclose the truth to the world immediately,"A Senior Executive Director voice was hoarse, "panic would instantly engulf everything. Global financial markets would collapse, social order would spiral out of control, and faith would crumble. People would fall into endless infighting and despair, utterly incapable of forming a united front. It's even possible that before the 'god' arrives, humanity would tear itself apart."

General Li Mingguo's gaze swept over the crowd.

He knew this was the cruelest reality. A world plagued by internal strife and geopolitical maneuvering simply couldn't bear such a subversive truth. No single nation dared to shoulder the sin of opening this "Pandora's Box."

"We... we cannot take that risk," another leader said heavily. "This secret can only be borne by us."

And so, an immensely heavy and tragic decision was finally made in that secret meeting room: China would bear this truth alone, preparing for battle for all humanity in secrecy! This meant they would endure external misunderstandings, suspicion, and countless sleepless nights of internal torment. They would be the guardians of human civilization's tomb, and the sole, lonely pioneers.

With the resolution passed, an unprecedented "silent war mobilization" quietly unfolded across China.

The "Heavenly Gate Project," a blueprint once considered futuristic science fiction, even somewhat "fanciful," was granted the nation's highest priority, with unlimited resources poured into it. Every scientist, engineer, and military expert in relevant fields was summoned to "top-secret" project teams, either unaware or only partially informed. They only knew that the nation needed them to break limits and create miracles, but they didn't know that what they were fighting against was a "god" beyond mortal comprehension.

In the enclosed laboratories of research institutes, top physicists worked day and night to tackle controllable nuclear fusion.

This wasn't to solve the energy crisis, but to provide an unlimited energy source for future "god-slaying weapons."

Those fusion devices occasionally appearing in the media, hailed as "China's intellectual core," had already secretly pushed their core parameters beyond theoretical limits, madly advancing towards miniaturization and high-energy output.

Every breakthrough in plasma confinement, every increase in energy gain, meant getting one step closer to implanting an "artificial sun" into the core of a mecha.

Simultaneously, material scientists were overcoming challenges in ultra-high-strength composite materials. Traditional alloys would likely be nothing more than paper in the face of a "god".

Their goal was to research "mortal mecha" capable of withstanding non-material impacts, resisting energy erosion, and even self-repairing at the molecular level.

This involved quantum materials, nanostructures, and even reverse engineering trace amounts of "divine substance" collected from lunar ruins, attempting to understand its unique physical properties. Every improvement in material toughness and strength meant the mecha could withstand one additional attack from the "god."

In secret factories deep underground, the skeletons of prototype mechas were being forged. Massive robotic arms wielded, casting liquid alloy into precise molds.

Every connecting cable, every armor plate, embodied the wisdom and sweat of countless engineers.

They were designed to be robust and powerful, conforming to human mechanical structures, but their interiors contained energy circulation systems and weapon interfaces beyond their time.

The birth of these "war behemoths" was not merely a leap in technology, but a silent roar against divinity from mortals in despair.

Meanwhile, construction on the moon proceeded at an almost frantic pace. Automated construction equipment worked tirelessly day and night on the lunar surface, converting regolith into building materials, erecting colossal modules.

This was no mere base; it was a "mortal outpost" integrating scientific research, military operations, and energy. Its core mission was to continuously monitor the divine seal 24 hours a day and be ready to activate the "energy countermeasure system" against the gods at any moment.

The scientists and engineers there bore immense mental pressure, knowing that beneath the lunar regolith lay an ancient terror capable of destroying everything.

On the wall of General Li Mingguo's office hung a countdown clock. The flickering numbers constantly reminded him that 2045 was drawing nearer. Every time he saw the numbers, he felt the heavy weight on his shoulders.

Outside the window, Beijing's lights blazed, traffic flowed. People went about their daily lives, working, living, laughing, arguing. They didn't know that beneath their feet, and in the moon above their heads, a "war between mortals and gods" spanning millennia was approaching them at an imperceptible yet heart-wrenching speed. And they, those mortals chosen by fate to bear this secret, could only, in solitude and oppression, silently forge an invisible line of defense for all humanity.

They knew that even without allies, even against "gods that cannot be killed," humanity had to fight. For this was the dignity of mortal civilization, and it was to secure for every future generation the right to continue gazing at the stars.