Genius Club

Nobody knew how many members would turn up for this Genius Club meeting.

The club’s rules were simple—you could skip meetings, even if you chose to be absent for years. But one thing was absolutely forbidden: lateness. Either you showed up on time or not at all.

To Lin Xian, skipping was fine. Even just being there and listening to others’ questions and answers could be valuable, even if he didn’t ask anything himself.

But in reality…

Not everyone shared Lin Xian’s perspective.

Take someone like Copernicus, for example. His health had declined to the point where attending gatherings was no longer possible. The last time he spoke, he mentioned getting ready for hibernation in a winter sleep chamber.

Still, Lin Xian had a feeling Copernicus would be here today.

First, just to see if Lin Xian had survived.

Second, because Copernicus’s last question had been ignored by Einstein, wasting one of his precious opportunities to ask. This time, surely, he wouldn’t let that slide.

Lin Xian figured that after asking this question, Copernicus would finally enter hibernation—and stay there—until technology caught up to extend his life, using advances in medicine to keep him going.

Others, like Newton or da Vinci, had been members of the club for decades. Most of their questions had already been asked and their future plans drawn up; now, they were just waiting for technology to catch up. Most likely, they’d also go into long hibernation once the sleep chamber technology was perfected.

“No use worrying about anyone else,” Lin Xian thought, clutching the golden badge in his hand.

Whether others had questions or not, or whether they even attended, Lin Xian was certain that he had questions of his own to ask.

In the Genius Club, asking questions was an art.

First, you couldn’t let anyone guess what you were thinking or reveal your identity.

Second, you had to keep your abilities and plans hidden.

Lastly, you had to make sure that others couldn’t swoop in and take advantage of the answers you received.

Take, for example, the matter of Astatine-339.

If Lin Xian simply asked, “How can I obtain Astatine-339 in the present era?” it would reveal two things:

He knew about a material that didn’t yet exist on Earth.

This material must be incredibly valuable, with some unique use.

If Einstein provided an answer, every genius present would learn the method as well.

What would happen next?

One hundred percent of those geniuses would follow Einstein’s instructions and preemptively secure the interdimensional element.

Einstein wasn’t whispering secrets to Lin Xian alone; his answers were public for everyone. If Lin Xian asked about Astatine-339 directly, it would not only expose his identity and abilities but also result in someone else getting their hands on it before him. He’d lose both the material and the opportunity.

That was the brilliance of the other geniuses. Their questions always sounded bizarre and confusing—so much so that Einstein’s answers often seemed equally cryptic. Yet, through this seemingly nonsensical exchange, the one asking always understood perfectly.

Take Galileo, for instance.

Or Gauss.

Each of them was incredibly shrewd.

If Lin Xian hadn’t met Gawain in the Eighth Dream and learned about Astatine-339, he never would have guessed how deeply Galileo had concealed his true question.

By comparison, Gauss’s questions often seemed dumb, and even Einstein didn’t provide satisfying answers.

But… was that really the case?

Perhaps Gauss’s real goal was to receive a negative or incorrect answer.

He might very well have been using the process of elimination.

Each time Einstein gave a negative answer, Gauss’s own hypothesis became closer to being correct.

“The Genius Club is full of crafty people,” Lin Xian couldn’t help but think.

The Oscars should be awarded here, honestly. Trickery, deceit, truth twisted into lies, and misdirection—these geniuses had mastered every art of strategy and the human mind.

“Their questions might sound like they’re from a bunch of clueless fools, like school kids at a class meeting. But every question hides a deeper truth. Whoever doesn’t understand that is the real fool.”

“I guess that makes me quite the fool,” Lin Xian admitted.

At the last meeting, he’d genuinely thought these people weren’t living up to their reputation. Their questions seemed lacking in depth or vision. Now, he realized that he had been the one who was too naive, only seeing the surface without grasping the true essence.

“The correct way to ask about Astatine-339 would be to disguise it, and instead shift focus to the time-space machine.”

Copernicus had already asked about the concept of the time-space machine at the last meeting, and there was a good chance he’d bring it up again today.

Lin Xian, as the last one to ask a question, could then use the time-space machine as a cover to inquire indirectly about acquiring Astatine-339. Something like:

“Considering all possibilities, what is the earliest date humanity could use a time-space machine to travel through time and space?”

This phrasing was clever.

Lin Xian already knew from Gawain that there were no technical barriers to building a time-space machine. It was simple to construct; the only obstacle was acquiring Astatine-339.

So, Lin Xian’s question might seem like it was about time travel, but it was really asking about Astatine-339—the hidden key.

Whatever date Einstein provided, Lin Xian would know it was the earliest possible day for acquiring Astatine-339.

The other geniuses, upon hearing the answer, would be bewildered. They wouldn’t understand the significance of that date or why it was chosen.

But Lin Xian would understand.

With that information, he could investigate further or try other indirect methods to get closer to the truth.

This was what a “perfect question” was—one that left others confused, while enlightening the questioner.

“It’s about time,” Lin Xian noted, glancing at the clock in the VR virtual lounge.

He picked up the golden badge embossed with the Genius Club insignia and held it to the NFC sensor on his VR headset.

Beep, beep.

The virtual lounge around him dissolved, replaced by the sensation of entering a time tunnel, as Lin Xian was once again pulled into the grand, ancient castle.

He found himself standing on the same soft cashmere carpet. Ahead, the familiar double doors of heavy oak remained shut. From inside, da Vinci’s voice called out—clear, confident, and unmistakable:

“Is Rhine not here yet? Surely, he didn’t fail to escape the assassination, did he?”

“That’s… that’s such a shame…”

The soft, hesitant voice could only belong to Gauss:

“I told him… not to use electric…”

“It seems things haven’t been peaceful lately,” Galileo interrupted in his deep, calm voice. “Or maybe some people have already started making their moves.”

“Turing is definitely dead,” he added. “Einstein has confirmed that much. Elon Musk, though, has been unusually active—still appearing on TV, Twitter, and at social events. I must say, that surprised me… But why isn’t he here today?”

“Heh… heh…”

A dry laugh echoed—Copernicus. His raspy voice carried through the room:

“I keep telling you, don’t blame everything on me. Elon Musk is alive and well, isn’t he?”

“Hmph.”

This scoff came from a young man—but in this club of mostly elderly members, Lin Xian was the only other young person present. So, the scoff had to belong to Newton:

“Copernicus, your pretense is revolting. This month alone, three scientists died under mysterious circumstances, each at precisely 12:42 AM local time… It’s either you or that pack of dogs you control!”

“If your goal is to stall technological progress, I advise you to abandon it. Such underhanded tactics won’t achieve anything. Besides, one of those scientists was a mathematician—and killing a mathematician makes no sense if you’re trying to hinder technological advances.”

“So…” Newton’s voice grew sharper, like a knife cutting through the air:

“So, Copernicus…”

“You’ve killed so many scientists, always after they publish their findings, but you never bother to stop the further development of their work. You’re not even trying to enforce any technological blockade.”

“To me, it seems like a distraction—like you’re hiding your true intent. Your real targets… are the mathematicians. The others are just camouflage.”

Faced with Newton’s accusations, Copernicus merely gave another chilling laugh:

“Heh, heh… cough, cough… Don’t jump to conclusions, old friend.”

“After all these years, you’ve never guessed right. But I’ll give you credit for one thing—all this time, I’ve never been able to catch you either, or figure out your future plans… So, in a way, you’re the one who hides better, old friend.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be going into hibernation, Copernicus?” Da Vinci’s voice rang out. “You said so at the last meeting, yet here you are again. Honestly, I think the atmosphere would be much better if you weren’t around.”

“But I am concerned about Rhine. Surely, he didn’t die just minutes after the last meeting ended?”

“Einstein, can you tell us about Rhine?”

At last, a voice spoke up—one that had been silent until now but was filled with authority:

“Let him speak for himself.”

Creaaak…

The ancient, heavy double doors were pushed open from the outside.

A tall figure strode into the golden hall, wearing a ridiculous mask of the Rhine Cat, his steps confident on the plush red carpet.

“R-Rhine…”

Gauss, frail and small, leaned on his ebony chair, seemingly trying to stand:

“You… you’re not…”

“A miracle.”

Galileo, standing beside him, interrupted once again:

“To escape an assassination attempt with only a few minutes’ notice is truly no small feat.”

“Most impressive of all is that there was no news coverage afterward. It seems Rhine has some skill in keeping things clean.”

“Heh.” Lin Xian chuckled softly.

He sat down in his black wooden high-backed chair, crossing his legs casually.

“Just playing a game with the kids, that’s all,” he said.

Miss Da Vinci, looking at the comical mask on Lin Xian’s face, couldn’t help but laugh aloud.

“Playing a game… haha, were you playing the role of a toy?” she teased.

Across from them, Galileo took a deep breath.

“I’ve been really curious, but I didn’t get the chance to ask at the last meeting,” he said. “Could you share your thoughts with us? I mean, what on earth made you choose such a ridiculous mask to attend the Genius Club meetings? Honestly, I’m more curious about that mask than I am about you. The question has been on my mind for a whole month! Considering how dangerous things are around you, if I don’t ask now, who knows if I’ll get another chance? I can’t carry this doubt for the rest of my life!”

Lin Xian reached up, touching the mask on his face.

“It’s not as complicated as you think. It’s just because my daughter liked it,” he said, his voice softening.

Without realizing it, he started slipping into the character of Big Cat Face.

“My daughter loved this cat from the very beginning. I bought her so many Rhine Cat toys. But later… my daughter died. She died along with my father. I miss her very much.”

He turned his head, looking at Copernicus through the mask that Copernicus hated the most—the mask of the Rhine Cat.

“One early morning, my daughter suddenly had a high fever. My father took her to the hospital, and they were both hit by a truck and killed on the spot. They died at exactly 12:42 AM.”

Lin Xian gave a bitter smile, his eyes fixed on Copernicus.

“Funny thing is, my father was also a renowned mathematician.”

Copernicus snorted.

“Rhine, you’re lying,” he said coldly.

“I never killed a mathematician like that, let alone one along with a little girl. That’s absolutely impossible.

“I have respect for every scientist I’ve eliminated. I would never kill an innocent child. In fact, if any of their children were left orphaned, I made sure they were taken care of and raised properly.

“Rhine, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t think we have any personal grudge between us. If you’re looking to avenge your father and daughter… I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t do that kind of senseless killing, and neither do my people.”

…

Lin Xian didn’t say anything in response to Copernicus’s explanation. He remained silent.

That was enough.

He had already gotten the information he wanted.

Copernicus claimed he didn’t kill innocent people or children, and Lin Xian mostly believed him. After all, he had given the same instructions to Ji Xin Shui and the Seven Deadly Sins.

Copernicus said he hadn’t killed a mathematician and a little girl together. Of course, he hadn’t—Big Cat Face’s father and daughter had died 600 years after the First Dream in that future world without hibernation pods. Copernicus wouldn’t have survived until then.

None of that was the key point.

The key point was—

Copernicus admitted he had killed many scientists and mathematicians. And if their children were orphaned, he took responsibility for raising them.

If he remembered every mathematician he’d killed, then specifically mentioning the orphan here must mean it was true, that it really happened—

[Ji Lin].

That orphan Copernicus mentioned was most likely Ji Lin.

And Ji Lin’s parents—both mathematicians—were killed in a shooting at 12:42 AM. Now, there was no doubt it had been done by Copernicus.

He hadn’t expected to have something to report back to Angelica so soon.

What was even more satisfying was that now Lin Xian, Angelica, and Elon Musk all shared a common target—Copernicus.

They were forming a triangle, ready to surround and eliminate him.

All they needed was the right moment to close the net.

Copernicus’s days were numbered.

Clap, clap, clap.

From the high tiered seating, a man in an Einstein mask clapped his hands, signaling everyone to quiet down.

“Well then, since everyone’s here, let’s start this month’s meeting,” he said, standing up straight and looking around, his gaze pausing on two empty seats.

“Two geniuses may be absent, but that doesn’t stop our meeting. The Genius Club meetings have continued, from the first member to the last, through any storm.”

“No matter the era, no matter the situation… I will be here waiting for you. Even if only one member shows up, the meeting will still go on.”

He then turned, the Einstein mask facing Copernicus.

“No. 2 Copernicus, you always get the first question. This time… what do you want to ask?”

The room fell silent, every member’s eyes on Copernicus.

Everyone could guess what he wanted to ask.

At the last meeting, he had returned after so many years, just to ask about the time machine.

Since he didn’t get an answer then, he was sure to ask again now.

But what exactly would Copernicus’s focus be?

Would he take a different approach, trying to reveal the member with knowledge about time travel?

Or would he reframe his question, trying again to get information about the time machine?

Lin Xian was eager to know too.

Copernicus was always bold and direct in his questioning. He never worried about exposing himself or letting others know the answers.

It was his absolute confidence, his ace up his sleeve.

Copernicus seemed ready. Without hesitation, he spoke up.

“Einstein, my question this time is—”

“‘If all possibilities were exhausted, what is the earliest possible date we could successfully build a time machine?’”

At those words, everyone perked up, listening intently.

It was a bold question.

He was pointing to a major turning point for humanity—civilization, history, and the future!

If the emergence of hibernation pods marked the first turning point of human civilization—

Then there was no doubt.

The appearance of the time machine would be the second, and just as crucial, a turning point!

Lin Xian narrowed his eyes, intrigued.

What a coincidence…

This time…

It truly was a coincidence.

Copernicus’s question was almost identical to the one Lin Xian had prepared—almost word for word.

It seemed that Copernicus’s focus and energy were completely centered on the time machine now.

And what about the others? The other geniuses?

Were they all secretly racing to be the first to succeed as well?

Copernicus’s question laid everything bare, pulling all the hidden currents to the surface, drawing everyone into the vortex—willingly or not—to face the day when time travel would become a reality.

Lin Xian couldn’t wait to hear Einstein’s answer.

He hoped the date was soon…

Because, thanks to Emperor Gao Wen’s help, he was probably the closest to building a time machine among all the members here.

The blueprints were halfway done. Everything but Astatine-339 could be reproduced in 2024.

The answer from Einstein would be the earliest possible date humanity could get its hands on Astatine-339!

A free answer to the question…

Lin Xian watched Einstein, sitting high above, hoping sincerely for a close date—the sooner, the better.

Since Copernicus had used the phrase ‘if all possibilities were exhausted’ in his question, it showed he too was betting on this future.

But he probably didn’t know about Astatine-339, which meant Lin Xian still had a chance to get there first.

Finally…

Amidst everyone’s anticipation…

After a few seconds of silence, Einstein slowly raised his head and spoke softly.

“I’m afraid that even exhausting all possibilities, the answer won’t change.”

“Remember this date, geniuses. The earliest humanity will be able to build a time machine is—”

“December 11th, 2234!”