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This genius club president, with his power and influence… was he telling the truth?

According to Einstein, he could see everything that would happen from now until the very end of time, every event, every outcome already determined. Lin Xian found it hard to believe.

He originally thought that Einstein’s ability to see the future was similar to his own—a glimpse of a particular day or moment, like a fragment of what lay ahead. For example, Lin Xian could see the future of August 28th, 2624, through his dreams. He assumed that Einstein must be using a similar method, also seeing the future in glimpses through dreams.

Lin Xian had prepared himself for something like that. But now, hearing this new claim, he realized he had completely underestimated the president.

Seeing every day, every moment, every second of the future—wasn’t that a bit too much?

For Einstein, all the unknown futures of humanity unfolded like a painting, every detail revealed, vivid and clear.

If that were true, then what challenge could possibly stand in his way? History and the future would be completely transparent and malleable in his hands.

Could he really guide the future wherever he wanted, placing the world exactly as he wished?

Lin Xian had always believed his dreams gave him an incredibly powerful advantage, something akin to being able to directly perceive the outcomes of the butterfly effect in time and space. But compared to Einstein’s ability, his own talent seemed like nothing—a mere speck in the vast ocean.

Would Einstein really lie about something like this?

Lin Xian was filled with doubt. It was hard for him to accept such an exaggerated claim just like that.

“Heh.”

At that moment, Miss “Da Vinci,” who was sitting nearby, smiled and looked over at Lin Xian.

“Mr. Rhine,” she said, “when I first heard it, I felt the same as you do now. In fact, every person here felt exactly the same way at first.”

“It’s hard to believe, no doubt. But what’s harder to believe is… Einstein wasn’t lying. He truly can see the future clearly.”

“I spent a long time verifying this and coming to terms with it, and in the end, I found it to be true. That’s also why Einstein founded the Genius Club and sent out his invitations.”

“He wants to share his ability and let those who pass the test use it to create a better future for humanity. That’s his greatness—he’s a role model for all of us.”

Lin Xian could hear the sincerity in her voice. Miss Da Vinci truly admired Einstein, and she was convinced of his power to see the future.

Lin Xian believed that none of these geniuses sitting here were easily fooled. They wouldn’t be tricked by something that sounded like a marketing gimmick.

“How did you verify it, Miss Da Vinci?” Lin Xian turned to her, his face hidden behind the mask of the Rhine Cat. “Could you share your method?”

Because of the mask, Lin Xian couldn’t see her expression, but he could sense her smiling as if she had anticipated his question.

“Mr. Rhine,” she said, “you don’t need to worry about how we verified it. After all, even if I told you, you probably wouldn’t believe it.”

“Although we’ve only known each other for a short while, I can already tell you’re a very cautious young man who doesn’t easily believe others.”

“So, why not verify it for yourself?” Da Vinci turned her head to look up at Einstein on the platform.

“I think the introduction phase is over, right? Now it’s time for the formal meeting. During the official part, you can try to verify the truth yourself.”

“Alright… just a friendly reminder: while it might cost you a few precious chances, it’s something all of us have gone through.”

“At least for me, Gauss, Elon Musk, and Turing, we all spent many opportunities verifying this. I guess it’s just a common trait among geniuses to be skeptical.”

Lin Xian blinked, silently listening. Opportunities? What kind of opportunities?

Was it… the opportunity to ask questions?

It seemed like that was the only possibility. But there was no need to overthink it now. As Da Vinci had said, the self-introduction phase was over, and it was time to move on to the official meeting.

Whatever surprises awaited in the official meeting, he would see soon enough.

Sure enough, shortly after Da Vinci finished speaking, Einstein sat up straight on his wooden chair at the high platform, scanning the people seated along both sides of the red carpet below.

“Well, that concludes the introduction. This was our gesture of respect and openness toward our new member, No. 9, Rhine. I believe that, as a genius, you have strong adaptability. You will soon blend in with us and start your plan to shape your future.”

“Next, following our monthly meeting agenda, we’ll begin the formal gathering. To accommodate our new friend, I’ll explain the process and requirements once again in detail…”

Einstein then turned his gaze toward Lin Xian.

“Rhine, on the 1st of every month, at 00:42 X Country time, we hold our club gathering. You may join using that golden badge, as long as you’re available. If you’re not, it doesn’t matter. The rules allow for absences, even long-term absences.”

“In time, you’ll see that it’s rare for everyone to be present like today. There are many reasons for that, but the most important one… you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“For now, though, you don’t need to worry about others, because the content of the meetings has nothing to do with anyone else. Instead—”

“According to the order, each genius has one opportunity to ask me a question.”

Einstein paused, the elderly figure sitting straight but still radiating authority.

“The question will be asked publicly, like we are now. Your question will receive my precise answer. However, every other participant will also hear it. This is a form of fairness, and transparency.”

“So, inevitably, if your question is too direct, it might lead to unnecessary trouble, allowing other members to guess your future plans or even… discover your identity.”

To Lin Xian’s left, Gauss nodded slowly.

“Indeed… Elon Musk, during his first meeting, asked…”

“Shut up, Gauss!” The elderly Einstein on the platform sounded impatient.

“Not interrupting others when they speak is basic manners, Gauss. I’ve told you many times about this bad habit. If you truly wish to speak, you can raise your hand.”

Lin Xian snorted lightly. Indeed, Gauss’s habit of interrupting was quite annoying. Even after such a short time, Lin Xian had lost all sympathy for him and was tempted to interrupt him more than once.

Some people were just born interrupters. Lin Xian’s university roommate, a guy from Tianjin, had the same habit.

Maybe it was growing up in the city of comedy, but whenever they had lectures, no matter the subject, the professor would be lecturing, and this roommate would be down there chatting away, clearly enjoying himself.

One time, during an economics elective, the professor said, “Last class, we talked about…”

“What?” the roommate interrupted.

“… an invisible hand in economic theory.”

“Right,” he chimed in.

“This hand is also called the market mechanism, the market adjustment.”

“Exactly,” he interrupted again.

“And modern economic theory must be based on an assumption…”

“Hey, never heard of that!” he interrupted.

“…that every participant in the market acts in their own self-interest.”

“Oh, come on, really?” he exclaimed.

Bang! The professor slammed the lectern.

“You! Get out!”

Lin Xian once tried to advise him, “That habit of always interrupting…”

“Oh please.”

“…can’t you quit?”

“Nope.”

“Honestly, which professor can tolerate you doing this in class?”

“It’s all a joke!”

“…Goodbye.”

“Take care!”

In short, it wouldn’t be surprising if Gauss were from Tianjin. Then again, with the way he spoke, so slowly, like a snail, he didn’t really fit the profile. Lin Xian decided to keep observing.

After rebuking Gauss, Einstein continued, “No. 9, Rhine, as the last person to ask a question, you have plenty of time to learn and understand. I trust that your genius mind will grasp the opportunities and risks of this questioning process.”

Lin Xian stayed silent, but his thoughts were racing. This was… something like a game of deception.

Each genius’s identity was hidden, their future plans unknown, their methods and actions kept secret.

This meant that when you asked Einstein a question, you had to think very carefully. This wasn’t a private Q&A; it was asked in front of everyone, with everyone listening in and hearing the answer.

If your question was too specific, others could immediately infer your plans and ideas, perhaps even identify who you were. But if your question was too broad, the answer might not help you much, and could even benefit others instead.

The chance to ask a question of someone who knew everything was tempting, but in a room full of other geniuses listening in, it could easily turn into a trap for yourself.

Like, for example, the two fleeting thoughts Lin Xian had earlier. He wanted to ask, “Where is Du Yao?” and also about the “Millennium Stake.” But now, he didn’t dare ask.

If he asked where Du Yao was, specifying the exact Du Yao, Einstein would surely give an answer. Then what? Would Copernicus, who was listening in, let Du Yao continue to stay free? Wouldn’t the others try to take her for themselves before Lin Xian could?

And if they did reach Du Yao before him, they’d likely figure out why he was looking for her, potentially discovering other information that could be used against him.

So, that foolish question definitely couldn’t be asked. Asking would be as good as revealing everything, ensuring he’d never see Du Yao again.

The same went for the Millennium Stake. Yellow Finch had once said that although she had made up the name, anyone familiar with its true meaning would recognize it immediately.

Lin Xian had a gut feeling that the Millennium Stake was a critical concept, one that perhaps even the members of the Genius Club didn’t know about. It had been hidden so well, appearing only once in 2024, vanishing like a needle in a haystack.

Lin Xian didn’t know if Einstein was aware of it. If he wasn’t, it would be a wasted question. But the real fear was if Einstein did know.

If he knew and explained the concept of the Millennium Stake to the other geniuses, the consequences would be disastrous. After all, Lin Xian’s primary goal in joining the Genius Club was to save Chu An Qing and fulfill his promise to Chu Shan He—to bring her back home.

If others found out about the Millennium Stake, what would they do? They’d likely exploit it, using a mechanism even Lin Xian hadn’t fully understood, waiting to intercept the next Millennium Stake when it emerged in 2028 and dissipated in 2048, or worse, try to stop him from saving Chu An Qing and turn into his enemies.

Indeed, as Einstein suggested, asking the wrong question could lead to unnecessary trouble instead of providing any advantage.

Lin Xian took a deep breath, gathering himself. It was clear that he needed time to think about his question—time that the others had each month to ponder what to ask, while he had only just learned what the club’s meetings entailed.

The optimal strategy, considering his own safety and various other factors, seemed to be this:

To ask a question that others wouldn’t understand but would make sense to himself, without revealing his identity or exposing critical information; or to ask something meaningless to others but valuable to him.

In theory, it sounded easy. But in practice, it was far more difficult.

At the very least, it would require some knowledge of the other geniuses’ future plans.

As it stood, Lin Xian knew very little. The two geniuses he had known well were either dead or on the verge of death. The rest, he knew only fragments—Copernicus was apparently assassinating scientists and obstructing technological development, but his deeper intentions were a mystery.

Copernicus’s behavior was contradictory. On one hand, he opposed technological advancement; on the other, he had set up the SpaceTime Police and Court, which made it hard to figure out his true aims.

As for Galileo, all he knew was what Turing had said: that Galileo was responsible for the massive catastrophe in the 2400s. Whether it was true or not remained unknown.

For the remaining three—Gauss, Da Vinci, and Newton—Lin Xian knew nothing.

While Lin Xian pondered, Einstein raised his right hand, extending three fingers.

“There are also three principles you must follow when asking questions,” he said.

“First, you may not ask questions regarding the identity, plans, actions, or personal information of other members. Such questions will not be answered, and the chance to ask will be forfeited as a warning.”

“Second, your question must be specific. Do not expect a broad question to yield a series of solutions. I provide answers, not methods or paths.”

“Third, questions regarding the Genius Club itself will not be answered. Any such questions will result in the chance being forfeited as a warning.”

Lin Xian narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, the Genius Club was indeed a well-established organization. Its rules and procedures covered everything in detail.

He had worried about what would happen if members asked about each other’s secrets, but it seemed that this concern had already been considered at the very start.

Geniuses always ensured everything was thorough, with no room for mistakes.

All three principles made sense. The third one, however, was especially intriguing.

You’d think that, as members of the Genius Club, it would be natural to want to learn about the club’s history, its founding, and its founders. In any other club, this information would be proudly displayed, like a banner.

But here, discussing the club itself was strictly prohibited.

Interesting.

Lin Xian found the club increasingly fascinating, more and more mysterious.

After Einstein finished explaining the procedures and rules, he officially declared the gathering begun. Typically, these additional explanations weren’t necessary—today, they were only to accommodate the new member.

“So, as always, we’ll begin with No. 2, Copernicus,” Einstein said, looking at the chair closest to him. “Old friend, it’s been years since you last joined us. Will you, as always, choose not to ask any questions?”

Across the room, Gauss nodded slowly. “I’ve never… seen… Copernicus… ask…”

“Copernicus rarely asks questions,” Da Vinci interrupted Gauss, quickly explaining to Lin Xian. “Since I joined the club in the last century, Copernicus has asked very few questions. Particularly since the 21st century began, he’s never asked anything. And it’s been four or five years since he last attended—this is his first time here since then.”

Lin Xian nodded lightly to Da Vinci, grateful for the information. Copernicus, as the No. 2 in the Genius Club, was the first member after the founder, Einstein. After him came Newton, then Galileo, and then Da Vinci.

Lin Xian realized that before Da Vinci joined, Copernicus had probably asked all the questions he wanted to ask.

It made sense—joining earlier had its benefits. Especially in the beginning, when it was just Einstein and Copernicus. Back then, Copernicus could ask anything he wanted, without fear of exposure, without anyone else listening in, without anyone guessing his plans.

Lin Xian shuddered slightly at the thought. Copernicus likely held a treasure trove of information—answers that everyone else wanted but dared not ask.

If there ever came a day when only Lin Xian and Einstein were present, with the others absent, it would be perfect.

In such a case, Lin Xian could privately ask about Du Yao’s whereabouts, or what the Millennium Stake was, without fear of anyone else overhearing.

But that scenario probably wouldn’t happen, would it? Even Newton, the third member, likely never had such an opportunity—it was a unique privilege for Copernicus.

According to Gauss and Da Vinci, Copernicus hadn’t asked a question in over two decades. He was here today to witness Elon Musk’s demise, like a weasel greeting a chicken for New Year’s.

“If you have no questions, we’ll skip ahead,” said Newton, who appeared young but had the soul of an elder and the personality of an old rascal. “It’s the afternoon here, and my grandkids are waiting for me to take them to the amusement park, so if there are no questions, let’s not waste time.”

But then…

Copernicus gave a dry chuckle. “As it happens, I do have a question today.”

Hearing that, Lin Xian could feel the room change. The atmosphere became charged. Everyone was sitting up straight.

As the No. 2 figure of the Genius Club, Copernicus, who hadn’t asked a question in more than twenty years and whose intentions remained unknown to everyone, was finally about to ask something!

Everyone was eager to know—what was he going to ask?

This could be a great opportunity to understand Copernicus’s intentions.

“Ahem…” Copernicus cleared his throat, his voice faint and weak. “Einstein…”

He spoke softly, almost dreamily.

“Whether it’s now or in some future era, tell me… if I wanted to build a time machine, to send a traveler back in time…”

“Who should I go to?”