Genius Club

Lin Xian looked down at the list, his eyes scanning the five rules of the Genius Club. He hadn’t expected this.

The result of the third question had come so quickly—or rather, it seemed like the answer didn’t even matter. Right or wrong, it wasn’t about that.

That is why, the moment he hit “submit,” he passed the test, and the “Genius Club Rules” appeared before him.

Reaching this point felt like he’d officially received an invitation to attend the Genius Club gathering.

“Phew…”

Lin Xian let out a long sigh. “What a journey it’s been.”

Finally, he had made it this far. Finally, he could meet these geniuses face-to-face and maybe even unravel the mysteries of the Millennium Stake, among so many other secrets.

The first rule stated the meeting times for the Genius Club—on the first day of every month, at 00:42 X Country time. Lin Xian found this intriguing.

The club’s logo and the text were all in English, which made him think it was an international group. But then why use X Country time for the meetings?

“Could it be that the leader of the Genius Club is from X Country?” Lin Xian scratched his head. “Not impossible, I suppose. Anyway, once I attend, I’ll find out.”

The second part of the first rule emphasized something—attendance was optional, but lateness was absolutely not allowed. If you were going to be late, it was better not to show up at all. Interesting. It seemed like this organization placed a lot of importance on ceremony, with a strange kind of stubbornness.

Lin Xian moved on to the second rule. It said that, in keeping with modern times, current meetings were held virtually, using VR glasses or headsets.

This made sense. Lin Xian had already guessed as much.

“If the Genius Club meetings were held in person, there’s no way relationships between members would be so distant,” he mused. “Besides, imagine Elon Musk and Kevin Walker sitting at the same table. One destroyed the other’s system, and the other blew up two thousand of his satellites. They’d probably want nothing more than to strangle each other. Even if they managed not to flip the table out of respect for the leader, as soon as the meeting ended, they’d definitely be at each other’s throats.”

He shook his head. “Not to mention Kevin Walker is a wanted criminal worldwide—how could he attend in person? So, VR meetings make sense. I just hadn’t expected it to be VR.”

Lin Xian was somewhat familiar with VR—the technology where you wore a headset that covered half your face, replacing your real-world view with an immersive virtual environment. It had been quite popular a few years ago but had lost some momentum recently.

Using VR for immersive meetings was a clever approach, though.

“But what did they do before VR technology was invented? How did the Genius Club meet every month?” Lin Xian wondered. He was sure the club had a long history and couldn’t have started only after VR was invented.

Back then, they would’ve had to hide their identities too. Could they have used online chat rooms? And before the internet, before computers—did they meet in person?

Lin Xian shook his head again, imagining. Back then, they must’ve had real-life duels after meetings. He wondered how many members from those days were still around.

“Three days from now—July 1st,” Lin Xian looked at the calendar on his desk. “I’ll have my answers then.”

He didn’t have any VR equipment at home, so he’d need to buy some in the next couple of days. Apparently, Apple had announced a new VR headset at last year’s product launch, and it had recently hit the market.

“I’ll check out the store tomorrow. VR equipment isn’t hard to get; there are plenty of brands,” he decided.

Lin Xian moved on to the third rule. This one seemed a bit odd. It said that, to protect privacy and prevent exposure, every member must wear a mask during meetings.

“Uh…”

If these were in-person meetings, wearing a mask made sense to hide your identity. But in VR? Everyone was already using an avatar, and you could customize it however you liked—tall, short, fat, thin, any face, any hair. You could even change your gender if you wanted. From a privacy standpoint, VR already offered perfect anonymity. Adding a mask seemed a bit redundant.

Lin Xian noticed a particular phrase in the third rule: “As per club tradition.”

“Ah, that explains it.” He nodded to himself. “Looks like I was right. In the early days, last century, the club must’ve met in person. Everyone had to wear a mask to protect their identity. Even now, in the digital age, they haven’t let go of that tradition. Strange and stubborn—but I get it.”

The mask wasn’t important; it was about respecting tradition. Over time, people had gotten used to it, and they brought it with them into the online world. Most likely, they meant a virtual mask for the avatars.

Still, Lin Xian thought, “Just in case, I’d better prepare a physical mask too. What if the system requires scanning a real one? I can’t afford to miss the July 1st meeting over something that trivial.”

He remembered asking Wang to add the Rhine Cat mask to the production line half a month ago. “It should be ready by now. I’ll pick one up from the company… Hopefully, it’s selling well.”

With that, the mask issue was settled. It might not have much practical purpose, but Lin Xian believed in “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Since he’d joined the club, he had to follow the rules.

Next, he read the fourth rule—it was straightforward. It stated that membership in the Genius Club was for life—one person, one seat. Members wouldn’t be expelled or replaced, even if they turned against the club.

“That’s some serious tolerance,” Lin Xian thought, impressed. He wondered who the leader of the Genius Club was, to be so broad-minded. Even if someone became an enemy, they could still attend meetings and gain information.

“Impressive,” he muttered, recalling something he’d seen in a motivational video. “People who betray me, I give them a million. Because those who come back to serve me… they’ll be worth billions!”

Still, Lin Xian wondered if anyone would actually betray the club. He had gone to great lengths to join, and even Ji Xun had chased this dream for a lifetime. Would anyone really turn their back on it?

“Possible, I guess,” he shrugged. The minds of geniuses were unpredictable. There was a fine line between brilliance and madness, and from what he’d seen of his fellow members, he wholeheartedly agreed.

Finally, there was the fifth rule—though it was more of a reminder than a rule:

“With great power comes great responsibility. Always remember the duty and authority history grants geniuses, to work towards a brighter future for humanity…”

Lin Xian read it aloud.

“Wait a second—for a brighter future for humanity…” He paused, recognizing the phrase. Wasn’t that the motto of the Rhine Company?

He remembered the launch ceremony—standing before reporters, employees, Zhao Ying Jun, and Chu Shan He. He’d thrown away the scripted speech Wang had prepared and improvised one instead.

He’d talked about the environmental impact of Rhine Sky City and came up with a vision for the company: “I sincerely hope that no matter how large Rhine Company becomes, no matter what field it works in, it will always uphold this principle—and that is the true meaning of Rhine Company: to work towards a brighter future for humanity.”

The passionate speech had earned him rousing applause, and the phrase had appeared in major newspapers across Donghai City the next day.

“Is it a coincidence?” Lin Xian wondered. “How could everything be a coincidence? There can’t be that many coincidences.”

Yellow Finch had often told him to work towards being a proper leader. Did that mean the leader of the Genius Club?

Lin Xian blinked, thinking back. Turing and Elon Musk had both confirmed it—the club’s leader had some way of seeing into the future.

Could it be… Could the leader be him?

Lin Xian held his breath, considering all possible scenarios. But beyond these strange coincidences, there was nothing else to support it.

“Heh.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “The final boss is me? What kind of cliché plot twist is that? Not even stories from ten years ago would use something so old-fashioned.”

If he were the leader, he couldn’t imagine being this forgiving—letting someone like Copernicus, who’d taken innocent lives, attend the meetings again. No way.

“No, no.” Lin Xian shook his head. “I’m not that open-minded. I’d never let members harm innocent people or throw the world into chaos. No way I’m the leader.”

No point in overthinking it. He read the beginning of the fifth rule again—with great power came great responsibility. Geniuses had a duty to lead humanity toward a better future.

But what about authority? What did that mean?

“Is it the power to influence history, the future, time, and fate?” Lin Xian snorted. “How self-important.”

Click. He locked his phone screen, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

These were the rules of the Genius Club. Though he still didn’t fully understand the club, at least now he had a ticket to attend the meeting.

And that was enough for now.

“The rest… I’ll find out at the gathering.”

…

Two days later.

June 30th, 2024, nine in the morning, Rhine Company, Lin Xian’s office.

Wang stepped forward and placed two Rhine Cat masks on the desk.

“Take a look. What do you think? We made them exactly as you requested, top quality. They’re from the toy factory we’ve always worked with.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think masks like these would make any profit, but you wouldn’t believe it! It’s only been on the shelves for a week, and they’re selling like crazy! Sold out in many cities… The factory’s machines are practically smoking.”

“I have to say, look at the quality of these masks—the colors, the edges—amazing. Sure, this factory is more expensive than others, but the quality’s worth it.”

“I just spoke with the marketing team, and they said we’ve already sold four million masks this week. I thought it was going to be a flop, but it accidentally became a hit. Anything related to Rhine Cat sells!”

“If we include export orders, there are over forty million already. This factory’s going to be busy for a while.”

Lin Xian listened as Wang reported the figures, picking up one of the masks to inspect.

The mask’s design and colors were based on the original Rhine Cat—the same one Big Cat Face wore in Lin Xian’s first dream, a simple doodle of Rhine Cat.

That was where everything began.

The start of it all.

Lin Xian found it meaningful.

It was about not forgetting where it all started.

Half a month ago, when he told Wang to make an official Rhine Cat mask, Lin Xian had specifically requested the original doodle version.

And now, his dream had become a reality.

Here, in 2024, he finally had the Rhine Cat mask from six hundred years into the future.

Lin Xian ran his fingers over the glossy colors, testing the material—sturdy, yet flexible. He couldn’t help but praise it.

“It’s really good. No wonder it’s selling so well.”

Lin Xian stretched the elastic band and put the mask on, letting it rest on the back of his head.

And just like that…

The long-forgotten Rhine Cat mask was back on his face.

Through the mask’s eyeholes, he looked at Wang across the desk.

“Well?”

“What?” Wang looked confused.

“I mean…” Lin Xian pointed at the mask, smiling. “Do I look like a bank robber?”

“Hahahaha.”

Wang burst into laughter.

“Who would be stupid enough to rob a bank wearing a Rhine Cat mask? They’d have to be nuts!”

Lin Xian quickly remembered.

Thank goodness.

In his first dream, when he robbed the bank, he had been wearing the same Ultraman mask as CC. Wang’s joke hadn’t inadvertently hit the mark.

“You’re right.” Lin Xian nodded. “I’ll have to get some compensation from Big Cat for image damages.”

Joking aside…

Without Big Cat Face robbing the bank in the Rhine Cat mask, none of this would be possible.

Big Cat was the real hero.

The toughest guy in human history.

…

After discussing company matters with Wang, Lin Xian took the two Rhine Cat masks, left his office, and headed to the other tower of the Twin Buildings, the MX Tower.

Using the app on his phone, he could see Yan Qiao Qiao’s location in real-time through the watch on her wrist.

It had become part of his daily routine.

Even though his phone would send an alert if she left the designated area, better safe than sorry.

A moment ago, he had seen her watch location—it showed she was at the MX Tower.

Which meant…

Zhao Ying Jun had brought her to work today.

As soon as Lin Xian entered the MX Tower, familiar faces came up to him.

“Oh, Lin Xian, coming to see the boss again?”

“What are those… Rhine Cat masks? Are you giving one to the boss? I just bought one for my son the other day.”

“Last time you brought a robot vacuum, and now a mask? You’re all over the place.”

“You guys don’t get it. He’s giving it to Yan Qiao Qiao—the kid from Zhao Ying Jun’s family.”

“Oh, oh, right. Gotta build rapport even with distant relatives, huh?”

…

Among the chatter and jokes, Lin Xian took the elevator up to the 22nd floor.

Since Zhao Ying Jun had said last time that he could come anytime, and just enter without knocking, Lin Xian didn’t stand on ceremony.

He punched in the familiar code, and with a beep, the double security doors clicked open.

Inside the office…

Zhao Ying Jun and Yan Qiao Qiao looked up at the same time.

“Lin Xian, you’re here.”

“Brother Lin Xian.”

Lin Xian smiled, looking over at the sofa.

Yan Qiao Qiao was sitting there, rolling a crumpled paper ball in her hands and tossing it towards the coffee table.

“Trash detected! Trash detected!”

The vacuum robot VV buzzed around, spinning and speeding towards the paper ball, scooping it up.

Zhao Ying Jun glanced at the scene and smiled at Lin Xian.

“Qiao Qiao’s found a new toy. She loves playing with VV… It’s funny, she likes both the VV—the Pomeranian and the vacuum robot.”

At that moment, the vacuum robot’s light blinked a few times.

Then, it suddenly charged straight at Lin Xian’s ankle.

“Trash detected! Trash detected!”

Bang.

“Ow.”

It hit Lin Xian’s ankle, and he grimaced in pain.

“What’s wrong with you? Did you malfunction?”

The vacuum robot just stopped, doing nothing.

“Troublesome.”

Lin Xian muttered, then walked over to the sofa, handing one of the Rhine Cat masks to Yan Qiao Qiao.

“Qiao Qiao, look at this mask. Isn’t it a lot better than that cheap knockoff you had before?”

Yan Qiao Qiao accepted it, nodding.

“Rhine Cat. I like it.”

She pulled the elastic band over her ponytail and put the mask on, then looked up at Lin Xian.

“When can we go to the park and fight those Ultramen and Pleasant Little Lambs?”

Lin Xian burst out laughing, patting Yan Qiao Qiao’s head.

“Do you think this mask is your ticket to the fight club? Little girls shouldn’t always think about fighting. You should pick a nice hobby.”

“Ah, that reminds me.” Zhao Ying Jun set down her pen and spoke up.

“When I took Qiao Qiao shopping a while back, she seemed interested in Taekwondo and Sanda, so we tried a class. The instructor was really impressed with her and said he’d never seen such a natural talent—even offered to train her for free.”

She chuckled.

“Of course, we wouldn’t take advantage like that. I paid the fees. I figured she’d just do it for fun, not for any exams or competitions.”

“She really likes Taekwondo and Sanda. When we left, she kept glancing back at the kids training. I thought, why not sign her up if she’s so interested? Just as a hobby.”

“What do you think?”

Uh…

Lin Xian looked at Yan Qiao Qiao’s eager eyes behind the mask, feeling conflicted.

He tried changing the topic. “Wouldn’t you like to try dancing?”

Yan Qiao Qiao shook her head. “Too weak.”

“Weak?” Lin Xian was puzzled. “Dancing isn’t weak… You mean it’s not exciting enough? Then maybe hip-hop? That’s pretty energetic.”

Yan Qiao Qiao shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

“Then how about an instrument—piano, violin, guitar?” Lin Xian tried again.

Yan Qiao Qiao shook her head once more.

“I like fighting.”

With that, she threw a few quick punches, her movements crisp and sharp.

Lin Xian was reminded of Village Chief Blue Eyes in the seventh dream—punching a bear so hard that its head exploded, brain matter everywhere.

“…” Lin Xian sighed.

It seemed he couldn’t change her mind.

“Alright, let her do it.”

Zhao Ying Jun shrugged.

“It’s just a hobby class. How much can she really learn? It’s just for fun, maybe make some friends.”

“Besides, it’s good for a girl to learn some self-defense. It’ll help her if anyone tries to mess with her.”

Hah.

Lin Xian smiled wryly.

Who would dare mess with her?

Even Lord Li in Donghai City was respectful when it came to her.

“Brother Lin Xian, will you take me?” Yan Qiao Qiao adjusted the mask on her face, looking up at him with bright eyes.

“Sister Ying Jun has been really busy lately, and hasn’t had time to take me to Taekwondo… I want to keep going.”

“Alright, alright.”

So far, it didn’t seem like Yan Qiao Qiao had any memory of the past. Liu Feng’s entangled particles had also been stable.

Lin Xian was at a complete loss.

Thankfully, there were still seven days until July 7th. He could spend the time with Yan Qiao Qiao, strengthen their bond, and maybe find some clues.

As long as the clock didn’t change, as long as there was no timeline shift, the established history wouldn’t change, and he’d be safe until the 7th.

If he couldn’t find a solution by July 6th…

Lin Xian would just head to the capital and hide with Director Liu An of National Security.

“But not today. I’ve got something to do.” Lin Xian promised. “I’ll take you to Taekwondo tomorrow.”

“Okay!” Yan Qiao Qiao nodded eagerly, her eyes full of anticipation. “I’ll wait for you, Brother Lin Xian.”

With that settled, Lin Xian decided not to interrupt Zhao Ying Jun’s work any longer. He left and headed to the electronics mall, where he purchased a feature-packed VR headset with NFC technology.

The headset had a massive, full-coverage design that looked like a box covering the upper half of his face. It used two high-definition screens inside to create a 3D image for each eye, giving a realistic and immersive experience.

Lin Xian tried it out at the store. As soon as he put it on, he found himself in a lifelike, almost indistinguishable real forest. Looking to his left, he saw colorful butterflies fluttering close, as if they were about to land on his face. The soft rustling of wind and the gentle flap of wings made it feel like he was truly there.

He looked up. There was sunlight, a bright sky, towering treetops, and birds flying overhead. The lighting effects were so vivid that he could almost feel the damp, cool atmosphere of the forest. Looking down, he saw his pant legs and boots—although, of course, they weren’t real. Instead of the athletic clothes he wore in real life, the VR world presented him as a jungle adventurer, dressed in thick, muddy boots and sturdy trousers, enhancing the immersion.

Lin Xian spun around, taking in the 360-degree view of the dense forest behind him—just in time to see a striped tiger leap out of the jungle! Muscles tensed, fangs bared, it roared at him and lunged.

“Whoa!” Lin Xian instinctively dodged to the side. The VR experience ended abruptly right then, leaving him standing in the store, a little out of breath.

A store employee helped him remove the headset, smiling. “How did you like it, sir?”

“It was quite impressive,” Lin Xian admitted, still amazed. “Very realistic.”

“VR technology depends on both hardware and software,” the employee explained. “The quality of the VR experience improves as resolution, frame rate, and content quality improve. Unfortunately, VR videos and games are still not mainstream, so the available content is somewhat limited.”

“That’s fine.” Lin Xian handed back the VR headset. “I’ll take this one, please. And just to confirm, it supports NFC, right?”

“Of course,” the employee assured him. He demonstrated using an NFC card, and Lin Xian was satisfied. He paid, collected his purchase, and headed home.

…

Night, July 1, 2024, 12:40 a.m.

Lin Xian sat comfortably on his couch, already wearing the sleek new VR headset. With no input source or connection, the scene before him showed a virtual living room instead of his own—an empty 3D space that had no character of its own.

“It’s about time,” he muttered. In his right hand, Lin Xian held the golden badge of the Genius Club. He brought it up to the right side of the headset, aligning it with the NFC module.

Beep beep.

A soft sound indicated the headset had recognized the NFC link. The world around him shifted rapidly, light and shadow flashing past as though he were speeding through a tunnel of time and space. He turned his head, looking left and right, but everywhere was the same mixture of dazzling colors.

After several seconds, the scene settled. He found himself standing in what looked like a changing room.

“Please set up your virtual avatar,” a mechanical voice prompted—neither male nor female, utterly devoid of emotion.

Lin Xian navigated the options with his eyes, setting up a quick avatar. He wasn’t interested in making it special—a random height, a standard build, default facial features, and a simple suit. In the end, his avatar looked like an utterly ordinary middle-aged man in a plain suit. The Genius Club’s golden badge automatically appeared on his jacket.

Lin Xian confirmed his selection, and the mechanical voice continued: “Please set up your mask. You may scan a physical mask or upload an image.”

He had been expecting this. Lin Xian picked up the “Rhine Cat” mask from beside him and held it in front of the VR headset’s camera.

The mask was quickly reconstructed and appeared in the virtual world, attaching itself to his avatar’s face.

He couldn’t help but feel amused. “Isn’t this redundant?” he thought. A virtual mask over a virtual face—it felt like an unnecessary step.

Once again, he confirmed his choice, and the screen faded to black. Only the distant glow of candlelight remained visible. The mechanical voice spoke again:

“Please turn off or mute all nearby electronic devices. The gathering must not be disturbed.”

Lin Xian sighed. “What a hassle.” But he had no choice. He reached for his phone on the coffee table and flipped the physical mute switch.

Thirty more seconds passed.

Finally—

The darkness lifted, and warm light filled his vision. Lin Xian turned his head to look around. He found himself inside an imposing medieval-style castle. A long red carpet stretched before him, leading to a pair of tall wooden doors at the end.

He understood. He needed to walk forward and open those doors—the Genius Club meeting awaited on the other side.

He moved forward, his avatar’s feet appearing as he stepped onto the carpet. The sound of shoes against wool echoed realistically in his ears.

Lin Xian recalled what the salesperson had told him—the higher the quality, the better the VR experience. Everything here—the castle, the carpet, the massive doors—was top-notch. It felt so real, it almost fooled his senses.

Step by step, he approached the large wooden doors. He could hear voices from the other side.

“Oh? A newcomer today?” A young man’s voice echoed. “The final genius… Took long enough.”

A woman’s soft laughter followed. “So all members are finally here. I’m curious… Which painting did he use? I looked everywhere but couldn’t find the last one.”

“Hmm…” An older man’s voice was low and thoughtful. “After we cracked the code in ‘Sorrowful Einstein’ and got the invitation, we destroyed the painting. Only those with strange tastes kept theirs, misleading others.”

“The one in the British Museum is yours, right, Da Vinci? And there’s another, Newton’s, held by some Hollywood director—no idea where it ended up. As for the rest… who knows? But even if we ask our newcomer, he won’t tell. Revealing it would give away his identity.”

The woman laughed again. “We could just ask Turing, couldn’t we? He knows everything.”

“Turing?” She raised her voice. “Turing, why so quiet today? You’re like a mute—not a word from you.”

A cough sounded—deep and hoarse. “Turing is dead,” came the solemn voice of an elderly man.

“We know,” the woman said, her tone shifting. “Didn’t you say last month that Turing died, and his digital clone replaced him?”

“The same,” replied the elder. “The digital version is gone too. Turing has left us for good.”

Sudden murmurs erupted.

Lin Xian kept walking, the conversation growing clearer as he neared the doors.

“Who could kill a digital lifeform?” the young man asked, surprised. “How is that possible? Though… haha, I should thank whoever did it. I never trusted a digital clone. It made me uneasy, especially after the promises Turing made at our last gathering.”

“It’s quite a turnout today,” another older voice joined in, less hoarse and full of vitality. “Copernicus, it’s been ages! What wind blew you here?”

“Hehehe…” A dry, familiar laugh made Lin Xian frown as he approached the doors.

That laugh—he knew it too well. It was the mysterious old man from the fourth dream.

So it really was Copernicus.

The laughter stopped, and Copernicus spoke in a ghostly tone, “I’ve come today… to witness the fall of a genius.”

A few seconds of silence followed before the woman’s voice came back. “Who? Turing? You knew Turing would die?”

“No…” Copernicus let out two more chuckles. Lin Xian stood right in front of the door, and Copernicus’ frail voice floated through, “Someone else… an old friend who hasn’t shown much respect.”

…

Boca Chica, Texas, USA, SpaceX Starship Launch Center, Elon Musk’s Private Office.

Click.

The door to Elon Musk’s office—accessible only by him and his secretary—opened smoothly.

Click, click, click.

The secretary, an elegant woman in high heels, walked in. She approached Elon Musk, who reclined in his executive chair, wearing an oversized VR headset.

She adjusted her red-rimmed glasses, raised her right hand—which held a gun—and pressed it to the headset.

“Hmm?” The tall billionaire seemed puzzled by the sudden pressure on his headset, but before he could react further—

Bang!

The explosion of the gunshot filled the room. The bullet blasted through the VR headset, through Elon Musk’s forehead and out the back, splattering blood and brain matter onto the wall.

Elon Musk’s head slumped down, the back of his skull blown open.

“Goodbye, Elon Musk.” The secretary adjusted her glasses. “Do you remember what I told you back when I was at MIT?”

She turned, leaving the office and shutting the door behind her with a forceful thud.

…

Boom!

Lin Xian’s VR experience suddenly shifted as he arrived at the end of the red carpet. He pressed his hands against the double wooden doors and pushed them open.

A golden glow poured out, blindingly bright. Lin Xian squinted as he entered a grand, regal hall. At the center, a single, elaborately carved ebony chair sat atop a raised platform, like a throne. Someone was sitting there, cloaked in shadows.

On either side of the red carpet, four identical wooden chairs faced each other—eight in total—each occupied by figures of different shapes and sizes.

Lin Xian stepped through the door and walked forward along the carpet. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he took a sharp breath at what he saw.

Just as the Genius Club charter had mentioned, each person in the hall wore a mask. But these masks were not of animals, cartoons, or random images—they were the faces of real historical figures.

On the four chairs to his left, four people turned their heads to look at him, their masks depicting:

Copernicus

Galileo

Gauss

Turing

On the four chairs to his right, only three were occupied; the fourth was empty. Those three also turned toward him, their masks depicting:

Newton

Da Vinci

Tesla

Finally, the figure seated on the raised platform slowly straightened. It was an elderly person, somewhat hunched, with a mask that glittered in the light as they lifted their head.

Albert Einstein

“Welcome… ninth and final genius,” the old figure intoned as they stood up from their ornate wooden throne.

They slowly raised their right hand, extending a finger toward the sky.

“Welcome to… the Genius Club!”