Genius Club

After waking up, Lin Xian sat at his desk, picked up his pen, and wrote the last few sentences of his manuscript. He placed a period at the end and said to himself, “All done.”

He capped the pen and looked at the neatly bound pages titled The Principles and Applications of Micro Nuclear Batteries.

This manuscript was simplified but meant for experts in nuclear physics. Only someone with deep knowledge could truly understand its contents.

One person came to Lin Xian’s mind as the perfect candidate to handle this manuscript: his old friend, also named Gao Yan, who was the head of the Science Academy. Gao Yan was the chief engineer of X Country’s controlled nuclear fusion project and one of the first-generation nuclear physicists in the nation.

Earlier, Lin Xian had given Director Gao Yan a manuscript on Cold Fusion Technology. As predicted by the super AI, VV, cold fusion was impossible with the technology and materials available in 2024. It would take decades, if not a century, to achieve.

For Lin Xian, a promise that far into the future was worthless.

So, he gave the Cold Fusion Technology manuscript to Director Gao Yan. In return, he gained valuable connections, access to the Guizhou Sky Eye Radio Telescope, and advanced his exploration from the third to the fourth dream world.

To Lin Xian, this was a fair trade. A promise that wouldn’t be realized for a hundred years wasn’t as valuable as immediate benefits.

Its energy output was much lower than controlled nuclear fusion or cold fusion, but as a battery, its energy storage was exceptional. It could be considered the ultimate battery.

Old man Wei Sheng Jin once said that a micro nuclear battery in a phone would last longer than the phone itself, using less than 5% of its energy. Even after that, the battery could be recycled and used in other devices. If used for LED lights, it could last thousands of years.

It was almost like another industrial revolution.

But most importantly—

“Micro nuclear batteries can be easily made with the technology available in 2024.”

This was the real moneymaker for Rhine Company.

After a solid 12-hour sleep, Lin Xian felt completely refreshed. “Why not go to the capital early? The sooner I go, the sooner I can get things done.”

He packed his bags, carefully placing the precious manuscript inside, and headed to Hongqiao Airport to catch a flight to the capital.

By the time he landed, the sun was already up.

He called Director Gao Yan, who was excited to hear from him, especially when Lin Xian mentioned a new manuscript. Gao Yan immediately canceled his plans for the day and waited eagerly for Lin Xian at the Nuclear Physics Institute of the Science Academy.

Two hours later…

Lin Xian and Director Gao Yan were in the secure lab. The lab was shielded against eavesdropping and monitoring, with signal-blocking devices installed, so phones had no service inside. This room was usually used for internal meetings only.

Director Gao Yan chuckled, “Lin Xian, what manuscript do you have this time? Every time you bring something, it’s groundbreaking. I’m excited to see it.”

Lin Xian opened his briefcase, smiling. “Don’t worry, Director Gao. Today’s manuscript won’t disappoint.”

Director Gao put on his reading glasses and began examining the manuscript like it was a treasure.

The Principles and Applications of Micro Nuclear Batteries

“This!?”

Even though he had prepared himself, Director Gao was still shocked when he saw the title.

Lin Xian rarely presented anything, but when he did, it always shook the world.

“I need to take a closer look,” Director Gao said, gesturing for Lin Xian to make himself comfortable. He found a table and chair, then sat down to focus on his reading.

As he read, Director Gao’s amazement grew. He couldn’t help but marvel at the brilliance of the ideas.

“This approach is just genius! It turns out we’ve been on the wrong path for nuclear energy development!”

“If someone had figured out this direction earlier, we could have developed micro nuclear batteries ten years ago.”

“Lin Xian, I’ve finished reading your manuscript. The content isn’t overly complicated, but the ideas are incredibly innovative and groundbreaking. From the first atomic bomb to now, humanity hasn’t found a way to miniaturize nuclear energy. Clearly, we’ve overlooked something or missed a key detail.”

“But I never thought it was a matter of direction! It’s truly tragic for human civilization… Because of a wrong ‘direction,’ we’ve missed the nuclear energy era and are still relying on fossil fuels in 2024.”

Direction.

Lin Xian had heard this word many times before.

Xu Yun mentioned it.

Old Man Wei Sheng Jin mentioned it.

And Director Gao had mentioned it before, too.

So… who is intentionally misleading the direction of human scientific research?

An incorrect research direction could ruin the careers of some of the most talented individuals. Even worse, it could halt the progress of human civilization for decades or centuries, wasting precious time for development.

Lin Xian began to think quietly.

To mislead the entire technological path of human civilization, certain conditions must be met:

The person must have a very high status with significant influence in the scientific community, enough to sway major scientific projects.

They must be extremely wealthy because money can make anything happen. Just like Elon Musk, who proposed moving the entire human population to Mars—a complete restart of humanity’s technological path.

They must have strong academic credentials; otherwise, no one would listen to them. Only if they are highly respected and their academic level is convincing can they get the entire scientific community to follow their lead.

However, Lin Xian couldn’t immediately think of anyone who fit all these criteria.

He turned to Director Gao and asked, “Director Gao, in your opinion, who is blocking humanity from researching micro nuclear batteries and instead steering others toward weapons of mass destruction or large-scale nuclear power generation?”

“That… is hard to say,” Director Gao shook his head.

“The scientific community isn’t a single group. Every scientist has their own ideas, approaches, understanding, and opinions. Often, without a definitive conclusion, no one knows which theory is right or which path will reach the end.”

“Scientific research is a process full of setbacks. We were lucky this time—you directly brought us the micro nuclear battery manuscript. Otherwise, I suspect humanity would still be wandering aimlessly for decades or even centuries.”

“Lin Xian, as I said earlier, your manuscript is unquestionably real and effective. Based on the experimental methods outlined, it won’t take long for us to create the first micro nuclear battery.”

“But… that brings us to the point: how do you plan to handle this groundbreaking invention, the micro nuclear battery?”

Lin Xian shared his thoughts with Director Gao.

He planned to set up a dedicated lab and factory in Donghai City to manufacture these micro nuclear batteries. He hoped to collaborate with the Science Academy to bring in a group of skilled personnel for the lab in Donghai City:

“It would be best if they had experience in nuclear physics—people you know well and trust.”

“We can share the research results with the Science Academy, but the patent, ownership, distribution rights, and sales rights for the micro nuclear battery will belong to my Rhine Company… To be frank, Director Gao, I have many more research plans coming up, and I need money at this stage.”

Director Gao readily agreed, “The manuscript is yours to begin with. I’m already grateful that you’re willing to share the technology with us at the Science Academy. We’re a public institution; we don’t need your patents or ownership. That’s all yours, including the profits.”

“Lin Xian, I’m really pleased. You’re still so generous and patriotic. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely send our best researchers to help you! Hmm… now that I think about it, just sending researchers may not be enough. We also need to cultivate new talent.”

“How about this? We have many interns at the Science Academy; the weakest of them are graduate or Ph.D. students from prestigious universities. I’ll pick some who have good qualifications and academic abilities to go to your lab in Donghai City.”

“Rest assured, these young people are highly reliable. They are mostly from defense universities, with strong academic backgrounds and solid national loyalty. Since your Rhine Company has established a good working relationship with our Science Academy, we can continue sending talent to you. This way, we can create a virtuous cycle of experienced researchers mentoring newcomers—a sustainable talent development strategy.”

…

As expected, Director Gao was wholeheartedly devoted to his country. Seeing that Lin Xian was willing to share his technology with the nation, he felt both excited and grateful.

“Thank you, Director Gao.”

Lin Xian expressed his gratitude, “With your approval of the researchers, I’m certainly reassured. If you don’t mind, feel free to treat my lab in Donghai City as a reserve base for training talent for the Science Academy… If I can contribute talent back to the country, it would be my honor.”

“When the micro nuclear battery finally hits the market, the assets of Rhine Company will definitely grow exponentially. At that time… I will definitely invest more money to establish more labs and fund more research projects to thank you and the country for your support.”

“Hahaha,” Director Gao chuckled and patted Lin Xian on the shoulder. “Since the day we first met, when Shan He introduced you to me, I knew you would be like him—heroes of the new era who are dedicated to scientific research and national development.”

Lin Xian humbly replied, “I still have a long way to go compared to Mr. Chu, but I have indeed learned a lot from him.”

“By the way,” Director Gao suddenly remembered something and stood up, motioning for Lin Xian to wait. “Hang on a moment, Lin Xian. I want to introduce you to one of my students. She’s exceptionally talented—not just in research but also in management. If you’re too busy to manage the lab yourself, perhaps you could consider letting her gain some experience.”

“That would be great,” Lin Xian agreed immediately.

He certainly didn’t have time to manage the lab himself. He had just been wondering how to delegate this responsibility.

It wasn’t that he was lazy.

It’s just that in terms of research, he was an outsider. If an outsider tried to manage experts, it would only cause more problems.

If he asked Liu Feng to juggle multiple tasks—researching Universal Constants, space-time particles, space-time machines, while also handling cooperation with the Science Academy and the commercialization of micro nuclear batteries—he would surely be overwhelmed.

Since Director Gao had someone suitable in mind, one of his outstanding students, Lin Xian was more than happy to accept the help.

Director Gao nodded, “There’s no signal in this secure lab, and I can’t make a call here. You wait here and have a drink of water. I’ll go fetch her now.”

With that, Director Gao left.

A short while later, he returned with a girl wearing black-rimmed glasses. After closing the door, he introduced her to Lin Xian.

“Lin Xian, this is Nangong Meng Jie, one of my Ph.D. students. She graduated from the National Defense Science and Technology University, specializing in nuclear energy research. I’m not exaggerating when I say… she is the best among all my students.”

The girl named Nangong Meng Jie nodded politely at Lin Xian and smiled. “Hello, Mr. Lin Xian. Director Gao always praises me like this, but I’m not that great. I hope I won’t disappoint you.”

Her voice was sweet.

Lin Xian observed the girl with a unique name.

She looked very young, probably because she had spent all her time in school and the research institute. This kind of environment often made people appear youthful and innocent.

In contrast, college students who had faced the harsh realities of society often matured quickly and became more shrewd.

Nangong Meng Jie wasn’t very tall, wearing flat white shoes that brought her to about 1.6 meters.

The white lab coat covered her completely, so it was hard to see her figure clearly, but from the subtle curves, it was clear she wasn’t a skinny girl. She had the kind of body where everything was in the right place—a natural advantage.

As for her face, Nangong Meng Jie had a cute, doll-like face—round and youthful. It showed her innocence, but considering she was already a Ph.D. student at the Science Academy, she was at least 25 or 26 years old, likely around Lin Xian’s age. Still, she looked more like a high school student.

Her black hair was tied up in a high bun, a classic yet fresh look, simple but elegant.

In short, Nangong Meng Jie had a strong student vibe. If Director Gao hadn’t praised her so highly, Lin Xian would never have guessed she was a graduate of the National Defense Science and Technology University, a Ph.D. candidate, and a nuclear energy expert.

“Hello, Nangong Meng Jie,” Lin Xian greeted with a smile. “That’s quite a nice name.”

“Just call me Nangong,” she replied with a tilt of her head and a smile. “Everyone thinks my name is too long, so they usually just call me by my surname… It’s unique, so there’s no confusion.”

Director Gao chuckled as he stood between them, continuing to introduce Nangong Meng Jie’s background to Lin Xian.

She was admitted to the National Defense Science and Technology University with outstanding scores. In fact, her grades were high enough to choose any top university, but coming from a family with three generations of military service, she was determined to serve her country and chose the National Defense Science and Technology University without hesitation.

On the day she reported to school, both her great-grandfather and grandfather, wearing military uniforms adorned with medals, personally escorted her. The two elderly men were incredibly proud, feeling as if they were sending another talent to serve the country, even if she was a girl—proving once again that women could be just as capable as men.

Nangong Meng Jie performed exceptionally well in school, especially in nuclear physics and nuclear energy, where she showed remarkable talent. As a result, the Science Academy noticed her early on and had planned to recruit her.

Now, seeing how highly Director Gao valued and praised her, it was clear that she was exceptional in both character and ability.

Lin Xian extended his right hand and shook hands with Nangong Meng Jie.

“Well then, Nangong, I’ll leave my lab in your hands.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Nangong Meng Jie replied as she shook his hand. “I’m honored to take on this responsibility. I believe the micro nuclear battery is a world-changing invention, and I’ll do my best in this role!”

Afterward, Lin Xian and Director Gao showed Nangong Meng Jie the Micro Nuclear Battery manuscript, and she, too, was full of praise.

With Nangong Meng Jie now in charge of the lab, Lin Xian could once again delegate responsibilities.

Currently, he had two labs under his management.

One was inside Donghai University, the Rhine Joint Lab, now also known as Rhine Lab One. This lab primarily served as Liu Feng’s private lab, focusing on highly classified research that must never leak.

Progress could be slow at times, but for topics like Universal Constants, space-time particles, space-time coordinates, and space-time machines… Lin Xian was absolutely not comfortable with letting outsiders get involved.

Even though Director Gao from the Science Academy and Nangong Meng Jie, with her patriotic family background, were trustworthy, this research was far too sensitive.

Revealing Universal Constants recklessly could lead to a fatal catastrophe. So, for now, it was better not to involve anyone else.

The other lab was the Rhine Nuclear Physics Lab located in downtown Donghai City, also known as Rhine Lab Two. This lab was a collaboration with the Science Academy, led by Nangong Meng Jie and supported by researchers and interns from the academy, focusing on the research and development of micro nuclear batteries.

There was no doubt that Rhine Lab Two would eventually become a pivot point to change the world and rewrite the future.

Having taken care of these matters, Lin Xian was ready to leave.

“See you in Donghai City,” he said, waving goodbye to Nangong Meng Jie as he exited the secure lab, walked down the hallway, and stepped outside the building.

Suddenly—

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!!

His phone exploded with notifications, filling the screen with messages.

Sure enough, all the missed calls and messages were from Liu Feng.

Lin Xian quickly called Liu Feng back: “Hello…”

“Why is it that you’re never reachable at critical times?!”

Lin Xian barely got a word out before Liu Feng’s shout nearly pierced his eardrum.

“Hey, I was at the Science Academy; it wasn’t on purpose,” Lin Xian explained, rubbing his ear. “The secure lab there blocks phone signals, so I couldn’t get your call. Anyway, what’s up?”

“Something big has happened!” Liu Feng yelled, “The space-time clock’s value has changed!”

Lin Xian froze on the spot.

He turned around and looked back at the lab building he had just exited.

It seemed that, just now, an irreversible anchor point had formed.

And so, the butterfly effect in space-time occurred, the curvature of space-time changed, the worldline shifted, and… the future world had undergone a massive transformation.

“What’s the value?” Lin Xian asked quietly.

This question was crucial.

He and Liu Feng would use the new value from the second change in the space-time clock to calculate the pattern of space-time coordinates and solve the first question of the Genius Club!

“Lin Xian, you guessed right,” Liu Feng’s voice came through the phone after a gulp. “Just over twenty minutes ago, the space-time clock value changed to 0.0000084!”

…

A jet’s roaring turbines spun wildly as the Airbus took off from the capital’s airport, heading southwest toward Donghai City.

After landing at Hongqiao Airport, Lin Xian got into an Alphard luxury car waiting for him and asked the driver, Xiao Li, to take him directly to Donghai University, to Rhine Lab One.

Entering the campus, parked the car, got out, and jogged to the second-floor lab.

Lin Xian walked briskly forward, picked up the rectangular white space-time clock from the center of the lab table, and looked at the value displayed: 0.0000084

“As expected.” Lin Xian squinted his eyes, stating the conclusion he had summarized on the plane: “The threshold value for the elasticity of space-time is 0.0000042; only when cumulative changes exceed this elasticity will the curvature of space-time change, and the minimum increment is 0.0000042.”

The space-time clock had already shifted twice:

Once from 0.0000000 to 0.0000042;

And again from 0.0000042 to 0.0000084.

This wasn’t just a coincidence.

It was a pattern!

A numerical rule of space-time!

Earlier, Lin Xian had made several small changes in space-time, like altering the font on the safe’s nameplate to Microsoft Yahei.

These changes were real and had been verified.

But the space-time clock didn’t pick them up.

No.

To be precise, it wasn’t that the clock couldn’t detect them, but rather that the curvature of space-time hadn’t changed!

Neither the curvature of space-time, the shifting of worldlines, nor the big changes in the future world were sensitive enough to notice such small alterations.

Just as Lin Xian had first suspected.

Space-time itself is sluggish, flexible, and self-correcting.

So, small changes in space-time aren’t enough to push it beyond its elasticity, meaning they’re not significant enough to cause a worldline shift.

So, what does it take to exceed the elasticity of space-time?

It’s a specific numerical value with an unknown unit—

0.0000042

“That’s right, Lin Xian, I think the same way,” Liu Feng said, pacing quickly around the lab.

“Space-time elasticity is 0.0000042! Even though we don’t know the exact unit or what it really means, math is a subject where you first observe phenomena and then figure out the rules.”

“Whether it’s the change in the space-time clock, the minimum shift in space-time curvature, or the smallest distance a worldline moves… they all come out to 0.0000042!”

“To cause a change in the curvature of space-time or a worldline shift, there are only two ways, based on what we currently think—”

“1. Keep making small changes in space-time that slowly add up to an almost unnoticeable change in curvature. Once it finally hits 0.0000042, it exceeds space-time elasticity, and the worldline will suddenly jump to a different path, changing the future world!”

“2. Cause a big enough butterfly effect in space-time all at once to break through space-time elasticity, forcing a worldline shift and drastically altering the future trajectory!”

“I believe that if enough force is applied, the curvature of space-time can also increase, maybe to 0.0000252, 0.0000294, or even as high as 42.0000000!”

“But these values must follow a strict rule—”

“They must be multiples of 0.0000042!”

…

Lin Xian and Liu Feng had come to the same conclusion about their current situation, so there was no need to keep discussing it. The next step was to understand the pattern of the space-time coordinates.

“Liu Feng, it’s the same question as always,” Lin Xian said, setting down the space-time clock and looking at Liu Feng. “Do you think 0.0000042 counts as a space-time coordinate?”

“Yes, it does,” Liu Feng confirmed with a nod.

“Then what about 0.0000084, 0.0000126, 0.0000168? Are they all space-time coordinates too?”

“Exactly,” Liu Feng replied, “But remember, these coordinates are all based on the reference system where our space-time clock was set to zero. They aren’t universal.”

“For instance, if we reset the space-time clock just a few days ago, it would have shown 0.0000000 up until today. By this morning, it would read 0.0000042.”

“So, the space-time coordinates we’re talking about are relative, not absolute.”

Lin Xian agreed with him. Coordinates, he thought. What exactly are they? They’re like unique identifiers—like an ID number, or latitude and longitude—they point to a specific location or event.

For example, the space-time coordinate 0.0000000 marks the future worldline of the third dream. The coordinate 0.0000042 points to the future world of the fifth dream. Although Lin Xian hadn’t yet entered the next dream, he knew his dream world had shifted from the fifth to the sixth. This change was triggered by the irreversible development of the micro nuclear battery.

So, the space-time coordinate 0.0000084 must refer to the sixth dream world!

These coordinates are incredibly precise. There’s no overlap, no confusion, no mistakes. But as Liu Feng pointed out, these coordinates can’t be universally communicated.

For example, if Elon Musk had a space-time clock too, he might have set it to zero much earlier. Depending on when he calibrated it, the value on his clock could be much larger or smaller than Liu Feng’s. So, if Lin Xian were to ask Elon Musk what worldline 0.0000042 represents, Elon’s answer wouldn’t match Lin Xian’s idea of the fifth dream. Their reference points are different, meaning they can’t use the same coordinate to identify the same space-time.

However, this isn’t a problem! The Genius Club had already accounted for all possibilities when they posed the question: “Please enter any space-time coordinate.”

The key word here is “any.” The question wasn’t about finding a specific space-time; they just needed you to provide any space-time coordinate. Even if 0.0000042 could mean a thousand different things to Lin Xian, Elon Musk, or countless others, it still represents a specific space-time in every possible frame of reference. And that’s all that matters.

This is the real goal behind the Genius Club’s question. Asking for a space-time coordinate was just a front. What they really wanted to see was if the participant could figure out the rules of how space-time changes, the way different worlds shift, and the boundaries of space-time flexibility.

“Clever,” Lin Xian thought, impressed. The Genius Club was definitely a force to be reckoned with. A test that seemed simple on the surface was actually very deep. Without understanding the rules of space-time, it would be nearly impossible to get the right answer.

Especially since there was an additional challenge—they only allowed one answer. No second chances. You either got it right the first time, or you didn’t. It was all or nothing.

But for something this complicated… Elon Musk had called these just “three easy questions.”

This… Lin Xian felt confused. How did these so-called geniuses get their invitations? Their experience had to be different from his—it certainly didn’t involve anything like a mirror. Maybe the way they got invited was by figuring out the space-time coordinates and the Universal Constant 42. By the time they got their invitations, they already knew the answers to these questions; it was just about confirming their identity when they logged in.

“Heh,” Lin Xian chuckled to himself. “For me, it’s the opposite.”

“For them, the hardest part was getting the invitation, and the questions were a piece of cake. For me, the invitation was practically handed to me, but these questions are a real challenge.”

“But no matter how you slice it, the Genius Club is tough. Whether the order is flipped or not, to become a member, you have to answer these three questions correctly. There’s no way around it.”

…

That evening, back at home, Lin Xian took a deep breath as he opened his drawer and pulled out a small golden badge. The Genius Club emblem was carefully engraved on its surface. He held it in his hand for a moment, feeling the weight of what it represented, and then set it down next to his phone.

Suddenly, his phone beeped softly.

Beep, beep.

The device picked up an NFC signal from the badge. Almost immediately, the browser app launched and started rapidly switching from one webpage to another.

Page after page flashed on the screen…

It looked like some kind of encryption process, hiding information behind layers of coded pages. The rapid transitions continued for several minutes, making it impossible to see what was on each page.

Finally, the screen stopped flickering.

The browser settled on a simple, old-school webpage. It had the look of an early internet BBS forum, stripped down and plain. At the center of the page, white text floated on a solid black background:

“Please enter any space-time coordinate.”

Below the text, there was a single white input box.

Lin Xian took a deep breath, clicked on the box, and carefully typed in “0.0000042.” He double-checked the number, making sure all eight digits were correct. His hands trembled slightly. One mistake could mean the end of this chance.

Once he was certain it was right, he clicked the gray “Confirm” button next to the box.

Immediately, the webpage came to life again.

The screen jumped wildly from one display to another, moving so fast it was impossible to keep up. Black and white flashes filled his vision as the browser cycled through different screens at an incredible speed.

Then, after a few more intense minutes, the screen finally stopped.

A large dialog box appeared in the center of the page: Correct answer!

“Phew…” Lin Xian exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he released the tension he’d been holding in. Even though he and Liu Feng had been 90% sure this was the right answer, knowing there was only one chance made the situation nerve-wracking.

But it was a success.

He had answered the first question correctly and was now one step closer to joining the Genius Club.

Progress: One-third complete.

At the top of the page, a “2/3” progress indicator appeared, signaling that he was moving on to the second question.

After closing the confirmation box, Lin Xian saw the new question.

Again, white text appeared on the black background, stark and simple.

This time, it was just as concise as the first question—

“Please perform the greatest possible… historical revision!”

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