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Lin Xian exhaled softly, closing his eyes. “There’s no link between them,” he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice.

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the pen down. Though he now knew of two members, the information was frustratingly fragmented. It was puzzling—did these names hold any significance, or were they just randomly chosen aliases?

His mind replayed the events leading to this moment. Ji Xin Shui, before his untimely death, had implicated Copernicus as the mastermind, drawing him into the shadowy world of the Genius Club with promises of membership. This same figure had supposedly orchestrated the plot that led to the targeting of several prominent scientists—and unexpectedly, Lin Xian himself.

“Why target me, though?” Lin Xian pondered aloud. He wasn’t a scientist—his expertise lay in other realms. Yet, according to a delirious Ji Xin Shui during an interrogation, this was all a “test” by the Genius Club, and Lin Xian had knowingly tricked the old man into becoming an examiner.

Opening his eyes, Lin Xian’s thoughts raced. Time, history, future implications—his current work seemed to intersect mysteriously with the club’s interests. Could it be that the Genius Club was more than just a gathering of brilliant minds, but a group deeply involved in shaping or predicting the course of history itself?

These reflections led him to a startling conclusion: the Genius Club wasn’t just a legend; it was a reality, its members possibly wielding significant influence over the fabric of time itself.

Determined, Lin Xian resolved to delve deeper. “I need to infiltrate their ranks,” he decided, his voice firm with newfound resolve.

This decision came at a crucial time. He couldn’t afford to stay in the shadows any longer, especially after Ji Xin Shui’s murder—which Lin Xian decided to frame as his entry exam to the Genius Club, flipping the narrative to his advantage.

Still, joining the elusive club wasn’t straightforward. Yellow Finch, ever cryptic, hadn’t offered any concrete steps to secure an invitation, leaving Lin Xian to figure it out on his own.

His attention was momentarily drawn to the day’s newspaper, resting on a nearby side table. It featured a front-page article about him, spotlighting his role in solving a high-profile serial murder case. With his newfound public visibility and a commendation ceremony scheduled at the Donghai Grand Hall, laying low was no longer an option.

“This means stepping away from MX Company,” Lin Xian concluded with a hint of reluctance. The decision, though made long ago, had been tough to act on. Whenever he contemplated leaving, thoughts of Zhao Ying Jun, his mentor at MX, surfaced, complicating his emotions.

But now, circumstances had changed. It was time to be proactive, to build his resources and strengthen his position. The recent threats had underscored a harsh reality: weakness invited peril, and his next adversary might not play by the rules as neatly as the last.

With a determined stroke, Lin Xian flipped the blank sheet over and started jotting down his immediate objectives:

Resign from MX Company and launch his own venture to gather resources and form alliances.

Settle outstanding issues with Liu Feng to focus on unraveling the mysteries of the Universal Constant and the significance of the number 42.

Secure an invitation to the Genius Club and unravel its deepest secrets.

“Alright, that’s it,” Lin Xian murmured as he looked over the three plans he had just written down. Despite their variety, they all invariably led back to one enigmatic entity: the Genius Club.

It was at Tang Xin’s grave that the reality had hit him hard—unless Copernicus and his machinations were stopped, the cycle of violence would relentlessly continue, eventually reaching those he cared about, just as it had Xu Yun and Tang Xin.

“Let’s get started,” Lin Xian said with a determined nod. He clicked open a folder on his desktop labeled ‘Important Documents’ and opened a file named ‘Resignation Letter.’ Although the letter had been drafted long ago, it had remained unsent, a testament to his indecision. But today was different. He pressed ‘print.’

The printer buzzed to life, spitting out the resignation letter with a series of mechanical clicks. Lin Xian picked up the crisp paper, folded it neatly, and rose from his chair. With a deep breath, he walked out of his office and pressed the button for the 22nd floor.

When the elevator doors opened, he navigated through the familiar corridors to a double-layered password-secured door, the entrance to Zhao Ying Jun’s executive suite. He keyed in the password—32375246—a random string of digits etched in his memory, and heard the soft click of the door unlocking. The heavy door swung open, letting the sunlight flood in from the office’s large windows.

Zhao Ying Jun looked up from her paperwork, her expression softening into a slight smile. “Lin Xian, you’re here.”

He nodded in response, closed the door behind him, and began the short walk across the carpeted floor to her desk. Today, this path seemed much longer and heavier than usual.

“I was just about to call you in,” Zhao Ying Jun commented, gesturing towards the impeccably clean office. “You’ve been so busy; I knew you hadn’t had a chance to tidy up, so I took care of it.”

She chuckled softly. “I never minded the mess, you know, because it was just an office, not a home. But seeing it this clean and organized… it’s really nice. It’s surprising how a little order can make such a difference.”

Lin Xian listened as he continued his approach, the clean carpet crunching slightly under his steps.

“By the way, I’ve been practicing at the Tianma Racing Circuit again,” Zhao Ying Jun added nonchalantly, her eyes scanning a document. “I’m getting better, thanks to your tips. The coaches there were quite impressed.”

She paused to brush a strand of hair from her face, her voice tinged with amusement. “I even dropped your name. You know, about that viral video—the one where the blue Bentley jumps over the Donghai highway? They couldn’t believe it when I told them that was my car, and you were the driver.”

Lin Xian’s steps grew heavier with each word, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.

Zhao Ying Jun continued, her tone shifting slightly. “When I visited home for the New Year, my parents saw that video. My father, who’s always been critical, actually recognized my car. He didn’t sleep that night, and for the first time, he took an interest in my life here in Donghai. It’s funny how parents are…”

She stopped writing and looked up, meeting Lin Xian’s gaze. “He even mentioned liking the Rhine Cat design, which you created. It was his way of acknowledging my work, indirectly acknowledging you.”

Lin Xian reached her desk, stopping just at its edge.

Zhao Ying Jun gave a small, awkward smile. “Sorry for the ramble. It’s been a while since we last talked like this. So, what brings you here today?”

With a solemn nod, Lin Xian placed the folded resignation letter on her desk. The lightness in her expression vanished, replaced by a mix of surprise and concern.

“President Zhao,” Lin Xian started, his voice low and steady, “I need to leave MX Company.”

The room filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city outside, as Zhao Ying Jun stared at the resignation letter, her previous joviality replaced with a stark seriousness.