Earth Metaverse Year 10, April 29, 2031 AD.

Night had fallen, and the streetlights flickered to life, casting long shadows over the quiet road.

Shawn pedaled home along his usual route, the cool evening breeze brushing against his face.

But no amount of fresh air could settle the storm brewing inside him.

Lately, he had been ranked first in his class—an achievement that should have made him proud. Instead, he felt the weight of cold stares and whispered resentment. Few offered genuine congratulations, least of all Donner and Jolie.

They had believed that gaining admission into the prestigious AGI-ST Program would guarantee them superior intelligence and a bright future. Yet, no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't surpass Shawn academically.

He could ignore their jealousy, but one thing gnawed at him relentlessly: the Meta Origin Society.

He had searched everywhere—government offices, social organizations, even temples and Taoist shrines—but the organization remained elusive, like a flickering shadow under the streetlights, always just out of reach.

Mr. Kin, Secretary General Quinn and Grand Sage Sandy checked in on him often, asking about his health and studies. But Shawn knew what they truly cared about: his investigation into the Meta Origin Society, and more specifically, any information regarding the seven Nine Palaces Spirit Keys.

As he veered off the main road, the streets grew narrower, darker. The dim glow of the streetlamps only made the silence feel colder, lonelier.

Then—footsteps. Quick, urgent.

Before Shawn could react, something hard slammed into his right shoulder. A sharp pain shot through him as he tumbled off his bike, skidding across the rough pavement. His palms burned where they scraped against the ground.

Groaning, he looked up. A group of masked men loomed over him, their eyes cold and predatory. Each clutched a wooden stick, ready to strike again.

Street thugs. He could tell from their ragged clothes—one with bleached blond hair, another in ripped jeans, the third rail-thin like a skeleton.

Gritting his teeth, Shawn forced himself onto one elbow, his heart pounding. "Who… who are you? What do you want?" His voice shook, betraying his fear.

The men didn't answer. One lifted his stick.

Shawn had nowhere to run. Desperation clawed at his chest.

Then—

“STOP!”

A low, commanding voice rang out from the darkness.

Shadows burst from the alleyway. Figures in black masks moved swiftly, their steps precise, their movements efficient.

The thugs barely had time to react before they were overpowered—disarmed, restrained, and slammed to the ground.

"Big brother—please, spare us!" One of them begged, his voice trembling.

"We… we didn't know Shawn was your friend!" another stammered.

"We were just paid to teach him a lesson!"

"Yeah! We weren't gonna kill him—just make sure he couldn't go to school!"

The masked men exchanged glances before bursting into amused laughter.

Shawn, still on the ground, stared in shock. His mind struggled to catch up with the sudden turn of events.

A middle-aged man, wearing glasses and speaking with a thick southwestern Mandarin accent, stepped forward. He reached out a hand.

"Are you Shawn? Are you alright?"

Shawn hesitated before nodding. He tried to stand, but his shoulder throbbed painfully. His movements were stiff, his fingers still trembling.

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"Should we take these thugs to the police?" the man in glasses asked.

Shawn clenched his jaw, his mind flashing back to their frantic confessions. He already knew who was behind this.

"Forget it," he said coldly. "I know who sent them."

The tallest of the masked men turned to the ruffians. "Listen up," he growled. "Tell your boss to back off. If Shawn is targeted again, we won't be so forgiving."

The thugs scrambled to their feet and fled into the night.

The man in glasses adjusted his frames and turned back to Shawn. "Do you need to go to a hospital?"

Shawn rotated his injured shoulder. It hurt, but nothing seemed broken. "No, thanks," he replied, nodding politely.

The man smiled. "Good. Then—"

His expression darkened. "Shawn, I'm sorry. But you need to come with us."

Before Shawn could react, two men grabbed his arms.

"Wha—wait! What are you—?!" Panic surged through him.

A blindfold slipped over his eyes, cutting off his vision. A cloth muffled his protests.

"Move," a deep voice ordered.

A rough hand gripped his wrist and lower back, pinning him in place. He had no way to struggle.

He heard the clatter of his bicycle being lifted onto the car roof. Then, the vehicle started.

For twenty minutes, Shawn sat between two silent men, his mind racing.

Then the car stopped.

He was pulled out, guided inside a building, and forced into a chair. The gag was removed, but the blindfold remained.

A familiar voice—the man in glasses.

"Do you know why we brought you here?"

Shawn took a shaky breath. His throat was dry. His lips parted, but no words came out.

"Speak," the voice commanded. "Or I'll kill you."

Something cold pressed against his temple.

A gun.

His breath hitched. Sweat trickled down his neck.

For a moment, his panic was so overwhelming that he forgot how to breathe.

Then—clarity.

His mind raced back through the night's events. Every detail. Every clue.

And in that moment, Shawn realized—

This was far bigger than he had ever imagined.

Shawn quickly assessed the situation. Despite the blindfold, he could make an educated guess—these people weren't ordinary criminals. They might be law enforcement or military personnel.

After all, they had asked if he wanted to report the thugs to the police. They had offered to take him to the hospital. And throughout the entire ordeal, they had been careful not to touch his injured shoulder.

"Officer," Shawn said calmly, "I honestly don't know what this is about. I'm just a student. I haven't done anything illegal."

A chuckle came from one of the men restraining him. "Not bad. Even blindfolded, you figured out who we are."

"Since you already know we're public officials," the man with glasses said coldly, "why don't you tell us the truth?"

"Truth?" Shawn hesitated. "I really don't know what you're referring to. Could you give me a hint?"

The man scoffed. "Think carefully. What have you been doing lately?"

Shawn racked his brain. "I... I haven't done anything unusual."

The man's patience thinned. "What have you been asking about? What have you been posting online?"

A realization dawned on Shawn. "Wait… You mean… the Meta Origin Society? That's what this is about? Is that… illegal?"

"Illegal?" The man with glasses sneered. "You're not just breaking a minor law—you're committing a serious offense. Do you understand the gravity of attempting to subvert state power?"

Shawn stiffened. "What? Subverting state power?" He bit his tongue, suppressing his instinct to protest further. Explaining his true intentions—saving the world—would only sound more absurd.

"Speak!" The interrogator seized on his hesitation. "What exactly are you after?"

"I've done nothing to break the law!" Shawn declared firmly.

"Still resisting?" One of the men suddenly shoved him forward, wrenching his injured shoulder. A sharp, involuntary cry escaped Shawn's lips as pain shot through him.

At thiat moment, the jade pendant with the Spirit Key on his neck slipped off from his clothes.

The room fell silent.

Footsteps echoed in the stillness. The man with glasses stepped closer, picking up the pendant with noticeable surprise. "What is this?"

"A pendant," Shawn replied evenly. "Is there a problem?"

By now, his initial fear had faded. He had pieced together enough clues to understand these men's intentions. They weren't ordinary law enforcement, and despite their aggressive tactics, they weren't true enemies either. He had broken no laws—unless someone deliberately twisted the facts against him.

Then, a deep, commanding voice broke the silence.

"Ask him where he got that pendant."

The man with glasses hesitated for a moment, then repeated the question.

Shawn's pulse quickened. Something about the way they reacted made him realize this wasn't a standard interrogation. If they truly suspected him of a crime, they would have taken him to a proper facility, not blindfolded him in some hidden location.

And they hadn't even handcuffed him.

No. These men weren't here to punish him.

They were here because of this.

Shawn took a calculated risk.

"This pendant has a special origin," he said slowly, "but I can't just tell anyone. I need to speak with the person in charge."

The moment the words left his mouth, the pendant pulsed faintly against his skin.

The Zhen Palace Spirit Key was reacting.

A sharp intake of breath came from the man holding the pendant. His fingers trembled slightly as he stared at it in disbelief.

The air in the room grew heavy.

Then, after a long pause, the deep voice spoke again.

"Enough."

A beat of silence followed.

"He's just a boy," the voice continued. "Let's leave it at that for now."

Then, a subtle shift in tone—one that carried a veiled warning.

"Also, tell him to focus on his studies. And to stop looking for the Meta Origin Society."

"Understood," the man with glasses replied. He carefully set the pendant down and gave a sharp nod to the others. "Let him go."

The two men holding Shawn immediately released their grip.

Shawn instinctively raised his hands to remove the blindfold—

A firm hand caught his wrist.

"Not yet," the man with glasses said, his tone gentler but firm. "For now, you'll have to remain patient. We'll explain in due time."

Then, he raised his voice, issuing orders with crisp efficiency.

"Prepare the car. Get him home safely. And bring the medical supplies we picked up earlier."