The Supreme Court's Wordless Golden Scroll, the Management Committee Director's Receipt

Lynn's gaze fell on the scroll.

The equipment in the office, which had been running quietly just a moment ago, was now in absolute silence. It wasn't a power outage, nor a malfunction; it was a suffocating stillness, a result of being forcibly superseded by higher-level rules.

The scroll, woven from pure golden light, floated above the desk, less than half an inch from the surface, and slowly rotated.

It does not emit light, does not generate heat, and has no energy readings that leak out.

The "S.H.I.E.L.D." defense array, built at great expense by the Management Committee and jointly constructed by the Department of Technology and the Office for Stability Maintenance Office, was rendered useless in the face of it.

It came when it wanted to.

Lynn didn't move.

His gaze slowly shifted from the scroll itself to the brand on the seal.

A mark composed of three faces: one representing justice, one representing revenge, and one representing necessity.

The Living Tribunal.

Lynn tapped his fingers lightly on the armrest of his chair, then stopped. Instead of touching the Internal Communicator on the table, he issued the command directly through the embedded encrypted channel.

"Director Gwen Stacy, come to my office immediately."

His voice was steady, without any discernible emotional fluctuation.

Less than ten seconds later, the office door was pushed open from the outside. Gwen Stacy Stacy, the head of the Liaison Office, strode in. When she saw the Golden Scroll floating above the desk, she instinctively paused, her eyes instantly sharpening.

She didn't ask any questions, but simply looked at Lynn, waiting for instructions.

"A Top-Secret Classified Item of unknown origin."

Lynn spoke up, offering a preliminary characterization of the unusual situation before him that was consistent with the established system.

This characterization means that the danger level and unknown nature of the item have reached the highest level of the Management Committee's internal handling procedures.

"I am now issuing a Verbal Directive." Lynn looked at Gwen Stacy, speaking slowly, "In accordance with Chapter 3, Section 11 of the 'Regulations on the Receipt and Dispatch of Confidential Documents of the Management Committee,' concerning the 'Detailed Rules for Handling High-Risk and Unidentified Confidential Documents,' you are to take the lead in immediately initiating the Class A Physical Isolation and Receipt Procedure."

Gwen Stacy reacted quickly and immediately understood the Director's intention.

This is not a simple receipt; it is a compliance operation to draw clear boundaries and mitigate risks. No contact, no interpretation, no response—it is first and foremost treated as an "item," not a "document" for which a reaction is required.

By going through the most rigid and rigorous procedures, all unknown risks are kept out of the process.

"Understood." Gwen Stacy nodded. "I need authorization to deploy a standard Special Operations Team, and a No. 7 Lead-Mercury Shielding Box."

"Authorization," Lynn said succinctly.

Gwen Stacy didn't say another word. She turned and walked to the corner of the office, activating another separate physical communication system on the wall. She gave a few brief commands, then stood quietly to the side, her eyes warily fixed on the Golden Scroll, her whole being like a fully drawn bow.

Lynn leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him, as if the object on the table that could make any Deity tremble was nothing more than an ordinary task to be handled in his daily work.

He knew very well that directly touching this scroll would likely drag his mind into an irresistible space of judgment in an instant. This was a common tactic used by those in power against those in power, forcibly establishing communication, or rather, conveying their will, through unequal rules.

What he needs to do is refuse this unequal communication.

You want to see me? You can. But you have to follow my rules.

A few minutes later, the office door opened again.

Two technicians, dressed in heavy silver-white protective suits and wearing fully enclosed helmets, walked in. Behind them followed a suspended mechanical platform, on which sat a silver-gray metal box about half a person's height. The surface of the box was covered with complex pipes and latches, and in the center was a dark red biohazard symbol.

No. 7 Lead-Mercury Shielding Box.

The Management Committee's highest-grade physical sealing container can theoretically isolate more than 99% of energy penetration and information reading in the known universe.

Under Gwen Stacy's hand gestures, the two technicians moved with precision and efficiency. Instead of using their hands, they retrieved two long robotic arms from the side of the container.

The ends of the robotic arms extended out, like two cautious, long metal beaks, carefully approaching the Golden Scroll.

Throughout the entire process, the office was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The scroll trembled slightly the instant the robotic arm's grippers touched it, but offered no resistance. It was smoothly lifted and slowly moved toward the opening of the shielded box.

The scroll was placed inside the box.

The lid was closed.

"Click, click, click..."

A series of dull mechanical clicking sounds rang out as the sixteen alloy latches around the box closed in sequence.

Gwen Stacy stepped forward, personally inspected each latch, and entered a long authorization code into the main control panel. As she pressed the final confirmation button, a slight hissing sound came from inside the enclosure.

The cooling process has begun.

The temperature inside the chamber will drop to Absolute Zero within ten seconds, and inert gas will be injected to completely eliminate any internal chemical or energy reactions.

"Director, the target has been successfully captured." Gwen Stacy turned and reported to Lynn.

She had barely finished speaking.

The area on the thick surface of the No. 7 Lead-Mercury Shielding Box, which had just been completely sealed off, where the court imprint representing "justice" was located, suddenly lit up without warning.

The light flashed and disappeared in an instant.

Immediately afterwards, a faint yet crystal clear mechanical sound emanated from inside the shielded box.

drop.

answer.

drop.

answer.

It's the sound of a countdown.