Chapter 171: Shopping
Constantinople stands at the crossroads of the Eurasian civilizations, boasting diverse attractions and culinary delights from various cultures.
Due to religious reasons, alcoholic beverages aren't prevalent in this region. Instead, an array of teas and fruit-based drinks reign supreme.
These beverages, both in presentation and taste, have their merits. If there's any drawback, it's the Turkish penchant for sugar, sometimes excessive to outsiders' eyes.
This love for sugar stems from locals incorporating it generously into their desserts and the region's fruit naturally being high in sugar content due to the suitable climate.
This results in even the renowned sweets and drinks from England, where Liang En and his friends hail from, being notably less sweet compared to Turkish counterparts.
The delectability of Turkish barbecues solely depends on the chef's skill. Liang En has relished delightful grills in Constantinople but also encountered dry, overly spiced fare akin to flavored wood.
However, for Liang En and his companions, the essence isn't solely in indulging in food or visiting famous landmarks for photo ops but in uncovering the city's profound historical treasures.
After spending two days skimming through vital spots in the city, Liang En and his two friends headed straight to the Grand Bazaar situated in the city center.
This indoor market, nestled in the heart of Constantinople's old city, is arguably the world's largest, sprawling over 300,000 square meters with over 60 streets and 4,000 shops.
As per Liang En's hotel travel guide, this bazaar welcomes over 200,000 tourists worldwide daily, marking it as Turkey's most renowned tourist destination.
However, this bustling commercial hub wasn't initially designed for tourism. In 1461, the foundational parts of this colossal indoor market were established primarily for local trade.
Initially trading daily essentials, the market's offerings expanded with the Ottoman Empire's capital shift and the restoration of commercial routes.
Today, the market boasts Turkish specialties ranging from carpets, leatherwear, jewelry, ceramics, lamps, spices, teas, and an array of ancient artifacts among its myriad of goods.
Naturally, various ancient artifacts constitute a fraction of the plethora of items for sale in the Grand Bazaar. Yet, discerning quality amidst the vast assortment is a challenge.
After browsing through two antique shops, Liang En and his friends felt somewhat disappointed. Either the prices were exorbitant or the items displayed evident issues. However, this is a common ailment among tourist-oriented stores worldwide.
"Brass mimicking silver, brass plated in gold... none seem as intriguing as those various ceramics and copperware beneath that worn red velvet piece," muttered Fan Meng softly after stepping out of another shop.
"At least you got something." Liang En, empty-handed, glanced at the large plate nestled under Fan Meng's arm. Though quality finds were scarce in such places, it didn't imply a complete absence.
For instance, this copper plate, owing to its age, bore a thin layer of rust, mistakenly sold by the shopkeeper as a machine-made item similar to his other stock. Yet, it was a handcrafted piece.
Proceeding along the street vending antiques, Liang En finally halted in front of a seemingly cramped and dimly lit shop.
Unlike the beautifully adorned stores they previously encountered, this one appeared cluttered, shelves stacked with an assortment of documents and books.
Surprisingly, the shopkeeper's English proficiency was close to nil. Fortunately, among Liang En's language repertoire was Turkish, allowing for communication.
"How do you sell these... um... written materials?" inquired Liang En.
"The bound books on the shelf behind me require individual negotiation. As for the items on the shelves, I've priced them down below: one dollar for three, one dollar for one, three dollars for one, and ten dollars for one," replied the merchant.
Given Liang En's current use of Turkish, the merchant's demeanor notably improved. He even offered a few additional words voluntarily.
"Most of the items in my shop are culled from various libraries and archives, while others are carefully collected," he elaborated.
"Let me have a look." Liang En stepped into the shop, cautiously avoiding several heaps of items strewn across the floor and proceeded to scrutinize the items on the shelves.
Accepting only a third of what the shopkeeper narrated as plausible, as antique dealers often weave half-truths, Liang En noticed that at least half of the files in the cabinets appeared genuinely aged. However, the premium books on the shelf behind the antique dealer seemed suspicious.
Evidently, it was a long-term strategy of offering low-priced items that were genuine while casting doubts on the authenticity of the expensive ones.
After a brief inquiry, Liang En confirmed his suspicion. The books placed behind the shopkeeper started at over ten thousand dollars, with the priciest one even reaching a hundred thousand dollars.
Considering Turkey's average annual income per capita is roughly ten thousand dollars, this pile of leather-bound old books was exorbitant, capable of sustaining a business for half a year on a single sale.
Faced with a room almost overflowing with items, Liang En didn't sift through each one manually but utilized a "Detection (N)" card. Fortunately, the shop's size was compact enough for complete coverage with just one card.
Surprisingly, the most historically significant item in the entire room wasn't amidst the ornate books stacked behind the counter but rather on the shelf labeled at three dollars per item.
Following the radiance, Liang En found a handmade notebook on the shelf emitting light. Emphasizing its manual construction was crucial because it appeared to be an assemblage of differently sized papers.
Pretending to browse the cabinet, Liang En withdrew the notebook and was astonished to find ancient Turkish script within instead of the modern Latin-based Turkish.
After a brief inspection, Liang En realized the notebook was thick, possibly containing dozens or even hundreds of pages, detailing various methods to produce dairy products—elaborate recipes easily put into practice.
However, intriguingly, despite scouring through the entire book, Liang En couldn't find the author's name, stumbling upon the abrupt appearance of the words "Topkapi Palace" only on the final page's corner.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 172: Cookbook
At the mention of Topkapi Palace, Liang En's interest in this book soared. The palace was renowned in travel guides as the Old Imperial Palace.
For the ancient Ottoman Empire, the history of the country could roughly be divided into three significant places: Edirne, Topkapi Palace, and Dolmabahce Palace.
Among these, Edirne, also known as Adrianople, was the capital before the Ottoman Empire captured Constantinople, representing the developmental phase of the empire.
Topkapi Palace, on the other hand, emerged after the conquest of Constantinople, signifying the empire's rapid expansion, transforming it into a powerful nation spanning Europe, Asia, and Africa.
Lastly, Dolmabahce Palace, built in the mid-19th century, symbolized the decline of the Ottoman Empire, known as the "Sick Man of Europe."
Topkapi Palace earned the title of the Old Imperial Palace due to the construction of Dolmabahce Palace, a modern edifice that failed to rejuvenate the empire as envisioned by its rulers.
Inspecting the notebook's paper, Liang En discovered it was around two hundred years old. Considering the mention of Topkapi Palace in the recipe, he decided to purchase the book.
"This Arabic-language book looks quite old," Liang En ventured. "It seems interesting. How much would it cost if I were to buy it?"
"Let me check," the shopkeeper took a quick glance at the book and counted the pages. "This book has 157 pages. I'll give it to you for $940."
"Wait, did you say $940?" Liang En pointed to the tag on the shelf. "Isn't it marked at $3 per item? I should only need to pay you $471."
"No, no, that's not how it works," the shopkeeper shook his head, pointing at the tag. "Flip that label over, I've made it very clear."
Upon the shopkeeper's insistence, Liang En flipped the tag, revealing a small inscription in fine black writing on the back of the black-patterned cigarette box.
"All systematically organized materials on the shelves are priced at twice the cost of individual items, whereas books are priced at three to five times the cost of individual items."
"Seems like merchants worldwide are all the same," as soon as Liang En read the text, he realized he was dealing with a crafty merchant.
Nevertheless, Liang En decided to buy the document, partly due to its historical value and the impression left by Topkapi Palace's imprint on the last page and also recognizing the value in these recipes.
After acquiring a dairy-producing ranch previously, Liang En had sought various dairy-related books, including recipes, to expand his knowledge in that area.
Having a rough grasp of this field, Liang En realized that the recipes in this notebook were quite unique compared to ordinary dairy products. Based on his prior research, ordinary dairy production did not require as many steps or stringent raw material requirements.
Having paid $940 in cash, Liang En left the room with the notebook and met up with his companions waiting at the door, departing from the shop.
"What did you buy?" Fan Meng could tell from Liang En's expression that he must have found something valuable. However, unlike treasures such as gold or jewelry, this aged paper didn't seem as easily assessable.
"A cookbook detailing various methods of dairy production," Liang En revealed, pulling out the notebook and pointing to the title on the cover.
"Doesn't it record any other secrets?" Pierce suddenly asked. "Like hidden treasure documented by someone or forgotten history?"
Having experienced Liang En's sixth sense firsthand, Pierce didn't believe that Liang En had only found a cookbook after scouring the store for so long.
"This is truly just a cookbook," Liang En chuckled, shaking his head in response to their queries. It seemed his previous acquisitions had deeply influenced his companions' perceptions.
"You know I have a small ranch, so I have some knowledge about dairy production. The methods in this booklet were considered high-end in ancient times."
"More importantly, it mentions Topkapi Palace and the paper seems to be from two or three hundred years ago. So, it's highly likely it originated from some noble household."
"Why isn't it the Sultan's cookbook then?" Fan Meng curiously asked. "You've mentioned Topkapi Palace being on it."
"The royal chefs of the Ottoman Empire never had such cookbooks; all knowledge was passed down orally," Pierce explained as a professional.
"In the past Ottoman court, privately recording cookbooks could lead to execution. Doing so was to maintain the Sultan's honor through these unique delicacies."
"I get it, just like the imperial banquets in ancient China," Fan Meng nodded in understanding. "For instance, those imitation banquets only appeared after the empire fell."
"Yes, like the Asitane restaurant we visited before. They specialize in Turkish imitations of Ottoman court dishes," Liang En added with a smile.
"Despite claiming to serve 'living history' with dishes from 1532 to the downfall of the Ottoman Empire, if you carefully examine the menu, you'll notice mostly simple dishes with a long history, like grilled meat or almond porridge."
"Exactly," Fan Meng and Pierce nodded. When they visited the restaurant, they were intrigued by the dates mentioned next to each dish on the menu, but now, in retrospect, most bore a 19th-century year.
"It's because only when the Ottoman Empire declined in the 19th century were those ancient traditions disrupted," Liang En explained to his two companions. "That's when these people could bring out complete cookbooks."
"And if we trace back to the golden era of the Ottoman Empire, back to the time when the imperial palace was still Topkapi Palace, the old rule of strictly guarding such recipes would have been upheld. So, the cookbooks could only be speculated through various documents."
"At least, when dealing with some simple dishes or those not exclusive to the imperial court, the reconstruction wouldn't be too difficult, and the results would closely resemble the original."
"But when facing the complex, palace-exclusive dishes, relying on simple descriptions in the notebook would be exceedingly difficult," Liang En concluded, waving the tattered booklet in his hand.
"I suspect the content in this notebook might be a menu rewarded by the Sultan to his subordinates, secretly recorded by a chef from some aristocratic household."
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 173: Harvest
After a day of touring, Liang En returned to the hotel and promptly selected an "Appraisal (N)" card, using it directly on the recipe he had found earlier.
Just like before, upon using the card, a plethora of text appeared before him, revealing the true nature of this notebook.
"In 1730, during what was called the 'Tulip Era' initiated by the talented yet incompetent Ahmed III, it came to an end amid a coup. Among those fleeing the palace during the upheaval was a eunuch responsible for dairy products. Disenchanted with palace life, he never returned after assuming his post in the new palace, spending the rest of his life in a monastery."
Just before his passing, he transcribed decades-old recipes from memory, leaving them in the monastery's library, hoping to leave a mark on the world.
"Turns out this recipe is indeed from the Ottoman Sultan's palace." Liang En muttered softly after reading the summary.
This Ottoman royal dairy recipe held significant historical value. Confirming its identity earned him two "Detect (N)" cards and one "Appraisal (N)."
For Liang En, the importance of this recipe lay not in the eunuch's transcribed copy but in its contents. He believed he could recreate some of these dishes on his farm.
While ancient delicacies might not suit modern tastes, among the dozens of recipes, he believed there might be a dish or two that would resonate with today's palates.
After all, shifts in human tastes mostly stem from cultural changes rather than genetic alterations. Hence, these ancient palace cuisines should align more with contemporary preferences.
A week's journey swiftly passed, and Liang En received a call from Mr. Skoode, seeking to discuss the compensation for their recent mission.
The next morning, he and his companions boarded a plane to Stockholm for the discussion.
However, upon arriving at the designated hotel, Liang En was surprised to find not just Mr. Skoode but also his father, seated in a wheelchair in the room.
The reason for choosing this place was simple. Today was the day for payment, and a public setting like this seemed more appropriate than a private one.
"I'm grateful for bringing my uncle back and for retrieving the final letter he left behind," Mr. Skoode expressed, shaking Liang En's hand warmly.
The letter Liang En found in the monastery had been sent to the Skoode family through a reliable channel on the very day it was discovered. Mr. Skoode Sr. confirmed it as his late brother's final missive.
"As you've flawlessly completed our task, we will pay you the pre-agreed 700,000 euros," Mr. Skoode said, transferring the sum to Liang En.
Thinking it was all done after receiving the 700,000 euros, Liang En prepared to leave after exchanging a few pleasantries. However, Mr. Skoode had more to say.
"Wait, there's something else to give you." Mr. Skoode placed a parchment-wrapped bundle, used for documents, on the table. "Our agreement was for 700,000 euros," Liang En said, sitting back down and inquiring earnestly about this unexpected boon, his skepticism apparent.
"Young man, no need to fret." Mr. Skoode Sr., in the wheelchair, interjected. "This is simply to fulfill my brother's wish."
He then had his attendant produce a weathered parchment filled with text, sandwiched between glass. He explained its origin.
It was the contents of the letter found in the monastery, a testament left by Mr. Conrad for his brother. According to Mr. Skoode Sr., his brother would prepare such letters before or during his adventures if he felt any impending danger. If he returned safely, he would destroy the letters.
However, when Mr. Conrad vanished on his final adventure, the Skoode family couldn't locate his letter. Therefore, they abided by their family tradition regarding his legacy.
From the content of this letter, Mr. Conrad had foreseen potential risks during his last expedition, penning down arrangements for his assets.
While most of the estate would go to family members, a small portion was designated for those who found his whereabouts and brought him back home.
Understanding the origin of these additional rewards, Liang finally relaxed and examined the leather pouch handed over by Mr. Skoode Sr.
Inside were documents representing a plantation spanning over 120 hectares, valued at around 1.1 million USD, situated on the distant island of Mindoro in the Philippines.
"Looks promising, just a bit far," murmured Fan Meng, glancing at the location on the documents. The plantation, already fully developed, primarily cultivated Manila hemp. As per the papers, its annual net income ranged from 120,000 to 150,000 USD.
Evidently, this income wasn't substantial for the shipping magnate Skoode family, yet it wasn't something they'd casually hand over either.
Liang En felt they were honoring the will due to his modest renown in academic circles, possibly to avoid future repercussions for the family.
Nevertheless, after two days of procedures, Liang En secured ownership of the plantation and returned to London with his two companions.
One advantage was that this plantation didn't demand much attention from Liang En. Being part of a larger commercial system, changes in ownership wouldn't disrupt its operation.
Compared to the plantation, Liang En was more focused on the deal about Pierce's family investing in their shop. Hence, upon returning to London, he promptly engaged his lawyer to initiate negotiations.
Typically, such stock transactions could involve lengthy negotiations. However, they had communicated in advance, swiftly reaching an agreement.
As per the terms, Liang En would pay 300,000 pounds for a 35% stake in Pierce's family shop. Additionally, a contract was established, granting Liang En the first right to purchase the shop.
In essence, it was a mutually beneficial partnership. Both Liang En and the Murphy family, where Pierce belonged, stood to gain from this collaboration.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 174 Summary
After returning from Sweden, Liang En spent nearly half a month organizing recent discoveries and began writing papers. This journey led to uncovering two crucial findings: one related to the ancient Viking settlement in America, the other concerning Greek fire.
Compared to the latter, the former held higher historical value, yet Greek fire garnered more widespread recognition. Regardless, both discoveries held immense importance.
As the discoverer, Liang En received reports from both the Newfoundland archaeological team studying Vinland and the Turkish Stone Church excavation team. With this information and the title of the primary discoverer, Liang En could write several weighty papers, potentially holding pivotal significance in researching these relics.
Aware of the papers' significance, he spent most of the past month secluded, focusing on writing. Meanwhile, Fan Meng took charge of providing his meals daily.
"Out for some fresh air again?" Fan Meng, while in the living room working out, commented upon seeing Liang En step out of his room. "I feel like staying indoors all day will turn us into molds."
"Don't worry, this constant seclusion is coming to an end," Liang En stretched lazily. "I've completed all those papers and sent them out."
"That does sound like good news," Fan Meng nodded, then inquired, "What are your plans now? Will you stay here until the papers are published or—"
"I plan to visit my hometown. You can take a break and reunite with your family too," Liang En revealed his pre-planned agenda.
His return wasn't just to visit his parents; it was mainly to perfect his Greek fire research and experiment with Ottoman Sultan's dairy recipes on his ranch.
After a brief packing, Liang En and his companions flew back to Dublin the next day, bidding farewell at the airport.
His sudden return puzzled his parents, as it wasn't common for someone working in England from Ireland to visit home frequently.
"Don't worry, I haven't lost my job," Liang En reassured his parents during their first lunch at home, presenting a heap of news articles as evidence.
His previous two discoveries had significant social value, resulting in some journalists interviewing him during the excavation. Although Liang En hadn't given any interviews himself, there were plenty of photographs taken.
Those images in the news became crucial evidence for Liang En as he explained to his parents. Eventually, his parents relaxed after reading the news.
The confusion stemmed from the fact that archaeology and treasure hunting weren't conventional jobs, often misunderstood by the general public.
"It seems like you've circled around half the globe this time," Liang En's mother, serving him food, asked with concern. "Are you here to take a break?"
"Not just for resting; I'm here to prepare for the next adventure," Liang En explained briefly.
"I've also found recipes from the Ottoman Sultan's palace for dairy products, so I'm hoping to try them on our ranch," he added.
"Recipes from the Ottoman Empire's Sultan? Surprising. I thought your job was rummaging through garbage and digging everywhere," his father remarked, looking astonished.
"My dear old dad, though a part of my work involves dealing with old stuff and even ruins, it's different from garbage collection," Liang En explained to his father.
As a first-generation Chinese immigrant, his father always wished he pursued technical careers like law or medicine. When Liang En opted for his current job, his father expressed opposition, urging him to seek a more stable profession.
Fortunately, after Liang En established his academic position with those papers, his father started acknowledging his son's current occupation.
Soon after lunch, Liang En headed to his nearby ranch to discuss with the workers about reproducing various dairy products based on the ancient recipe.
Initially believing it would be challenging to recreate centuries-old dairy products, after conversing with experienced farmworkers, Liang En realized it wasn't as difficult as he thought.
"In the past, controlling temperature was a major hurdle in making these products. But in modern times, it's not that difficult," Uncle Jack, the most experienced among the farmworkers, explained.
"As for the complex filtration, sedimentation, and continuous transportation during fermentation, though it does demand some labor, with machines today, it's not that intense," he added.
"So, these ancient dairy products can be reproduced today," Liang En nodded happily, then asked these professionals about the next step.
"These methods came from the kitchens of the ancient Ottoman Empire's Sultan, representing the pinnacle of their food. Do you think there's a market for reproducing these products?" he inquired.
"It's uncertain," Uncle Jack replied in a low voice after discussing with his colleagues. "Primarily because we lack the original microorganisms used in fermentation, so we can't guarantee an exact match."
"Another risk is that people's tastes have changed over time, so whether these ancient top-tier Ottoman dairy products suit modern palates is unknown."
"Understood. Let's start with a batch using cow and goat milk for testing," Liang En proposed.
"If the samples taste bad, we'll halt. But if they're acceptable, we can produce a batch for market testing. Then we'll decide our next steps based on the response," he added.
Liang En understood that there's no pleasing everyone, so besides deciding to test, he also announced he'd give extra bonuses to those contributing to the experiment.
Clearly, the potential promising future and additional bonuses significantly motivated the farmworkers. After careful thought, Uncle Jack provided a relatively optimistic estimation.
"If you're willing to accept losses, then there won't be many problems," Uncle Jack stated seriously after the cheers subsided.
"After all, this experimental technique isn't overly challenging, just involving some costs. Especially with this detailed recipe's help, I reckon it might only cost around seven to eight thousand pounds plus two months' time."
"If that's the case, then I'll leave the next steps to you," Liang En said, entrusting Uncle Jack. "You'll be in charge of mobilizing manpower and acquiring necessary items."
"Don't worry, Young Lawrence," upon receiving Liang En's command, Uncle Jack solemnly nodded, promising, "I'll handle this job perfectly."
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 175: Mastery of Greek Fire Techniques
After dealing with the dairy recipes concerning the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, Liang En began assembling the flamethrower for Greek fire in the farmhouse's storeroom.
Following the instructions from the card, he had to recreate that ancient flamethrower precisely. Then, using legendary points, transform it into a part of the card, enhancing the skill of "Greek Fire (R)."
Thanks to the information age and Liang En's home conveniently located near Dublin, Ireland's capital, he swiftly gathered the required raw materials and got to work.
Growing up on a farm, Liang En was familiar with various crafts from a young age. So, with detailed instructions, crafting the flamethrower wasn't too challenging for him.
As he started, Liang En found he had the authority to improve some aspects of the flamethrower, limited to a 10% modification due to the power stemming from historical traces.
For instance, he replaced rough leather-sealed joints on the original flamethrower with modern interfaces using rubber gaskets and precision machining.
The leak-prone leather tubes and handcrafted metal parts were also replaced with modern rubber tubing and more sophisticated metal components.
However, Liang En had limitations; the core power source of the flamethrower could only use the oldest siphon and low-pressure systems.
Initially, he attempted to substitute the primitive power source with modern high-pressure containers but found it incompatible with historical accuracy for card transformation.
Similarly, materials like stainless steel or titanium alloy, clearly modern in origin, couldn't be used either.
In summary, Liang En realized the flamethrower could only be card-transformable if it could be made by people of the actual era of Greek fire. Finely crafted metal parts or sporadic steel with performance akin to modern industrial steel could be produced in ancient times.
Historically, these methods were impractical due to their low cost-effectiveness and unpredictable outcomes, unfit for mass weapon production.
Liang En eventually replaced the rubber tubing after thorough consideration. Although it consumed a high portion of modification allocation compared to joint and metal replacements, it was entirely worthwhile from a cost-benefit perspective.
Besides the flamethrower, he also reconstructed an ancient Roman ballista using old materials. Greek fire could be loaded into containers and projected using various weapons besides the flamethrower.
Thus, the "Greek Fire (R)" card had two modes: flame projection and container-based projectile launching.
Initially aiming for a heavy ballista, which exceeded the card's size limit, Liang En settled for a suitable alternative.
Fortunately, this fitting ballista had decent range, capable of launching 1.2kg objects up to 150m in tests on the farm, with a direct range of around 50m.
Although a torsion catapult, in similar conditions, had a longer range than the ballista, its inability to fire directly led Liang En to abandon it.
Fortunately, modern item limitations only applied to the items themselves, allowing Liang En to use modern tools, saving time and effort during work.
Of course, projectile tools weren't the only creations during Liang En's recent days. In comparison, the Greek fire fuel itself was the most crucial.
With the skill "Alchemy (N)," Liang En not only successfully concocted Greek fire fuel but also made it considerably safer through legendary point consumption.
After a week of preparation, he finally commenced completing the "Greek Fire (R)" card. The card transformation occurred in the warehouse, where, after ensuring safety, Liang En mentally communicated with the card, infusing it with legendary power.
As the power entered the card, Liang En followed the card's new instructions, placing his hands on the items needing transformation, guiding the influx of power generated by the legendary force into them.
With each item infused, they gradually dissipated into nothingness. As each item vanished, the "Greek Fire (R)" card brightened, its patterns becoming more vibrant.
Eventually, everything in the area became part of the card. At this point, the card's content had altered.
"Greek Fire (R): This mighty flamethrower once saved the Eastern Roman Empire, sustaining its millennia-old legacy. Now, this lost historical power will be resurrected, aiding explorers in overcoming various obstacles on their path.
Skill Card (Permanent): Allows preparation and transformation of casting items and materials into cards through legendary point consumption, providing control over infernal flames.
Each legend point, coupled with one liter of Greek fire fuel, enables one attack. The user can choose from two forms:
Flame Projection: Ejects an 18m-range tongue of fire per attack. It can also sustain prolonged emissions by continuously consuming fuel and legendary points.
Flame Projectile: Launches a container holding one liter of Greek fire, reaching up to 150m with a direct range of 50m. Upon contact with liquid or solid surfaces, the projectile ignites.
Note 1: The skill's point of release lies within a 1m radius around the body. Targeting requires line-of-sight and mental focus, without additional physical actions.
Note 2: The card's fuel storage limit equals seven times the user's legendary point limit. For instance, with 9 destiny points, it can store up to 63 liters of fuel."
"Starting with Fireball, this is just too thrilling." That night, Liang En, unnoticed by anyone, astounded himself by showcasing these abilities on a sandy patch of the estate, equipped with a fire extinguisher.
When he activated the skills, actual flames or icy projectile-like objects shot out from him, creating fiery explosions upon impact with targets.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 176: Chinatown
During his experience using the skill of restoration, Liang En had his first encounter with a completely unscientific power right before his eyes. However, compared to that skill, the one now known as "Hellfire" proved to be several levels stronger.
In his occupation's description as a historical explorer, Liang En had seen a specific note mentioning the power this profession wielded. It had the ability to convert condensed information from across time into energy, projecting it into the real world in ways modern people couldn't comprehend.
At that time, he mostly thought it related to simple power operations like cracking codes or repairing items. He never imagined he could manipulate flames akin to legendary sorcerers or even deities.
Yet, once the excitement of mastering this new skill settled, Liang En realized its glamour didn't translate into substantial utility.
Compared to firearms, the Greek fire skill fell short in both the range of flame projection and the ease with which it revealed his position.
Even disregarding firearms' long-range capabilities, this Greek fire projector, about the size of half a minivan, could only spew flames up to 18 meters. During World War II, German single-man flamethrowers could reach up to 35 meters.
Hence, Liang En found this skill practically useless except for emergencies against enemies or when clearing tunnels or caves.
"Nevertheless, this skill's cool factor is undeniable." Despite acknowledging its limited practicality in today's context, Liang En remained quite pleased. Effectiveness might be a matter of version, but style lasts a lifetime.
Moreover, unlike the restoration skill that required avoiding people while in use, the Greek fire skill could be openly wielded like magic, with fewer usage restrictions.
After settling queries about this new skill and acquiring a rather potent card, Liang En began preparing content for educational lectures on history and archaeology.
Just three days after his return, the National Museum of Ireland extended an invitation for him to speak about the recent discovery. Being a scholar, Liang En often received invitations for such social events, like giving lectures at national museums.
These social activities were primarily charitable; each participation didn't bring in a penny and sometimes even required him to cover travel and meal expenses.
However, these obligations were tied to social status. Having enjoyed the perks associated with certain positions, he naturally bore the corresponding responsibilities—after all, there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
Fortunately, compared to academic papers, these simplified articles for public education made things a tad easier. After a day's work, he finished drafting and scheduled the lecture for the following morning at the museum.
The presentation went smoothly, albeit the free-form QA session saw curious children visiting the museum posing some rather unconventional questions, making it a bit challenging for him to handle.
Fortunately, the museum staff deployed to handle such situations were experienced enough, allowing Liang En to somewhat cope with the whimsical inquiries without embarrassing himself.
"Thank you so much for this, Mr. Liang." After the lecture, a deputy curator from the museum entered the lounge and expressed gratitude. "We're truly delighted you accepted our invitation."
"It's my pleasure; after all, nurturing public interest in archaeology and history is as crucial as the field itself," Liang En replied with a smile.
Compared to veteran archaeologists or historians, Liang En was considerably younger and less experienced. Thus, to enhance his reputation in this field, engaging in such charitable activities was indispensable.
As it was already past mealtime by the end of the event, the museum offered Liang En a complimentary lunch at their affiliated restaurant.
While dining, he gathered substantial recent antique-related information about Dublin and its surrounding areas from the museum staff.
"I heard that in Chinatown recently, an estate from a collector who passed away is up for sale by their children to divide the inheritance," a staff member responsible for acquisitions informed Liang En.
"The museum's acquisition team inspected it before, but those items weren't quite suitable for us, so we passed. But for private collections, they're rather impressive."
Aware of Liang En's identity as a treasure seeker, these museum personnel consciously shared this kind of information to establish a closer relationship.
Compared to other methods of fostering rapport, using such information was the most cost-effective for the museum. After all, this type of news was vital for Liang En but difficult for him to acquire.
For the museum, obtaining such information was far simpler compared to an individual like Liang En, and unintentionally joining the museum's acquisition side meant there were no worries about any adverse consequences from leaking such information.
Upon leaving the museum, Liang En boarded a bus directly to Parnell Street. While Ireland didn't have an official Chinatown, Parnell Street, where the Chinese congregated, was essentially its practical equivalent—the location the staff had mentioned.
According to them, this family had been trying to sell these items for some time now, but in Ireland, willing buyers willing to come to their door weren't numerous.
Initially, they hoped to commission an auction house to sell the items, but their collection didn't attract the major auction houses, and smaller ones offered very low prices.
Soon enough, Liang En arrived at the intersection of this street, which although practically Chinatown, didn't have a distinct Chinese archway like those in San Francisco or London marking the entrance.
At first glance, this street didn't appear much different from the surrounding ones. It comprised typical Dublin-style three or four-story red-brick buildings or five or six-story apartments painted in white or cream.
However, upon stepping into this street, bilingual advertisements in both Chinese and English adorned the shops, ranging from supermarkets and restaurants to internet cafes, offering a variety of services.
Yet, instead of heading directly to the residence of the collector surnamed Li, Liang En turned a corner and arrived outside a splendid restaurant. Looking up, the signboard read "Fan's Restaurant" in bold letters.
Indeed, Fan Meng's family restaurant was right there. Liang En had already made plans with Fan Meng earlier on the bus to visit the collector surnamed Li together.
Additionally, considering Fan Meng's family had been immigrants for quite some time, Liang En intended to inquire about the specifics of the Li collector's background from them.
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Chapter 177: Encounter
"Ah, Liang En, come in, come in!" Mrs. Fan, a plump Eastern European woman, greeted Liang En fluently in Chinese as he crossed the threshold into the hall.
"Little Meng is all set and ready to go. Also, if you haven't had lunch, I'll have the chef prepare something you like," she added.
Because of the close relationship between their families, Liang En and Meng's family were quite familiar. Hence, Mrs. Fan was particularly warm upon seeing Liang En arrive.
"No trouble, Aunt Natalia. I just had lunch at the museum before coming here, so I'm not hungry now," Liang En mentioned as the dining hour had passed, and the restaurant lacked customers, leaving an empty table nearby.
Shortly, Meng emerged from the adjacent room. Judging by his attire, he seemed to have been tidying up trash in there.
"You go about your business; no rush," Liang En said as Meng wheeled out a cart of garbage, then turned to Aunt Natalia. "I have a few queries about the happenings around Chinatown."
"No problem, dear. If I know anything, I'll surely tell you," Aunt Natalia replied, taking a seat across from Liang En.
"Being in the restaurant business, we're quite well-informed on the street. And if I'm not sure, I can ask Meng's grandfather."
"That'd be great," Liang En smiled. "I want to know about the household of a collector named Jack Lee on this street."
"You mean the old Mr. Lee who passed away last week," Aunt Natalia recalled almost instantly, providing the details.
"He was a good man; I remember he used to visit the restaurant every week, ordering a bowl of traditional soup and some seasonal dishes for himself. Sadly, his children—" Aunt Natalia's memories of Mr. Lee were quite vivid. He had maintained this routine for over twenty years, leaving a lasting impression.
According to her, Mr. Lee had been a sailor in his youth, saved some money, and opened a laundry here. Over time, it flourished, turning him into a wealthy figure among the Irish-Chinese community.
"Unfortunately, he poured most of his energy into his business when he was young, neglecting his children's upbringing," she sighed, shaking her head.
"When immigrants leave their homeland for a new country, they face the dilemma between local and their own cultures. Normally, immigrants find a balance within."
"This balance is crucial. They can't fully adapt to local life without experiencing it, yet abandoning their traditional culture entirely isn't a good choice either."
"As for you Asians, as long as your appearance doesn't change, you'll never fully integrate into the local society. And if you give up your traditional culture, there will soon be a noticeable sense of loss."
As a descendant of Russians, Aunt Natalia had habits influenced by being between East and West, such as a sense of attachment to Eastern-like people. Hence, her viewpoints were somewhat unique.
"And Mr. Lee's children chose a less appropriate path. They became too westernized, to the point that right after Mr. Lee's death, they hurriedly sold their father's collection, severing all ties with their heritage."
"That sounds—" Liang En shook his head. While he believed everyone had the right to choose, he thought the Lee children had gone too far.
However, this wasn't entirely bad for him. If they were eager to rid themselves of those items representing the past, he might get them at a bargain when he decided to purchase.
Understanding their objective, Liang En and Meng left Fan's Restaurant, crossing just one block east to reach a shop with its shutters down.
"Is this the place?" Liang En looked at the closed shutters, puzzled. "Why is it empty?"
"We're probably at the right spot," Meng checked the doorplate and a notice beside it, then took out his phone. "They left a phone number; let's give them a call."
Indeed, after Meng dialed the number on the notice, the call connected swiftly. Within minutes, a red-haired young man in a suit and tie, identifying himself as John, an apprentice lawyer and representative for the Lee family, approached them.
"Hello! I'm John, the trainee lawyer and the appointed representative for the Lee family concerning the sale of all items in this store," he greeted Liang En and shook hands, introducing himself.
"Also, I need to confirm that you're genuinely here to make a purchase. You need to prove you have over 5000 euros available for shopping," he added.
"No problem," as Meng had heard about this beforehand, he quickly presented his bank card to verify the funds, completing the verification using the POS machine John brought along. Then, John opened the shutter.
This place was one of the first laundry stores operated by Mr. Lee. However, upon his passing, his children shut down this low-profit laundry and dismissed the staff, converting it into a warehouse for various collectibles.
As the shutter lifted, sunlight illuminated a jumble of items strewn across the floor. Evidently, Mr. Lee's children regarded their father's collection as rubbish, leaving it in such disarray.
However, judging by the empty spaces beside these items, some things had already been sold, and what remained was on display.
"There's a price tag on each of these items. If you find something suitable, take it; otherwise, leave it here," John informed, pointing at the scattered items.
"What about those boxes over there?" Liang En gestured toward a pile of wooden crates with iron covers in the corner.
"Some of Mr. Lee's collections were stored in these boxes. My client has assessed and priced the items inside, and they're not for individual sale," John promptly responded to Liang En's query.
"Got it," Liang En nodded, then began inspecting the contents of the room.
After a brief overview, he found Mr. Lee's collection to be incredibly diverse, ranging from ancient stone artifacts to freshly crafted bronze pieces. However, despite the variety, it lacked coherence, and many items seemed obviously fake, which likely explained why major museums and auction houses had declined to deal with them.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 178: Purchase
Liang En surveyed the room filled with a plethora of counterfeits, feeling overwhelmed. Even though there were genuine items scattered within the pile, discerning them amid the heap wasn't a simple task.
Moreover, the authentic pieces seemed problematic—issues in preservation and resembling rather common goods, lacking the allure of valuable artifacts.
Clearly, despite Mr. Li's wealth, his expertise in collecting was lacking. Hence, the existence of such a chaotic array of items.
Of course, the selection of these items was influenced by Mr. Li's children and several individuals who had arrived earlier, all of whom had scrutinized the items multiple times.
Especially the merchants and museum staff who arrived out of curiosity were professionals in this regard, with sharp eyes rarely missing any treasures.
After a quick glance at the items strewn across the floor and tables, Liang En, finding nothing worth spending on, donned a protective mask and approached the boxes.
If there were any treasures left in this place, they would most likely reside in these seemingly untouched boxes.
"What are all these things?" Upon lifting the lid of a box, a cloud of dust billowed out. Luckily, the protective mask prevented any discomfort from the dust.
Once the dust settled, all that lay inside were heaps of dusty textiles. "Not entirely sure, but I know Mr. Li acquired these in the '70s from an international expo. He purchased them directly from the delegation representing Huaxia."
John checked his tablet and added, "We have the documents from the purchase if you decide to buy these boxes. They'd serve as proof."
"From the delegation?" Liang En immediately connected the dots upon John's explanation. During that era, it wasn't common for Huaxia to export many items that earned foreign currency, so selling such light industrial or even handmade products overseas was customary.
In Liang En's memory, items sold at foreign expos during that time were typically of high quality. Even modern products from that era would be considered valuable today.
Thus, he glanced at the piece of paper stuck on the wooden box, revealing the price tag of 7600 euros.
That wasn't a small figure, especially for a large box, likely eighty percent full, with an internal volume of 3 to 4 cubic meters. This price seemed somewhat excessive.
Considering this, Liang En examined the textiles inside the box. Although John prohibited them from rummaging through the items, careful inspection with a flashlight revealed they were carpets.
"Carpets!" Liang En's perspective changed upon confirming the contents. He believed that Huaxia's textile industry during that time wouldn't produce machine-made carpets for sale in England.
These carpets were likely handmade, and today, even a handmade piece commanded a high price, ranging from tens to hundreds of pounds per square meter, even for the most common varieties.
Given that half a century had passed, doubts about the integrity of these carpets' preservation lingered. Yet, if he could retrieve one or two relatively intact pieces, Liang En deemed it worth acquiring.
Realizing this, he meticulously observed the carpets in the box. Despite their aged appearance, most seemed well-preserved.
"What do you think about the condition of these items? Could they be as brittle as that rug we saw before, impossible to lift off the floor?" Glancing at John, Liang En asked Fan Meng in Chinese.
"I don't think so," Fan Meng replied after a closer look. "Though covered in dust, they don't seem particularly deteriorated overall."
"Moreover, judging by the box and the current appearance of the carpets, this box likely spent time in a cool, dry place, so deterioration isn't severe."
"Most importantly, Mr. Li probably didn't retrieve these items from the box often after buying them, so the contents should be intact. It's unlikely someone picked out the valuable items beforehand."
"Let me take another look." Upon Fan Meng's input, Liang En carefully examined the box and noticed a layer of dust on the items beneath, something that wouldn't accumulate within a year or two.
Mentally checking off this box, Liang En then opened the lid of the next one, revealing an assortment of porcelain inside.
Though forbidden from touching the contents, a cursory glance revealed they were standard late Qing Dynasty export porcelain.
While these items appeared vibrant, closer inspection revealed stiffness in the depictions of figures and landscapes, with bold and crude coloring—an obvious mass-produced commodity.
Perhaps due to Huaxia's renown for ceramics abroad, the box containing these items sported a 15,000 euro price tag.
However, in Liang En's estimation, selling them for a total of 5,000 to 6,000 euros would be the maximum. As a businessman, purchasing this box for over 3,500 euros would mean incurring a loss.
Moving past this box, Liang En turned his attention to the next one.
The third box contained smaller wooden furniture, with a mostly intact wooden table at the bottom and various trays or bases stacked on top.
Most of these wooden items retained their natural color, with only a few coated in gold lacquer. Fortunately, unlike the carpets, these items didn't seem as dusty, likely hastily packed into the box previously.
This enabled Liang En's group to assess the quality of the wood items more clearly. Upon a thorough inspection, most seemed fairly average in quality.
The materials used were similar to common woods like elm or cedar, with only a few made from walnut, the highest-quality wood among them.
Considering that high-end furniture from Huaxia was primarily made from rosewood, Liang En concluded that most items in the box were mid-range or lower.
Fortunately, those who had checked these items previously were aware of this, thus pricing the box at 4,200 euros. Liang En saw the potential to make a profit of over 1,000 to 2,000 euros quite easily.
Compared to the first three boxes, the other two contained larger pieces—a pair of porcelain elephants, ceramic vases, and a sailboat carved from jade.
While these items were visually appealing in color and craftsmanship, the issue lay in their modern manufacturing, yet they were priced at a steep 5,500 euros.
"Alright, we'll take these two boxes," Liang En pointed at the ones containing the carpets and wooden furniture, then proceeded to purchase them with his bank card.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 179: Sorting
After spending a total of 11,800 euros, John helped Liang En by fetching two carts to load the boxes. At the same time, he handed over the purchase orders related to the carpets.
Staring at the yellowed paper, Liang En finally understood why these worn-out carpets were sold for 7,600 euros. The paper stated their original price at 1,500 pounds back then.
Considering it was 1974, that 1,500 pounds was already a considerable sum. Despite the worn appearance, Liang En reckoned it would have taken around 20 to 30 thousand euros to secure these carpets, if not for their aged look.
While Liang En and Fan Meng were pushing a cart into Fan Meng's family tavern, they coincidentally encountered Fan Meng's father heading to Liang En's farm to transport goods. So, they hitched a ride back to the farm.
"Spending over ten thousand euros on these few things, antiquing truly isn't a hobby for the average person to afford," remarked Fan's uncle, shaking his head after hearing Liang En's account of today's purchases.
"As far as I know, that Mr. Li poured a lot of money into these items. But no one expected that as soon as he passed away, his kids were eager to sell these items, even at a loss, just to get cash."
Reflecting on life's uncertainties, the freight truck entered Liang En's farm. Initially eager to inspect his gathered treasures, Liang En was unfortunately conscripted by his mother for dinner.
"Alright, I'll definitely come by when it's time to eat." After helping his mother load the vegetables into the truck's compartment along with Fan Meng and his father, Liang En assured his mother before waving goodbye.
Then, he exerted himself, using the cart to transport wooden boxes to his nearby ranch's garage, preparing for the cleaning process.
Being a professional, Liang En knew the complexities of these old carpets. He donned a gas mask and a rubber suit, laboriously bringing out the carpets and laying them on the cement floor for cleaning.
Upon laboriously unloading all the carpets from the boxes and spreading them out on the cleaned garage floor, he discovered three folded carpets inside the box.
The largest, a 6m6m square blue carpet, featured a golden 'Five Blessings' motif in the center, surrounded by golden flowers. Though time had dimmed their shine and thick dust masked their original colors, their initial beauty and grandeur were still discernible on closer inspection.
The other two carpets, both 4m6m rectangular pieces, displayed red flowers on a yellow background and blue flowers on the same yellow base. Similar patterns suggested these might be mass-produced items, far less intricate compared to the first one.
However, surprisingly, each of these three carpets had a corner tied with a bright yellow silk ribbon, appearing distinct from modern products.
Upon closer inspection, Liang En was astonished to find inscriptions on these silk ribbons: one denoted "Silk-woven Five Blessings Carpet of Puxiu Palace," another "Silk-woven Red Flower Carpet of Lijing Pavilion," and the third "Silk-woven Blue Flower Carpet of Yanxi Palace."
Fueled by some fascination with period dramas from a past life, Liang En promptly recognized these locations as palace names within the Forbidden City, indicating these carpets likely originated from there.
As Liang En identified the carpets' origins, two 'Restoration (N)' cards and one 'Appraisal (N)' card popped into his mind.
The unexpectedly large number of acquired cards surpassed Liang En's most optimistic expectations. He speculated that the association of these carpets with the imperial palace might be the reason behind this windfall.
"So, the appearance of cards and the level of protection at the artifact's location are closely related," Liang En swiftly analyzed. "Seems like in the future, I should try to find more items placed in important locations."
With ample evidence indicating these three carpets were legitimately purchased by Mr. Li from proper channels, they were likely part of the antiques exported by China for foreign currency exchange during that period.
Though sounding far-fetched today, trading these valuable cultural relics for foreign currency was quite common back then. For instance, just before these carpets were sold to England, the Forbidden City sold 3,000 sets of Emperor Qianlong's imperial guards' armor for the price of a nickel each to employees as perks.
Even more absurdly, the regulations demanded the employees dismantle the armor for the silk padding, leading to the destruction of all 3,000 sets.
After a thorough examination, Liang En confirmed these carpets as traditional Chinese carpets, distinct in their manufacturing and appearance from common Western woolen rugs. These were crafted using cotton yarn as the warp and weft lines, with colored silk thread for the pile, resulting in raised patterns and a smooth surface that emitted a unique shine under light.
Once he established the specifics of these carpets, Liang En shifted his attention to another box and began moving out one piece of wooden furniture after another.
These pieces, despite their age and considerable gap in craftsmanship and materials compared to high-end furniture, were relatively well-preserved. A bit of tidying up could potentially fetch a decent sum.
Having taken everything out of the two boxes, Liang En commenced cleaning. Given the differing difficulties involved in cleaning, he started with the wooden furniture, considering they had fared better than the neglected carpets.
While the preceding pieces were relatively straightforward to clean, the last and largest piece, the heated bed table, presented an unexpected revelation. The bottom of one of the drawers felt uneven but remarkably smooth, resembling wood that had been carved and varnished, a highly unusual treatment for drawer bottoms.
Realizing this anomaly, Liang En promptly removed the drawer, only to be surprised by its hollowness, housing an embedded black inkstone.
"It seems this heated bed table is concealing something valuable," murmured Liang En, fetching tools and dismantling the table, made of elmwood.
Sure enough, as he disassembled the entire bed table, he found a black lacquer box hidden within a space behind another drawer, perfectly fitting the inkstone discovered in the drawer's bottom.
"Thankfully, they used regular glue here, so it should dissolve easily with water," softly muttered Liang En as he carefully dissolved the glue around the inkstone with warm water.
"It's likely that this heated bed table was specifically crafted to conceal this inkstone."
After about fifteen minutes, Liang En successfully detached the inkstone. The moment it landed in his hand, he immediately noticed its uniqueness.
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Table of content - Next Chapter
Chapter 180: Unexpected Secrets
"This inkstone feels surprisingly light." The moment Liang En held the inkstone, he sensed its weight was off. In his mind, an inkstone should be made of stone, feeling almost as heavy as a brick when held.
However, this inkstone in his hand felt unusually light, almost like a piece of plastic.
"Plastic—no, that's not right. If it were plastic, there'd be no need to conceal it like this." Initially, Liang En thought it might be resin-made, but he quickly dismissed that idea.
On one hand, if it were truly resin, there'd be no need for such elaborate concealment. On the other, the box found in the middle of the table confirmed it was a product of lacquerware and mother-of-pearl, not something used for cheap resin.
"Could this inkstone be lacquerware?" After a few seconds of contemplation, Liang En linked the black lacquerware box to this thought. Frankly, the idea of a lacquerware inkstone had never crossed his mind.
Especially with its finely crafted interior and a red lacquer inkstone case adorned with mother-of-pearl, resembling a lotus pond, it looked like a top-quality scholar's desk companion.
Further examination led him to discover a small crimson seal behind the inkstone, bearing two small characters: "Kui Sheng."
"It seems this item came from a skilled artisan." Excitement surged within Liang En upon this discovery. In ancient China, only a few craftsmen would inscribe their names on their works.
This situation arose due to the traditional emphasis on agriculture in ancient China, where artisans were often regarded as lower class and rarely had the right to inscribe their names on their creations.
However, this led to the craftsmen who did leave their names on their works being highly renowned, and their creations naturally became exquisite.
Due to specialized craftsmanship, Liang En knew little about this peculiar lacquerware inkstone, but fortunately, the internet allowed him to swiftly research its origins.
This particular lacquerware inkstone's proper designation should be "lacquer sandstone." Crafted from wood, lacquered with sand-infused lacquer to aid grinding, hence earning the name "lacquer sandstone."
Due to its wooden construction, it was incredibly lightweight and practical.
The emergence of such stationery was primarily utilitarian, as traditional inkstones were made of stone, carrying one was akin to carrying a brick. Wealthy scholars naturally sought lighter alternatives.
Inkstones were tools used by scholars, akin to the nobility in ancient China, being the rulers of the country.
Hence, shortly after the birth of lacquer sandstone, it underwent further enhancements. Craftsmen often embedded materials like turquoise, mother-of-pearl, mica, colored stones, and ivory, adorned with floral, fish, and insect motifs, displaying exquisite beauty.
Among these craftsmen, the Lu family, spanning three generations from the Qianlong period to the Daoguang period, were masters of creating lacquer sandstones.
The crimson seal behind this inkstone, bearing the characters "Kui Sheng," belonged to Lu Dong, the third generation of the Lu family. According to online records, he would affix this red seal bearing the "Kui Sheng" mark on independently produced items.
"The estimated price would be around six to seven thousand pounds." After checking online sources from China, Liang En estimated the price of the inkstone based on similar auctioned items.
Compared to the previous discoveries, this item was indeed slightly less valuable. However, finding such an item from his homeland in this place was still a remarkable feat, especially considering it could cover his expenses.
Unfortunately, despite its historical value, this inkstone only earned Liang En a "Identification (N)" card.
After examining the inkstone, Liang En turned to the black lacquerware mother-of-pearl box. From his earlier research, he learned that this expert from Yangzhou, besides crafting lacquer sandstone inkboxes, excelled in creating various lacquerware containers.
Sure enough, after a brief search, Liang En found the "Kui Sheng" mark at the bottom of this lacquerware box.
Initially, he felt pleased because, besides inkstones, the most expensive items made by Lu Dong were various ornate lacquerware containers.
However, upon inspecting the container for a few minutes, Liang En noticed something amiss. According to the information he found, Lu Dong's creations were all exceptionally ingenious, with extraordinary craftsmanship.
But the quality of the box in his hand was notably inferior, despite being made with black lacquerware mother-of-pearl craftsmanship. The overall production was rough, with awkwardly carved inlays and an uneven lacquer surface.
"It seems counterfeit products exist everywhere." Liang En sighed and shook his head while holding the box. Then, he placed the inkstone inside.
Just as he was about to close the lid, as if struck by a sudden realization, he halted and stared intently at the box containing the inkstone.
It was only then that he realized these inkstones weren't standardized items. Each piece varied in size, thus unlikely to have a universal packaging.
The black lacquerware mother-of-pearl box seemed specifically crafted for this inkstone, which wasn't a normal practice. For ancient scholars, their writing tools were a matter of prestige.
Especially for those wealthy enough to afford such lacquerware inkstones, it was unimaginable for them to encase a genuine inkstone in a blatantly fake box.
Moreover, even in a switch or swap scenario, the outer box for the swapped item should be less intricate compared to the genuine inkstone inside.
Recalling recent events, Liang En realized that the setup with the heated brick bed was meant to conceal the shoddy box, while the inkstone seemed more like bait to attract attention.
The hidden space beneath the brick bed was ample enough to fit three or five inkstones even after accommodating the box, rendering the current method unnecessary.
This peculiar series of circumstances immediately excited Liang En because he knew that situations deviating from the norm often concealed highly valuable secrets.
To ensure he acquired this secret without recklessly damaging it, Liang En promptly used an "Identification (N)" card on the box.
Sure enough, a series of new words revealed the secret within the box.
"There are many secretive organizations in Chinese history, their members holding various identities in public, which are, naturally, not openly disclosed."
"Both the elm brick bed and the box were meant to conceal representative objects from an ancient Chinese secretive organization."
"It seems I have to open this box." After reading these words, Liang En glanced at the box, contemplating, as it seemed the box did not offer any visible means of disassembly.
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