Yang Tiansheng

Professor Guo glanced at the pipe and immediately recognized its worth—the jade was a flawless emerald green, translucent and radiant. He waved his hands in refusal. "This is too valuable. I can't accept it."

Huo Xuan shoved the pipe into the professor's hands, feigning offense. "If you refuse this, should I return that chicken-blood stone you gave me?"

Professor Guo fell silent. The chicken-blood stone he'd gifted Huo Xuan was a rare treasure—large, pristine, and practically priceless. He'd parted with it for three reasons: gratitude for Huo Xuan curing his chronic ailment, appreciation for lending the Xuande-era bronze censer to the university museum, and above all, because he regarded Huo Xuan as a dear friend. Generosity came naturally.

Huo Xuan chuckled. "Uncle Guo, it's just a trinket. Don't overthink it."

Knowing further refusal would be futile, Professor Guo relented. "Fine, you win. I'll keep it—for now."

As they chatted, Guo Lan mentioned her desire to find work in Jiangzhou. Huo Xuan brightened. "With your archaeology background and expertise in antiques, why not try a pawnshop?"

Modern pawnshops dealt in everything—gold, jewelry, cars, real estate, even stocks and bonds. Such diversity demanded connoisseurship, and Guo Lan's knowledge of cultural relics made her ideal for appraising art and antiquities.

Guo Lan's eyes lit up. "Perfect! I've got theory in spades but lack practice. A pawnshop would be ideal."

"Consider it done," said Huo Xuan. "I know the owner of Jiangzhou's largest pawnshop—I'll introduce you."

He referred to Zhang Wu, whose ventures included a sprawling pawnshop with 5 billion yuan in loans and nearly 1 billion in annual profits.

Guo Lan smiled. "Thanks! I was just worrying about job hunting."

As Huo Xuan prepared to leave, Professor Guo had Guo Lan see him out. At the door, she suddenly asked, "Huo Xuan... is Miss Lin your girlfriend?"

He turned, noting her odd expression. "Yes. We're together."

"Oh." She looked down. "Congratulations. She's beautiful... and capable."

Huo Xuan detected melancholy in her voice. Was something troubling her?

The next day, Huo Xuan and Professor Guo met with Liu Ziguang and his daughter. Recognizing the professor from the opening ceremony, Liu Ziguang smiled in relief. "With Professor Guo here, I can rest easy."

After exchanging modestries, Professor Guo asked, "Where is the painting, Mr. Liu? And what's its provenance?"

Liu Ziguang ushered them into his car. As Liu Ling started the engine, he explained: "It's a work by the late master Wu Guanxing—Ten Thousand Rivers and Mountains. Since his passing two years ago, his paintings have skyrocketed in value, with two pieces auctioned for over 100 million yuan."

Professor Guo nodded. "Ah, Master Wu. I had the honor of meeting him years ago to discuss painting techniques. His style blended Eastern and Western traditions, transcending classical conventions—a true grandmaster."

Liu Ziguang sighed. "I visited him before his death. His dedication to art commanded respect. The painting was his personal gift to me, but I later lent it to a friend for copying... for six months."

Huo Xuan frowned. "If it's just on loan, why the need for authentication? You suspect a swap?"

"If you knew the borrower, you wouldn't ask," Liu Ziguang said bitterly. "His name is Yang Tiansheng—CEO of New Jiangzhou Real Estate, a firm worth 50 billion yuan. His personal assets exceed 10 billion."

"But his early career? Grave robbing. Artifact smuggling. Black-market profiteering. After accumulating capital, he pivoted to real estate. The man has no moral compass. I don't trust him not to forge the painting."

Huo Xuan's brow furrowed. "Then why lend it at all?"

"A debt of honor," Liu Ziguang said simply.

Huo Xuan didn't press further. Zhang Wu had once described Yang Tiansheng in eight chilling words: "A heart of venom, a face of leather." Such men were undeniably dangerous.

Yang Tiansheng's residence was located in Jiangzhou's western suburbs—a cluster of villas blending Gothic architecture with local influences. The sprawling estate boasted a massive swimming pool, helipad, and sports courts, flaunting the owner's immense wealth.

Huo Xuan noted the extreme security measures: watchtowers equipped with searchlights dotted the perimeter walls, manned by trained guards scanning the grounds. In the gardens, security personnel patrolled with fierce German shepherds, making the place more impenetrable than a prison—even a fly would struggle to get in.

The group passed through two security checkpoints before finally entering the opulent main building. A steward led them to a gilded drawing room where servants served tea as they made strained small talk.

"The master is occupied. Please wait," the steward said.

They had arrived at 9:10 a.m. By 10:10, Yang Tiansheng still hadn't appeared. Liu Ziguang's face darkened with anger; even Liu Ling's delicate brows furrowed in displeasure.

Huo Xuan, equally irritated by the host's arrogance, scanned the room until his gaze settled on one of six massive red-lacquered pillars flanking the hall. Hollowed out and fitted with display shelves, they showcased precious artifacts—porcelain, bronzes, jade carvings.

Using his X-ray vision, Huo Xuan detected subtle vibrations in one pillar. Though minimal, the rhythmic tremors didn't escape his notice.

High school physics had taught him about resonant frequency—when external vibrations match an object's natural frequency, amplitude peaks.

The distant "thoom-thoom" of machinery confirmed his suspicion: something nearby was shaking the earth, affecting the pillar.

After a moment's thought, he turned to Liu Ziguang. "Uncle Liu, let's take a walk. It's stifling in here."

Eager to escape the wait, Liu agreed. The steward, obliging, guided them to the gardens.

Soon, they spotted workers operating a pneumatic rammer, its deafening "THOOM-THOOM" reverberating through the ground.

The gasoline-powered rammer was a machine used to compact ground foundations, making structures more stable. Far more efficient than manual ramming, it had become standard equipment over a decade ago.

Huo Xuan asked the steward, "New construction here?"

"Yes," the man replied. "The master is building a pavilion. Work started yesterday."

Nodding, Huo Xuan strode to the worker and offered a cigarette. Recognizing the guests' status, the worker halted his task and accepted it respectfully. "Thank you."

"Busy day?" Huo Xuan grinned.

"Sure am."

"I used to do this work," Huo Xuan said. "Watching you got my hands itching for a try."

The worker, amused by this "colleague," handed over the rammer. "Since you're experienced, go ahead."

Huo Xuan was familiar with the machine. Starting it with a yank, he felt the violent recoil as the man-height iron beast leaped, delivering crushing impacts.

As a practitioner who'd mastered Ming Jin (explicit force), his control was impeccable. Adjusting the angle and power seamlessly, he drove the rammer down, leaving deep imprints.

"You're better than me!" the worker marveled.

"Take a break," Huo Xuan chuckled. "Let me handle this awhile."

The worker, grinning, obliged and squatted aside to smoke.

With every few strikes, Huo Xuan tweaked the throttle, inching the rammer's frequency closer to the wooden pillar's natural resonance. After a dozen adjustments, the vibrations synchronized perfectly.

From afar, the group watched, baffled. "What's he doing? Randomly playing construction worker?" Liu Ling muttered.

Liu Ziguang shrugged. "Maybe he's bored."

Professor Guo smirked. "He's no fool. Wait for his 'ghost trick.'"

THOOM! THOOM!

As the rammer pounded, the pillar 300 meters away in the hall began shuddering violently. Its oscillations intensified until the entire hall trembled.

Huo Xuan, gripping the rammer, glared coldly toward the building.

Eight minutes later—

CRACK!

The pillar snapped mid-air, sending priceless antiques crashing to the floor in ruins.