Returning to the Qiao residence, Fourth Master Qiao remained in the main hall, thoroughly absorbed in an anti-Japanese war movie, occasionally waving the long stem of his opium pipe with an air of leisurely contentment and perfect ease.

Seeing this scene, Qiao Yu curled her lip. "Grandpa, you can actually watch such fabricated, utterly ridiculous, and brain-dead plots. Your taste is truly extreme."

"What's got you so worked up today?" Fourth Master Qiao looked up languidly. "Who offended my dear granddaughter? Do they have a death wish and are eager to meet King Yama?"

"No one offended me." Qiao Yu huffed, "Forget it, I won't mention it. Xiao Ye, come play games with me."

As she spoke, Qiao Yu hastily pulled Bei Ye away, intending to vent her frustration by battling and slaying in the game. Wang Guan naturally didn't follow, so he settled down in the hall.

"What's wrong with her?" Fourth Master Qiao asked casually. "Did someone provoke her?"

"No."

Knowing he was being asked, Wang Guan shook his head. "There's an update on the grotto mural situation. The person who stole the painting was caught, but the buyer fled with the rubbing."

"Is that so? No wonder Xiao Yu is throwing a fit." Fourth Master Qiao suddenly understood, then chuckled. "Old Tao must be blaming himself terribly. It was a good intention, but he ended up causing trouble."

"That's right." Wang Guan nodded slightly and sighed softly. "No matter how much we try to comfort him, Old Tao just can't cheer up. Unless the rubbing can be recovered, this will likely become a deep-seated worry for him."

"That's just Old Tao’s nature, thoroughly scholarly," Fourth Master Qiao said with a faint smile. "Scholars approach things too idealistically; they are destined not to achieve great things."

Wang Guan smiled, unsure how to respond to that remark.

"Don't doubt me," Fourth Master Qiao asserted proudly. "If he had asked me for help with this matter, it would have gone smoothly, without a single hitch."

"He actually wanted to ask you, but Xiao Qiao stopped him," Wang Guan stated the facts.

"Really?"

Fourth Master Qiao paused slightly, then his face broke into a sudden smile. "So that explains why Xiao Yu is so moody. Ah, they cause trouble outside, but in the end, I'm the one who has to clean it up."

Just then, Fourth Master Qiao switched off the television and, tapping his opium pipe, walked away with a swaying gait.

"How did it go?"

A moment later, Qiao Yu poked her head out from the hall doorway, cautiously glancing around. Seeing that Fourth Master Qiao was gone, she immediately came out with a grin and asked, "Did you tell him? What was Grandpa's reaction?"

"He said you caused trouble again, forcing him to clean up the mess," Wang Guan chuckled.

"That’s wonderful!" Qiao Yu clapped her hands in celebration, smiling sweetly. "I knew Grandpa wouldn't just wash his hands of it."

Wang Guan smiled, inwardly curious about the extent of the influence this Fourth Master Qiao of Jinyang possessed, enough for Qiao Yu to be so certain that if he intervened, he would certainly find the mysterious person.

Time passed quickly, and by evening, Wang Guan immediately dismissed his lingering doubts.

After dinner, Fourth Master Qiao, as was his habit, prepared to take his opium pipe for a stroll in the back courtyard. However, unlike usual, he called Wang Guan to accompany him. Wang Guan was slightly surprised but did not object, following him out. A short while later, however, he realized they were not heading toward the back courtyard but stopped before a room in the West Wing.

As he pushed open the door, Fourth Master Qiao casually asked, "You don't faint at the sight of blood, do you?"

"Uh..." Wang Guan was slightly startled and instinctively shook his head.

"Good then," Fourth Master Qiao chuckled, pushing the door open with little effort.

Just then, Wang Guan quietly followed him inside. As he stepped into the room, he was somewhat prepared, but seeing the actual scene inside, he couldn't help but be taken aback.

In the room, a person was tied to a chair—someone covered in wounds and bloodstains. The person’s head was bowed, almost buried in their chest, seeming devoid of breath. Witnessing this, Wang was genuinely frightened.

"Don't be scared, kid."

Fourth Master Qiao said calmly, "He's not dead, just half-dead. And right now, he’s probably feigning death. I advise you not to waste your energy; he’s tied with rawhide—the tighter he struggles, the deeper it digs into the flesh."

The last sentence was naturally directed at the person tied to the chair.

Simultaneously, the person who had shown no movement trembled slightly, then slowly raised their head. In that instant, Wang Guan got a clear look: bloodstains covered the person's face, which was twisted into a grim and ferocious expression.

Of course, this was Wang Guan's illusion, because the room's light was intensely bright, like dazzling sunlight, illuminating even the dust motes on the floor with perfect clarity. Yet, no matter how bright the light shone on the figure, it only made them appear more somber, radiating a dangerous aura.

After what felt like a long time, or perhaps only a few seconds, the person’s gaze swept over Wang Guan, landing directly on Fourth Master Qiao. Their voice was hoarse and stiff: "Who are you, and why have you kidnapped me?"

"You don't recognize me, yet you dare commit a crime on my turf. You truly have a death wish," Fourth Master Qiao said, turning the stem of his opium pipe in his hand. Noticing the persistent blank look on the man's face, he mused aloud, "So, you're a dragon crossing the river. No wonder you don't know the rules."

With that, Fourth Master Qiao stopped paying attention to the captive and waved Wang Guan over. "Come take a look and see if this painting is real."

"...Oh!"

Wang Guan blinked, slowly regaining his senses. He moved two steps to avoid the bound man and walked straight to a table where a folded, soft canvas lay.

Wang Guan touched it and immediately felt how thin and extremely elastic the canvas was, clearly a specially made fabric.

"This feels right..."

Sensing the correctness, Wang Guan composed himself and carefully began to unfold the canvas layer by layer. Instantly, a vibrant and dazzling religious portrait unfolded before his eyes.

It was a depiction of the Pure Land of the West. In the center of the scene was a shimmering, jewel-encrusted pond, encircled by carved railings, blooming with lotuses of various colors. Buddhas and Bodhisattvas sat atop the lotuses, their faces benevolent, while playful children frolicked in the pond.

Above the pond, the sky was clear and blue, wreathed in colorful clouds, with manifested Buddhas soaring and celestial dancers dancing, showering down heavenly blossoms. Below the pond, musicians played various instruments, and dancers in crowns and silken skirts performed Western regional dances. The entire mural presented a scene of joy and tranquility in the Western Paradise.

This image, which should have adorned the wall of a grotto, was now vividly replicated onto fabric as thin as a cicada's wing. The colors were remarkably rich, as if freshly applied by a brush—this was the method of 'Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun' (Tōtenkanjitsu).

The so-called 'Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun' was certainly not as simple as just making a rubbing. In reality, it was a highly sophisticated technique for preserving murals. Yes, preserving murals. Before the Tang Dynasty, including the early-to-mid Tang, murals were the primary art form.

Because paper-making technology during that era was inadequate, and paper that could last a thousand years had not yet been invented, scholars and literati generally wrote or painted on silk or fine linen. However, silk was costly; only powerful nobles could afford it. Thus, painting directly onto walls became the natural choice.

But as everyone knows, murals do not last long. No matter how meticulously cared for, the ink colors would inevitably fade over time, perhaps even disappearing entirely.

Faced with this situation, some people began researching how to make murals last longer and thus developed various mineral pigments. Murals painted with these mineral pigments could indeed endure for a very long time.

However, some researchers took a different direction; they felt it was more practical to devise a way to rescue murals that were about to fade rather than just studying how to make new ones last longer.

These people reasoned that since silk could preserve paintings for longer, the mural should be transferred onto silk fabric. After extensive exploration, these individuals finally succeeded in inventing the method of 'Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun.'

Initially, it involved copying, then slowly transferring, and finally, the technique reached its peak.

First, a thin piece of fabric was pasted onto the stone wall, and then, a very special solution was applied evenly over it, causing the fading mural colors to temporarily regain their former vibrancy. At this moment of brief resurgence, the painted surface was slightly moist, allowing the pigments to naturally seep and permeate into the fabric.

When the solution slowly dried, the fabric was carefully peeled off, instantly forming a new image—this process was the so-called 'Stealing Heaven and Swapping the Sun.'

Certainly, this method was extremely damaging to the original mural. After all, it required artificially stimulating the colors to emerge and then allowing most of the pigments to transfer and fix onto the fabric to form the new image, essentially a self-serving action. If a mural was on the verge of fading away, using this technique to allow the art to continue in a different form could be understandable.

However, what was most detestable were those blinded by greed who cared nothing for whether the mural was already endangered. They only sought to use this method to create a rubbing to sell at an exorbitant price. Moreover, to maximize their profit, some people resorted to even more vicious methods, directly destroying the original mural to ensure the remaining rubbing became the sole genuine article...

Clearly, the man tied to the chair belonged to this latter category. Thinking of this, the sympathy Wang Guan had felt for the man's blood-soaked state diminished, and he even felt the man deserved his fate.

At that moment, Fourth Master Qiao asked with a smile, "Well? This painting should be real, right?"

"It is indeed authentic," Wang Guan nodded. "The pigment colors are very bright, clearly transferred just a few days ago. We can be certain that he is the buyer."

"Good, as long as it's confirmed," Fourth Master Qiao said with satisfaction, looking slightly curious. "Is this thing worth a lot of money?"

"That's hard to say. It depends on the beholder," Wang Guan explained. "It is certainly a rare cultural relic, especially big tycoons in Southeast Asia who are devout Buddhists would surely pay a great price to acquire it."

Suddenly, Fourth Master Qiao chuckled lightly. "Heh heh, if I bury this man, would you like to take this thing?"

"Hah, so you're one of the brothers from the underworld."

Before Wang Guan could reply, the man who had been silent spoke again, his voice dry and rasping. "I concede. If you let me go, not only will the item be yours, but I will also present a generous gift later on..."