To be frank, Elder Han’s request was truly asking the impossible. Such a task was akin to trying to attach an arm to the Venus de Milo—utterly unrealistic.

Of course, it was slightly more feasible than restoring the Venus; ancient wooden sculptures of deities often adhered to certain established conventions. Since these were effigies for divine beings, they couldn't be crafted arbitrarily; they had to follow commonly accepted folk practices.

Take the examples of Guanyin and the Buddha; the specific iconography for every Buddha or Bodhisattva had strict regulations. At most, there might be minor variations in the details, but the overall form remained recognizable through countless permutations.

Understanding this principle, Wang Guan and Pi Qiushi began to grasp why the Half-Mountain Monk had summoned them: he likely intended for them to deduce the original appearance of the wooden idol from its fragmented remains.

In that instant, Wang Guan recalled a rather amusing anecdote. In a biology class, the professor presented a bird's leg and asked the students to identify the species. One student simply threw down his pen, walked out the door, hiked up his pant leg, and challenged the professor to name his species.

What the Half-Mountain Monk was asking them to do now was to bring that joke to life.

Pi Qiushi offered a wry smile. "Master, you are intentionally making things difficult for us, aren't you?"

"Donor Pi speaks too strongly," the Half-Mountain Monk replied, his voice as gentle as ever. "While this matter is somewhat troublesome, it shouldn't be beyond the capabilities of you two."

Simultaneously, Wang Guan pondered deeply, slowly grasping the essence of the situation. The task was neither inherently simple nor overwhelmingly difficult. The key likely wasn't just identifying the artifact's origin, but articulating an insight that could genuinely convince Elder Han.

Since the wooden statue was so severely damaged, they could arbitrarily assign it the iconography of any known Guanyin or Buddha. The crux of the matter was whether Elder Han would accept their conclusion.

If Elder Han was convinced, even if the newly carved figure didn't perfectly match the original, he would accept it as authentic. Conversely, if Elder Han rejected their findings, even if the carving perfectly replicated the lost original, he would likely suspect them of deception.

This situation resembled that of certain domestic officials: if they decreed you capable, you were capable, even if you weren't; if they deemed you incapable, you weren't, even if you were. Whether one was capable or not rested entirely upon Elder Han's whim.

Unfortunately, though Elder Han was a devout Buddhist, he was far from ignorant; on the contrary, he was an exceedingly shrewd man. Given how much importance he placed on this fragment, he had undoubtedly consulted numerous experts, each offering differing opinions. A casual fabrication wouldn't sway him; convincing him was the real challenge.

In his state of indecision, Elder Han thought of the Half-Mountain Monk, residing far away in Singapore. Before the Half-Mountain Monk's master passed away, Elder Han had studied Buddhist meditation with him in Singapore and, having spent considerable time there, was well aware of the current monk's skill level.

With a flicker of hope, Elder Han immediately invited the Half-Mountain Monk over. However, the result brought him disappointment. Faced with the fragment, the Half-Mountain Monk couldn't offer a definitive explanation either, and smoothly recommended Pi Qiushi and Wang Guan in his stead.

Though uncertain of their true abilities, Elder Han decided to grant the Half-Mountain Monk the courtesy and agreed to let them examine the relic. Elder Han held low expectations anyway, so when Pi Qiushi expressed his lack of confidence, he didn't mind at all. In fact, he found the man refreshingly direct—knowing what he knew, and admitting what he didn't, unlike some experts who would spout volumes of nonsensical jargon despite knowing nothing.

"Surrendering before the battle—this is hardly in line with your style, Brother Pi."

At this moment, Wang Guan considered the situation for a moment, offering a faint smile. "Let's take a look first. Perhaps there are some clues."

"There are too few clues, and too many possibilities. How can one possibly make a judgment..."

Pi Qiushi walked over, examining the fragment while shaking his head and sighing. "A lotus pedestal—that is the most classic implement in Buddhism. All manner of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and even Arhats could be depicted standing upon it. Just calculate how many famous Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and Arhats exist in the tradition? The number is incalculable, and the iconography for each is incredibly varied. It results in an overwhelmingly vast figure."

As for the exact magnitude of that number, no one needed to calculate it, because it was literally impossible, even for a monk as learned in Buddhist philosophy as the Half-Mountain Monk.

"Eh!"

While muttering his complaint, Pi Qiushi scrutinized the fragment with earnest attention, then cautiously reached out to touch it. In that instant, his face registered an expression of shock and suspicion.

"What is it?"

Sensing Pi Qiushi had made a discovery, Wang Guan immediately leaned closer.

"This material..." Pi Qiushi traced his fingers over the wooden carving, hesitation coloring his tone. "It feels… unusual."

"The material?"

Wang Guan was momentarily stunned, then focused his gaze. The surface of the wood carving was coated in gold lacquer, aged enough to have cracked, leaving it mottled and uneven. Where the carving was broken, the wood edge was rough and splintered, concealing the grain texture. Yet, when Wang Guan placed his hand on the wood, just as Pi Qiushi had done, he detected the abnormality of the material itself.

"Knock, knock!"

Wang Guan tapped it lightly and immediately noticed the material's density was exceptionally solid, producing almost no echo. Using slightly more force actually sent a jarring ache up his own finger joints.

"So heavy."

At the same time, Pi Qiushi grasped the lotus pedestal base, attempting to gauge the weight of the fragment. To his surprise, the piece merely wobbled slightly; he couldn't lift it at all.

While Pi Qiushi tested the weight, Wang Guan was not idle. He carefully scraped off a few splinters from the broken section of the carving and studied them under the light for a moment, then exclaimed in astonishment, "It feels almost like Golden Silk Nanmu."

"Young man has good eyes."

Elder Han’s face finally showed a hint of a smile. "Many people focus solely on deducing the object's form and neglect to examine its composition."

"What an extravagant undertaking."

Pi Qiushi gasped in admiration. "Judging by the lotus base and the remaining sections, the original statue must have been life-sized. And the entire thing made of Golden Silk Nanmu. Not just now, but even in ancient times, this speaks to immense resources."

"That is why I am so curious, why I want to know what the statue looked like before it was damaged," Elder Han said softly. "It must have been incredibly solemn and dignified..."

Fine materials demand fine craftsmanship—this truth holds across all eras. To use such precious wood for a carving implies employing the most skilled artisan, shaping it meticulously to achieve flawless perfection, so as not to waste such a material. Of course, this was all conjecture, but Elder Han couldn't shake the thought. Once he acquired the fragment and learned of its precious composition, this notion took root. Sometimes, people inexplicably become obsessed with a particular pursuit; expressed elegantly, it's called dedication; put less kindly, it's called being pig-headed.

It was clear that Elder Han had unintentionally developed this fixation. But given his current status, even if people recognized he was being stubborn, not just outsiders but even his own family would hesitate to argue, choosing instead to indulge his wishes. To the Han family, it was merely a minor fixation; as long as Elder Han was happy, why oppose him?

Perhaps this very indulgence kept Elder Han relentlessly pursuing the relic's origins.

"What the statue looked like is truly hard to say, but I can tell you this is the technique of Chaozhou wood carving from Guangdong province."

Pi Qiushi mused at this point. "A rounded figure, coated in gold powder—the style is very distinct, belonging to the Chaozhou Gold Lacquer school of craftsmanship."

"Furthermore, this school's carved figures have a characteristic feature: the body proportions adhere to a 5:1 standard. Therefore, I can confirm that when the statue was intact, it should have stood about this tall." Pi Qiushi gestured in the air, then spread his hands. "As for which deity it originally depicted, I am less certain."

Elder Han nodded slowly, but showed no sign of surprise. After all, the experts he hired couldn't all be frauds; there were certainly highly skilled professionals among them who could reach the same conclusion as Pi Qiushi.

At the same moment, Pi Qiushi offered an apology. "Master Half-Mountain, please forgive my limited ability; I cannot be of further help."

"Amitabha. Donor Pi has done his best. One cannot force things," the Half-Mountain Monk smiled, showing little disappointment, as he likely anticipated this outcome.

"I am ashamed," Pi Qiushi shook his head, then turned to Wang Guan. "Brother, do you have any profound insights?"

"I know nothing about wood carving, so how could I have any profound insights?" Wang Guan replied with a slight smile. "Everything you wanted to say, Brother, you've already covered. I have nothing to add."

"Mr. Wang..."

Just then, Han Lang entered the living room with light steps. His demeanor appeared perfectly normal, yet his words carried a subtle, sharp edge. "Are you truly saying you have nothing to add, or are you merely holding back because you already know the answer."

"Ah Lang."

Hearing this, Elder Han frowned, looking rather perplexed. "You two know each other?"

"We've crossed paths before," Han Lang answered evasively. "Grandfather, you may not be aware, but Mr. Wang is an exceptionally skilled connoisseur. He has surely discerned something; he is just feigning ignorance."

"Is that so?"

Even Pi Qiushi could sense Han Lang’s disdain for Wang Guan. How could the shrewd Elder Han, who knew his grandson well, fail to notice? Han Lang rarely spoke with such pointed sarcasm; they had clearly done more than merely cross paths.

Elder Han remained outwardly calm, his thoughts turning inwardly, though his expression remained unchanged. Instead, he broke into a smile. "If that is the case, perhaps our sincerity was lacking, which is why Mr. Wang is unwilling to enlighten us?"

"I suspect that’s very likely," Han Lang replied coolly. "Grandfather, every time you invite someone to appraise something, you treat them with the utmost courtesy—offering the best tea and wine. When they leave, you send them off with a generous red envelope. So, saying you lack insight or ability is just an excuse. The key issue here is 'sincerity'!"

The word 'sincerity' was heavily emphasized, making Han Lang's implied criticism perfectly clear.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere in the hall turned distinctly awkward. Pi Qiushi glanced from Han Lang to Wang Guan, preparing to step in and smooth things over, when Wang Guan suddenly chuckled, "I wonder just how much sincerity Mr. Han possesses?"

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