While the Daoists were examining the precious pearl, Wang Guan and his companions, guided by Zhang Qing, bypassed several palaces, gradually entering the inner sanctum of the Daoist temple, eventually arriving before a rather secluded structure.

Wang Guan observed it closely and realized the building appeared to be a gelou—a multi-storied pavilion.

However, this pavilion was constructed of reinforced concrete, looking rather unremarkable at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one would notice it possessed no windows.

A three-story structure entirely devoid of any windows, with only a single entrance on the ground floor.

At this point, Zhang Qing produced several keys to finally unlock this tightly secured doorway—four or five heavy-duty security doors, followed by a required password entry.

In short, the pavilion’s defensive measures were comprehensive; even if a common thief managed to sneak nearby, they likely wouldn't be able to breach so many steel barriers.

Furthermore, any noise would immediately alert the patrolling Daoists nearby, who would swarm in from all directions, trapping the intruder like a turtle in a jar.

Of course, no matter how formidable the security doors were, they held little relevance for Wang Guan.

He was here to pick out items, not to scout the terrain with the intention of becoming a gentleman thief scaling the eaves.

Seeing Zhang Qing open the steel doors, Wang Guan maintained his courtesy, gesturing for Elder Zhang to enter first, then following closely behind.

Although the pavilion lacked windows, it had ventilation shafts, so it didn't feel stuffy.

Numerous electric lights were also installed.

When the lights were switched on, the interior space was brightly illuminated, eliminating any concern about poor visibility.

Upon entering, Wang Guan felt as if he had stepped into a library. There were over twenty rows of bookshelves, each stacked high with volumes of books.

A quick glance confirmed his suspicion: the shelves were filled with classic Daoist texts.

Some might assume that Daoist classics are few, with the Dao De Jing being the most famous.

In reality, this is a mistaken notion. As a native Chinese religion, Daoism boasts a far more ancient history; thousands of years of accumulation undoubtedly surpass those of Buddhism, which only entered China during the late Eastern Han Dynasty.

Indeed, the sheer volume of Daoist literature is beyond exaggeration, worthy of descriptions like "mountains of books" or "an ocean of scrolls."

"Is this the Sutra Repository, not the treasure vault?" Wang Guan, however, was not here to study Daoist philosophical works, and seeing the tower of books, he frowned instantly.

"For Longhu Shan, these are rare treasures," Zhang Qing stated earnestly. Even though modern understanding of Daoism has become increasingly superficial, there are still those who genuinely dedicate themselves to studying this discipline as orthodox Daoists.

Reflecting on it, a sect that has endured for millennia could not survive solely by summoning followers for incense and worship without any underlying substance; it surely would have vanished into the long river of history.

Conversely, obsessing only over ancient texts while neglecting propagation among the common people guarantees no future success.

This means that theory and practice are both indispensable; only when combined can a religion remain eternally prosperous.

Yet, Wang Guan didn't have such philosophical realizations. Hearing Zhang Qing’s words, he felt he was being fobbed off and naturally registered a degree of dissatisfaction.

He didn't press Zhang Qing for an explanation, however.

Instead, he turned and voiced his complaint, "Elder Zhang, the treasures you spoke of—is it just these books? This doesn't quite match your description."

"Don't rush things," Elder Zhang said with a smile. "The pavilion has three floors; this is only the first. The truly valuable items are upstairs."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go up immediately!" Wang Guan urged, bypassing a row of shelves and immediately spotting the staircase leading to the second floor.

Moments later, the group ascended to the second level.

Wang Guan gasped in astonishment. If the first floor was a library, the second floor was a veritable warehouse of miscellaneous goods.

In the expansive space, numerous artifacts were displayed.

Of course, in Daoist terminology, these items would be called fagui—ritual implements.

There were tablets, official seals, banners, bells, horns, chimes, leather drums, pennants, altar cloths, and weapons such as swords, jian, chizers, and staffs, collectively forming what Wang Guan saw as a storeroom of clutter.

At a glance, the array was dazzling, with no two items appearing identical.

Take the official seals, for instance: they were made of gold, silver, bronze, iron, wood, and jade, primarily square in shape, though the thickness lacked uniformity.

Due to the variations in the engraved inscriptions, they each possessed distinct functions—reporting to the celestial court, dispatching documents, summoning or commanding ghosts and spirits, communicating with the divine, exorcising demons, healing illnesses, and protecting the body, and so on.

Displayed in a row of glass cabinets, hundreds of large and small seals made Wang Guan's eyes swim, leaving him somewhat awestruck.

"This truly is a treasure vault," exclaimed Fang Mingsheng, who had accompanied them. Upon seeing these ritual implements, his eyes lit up with an almost pilgrim-like reverence.

"Elder Zhang," Wang Guan, being non-religious, quickly regained his composure. After a moment of careful observation, he murmured, "Most of these items are new, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are new," Elder Zhang nodded. "Though, 'new' is relative. Some artifacts have been in use for twenty or thirty years, while others were crafted just a few years ago. But regardless, every item here has been meticulously crafted and then consecrated through chanting and rituals before being deemed worthy of storage here."

Hearing this, Wang Guan felt nothing particular, but Fang Mingsheng reacted differently. As a shrewd businessman, he understood the principle of keeping the best items for personal use.

"Daoist Master Zhang, this is too much," Fang Mingsheng immediately grabbed Zhang Qing, vehemently condemning this selfish practice. "The finest pieces are kept, while the inferior ones are given away—how can you treat pious believers like this?"

"Layman Fang," Zhang Qing replied with a helpless smile, explaining, "These are the heritage items of the Celestial Master’s Mansion, and they serve as prototypes for the ritual implements. Therefore, they cannot be widely displayed. I ask for your understanding."

"I can understand," Fang Mingsheng replied, his face wreathed in smiles, "but..."

"I understand," Zhang Qing sighed lightly. "If there is something you particularly fancy, you may certainly select one to take home."

"Then... I shall not refuse," Fang Mingsheng said contentedly, releasing his grip. He then began to scrutinize the items, clearly overwhelmed by choice.

The 'Imperial Command Seal'—Tianhuang Haoling—boasting a chilling inscription about immediate execution for any disobedience, clearly radiated power and signaled a rare masterpiece.

The 'Five Thunders Ghost-Slaying Seal'—Wu Lei Zhan Gui Yin—was a talisman for home protection, rumored to summon the Five Thunders to control lightning and subdue evil.

There were also lightning-struck peach wood swords, the Tianpeng Ruler, ghost-beating rods... countless implements, each serving different functions—warding off spirits, attracting fortune, controlling the qi field—and all were clearly superior quality, leaving Fang Mingsheng agonized over his selection, wishing he could pack them all away.

While Fang Mingsheng wrestled with his dilemma, Wang Guan and Elder Zhang headed toward the third floor of the pavilion.

Wang Guan had made his initial statement: he wanted nothing related to Daoism. Thus, no matter how exquisite these ritual implements were, he would not touch them.

Besides, he didn't regard these objects as particularly exceptional; even if Zhang Qing offered them, he might still decline.

Fang Mingsheng viewed them as treasures; Wang Guan dismissed them. This was merely a difference in perspective stemming from their differing stances, neither inherently superior nor inferior.

A moment later, Wang Guan and Elder Zhang reached the third floor—this was their true paradise.

"Don't say the old man misled you," Elder Zhang chuckled softly. "Paintings and calligraphy from celebrated historical figures—masterpieces from the Tang, Song, Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties—they are all here. As for what you favor, you must select it yourself; I won't assist you."

"You needn't trouble yourself, Elder," Wang Guan replied confidently. "I won't leave here empty-handed, and I fully intend to take the very best."

"Very well, take your time looking," Elder Zhang smiled. Perhaps familiar with the layout from frequent visits, he immediately walked toward a specific cabinet where something of his interest resided.

In contrast, Wang Guan was at a slight disadvantage. Unlike the first two floors, the third floor was arranged with more subtlety.

The items were stored away rather than openly displayed. The spacious area contained boxes and cabinets, all closed, concealing their contents from view.

After surveying the room, Wang Guan emulated Elder Zhang, walking toward the nearest set of cabinets.

The cabinets were unlocked and opened easily. Inside, he saw scrolls of calligraphy and painting, arranged in neat order.

Wang Guan casually picked up one scroll, untied the fastening cord, and unrolled about half of it. Seeing the inscription and colophon at the beginning, he instantly knew it was a work by the great Ming Dynasty painter Dong Qichang.

However, determining if it was an original masterpiece, a reproduction, or an outright forgery would require careful authentication.

In the history of painting and calligraphy, Dong Qichang was known by the moniker 'Chaotic Dong' (Luan Dong). This was primarily because too many forgeries of his work existed, and beyond his own creations and imitations by others, there were also pieces executed by his studio assistants.

Setting aside any moral considerations, Dong Qichang held a very high position in art history; any discussion of great masters of Ming calligraphy and painting would inevitably involve him.

During his time, he was such a renowned master that requests for his inscriptions and paintings arrived ceaselessly. Dong Qichang was exhausted managing the volume, so naturally, he engaged others to write on his behalf.

Ghostwriting was exceedingly common during the Ming and Qing dynasties, and no one considered it improper. After all, these were typically commissioned works for social obligations, and the patrons generally demanded only five or six parts resemblance, along with an authentic seal signature—that was sufficient satisfaction.

Generally, only true masters indulged in such patronage, so, to some extent, the presence of a ghostwritten piece served as a benchmark for assessing whether the artist was a celebrated master.

It must be said that Dong Qichang was also an incredibly diligent artist. The surviving works include his own creations, copies of historical masters, pieces written by his assistants, later imitations of his work, and outright fakes. This mixture made genuine and counterfeit works incredibly difficult to distinguish, hence the nickname 'Chaotic Dong.'

If it were an authentic, masterwork painting, it could easily be worth tens of millions; if a high-quality reproduction, the value would drop by more than half, perhaps reaching a million or two at best.

As for a blatant forgery, it might fetch a few hundred yuan, considering the cost of creating the fake.

"Well, have you chosen a painting?" Elder Zhang drifted over, asking curiously. "Whose work is that?"

"Dong Qichang," Wang Guan murmured. "But it looks like a reproduction."

"What basis do you have for that assumption?" Elder Zhang peered at it with interest. He had likely seen the painting before and knew its background, but he still wished to know Wang Guan's reasoning.