As Fang Mingsheng and Tang Qinghua waxed poetic about grand projects—one suggesting a hundred million to pave a highway straight to Luoyang or Zhengzhou, the other proposing two hundred million to host a Du Fu cultural festival, inviting experts and scholars from around the world for symposiums…—Wang Guan couldn't help but mutter, "Two rich fat cats, speaking without feeling the pinch."

"Ignore them. If they actually did that, they'd surely lose a fortune."

Yu Feibai scoffed, "What good is making a big splash? The key is whether they can recoup the investment. With the amount of money they plan to throw around, even collecting admission fees for a hundred years might not cover the massive deficit."

"They aren't counting on ticket sales. Once Du Fu’s Mausoleum draws crowds, people will flock there, naturally boosting the local economy. They can earn the money back elsewhere."

Fang Mingsheng, with an air of assured wisdom, stated, "Set up a few processing plants nearby, specializing in tourist souvenirs. Additionally, they could invest in hotels and inns. Food, clothing, housing, and transport—that's where the real profit lies."

"Great minds think alike…" Tang Qinghua was full of admiration, feeling a kinship with the other man.

Regarding this, Yu Feibai merely curled his lip, choosing not to argue. After all, when it came to doing business, merchants might be unbeatable with clever talk, but once they reached the stage of actual execution, there was always an element of unpredictability.

Otherwise, why was it always said that ideals are beautiful, but reality is cruel? Having ideas is good, but the problem is that very few people manage to put those ideas into practice successfully. The world only pays attention to the glory of the victors, unaware of the countless fallen who littered the path to success.

The marketplace is like a battlefield; the success of one general often costs the lives of ten thousand soldiers. Becoming a true winner in life is certainly no simple feat.

Besides, everyone knew that Fang Mingsheng and Tang Qinghua were merely speaking hypothetically. If they were truly asked to execute these plans, both would likely shake their heads and refuse. First, they weren't certain they could succeed; second, why on earth would they invest in this specific place without any pressing reason?

Neither Fang Mingsheng nor Tang Qinghua were pioneering trailblazers; they were conservators. Their family businesses were already running smoothly, requiring only meticulous adherence to established procedures. There was no need for reckless tinkering. Even if they wished to expand their business ventures, they should focus on related industries rather than plunging into unfamiliar sectors.

Even if they entered a new field, it would only be a minor foray, just testing the waters—nothing that required a massive investment.

Indeed, for the Tang family, major real estate magnates, running the Zheng Ya Xuan antique shop was mere child's play. Don't be misled by the current prosperity of the antique collecting market, where major auction houses generate billions in annual turnover, making it seem incredibly profitable.

But everyone should note that this figure represents the total transaction value of the auctioned items, not the actual profit made by the auction houses. Auction houses handle items on behalf of others, only collecting commissions. This means that while the total turnover is huge, the profit margin for the auction houses, as intermediaries, while substantial, is definitely not as vast as people imagine.

At least for the Tang family, the profit from developing a single large residential complex could easily surpass the combined profits of several major auction houses by a hundredfold, perhaps even more.

Of course, these were tangential points. In any case, seeing the two chatting animatedly, others listened if they wished, or simply continued to enjoy the scenery if they didn't. After leaving Du Fu’s Mausoleum, the group was in no hurry to return, instead wandering around the nearby Mangshan Ridge. The ridge scenery was quite serene and could easily be incorporated into the Du Fu scenic area.

This topic immediately sparked a new round of discussion between Fang Mingsheng and Tang Qinghua.

"Wang Guan…"

After observing the view from the mountain for a moment, Yu Feibai’s expression suddenly changed, and he whispered urgently, "Someone is really following us."

"What? Where?" Wang Guan was startled and quickly looked around. Down the mountain, the area seemed deserted, save for a few villagers working in the fields; nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"He flashed past too quickly," Yu Feibai frowned. "But the clothing felt familiar, like the person we encountered at Old Man He’s house."

"Are you sure you didn't misjudge?" Wang Guan asked doubtfully. "Could you have been mistaken?"

"Hey, you were the one who felt we were being followed, so I started paying attention. Now that I’ve found a lead, you’re doubting my eyesight," Yu Feibai said indignantly. "So my good intentions were wasted, and I end up getting blamed for everything…"

"Don't rush, I don't not believe you," Wang Guan quickly said. "I just wanted to confirm."

"Confirming it is simple enough. Watch how I smoke him out."

As he spoke, Yu Feibai let out a grunt and immediately headed toward another hilltop. He had seen clearly that the person had darted in that direction.

"Wait, don't be rash! Let's discuss it first." Wang Guan tried to stop him, but Yu Feibai simply took off running, leaving Wang Guan no choice but to follow reluctantly.

Seeing this, Tang Qinghua and the others also became curious and couldn't help but call out, "Where are you two going?"

"Just going up the hill to admire the view…"

Wang Guan offered a quick excuse and hurried up the slope, relieved to find Yu Feibai had already stopped. He had feared Yu Feibai would impulsively confront the person, which would put him at a disadvantage. Not that Wang Guan looked down on Yu Feibai, but with his slight frame, fighting against that youth with formidable qi seemed like a sure loss. Even if he won, it would likely be a pyrrhic victory that cost him dearly. Essentially, Wang Guan preferred peaceful resolutions and discouraged violence. The world was too beautiful for so much fighting and killing to disrupt the harmony.

Therefore, Wang Guan was quite pleased when Yu Feibai showed restraint at that critical moment. However, as he approached, he realized the situation was entirely different. Yu Feibai had stopped because the summit was blocked by an extremely steep slope, making it impossible for him to descend. In a way, this could be considered an act of fate.

Wang Guan comforted himself: even if it wasn't Yu Feibai's intention, it was Heaven's arrangement, preventing him from causing trouble.

Of course, Wang Guan couldn't voice these thoughts. Instead, he looked around and remarked, "This slope is difficult to get down. If you slip, you won't walk down, you'll probably roll. Even if you managed to scramble down, that person would be long gone by now."

"In that case, perhaps he wasn't following us but merely passing through…"

Wang Guan pondered the situation for a moment, then shook his head. "Never mind, there’s no clear lead. I won't think about it anymore. If anything important comes up, we can discuss it when we get back."

Persuaded by Wang Guan, Yu Feibai, though unwilling, had no other choice and walked away sullenly.

Shortly after, the group bid farewell to Boss Zheng and returned to the archaeological camp. Wang Guan now noticed that the camp's security had indeed been significantly reinforced during their absence. Even with an escort, they still had to undergo a thorough check before re-entering.

"You’ve returned."

Hearing the movement outside, Old Hou emerged from his tent, a warm smile on his face. "Did you have a good time?"

"So-so. We just saw the Shangqing Palace and then took a look around Du Fu’s Mausoleum," Yu Feibai summarized briefly, then added with a hint of mystery, "But we discovered an unexpected situation."

"What situation?" Old Hou naturally grew curious.

"We found a den for forging antiques," Yu Feibai gestured with his hands. "It felt like many things were buried beneath the entire courtyard floor, and in the row of large jars behind the courtyard, there were many saltpeter deposits…"

"Saltpeter?"

Old Hou started, his brow furrowing. "Are you certain those dangerous materials were present?"

"Absolutely certain and highly confirmed," Yu Feibai sighed. "It's a pity Wang Guan didn't want to stir up trouble; we missed a chance to take them all down at once."

"When you're away from home, in unfamiliar territory, avoiding unnecessary trouble is a good thing," Old Hou immediately laughed. "But it's not a major issue. Just tell Brother Wen the specifics, and he can handle it."

"What about me handling it?" Professor Wen also walked out of the tent, waving them in. "It’s good you’re back. Come in and rest a bit. Especially Wang Guan, you might be busy tonight; we plan to work through the night."

"Work through the night? So urgently…" Everyone was a little surprised.

"We have to be urgent," Professor Wen said with a smile. "You all know how vast the underground palace is. If we don't open it up and inspect the situation down there for even one day, we'll remain uneasy and unable to fully relax."

"Exactly. What’s in hand is ours."

Hearing they would open the underground palace that night, Yu Feibai raised both hands in agreement. For an impatient person like him, the sooner the palace was opened, the better. If it was delayed another day, his curiosity would keep him awake all night.

"Oh, by the way, what were you saying needed my attention?"

Professor Wen asked curiously, "Did you run into any trouble?"

"No trouble, but we might have stumbled upon an antique forgery operation." Wang Guan recounted what he had seen at Old Man He’s house in as impartial a tone as possible.

Generally, when ordinary people heard such a story, they would feel at least a little indignant. Even if their hearts were numb, they would verbally issue some condemnation. However, contrary to everyone’s expectations, Professor Wen could only offer a wry smile and shake his head. "I can't handle this. Not only can I not handle it, but even the Cultural Relics Bureau, or even the police, can't."

"What do you mean?" Old Hou frowned, failing to grasp the situation. "Do you think they are being overly suspicious? That’s easy to resolve; a quick inspection would clear everything up."

"No need to investigate. I believe what they said is true."

Professor Wen looked helpless. "It’s in the vicinity; how could I not know? Not just me, but even the local residents are aware of it. The problem is, there are too many people making fakes."

"This isn't an isolated incident. In some mountain villages, the entire village, young and old, is involved in making and selling counterfeits. If the police dare to make arrests, the whole village population will surround the police station. This isn't a joke; it actually happens."

"It's not that no one cares, nor that they don't want to intervene, but that the law cannot punish the masses!"