At this moment, Wang Guan suddenly realized, unable to help but look up at Mr. Hill, feeling that this man wasn’t merely slightly forgetful, but a complete scatterbrain. Not just overlooking the obvious, but utterly blind to it…

For a moment, Wang Guan shook his head, deciding not to delay any longer, and directly entered the correct passcode.

“Click-clack…”

Several seconds later, a series of crisp sounds emanated from the tumblers, followed by a distinct popping noise as the one-meter-wide locking mechanism opened, revealing a deep aperture and a flight of stairs leading down.

“Ah!”

At this instant, the few people nearby were stunned speechless. Even Fang Mingsheng, who had faith in Wang Guan, felt a sense of dumbfounded astonishment, thinking Wang Guan’s speed in unlocking was too incredible—even faster than his previous performance.

Just moments ago, Fang Mingsheng had been contemplating how he would have to shamelessly ask Mr. Hill for another chance tomorrow if Wang Guan failed three times. Now it seemed he had worried for nothing; he had underestimated Wang Guan’s capability.

Fang Mingsheng, who knew the man intimately, was profoundly shocked. Needless to say, Mr. Hill and his entourage were completely petrified, finding it hard to believe, or perhaps wondering if their eyes were deceiving them.

If this lock could really be opened so easily, Mr. Hill wouldn't have offered a reward for over a year with no one yet claiming the prize. Because he understood the lock’s difficulty, Mr. Hill was utterly shocked now, his mouth agape, almost unable to close it.

In truth, the only reason he had initially agreed to Fang Mingsheng’s recommendation and allowed Wang Guan to attempt the lock was not just to save face for Fang Mingsheng, but also because he was worried that Prince Abdul might misunderstand, prompting him to bring people over to dispel any doubts. He wanted to avoid the Prince thinking he was stingy by preventing him from viewing the vault’s collection.

In other words, Mr. Hill hadn't expected Wang Guan to crack the code at all, yet the reality of it shattered his worldview and beliefs, making him repeatedly exclaim to God, feeling as if he were witnessing a miracle.

At this juncture, seeing Mr. Hill excitedly gripping his hand and incessantly muttering a string of English words, Wang Guan naturally looked bewildered and turned to ask, “What is he saying?”

“He’s thanking you, and also asking how you managed to crack the code so quickly?” Fang Mingsheng translated, his own eyes filled with curiosity.

“Simple,” Wang Guan replied casually. “Actually, cracking the code isn't difficult. You just need to grasp Mr. Hill’s psychology.”

“What do you mean? Why say that?”

Fang Mingsheng was stunned, utterly unable to comprehend. Meanwhile, under the simultaneous translation of Mr. Anderson, Mr. Hill and Prince Abdul quieted down, both turning to look at Wang Guan, appearing eager to listen.

“Mr. Hill knows his memory is poor, so when changing the passcode, he definitely wouldn't make it too complicated, lest he forget it himself…” Wang Guan smiled.

Under Mr. Anderson’s simultaneous translation, Mr. Hill understood what Wang Guan was saying and couldn't help nodding repeatedly in agreement. The problem was, even though he thought this and acted on it, he simply couldn't recall what passcode he had actually set.

This situation wasn't rare; perhaps many people had experienced the same thing. Some information is just separated by a thin film—you feel like you know it, but it’s as if you’re cursed, unable to recall it.

“Mr. Hill can’t remember, so how did you deduce it?” Fang Mingsheng asked, extremely surprised and puzzled. He had assumed Wang Guan had heard the answer somehow.

“Once you understand Mr. Hill’s psychology, the task becomes much easier.”

At this moment, Wang Guan seemed possessed by Sherlock Holmes, slowly detailing his “deduction”: “Mr. Hill knows his memory is weak, so he certainly set a passcode he was certain he could remember. But before setting it, he must have weighed his options, and inevitably, he would habitually glance at the book where the original code was written…”

“Oh! My God, I think of it!”

In an instant, Mr. Hill slapped his forehead and shouted excitedly, pointing at the book.

“Right, he actually used the book title as the password.”

Saying this, Wang Guan looked genuinely confused. “Logically, seeing this book should have jogged his memory, but I don’t know why he had absolutely no impression of it, really…”

“Wang, that’s cognitive bias. Because Mr. Hill sees this book so often, his mind instinctively filters it out,” Mr. Anderson smiled gently. “Humans often overlook things they don't pay attention to, don't they?”

“That’s true,” Wang Guan agreed, nodding, then smoothly changed the subject: “The vault door is open; may we now go in and view Mr. Hill’s treasures?”

This remark was duly translated by Fang Mingsheng, causing Mr. Hill to burst into hearty laughter, immediately and enthusiastically inviting everyone toward the vault. Before entering, he spared a grateful glance for Wang Guan—not only for opening the vault but also for not pressing the previous topic further.

After all, for Mr. Hill, suffering from mild forgetfulness was a form of shame. While he maintained an outward appearance of nonchalance, often joking about it to display his sense of humor, deep down, did he truly not care? This inherent flaw was probably a thorn in his side, a deep-seated pain he could never truly be indifferent toward…

This was a digression, unnecessary to dwell upon.

Now, led by Mr. Hill, everyone slowly descended the stairs. The opening was about one meter square, appearing somewhat narrow, but it gradually widened once inside. Moreover, rows of incandescent lamps were installed within the interior space, and as Mr. Hill stepped in, he switched them all on.

Illuminated by the lights, everyone could see clearly: the stairs spiraled downward. After a short walk, the path opened up suddenly, revealing a vast underground treasure vault.

Judging by its size, the ancestors of the Hill family had excavated nearly one-third of the massive castle's subterranean area. It must have taken expansion across many generations to achieve its current grand scale.

Seeing this underground vault, Wang Guan couldn't help but think of the hidden cellars of ancient Chinese landlords who buried their gold. It seemed that wealthy individuals, regardless of East or West, shared the habit of concealing their fortunes—perhaps it was a facet of human nature, like a squirrel hoarding nuts, an instinct.

Of course, the sheer spaciousness of the vault was astonishing. But everyone was more focused on the items displayed within. A vault is called a treasure vault because it houses treasures.

As the group surveyed the contents, their eyes were dazzled. There were too many things: sculptures, glasswork, jewels, church vestments, armor, weapons, clothing, textiles, musical instruments—countless items.

Regarding these objects, Mr. Hill could manage to know them intimately, introducing the provenance of each piece as if describing the portraits in the castle corridor.

Most were family heirlooms, with a smaller portion being Mr. Hill's personal collection. He particularly appreciated musical instruments, especially violins, so he mainly collected master-crafted violins from various eras. Among them was a masterpiece estimated by Mr. Anderson to be worth over ten million US dollars.

Upon seeing this master violin, Mr. Anderson’s eyes shone with a mixture of surprise and excitement, and he immediately began discussing the item's ownership with Mr. Hill, offering to buy it at a high price.

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Hill refused without hesitation.

In contrast, Prince Abdul favored oil paintings more. There were quite a few oil paintings in the vault, including works by famous artists like Picasso and Van Gogh. These were reportedly his father’s collection, purchased at very low prices back then, now appreciating hundreds of times over—a truly lucrative investment.

Mr. Hill remained noncommittal about this, as it was his father’s achievement, not his own. Some people start with inherent advantages due to their lineage, but they often wish to be recognized for their own abilities rather than being seen as spoiled second-generation heirs… even if that fact cannot be denied!

Not wishing to dwell on the paintings, Mr. Hill continued leading the group through the vault's contents. A dozen steps further, they arrived at an area displaying exquisite porcelain.

The variety of porcelain was comprehensive, including not only practical items like cups, bowls, plates, and dishes, but also ornamental vases of various shapes. From Southern Song celadon to Republic of China porcelain plaques, everything was present. Both export-specific custom pieces and official Ming and Qing court wares from China could be seen here.

What interested Prince Abdul most was that among these ceramics were several large plates and bowls clearly bearing Central Asian and Arabic styles. Some were trimmed with gold or silver edges, indicating they were objects used by high nobility. In the Prince’s words, perhaps some of these items were even used by his own ancestors.

Hearing this, Mr. Hill seized the opportunity to offer that if Prince Abdul liked them, he could take them directly…

In Mr. Hill’s view, no matter how precious these porcelains were, they were worth at most a few million dollars. If he could please Prince Abdul and reach some agreements with him, this current investment would surely yield returns a thousandfold in the future.

However, Prince Abdul understood Mr. Hill’s intentions and naturally was not swayed by such simple flattery. He smiled and politely declined Mr. Hill’s “kindness,” much to Mr. Hill's secret regret.

“Why didn’t you just give them to me?”

Wang Guan mumbled, seemingly intentionally, “What about the promised reward? You didn't forget it, did you?”

“Ahem…”

Upon hearing this, Fang Mingsheng felt this was also an opportunity to claim credit and immediately looked toward Mr. Hill, half-jokingly, half-seriously, demanding the reward for Wang Guan.

Unlike the reserve often shown by Easterners, Westerners are not averse to openly demanding justified returns; rather, they see it as a right granted by God. Understanding this, Fang Mingsheng relayed Wang Guan’s request without hesitation…