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To some eyes, this gathering was simply a golden opportunity to pick up bargains.

Of course, every gain comes with a loss.

Once the item was bought, it certainly couldn't be flaunted openly.

But that wasn't a major issue; a Buddha statue could be worshipped privately.

Alternatively, donating it directly to a high-ranking temple monk would count as a good deed.

However, regardless of the reason, it couldn't conceal the fact that the statue was extremely valuable.

Taking Chinese Buddha statues as an example, the most expensive ones sold were Tibetan Buddhist figures from the Ming and Qing dynasties.

The reason for this lies in the fact that most surviving statues from before the Ming and Qing dynasties are stone Buddhas, often integrated into grottoes, making them genuinely difficult to trade.

In contrast, the statues buried from the Ming and Qing periods were predominantly made of gilded bronze, further categorized into imperial court creations and those from the border regions or (civilian) production.

Among these, the imperial court statues were regarded with even higher esteem.

After all, it is common knowledge that anything bearing "royal lineage" is guaranteed in terms of quality, and such fine pieces would never come cheap.

This is understandable; items used by the Emperor were crafted without regard to cost, especially during periods of peak national strength like the Yongle and Xuande eras; the resulting artifacts were naturally flawless.

When people have money, they naturally pursue quality; the high price isn't the issue, as long as the object is worth it.

Under these circumstances, the exquisite Buddha statue before them naturally attracted covetous gazes.

Noticing the expressions of those around him, Wang Guan understood clearly: if this statue were to be auctioned, there would be a fierce scramble for it.

That is, of course, provided the piece wasn't a fake.

After all, this venue was merely a platform, and the organizers couldn't guarantee with 100% certainty that everything was genuine.

Otherwise, people wouldn't have brought their appraisers along.

At this moment, following an unspoken directive, a middle-aged man stepped forward, offered a slight nod to the assembled crowd, and began his appraisal of the Buddha statue.

He first weighed it, then analyzed the gilding technique, and finally examined the inscriptions.

After a few minutes of careful inspection, he immediately returned to brief the owner.

The owner was clearly shrewd.

After hearing the report, he maintained a neutral facade, even choosing to leave at once.

It was unclear whether he had confirmed it was a fake or was merely trying to create ambiguity to mislead the judgment of others.

Don't be surprised; in the world of commerce, these wealthy owners have all fought battles to accumulate their fortunes.

Since they are now competitors, using minor tactics is only to be expected.

He wasn't expecting to deceive everyone.

As long as someone harbored doubt, it was considered a success.

And judging by the fleeting glances of some onlookers, the owner's objective was achieved; indeed, some wavered and subsequently departed.

There were many items in the hall anyway; there was no need to fixate solely on this Buddha statue.

"What's your take?" At this point, Old Fang turned back and inquired, "Do you think the item is real or fake?" "Uh..." Just then, Wang Guan snapped back to reality.

He was the appraiser here; everyone else had stepped forward to examine the piece—standing still was unseemly.

Prompted by Old Fang, Wang Guan joined the flow and went up to observe.

It must be noted that Wang Guan was by no means unfamiliar with Ming and Qing imperial Buddha statues.

In Master Banshan's collection, there were several such pieces.

Given his close relationship with Master Banshan, he had long since borrowed and thoroughly studied those statues.

It is worth mentioning that during the Yongle reign, the imperial court paid particular attention to strengthening ties with the Tibetan elite.

After the founding of the Ming Dynasty, the policy of showing great favor to Lamaism, inherited from the Yuan Dynasty, continued.

After Emperor Chengzu, Zhu Di, ascended the throne, he continually reinforced direct contact between the central government and the high-ranking lamas of Tibet, establishing a more complete system of governance and rule.

This strengthened the Ming government's supervision and control over the Tibetan region.

It is an undeniable fact that Emperor Yongle promoted Tibetan Buddhism as a pretext to court the upper echelons of Tibetan monks; indeed, gilded bronze statues were given as valuable return gifts to the leaders who offered tribute.

In essence, Yongle and Xuande period statues perfectly fused Han and Tibetan artistic styles, forming a rather unique artistic flavor: majestic yet graceful, robust yet refined.

It was precisely this fusion that made Yongle-Xuande statues even more highly valued.

Because statues from this era possessed not only artistic value but also profound cultural significance.

Sometimes, cultural value and economic value are mutually reinforcing, inseparable from each other.

After all, as the market for Buddha statues matured, buyers shifted their focus from pure investment value back towards the painting and sculptural arts inherent in the statues themselves, placing greater emphasis on their deep-seated religious and spiritual connotations.

A moment later, Wang Guan concluded his appraisal and stepped back.

Old Fang casually asked, "Well?" "...Half real, half fake." Wang Guan mused for a moment, then whispered, "The upper body is genuine, but the base was added later.

Not only is the material mismatched, but the weight is also incorrect." "Oh?" Old Fang started, then narrowed his eyes: "Elaborate." "The statue's face is full and well-proportioned, with a broad forehead, straight-set eyes, long delicate brows, and a serene expression.

The torso has broad shoulders and a narrow waist, the limbs are robust, the drapery flows smoothly, and the texture is strong.

Of course, most importantly is the material—it’s cast in brass, cast as one piece with a relatively thick body.

The gilding is pure and rich, the color brilliant." Wang Guan detailed his observations: "These characteristics are sufficient to prove the upper portion of the statue is authentic.

However, the base has some issues, such as the lotus design being stiff, the lines lacking vigor, and inconsistent wall thickness." "As far as I know, when a genuine base is sealed shut, the surrounding gap of the base cover is typically sealed with wax mixed with cinnabar.

But I noticed no such trace just now." Wang Guan shook his head.

"Moreover, when I slightly lifted it, I found the weight wasn't as substantial as expected; it even felt a bit unsteady.

You must know that the base needs to be heavy enough to anchor the aura of the statue.

But now the base is lighter than the figure itself—that's impossible.

Ancient master craftsmen would never make such a fundamental error." "There's some merit to that," Old Fang nodded gently.

"So you suspect the statue's original base was destroyed, but someone reattached a new one to maximize profit?" "That's right," Wang Guan confirmed.

A statue with its base intact is a complete entity, commanding a much higher price.

To earn an extra profit, fitting a base was a perfectly plausible move.

Of course, such tricks are hardly new; they are rampant.

An old body on a new base, or an old base on a new body—these are the most common methods of forgery.

Simultaneously, Wang Guan understood why some people immediately turned and left after hearing the appraiser's report.

At this point, Old Fang’s reaction was similar; he shook his head slightly and gestured for Wang Guan to leave with him.

"What a pity." After walking a few steps, Old Fang sighed, "Such a fine piece, ruined by someone." "Eh!" Wang Guan paused for a moment, having caught the subtle implication in Old Fang's tone: "Are you suggesting the base wasn't naturally destroyed, but was deliberately cut away to be joined with another figure?" "Most likely so," Old Fang nodded.

"Perhaps by this time next year, another statue—one with a genuine base but a fake upper body—will be displayed in the same spot." Hearing this, Wang Guan recognized it as wisdom born of experience and had no reason to doubt it.

For the sake of profit, some people stop at nothing.

Dismantling and merging pieces, at least creating something half-real and half-fake, could be considered relatively honest compared to the alternative.

The worst cases would be entirely fabricated fakes—those are the true traps.

Of course, this doesn't mean everything here is counterfeit; there are certainly genuinely good items.

But with such a mixed bag, picking out the real pearls from the common stones depends entirely on the appraiser's eyesight.

However, Wang Guan hadn't forgotten their main purpose and whispered, "Shall we go look at the ceramics over there?" "Certainly." Old Fang nodded slightly and walked over directly.

It must be said that even though this area was international waters, it was geographically part of Southeast Asia.

The organizers were quite accommodating, having displayed many precious porcelains.

From the Five Great Kilns of the Northern Song Dynasty to the official wares of the late Qing and Republic periods, Hongxian porcelain, and ceramic plaques by the Eight Friends of Zhushan, they had it all—an incredibly rich collection.

Under such circumstances, it naturally attracted a crowd of onlookers.

Approaching the display, Wang Guan’s gaze swept over the items, noting that bottles of various shapes predominated, with a good number of plates and bowls as well.

As for colors and glazes, they were richly diverse.

Blue-and-white was undoubtedly the mainstream, with numerous examples of wucai (five-color), falangcai (cloisonné enamel), and fencai (famille rose), among others.

Monochrome glazes like sacrificial red (jihong), sacrificial blue (jilan), and imperial yellow (jiaohuang), though extremely rare, were present in one or two pieces.

The most eye-catching items were two large vases, each over a meter tall, made of Jingtailan (cloisonné enamel) from the Jingtai period of the Ming Dynasty.

It could be stated responsibly that while these items didn't cover every single category of Chinese porcelain, they certainly included all the relatively rare and valuable types.

If the wealthy patron here were to purchase everything on display, it would be enough to host a small exhibition of precious ceramics.

However, amidst the awe, there wasn't much visible joy.

The main reason was the uncertainty regarding how many of these pieces were genuine and how many fakes were mixed in.

But unlike others, as Wang Guan viewed these objects, he immediately began an internal screening process, separating items of general value from those of exceptional value.

Setting the threshold at ten million, anything below that price wasn't worth his detailed scrutiny.

Only items valued above that threshold deserved his serious authentication.

Mr.

Zhu Da was a man of high standards; if his output, or the items he manufactured, were too cheap, it would be an insult to his reputation.

Based on this rationale, Wang Guan quickly zeroed in on several porcelain pieces—items that were relatively expensive, required complex craftsmanship, and should appeal to Mr.

Zhu Da's taste.

While contemplating, Wang Guan was neither reserved nor overly polite; he directly employed his special ability for the most thorough and authoritative investigation...〖Book Site ∷ Fast Updates ∷ No Pop-ups ∷ Pure Text ∷ www.〗RT