"If this is an authentic Da Vinci, it's worth at least fifty million..." At the right moment, Old Fang chuckled, "Not in US dollars, Euros, or even Hong Kong or Taiwan dollars, but in British Pounds."

"Fifty million pounds."

Wang Guan couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath: "Who can afford that?"

Perhaps among those present, someone could produce fifty million pounds, but affording it didn't mean they were obligated to buy it.

After all, money didn't rain down from the sky for anyone; unless one was ranked on the Forbes list, anyone would have to weigh the decision heavily before spending fifty million pounds in one go.

"An original is worth fifty million pounds; right now, its authenticity is debatable, so it certainly can't be worth that much."

At this point, Old Fang softly said, "Besides, the provenance of this painting is questionable. Even if someone bought it, it couldn't be displayed publicly; it would have to be a secret acquisition. Because it's stolen property—something taken from a castle in England. To this day, the UK hasn't given up the search for this painting. Whoever buys it might end up on the blacklist of British intelligence agencies..."

"Stolen property?" Wang Guan was somewhat surprised, yet it felt predictable.

"Yes, perhaps 'stolen' is too mild; it was more like 'plundered'," Old Fang recounted smoothly. "It's said that two thieves disguised themselves as tourists, entered the castle, immediately took a female guide hostage, and then, brandishing sharp blades, forced her to lead them to the depiction of the Madonna with a scroll hanging in the staircase corridor. They swiftly took the painting and vanished."

"That sounds awfully fabricated," Wang Guan scratched his head. "What about security? Didn't they have a surveillance system?"

"Who knows?" Old Fang shook his head. "Regardless, they succeeded just like that, and since then, the painting disappeared. The British side even offered a hefty reward to find it."

"How much was the reward?" Wang Guan inquired with interest, calculating whether the sum was large enough to consider tipping them off.

"One hundred thousand pounds!" As he spoke, Old Fang chuckled lightly, "You heard correctly. Just one hundred thousand pounds."

Wang Guan paused for a moment, then immediately concluded with certainty: "There's something fishy, definitely something fishy. It's highly likely it was an inside job."

"Perhaps so," Old Fang smiled. "Whether it was an inside job or not, the painting is too famous, so its price is certainly lower. If you’re interested, you can bid for it, but it just won't see the light of day."

"Forget it." Wang Guan flatly refused. "It's not the original; buying it doesn't seem worth the trouble."

If it were a genuine Da Vinci, Wang Guan wouldn't mind ending up on a British intelligence blacklist; the problem was that it was just a reproduction, making such a risk unnecessary.

However, due to differing aesthetic tastes and hobbies, while Wang Guan found the painting unremarkable, others clearly did not. On the contrary, the competition was fierce. In just a few minutes, the bids kept climbing until the figure surpassed a million, at which point the ascent slowed down.

It should be noted that on-site bidding used US dollars as the unit. One million dollars is certainly not a small sum. Of course, as mentioned, since the painting's authenticity was dubious and it was stolen goods, meaning it could only ever be a secretly held collector's item, a price point near one million US dollars was already quite high. Thus, after weighing the pros and cons, some bidders dropped out, leaving only a handful of people still making offers.

At this moment, Wang Guan was also somewhat curious. He glanced over at the few bidders and was somewhat surprised to see a young man among them who seemed determined to acquire the painting, continuously competing with several fair-haired, blue-eyed foreigners.

"Oh, it's him; no wonder," Old Fang also happened to look over and realized with understanding, "That young man is a somewhat well-known painter, and he specialized in oil painting. No wonder he's so interested in this piece."

"A young painter..." A spark ignited in Wang Guan's mind: "Is that Mo You?"

"Yes!" Old Fang nodded slightly. "You know him?"

"Not personally," Wang Guan shook his head and smiled. "It's just that among young oil painters, I've only heard that name, so I guessed randomly. I didn't expect it to really be him."

"...That's quite a coincidence," Old Fang laughed. "This young man is decent. He held a solo exhibition in Taipei some time ago, which I attended. I thought his paintings were quite good. If he keeps working diligently, he certainly has a bright future. However, I heard he can be a bit materialistic, placing great importance on money..."

"I don't see much wrong with that," Wang Guan countered. "Times have changed. As long as one has genuine skill, pursuing fame and fortune is understandable. It's unrealistic to expect everyone to be indifferent to worldly desires."

Old Fang conceded, "Of course, there must be a limit. Being too utilitarian is not good; it's easy to get trapped and suffer the tragedy of 'the genius who fails to fulfill his promise' (Shang Zhong Yong)."

"You speak wisely, Elder," Wang Guan nodded repeatedly. After glancing at Mo You again, he lost interest.

Meanwhile, the competition for the Madonna painting had settled. It was ultimately acquired by a man with a prominent nose for two million US dollars. As that man accepted congratulations from his friends nearby, the next item was brought out. Everyone looked to see a golden artifact—a golden plate inlaid with tiny gems. It was said to be a medieval religious utensil, holding significant collectible value. Of course, most importantly, even though this golden plate was also stolen property, it was not widely known. If someone bought it, as long as they didn't announce it to the world and only showed it off to close friends and family, there likely wouldn't be any repercussions. In other words, items like this were the most suitable for people to pursue.

And that was indeed the case. Not just this golden plate, but also the silver cup and crown that followed, all attracted the attention of various wealthy collectors who eagerly bid. During this time, Mr. Cai also purchased a silver crucifix studded with rubies, perhaps a relic from a certain Pope, though its authenticity was unknown.

Furthermore, it wasn't only Western artistic treasures; there were also precious artifacts from Egyptian and Arab nations. Such items, brimming with exotic flair, also piqued the interest of the magnates. Everyone had different focal points for their collections, but here they could all find something they liked and were naturally willing to spend money to acquire it.

It was certain that no matter how intense the competition, the final bid would always be below the item's actual value. Regarding this point, the tycoons shared an unspoken understanding; they would absolutely not engage in acts that harmed others while gaining nothing for themselves. After all, they were all titans of industry; even if they didn't know each other personally, they had likely heard of the other's name. They would meet again sooner or later. Unless they were deep, irreconcilable enemies, it was better to offer a favor when possible; one never knew when that favor might come in handy.

Because of this, amidst the seemingly fierce competition, there was an undercurrent of cordiality. At the very least, there were no drawn-blade, close-quarters battles. Generally, upon seeing someone persistently focused on an item, others would pause to consider, then voluntarily back down.

It was due to this understanding that the auction proceeded quickly, and various older items considered precious artifacts were presented sequentially. For example, a stone statue of Buddha from China's Wei and Jin Dynasties, an ancient Egyptian gold mask, and Roman gold coins and shields. Regarding other items, one couldn't say for sure, but the Chinese stone Buddha statue caused a mixture of joy and indignation among many. The mixed feelings arose because such items were always the coveted acquisitions of major collectors or archaeological researchers. Moreover, due to strict regulations, they were things that were priceless but rarely available on the market. As for the indignation, there was also a reason: the item appearing here indicated that domestic and foreign thieves had colluded to illicitly steal and sell precious cultural relics—a truly heinous crime.

However, after the item was presented, those feeling indignation were always in the minority. Most people were elated, rubbing their hands together in preparation to bid.

Simultaneously, Old Fang frowned slightly and whispered, "We can overlook the others, but that statue of Guanyin must be acquired, no matter what."

"Mm," Wang Guan understood Old Fang's meaning. Comparatively, that Guanyin statue was more intact; unlike other statues that were missing limbs, heads, or were just fragments, the carving on the Guanyin's robes and texture showed very fluid brushwork, fully displaying the softness of the cloth with a flowing, liquid dynamism. Any discerning eye could tell the Guanyin possessed higher artistic value. And during the actual auction, this was the piece that drew the fiercest contest.

Yet, Old Fang remained unshakably resolute, continuing to bid. Perhaps sensing his elderly determination, the other Chinese magnates gradually withdrew, leaving only a few foreigners competing against Old Fang. Back and forth the bids flew, like an invisible duel of flashing blades, creating a sense of breathtaking tension.

However, experience counts; the old ginger was spicier, and Old Fang ultimately had the last laugh. Yet, even after successfully winning the Guanyin statue, he didn't display much elation. First, he wasn't buying the statue for himself. Second, because more people competed, the final sale price was inevitably higher. Under these circumstances, Old Fang naturally couldn't be happy.

Of course, the organizers paid no mind to Old Fang's feelings. After the hammer fell decisively, the auctioneer presented the next item: an extremely ancient book—a copy of the Bible, the Jewish Bible, dating back to around the second or third century CE. The so-called Jewish Bible is, in modern terms, the Old Testament. After all, it is widely known that the Western Church considers the Bible to consist of the Old and New Testaments, but Judaism only recognizes the Old Testament and rejects the New. Religious disputes, it must be said, have always been complex and difficult to untangle. In short, the important thing to know was that this item was exceptionally precious.

Everyone looked to see that the book was written on parchment, featuring very ancient script. And while we call it a 'book' by modern definition, it was actually layers of parchment stacked inside a small box. Seeing this item, the foreign buyers with large noses became excited; this was clearly their specialty. In contrast, the Chinese magnates remained quite calm, mostly due to cultural differences, showing little interest.

However, when the formal auction began, Wang Guan gently pressed his bidding device.

"You want to buy it?" Seeing this, Old Fang was naturally quite surprised.

"Drive up the price," Wang Guan smiled faintly. "Consider it retribution!" 〖Book Net∷Fast Update∷No Pop-ups∷Pure Text∷www.〗RT