438: Chapter 438 Going to Yuezhou to Pick Up Some Antiques

He took just one glance before closing the lid.

To him, this was merely a key.

A key to unlock the grand game of the Qinghe Group.

His mobile phone rang; it was an unfamiliar, encrypted number.

He answered it and held it to his ear.

"Mr. Shen," came a deep, capable male voice from the other end.

"Speak."

"The target is Chen Wu, thirty-eight years old, a local. He got his start twenty years ago through demolition compensation for construction sites. He keeps a gang around him, and his methods are quite wild."

"His company, Hongsheng Construction, has a poor reputation in the circle. They've taken on several tricky projects, always employing methods that wouldn't stand up to scrutiny."

Shen Yan's expression didn't change at all; he listened quietly.

"His father, Chen Dashan, has a criminal record from twenty years ago for affray and illegal gambling. However, it was all wiped clean later on."

"Recently, Chen Wu seems to be trying to go legitimate and enter real estate development, but his core nature hasn't changed."

"A local tyrant, then?" Shen Yan uttered the three words faintly.

"That's one way to put it."

"Understood," Shen Yan said. "Keep monitoring the land belonging to Hongfa Machinery Factory. Report any movement to me immediately. Send the invoices to the usual place."

He hung up the phone and tossed the device aside.

A character like Chen Wu didn't even qualify as a stumbling block in his future commercial blueprint.

The real pressure came from elsewhere.

The "janus" project was like a giant, gold-swallowing beast crying out to be fed.

Gao Zhiyuan and the expert team behind him commanded sky-high salaries.

Subsequent hardware procurement and the construction of server clusters were all astronomical figures.

The piece of land he had smashed down at the auction, and the fifty million invested in cooperation with Kaiyuan Construction, had already caused the company's cash flow to tighten.

He needed money.

A massive amount of money.

Shen Yan closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into his mind.

On the system panel, a newly refreshed piece of intelligence was flashing with a golden light.

[advanced wealth intelligence]

[Location: Yue Prefecture City, Antique Street, Zhenbao Pavilion]

[Target: A dust-covered, gold-inlaid lacquer wooden box located on the bottom shelf of the display rack in the corner of the shop]

[Details: The box contains the complete set of carvings titled 'The Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea,' a work by a late Qing Dynasty ivory carving master. The craftsmanship is exquisite, and the preservation is perfect. Market valuation is no less than fifty million.]

[Current Selling Price: The Shop Owner mistakes it for an ordinary old wooden box, priced at five hundred yuan.]

Five hundred in exchange for fifty million.

Shen Yan's fingertips tapped lightly on his knee.

This money could solve his immediate crisis.

But Yue Prefecture was a bit far.

Should he send Chen Guangke to handle it?

The thought flashed through his mind and was immediately dismissed.

He remembered Guang Ke's gaze after the auction ended—a look full of incomprehension and confusion.

"Yan Zi, we were clearly determined to get that land. Why did we end up letting that brute Chen Wu have it? Five hundred million—he's a complete sucker!"

At the time, he had brushed it off using 'risk assessment' as an excuse.

But Shen Yan knew his brother wasn't stupid.

One instance could be attributed to luck, a commercial judgment.

If such fortunate windfalls kept happening, even a fool would sense something was wrong.

The system was his biggest secret, the foundation upon which he stood in this world.

Before possessing absolute strength, he could not allow anyone to glimpse the existence of this secret, not even his most trusted brother.

Some matters had to be handled personally.

He opened his eyes, picked up his phone, and dialed his assistant.

"Book me the earliest flight to Yue Prefecture."

"I'll be back this afternoon."

"This afternoon's meetings? Handle everything online, send the materials to my email."

The assistant on the other end clearly paused for a moment but immediately complied.

"Yes, CEO Shen."

The car turned at the intersection ahead, heading toward the airport expressway.

The taxi at Yue Prefecture Airport carried a humid, southern atmosphere.

Shen Yan rolled down the window, and the afternoon wind rushed in.

He had changed out of his expensive suit, wearing only simple casual clothes, and had put away the Patek Philippe on his wrist.

Only his bottomless eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

The driver was a chatterbox, talking animatedly about everything from Yue Prefecture's history to local snacks, spraying saliva everywhere.

Shen Yan responded intermittently, his gaze already piercing through the window toward the ancient-looking cluster of buildings in the distance.

Antique Street.

He had arrived.

He paid the fare and got out of the car.

A wave of heat, mixed with the scent of wood, incense, and human voices, washed over him.

The sides of the street were lined with shops, their blue bricks and black tiles exuding an ancient charm.

Stalls were filled with a dazzling array of items, some real, some fake, scattered haphazardly.

Shouts and bargaining cries were incessant.

He spotted the shop at the street corner, bearing the plaque "Zhenbao Pavilion," at a glance.

The entrance was crowded; several people who looked like tourists were surrounding a stall, pointing at a bronze Buddha statue.

Shen Yan did not approach immediately.

In his current guise, although low-key, his inherent temperament could not be hidden.

An outsider, travel-worn, going straight to a specific corner of a shop to retrieve an inconspicuous old box with a clear objective.

Unless the Shop Owner was an idiot, he would sense something was amiss.

In the antiques trade, the most common people were sharp operators.

Once a clue was spotted, inflating the price was the least of it; attracting unnecessary covetousness would be the real trouble.

He needed an identity.

A reasonable identity for being there.

Shen Yan turned and walked toward a nearby stall selling bracelets.

The vendor was a lean, middle-aged man with dark skin and constantly darting eyes.

"Boss, just look around. I have only good stuff here."

Shen Yan's gaze swept over the colorful bracelets.

Inferior quality glass, dyed wood, synthetic plastic.

An expert could see through them instantly.

But today, he intended to be that layman.

He picked up a string of intensely red beads.

"What is this?"

"Oh, Boss has good eyes!" The vendor immediately perked up. "This is top-grade blood amber. Wearing it promotes blood circulation and removes stagnation—it nurtures people!"

Shen Yan uttered a flat "Oh."

He weighed the bracelet in his hand; its light, floating texture was no different from plastic.

"How much?"

The vendor held up three fingers. "Three thousand!"

Shen Yan didn't speak. He pulled out his wallet from his pocket.

Seeing his posture, the vendor assumed he was about to bargain and prepared to recite the speech he had already rehearsed.

Shen Yan, however, directly pulled out thirty red bills and threw them onto the stall.

"No need for change."

He picked up the string of fake blood amber and turned to leave.

The vendor stood frozen, clutching the wad of cash, unable to recover for a long time.

Several surrounding vendors had witnessed the scene and exchanged knowing glances.

Two words.

Sucker.

And a big, fat one at that.

Shen Yan didn't care about those looks.

This was the exact effect he wanted.