690: Chapter 685 Show Me Your Evidence

An Ran responded decisively.

"I will give you an answer within three days."

"No, no need to be in such a hurry."

Shen Yan interrupted her.

"What I want is the most detailed and accurate information, even if it takes a month."

"Mobilize all your connections in Europe. Start with the museums, the private collector associations, and the Jewish Historical Archives."

"Money is not an issue."

"Understood."

An Ran's voice carried a trace of solemnity.

She realized that the gravity of this matter was far greater than she had imagined.

After hanging up the phone, Shen Yan sent another encrypted message.

The recipient was Ning Ke.

The message content was even simpler.

"Target: Descendant of the Asser Weissberg family. Clue: 1947, Shanghai. Current Location: Antwerp, diamond industry."

A few seconds later, Ning Ke's reply came through.

"Five million. Half as deposit."

Shen Yan directly transferred two and a half million.

Ning Ke replied with an "OK" gesture.

One side investigated from the top down, the other dug from the bottom up.

A vast net, woven from the past and present, spread silently from Shen Yan as the center, reaching out across the vast expanse to Europe.

Half a month later.

Shen Yan was in the core laboratory at Jingluo Bay in City T, listening to Evelyn Reed's latest progress report on the "pangu" chip.

Just as Reed mentioned that "pangu's logical self-consistency was beginning to exhibit a certain philosophical inclination for deliberation," Shen Yan's private phone vibrated once.

Two reports arrived at almost the exact same time.

One from An Ran, and one from Ning Ke.

He signaled Reed to pause and opened the reports.

An Ran's report resembled a rigorous academic paper.

She started by tracing the donation records of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, working backward to trace the background of that Nazi officer, and then, through deciphering wartime archives, she uncovered the history of the Weissberg family's downfall.

At the end of the report was a long list.

It was registration information for relatives sought by Jewish survivor organizations globally after World War II.

One entry concerned a boy named Liam Weissberg who was searching for all his scattered relatives.

The last registered location was Shanghai in 1947.

The trail went cold after that.

Ning Ke's report, however, was full of the grit of street-level investigation.

His team flew directly to Antwerp.

They didn't bother with archives; instead, they plunged into the oldest diamond trading districts.

Through bribery, payoffs, and coaxing information, they pieced together a story from the mouths of old, white-bearded diamond cutters and traders.

It was a story about an Eastern youth.

More than fifty years ago, a Chinese youth from Shanghai arrived in Antwerp carrying several rough diamonds of extremely high quality that had not yet been cut.

He was taciturn but possessed a talent for appraisal and a business acumen far beyond his years.

He apprenticed himself to the most famous master cutter of the time and quickly displayed astonishing talent.

Later, he started his own business and married the master's daughter.

He never spoke of his past and adopted a localized name.

The diamond company he established might not be the largest in the industry today, but it was universally recognized as having the best reputation, especially in the appraisal and cutting of rare colored diamonds, where it was the absolute authority.

The endpoints of both reports pointed to the same person.

Elias Van Derberg.

The founder of Antwerp's Van Derberg Diamond Company.

An elderly man in his eighties, who lived a secluded life, revered in the industry as the "Eye of the Diamond."

Shen Yan closed the terminal and looked at Reed.

"Put the analysis of pangu on hold for now."

"Have Wu Ya book me a ticket to Brussels."

"Now."

Antwerp, Belgium.

In this city, even the air seemed to float with the scent of money and desire.

Shen Yan came alone, without notifying anyone.

He did not go to the magnificent office building of the Van Derberg Company.

Instead, following the address provided by Ning Ke, he arrived at an inconspicuous street corner in the old city district.

There were no luxurious shops here, only rows of ancient stone buildings.

A small bronze plaque, its lettering almost worn smooth by time, hung on a heavy oak door.

"Elias Workshop"

Shen Yan knocked on the door.

A middle-aged man opened it, wearing a craftsman's leather apron, his eyes wary.

"Who are you looking for?"

"I am looking for Mr. Elias. I have an appointment regarding the past."

Shen Yan's phrasing was skillful.

The middle-aged man sized him up. This young Oriental man possessed a calm demeanor and didn't look like he was there to cause trouble.

He hesitated for a moment, stepped aside, and said,

"Please come in, sir is inside."

The workshop was not large but was filled with various precision instruments and tools.

Light spilled in from the skylight, and the air was filled with fine dust of metal and ore.

An old man with silver hair, wearing a pince-nez, sat at a workbench, intently polishing a pink diamond the size of a pigeon's egg.

His hands, covered in wrinkles, were as steady as rock.

Hearing the footsteps, he did not look up.

"Martin, didn't I say I wasn't seeing any visitors today?"

His voice carried a dry, aged rasp.

"Father, this gentleman said he has an appointment regarding the past."

The old man's polishing motion finally paused for a beat.

He slowly raised his head, removed his glasses, and his cloudy yet sharp gaze fell upon Shen Yan.

"Young man, do we know each other?"

"We do not."

Shen Yan replied calmly.

"But I bring greetings from an old acquaintance of yours."

"Your grandmother, Rebecca Weissberg."

Elias's brain felt as if it had been struck hard by a heavy hammer.

Weissberg.

The surname he thought had long been buried in the dust of history, the surname that only appeared in midnight dreams, was spoken so clearly by a strange young man.

His breathing instantly became rapid.

Martin, standing nearby, changed expression dramatically and immediately stepped forward, blocking his father from Shen Yan.

"Who exactly are you? What do you want?"

"Martin, stand down."

Elias's voice was not loud, but it carried undeniable authority.

Martin could only retreat to the side unwillingly, but his eyes remained fixed on Shen Yan.

Elias re-examined Shen Yan, his gaze filled with probing and caution.

For decades, it wasn't as if swindlers hadn't come calling.

Some brought forged tokens, others fabricated bizarre stories, but they all had only one goal: money.

"Young man, anyone can make up a story."

"Produce your evidence."

Shen Yan said nothing.

He simply took out the velvet box from his pocket, placed it gently on the workbench, and opened it.

In that instant.

The entire workshop seemed to lose its color.

All the light was drawn to the diamond on the necklace, converging, and then erupting in dazzling brilliance.

"star of ishtar..."

Elias's voice trembled uncontrollably.