768: Chapter 763 Is Trash a Treasure?

Current AI, even the most advanced models, are just cold, logical machines.

They do not understand sadness, they do not understand fear, and they certainly do not understand love.

If this manuscript truly hides the key that allows AI to comprehend 'emotion'.

Then its value cannot be measured by money at all.

It is the key to unlocking the next era.

"Daddy?"

Youyou felt Shen Yan drift off, and she waved her small hand in front of his eyes.

"Are you daydreaming?"

Shen Yan snapped back to attention, looking at his daughter in his arms, his gaze becoming somewhat profound.

"Youyou."

He placed his daughter onto the piano stool.

"Daddy is going to find you a gift."

"A very amazing gift."

Youyou blinked her big eyes.

"Is it something delicious?"

"More precious than something delicious."

Shen Yan stood up and straightened his slightly wrinkled cuffs.

"You stay home and practice the piano obediently, wait for Daddy to come back."

Ten minutes later.

A black Land Rover Defender sped out of the villa complex.

Shen Yan was driving personally.

He did not bring a driver.

This time, the objective.

Did not require military force.

It required speed.

The West District was Jiangcheng's old industrial zone.

It was currently undergoing demolition in recent years.

There were ruins everywhere.

Dust filled the air, and the road conditions were very poor.

The pitted and uneven road surface

Made even a rugged off-road vehicle like the Land Rover shake violently.

Shen Yan gripped the steering wheel and glanced at the time.

4:20 PM.

There was still over an hour until the system-indicated shredding time.

But he dared not be careless.

At this kind of scrap yard,

Workers sometimes started the machines early to rush the work. Once that pile of waste paper entered the shredder,

This priceless 'key' would truly become a pile of shredded waste paper.

He picked up his phone and dialed Wu Ya's number.

"CEO Shen."

Wu Ya's capable voice came from the other end of the line.

The background noise was very noisy, as if she were in a meeting.

"I'm here."

"Listen to me."

Shen Yan interrupted her report, his tone very quick.

"Immediately contact that Professor Wang from the Jiangcheng Antique Association."

"Also, help me prepare a temperature-and-humidity-controlled storage room."

"Set the temperature to 2 degrees, and the humidity to 45%."

Wu Ya did not ask why.

This was her advantage: execution.

"Okay, I'll arrange it immediately."

"Additionally."

Shen Yan glanced at the entrance to the scrap yard appearing ahead.

"Notify the core team of the Technology Department."

"Everyone will work overtime tonight."

"I need to announce a new research and development direction."

He hung up the phone.

The Land Rover braked sharply.

Stopping in front of a large iron gate covered in rust.

This was the old goods recycling and processing station.

The air was filled with a musty smell of paper pulp.

And the scent of corroded metal.

Several workers were bare-chested,

Moving bundles of old books onto a huge forklift.

At the end of that forklift's reach,

Was a roaring giant shredder.

Like a gaping mouth,

Devouring the ruins of all civilization.

Shen Yan pushed the door open and got out.

His leather shoes stepped onto the black earth stained with oil.

This expensive bespoke suit

Was completely out of place in this environment.

"Hey!"

A foreman wearing a yellow hard hat walked over.

Holding half a cigarette between his fingers,

His face showing impatience.

"What do you want?"

"We don't accept private junk here."

"Hurry up and move your car, you're blocking the way!"

Shen Yan ignored his reprimand.

His gaze swept past the foreman, locking firmly onto Warehouse No. 4.

The system light screen flickered before his eyes.

A red arrow

Precisely pointed to a pile of miscellaneous items in the corner of the warehouse.

There!

A blue woven bag

Was being lifted by a worker,

Preparing to be thrown into the bucket of the forklift.

"That's my stuff."

Shen Yan's voice was not loud.

But amidst the noisy roar of the machinery,

It was exceptionally clear.

The foreman froze for a moment.

Then he looked as if he had heard a joke.

He spat his cigarette butt onto the ground.

"Your stuff?"

"Buddy, are you sick?"

"This place is full of trash."

"Where would you have your stuff?"

"Hurry up and scram, or I'll call someone..."

Before he finished speaking,

A black card

Slapped directly onto his oil-stained chest.

It wasn't a business card.

It was a Bank card.

"The PIN is six eights. There's two hundred thousand inside."

Shen Yan didn't even look at the foreman,

And strode toward the worker holding the woven bag.

"Put that bag down."

The foreman stood there, dumbfounded, holding the card.

Two hundred thousand?

To buy a bag of junk?

He had never seen such an extravagantly wealthy lunatic in his life.

But he reacted quickly.

"Stop! All of you, stop!" The foreman roared, his voice cracking.

"Old Zhang! Put down the bag in your hand. That is this boss's... treasure!"

The worker named Old Zhang was startled by the shout.

His hand trembled, and the blue woven bag fell to the ground.

A small opening ripped open.

Several yellowed copies of "Zhiyin" magazine slid out.

And one more item.

A thin booklet bound in parchment with no cover.

It was covered in dust, and even had a stain resembling a coffee ring.

It looked worse than toilet paper.

Shen Yan walked over, bent down, completely ignoring the dirt and mess on the ground, and reached out to pick up the booklet.

The moment his fingertips touched the parchment, a strange sensation traveled through him.

It didn't feel like paper; it felt like the skin of some living creature, carrying a faint warmth.

"Target confirmed."

"Item: Manuscript of 'Tartini's Devil's Trill'."

"Integrity: 35% (Core movement complete)"

"Value assessment: Incalculable."

Shen Yan gently blew off the floating dust.

He opened the first page.

The musical notes written with a goose quill pen

Were dense, messy, and wild.

They looked less like they were written, and more like they were carved.

Even someone who didn't understand music theory would feel dizzy staring at these notes for too long.

It was as if one could hear a roar from the depths of hell.

This was the Devil's Sonata.

This was the boundary between human wisdom and madness.

"This is what you bought for two hundred thousand?"

The foreman crowded closer.

His face full of disbelief.

"Boss, were you tricked by someone?"

"Isn't this just a broken practice book?"

Shen Yan closed the booklet.

And carefully placed it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket,

Close to his heart.

"A broken practice book?"

Shen Yan turned his head,

Looking at the utterly bewildered foreman.

"In a sense, you are correct."

"This is an exercise problem set by God for humanity."

"It's just that..."

"For hundreds of years, no one has been able to solve it."

Shen Yan turned and got into the car.

He didn't say another word.

Explaining Tartini to a person like this

Would be an insult to the great master.

The Land Rover's engine roared,

Stirring up a cloud of dust.

And sped away.

Leaving behind only a group of workers staring blankly, and a foreman clutching a Bank card, questioning his entire life.

In the car.

Shen Yan dialed that number.

"Youyou."

His daughter's tender voice came from the other end of the phone.

"Daddy, are you back?"

"Mm, I'm back."