Third Master cursed: “Nonsense! No lock… it must have fallen off. No seams… your eyes are just too small to see them!”

The bandits erupted in laughter.

The small thug turned back with a wretched expression. His eyes were indeed unusually small, and he had probably endured much ridicule for it: “Third Master, truly, if I’m lying, let Ma Biaozi rip my guts out.”

This oath was far more vicious than being struck by heavenly lightning, as thunderstorms were rare, but in those days, Ma Biaozi roamed the mountains everywhere.

Third Master was half-convinced: “Let me see.”

When the leader wanted to look, the bandits naturally cooperated. More than ten torches gathered around, illuminating every detail of the box. After examining it for a while, Third Master also made a surprised sound. He patted the box’s body, listening to the sound as if checking a melon’s ripeness. He kept turning and standing the box upright, afraid of missing any subtle detail.

This helped Jiang Lian. The box had six sides, and originally when it was thrown on the ground, one side was pressed against the earth. No matter how carefully he looked, he couldn’t see the complete picture. Now with all the turning and standing upright, he finally got a clear view.

The box was indeed exquisitely carved with patterns, figures, birds, and beasts. Having only glimpsed it briefly, it was difficult to describe fully, but he vaguely sensed that the lines flowed like water, executed in one breath yet incredibly lifelike. It was hard to imagine who possessed such skill with carving and engraving.

Third Master muttered: “Damn it…”

Suddenly, his eyes flashed with ferocity: “Your Third Uncle doesn’t believe this!”

With that, he pulled the hatchet from his waist, raised it high, his facial muscles twitching, and brought it down hard on the box.

Jiang Lian cried out involuntarily. In that moment, forgetting everything was just an illusion, he drove his elbow toward the Third Master’s chest, trying to knock him off balance and make the hatchet miss.

This was exactly the type of situation he dreaded most—precious treasures in ignorant hands, like ancient calligraphy and paintings restored after years of expert effort, ending up with illiterate village elders who considered them merely flimsy kindling paper, even complaining they didn’t burn long enough. This Third Master understood nothing; discarding Bai Shi’s paintings as trash was bad enough, but this box…

The blow naturally missed its target. Jiang Lian lost his balance and nearly fell. Meng Qianzi, who had been watching Third Master, suddenly saw Jiang Lian stumbling forward and quickly reached out to grab him, but was a step too late and caught nothing.

Just then, they heard an extremely unpleasant buzzing sound, like scraping a pot or sawing metal. Third Master dropped the hatchet, shaking his hand and howling in pain.

Jiang Lian rushed over to look.

The box’s material was remarkably hard. The full force of the hatchet had only left a white mark on the carved surface, but Third Master was injured by the recoil: his hand was split at the tiger’s mouth position, bleeding between his fingers.

A hatchet couldn’t break it open?

Amid his shock, Jiang Lian felt somewhat relieved. He had worried the box would be abandoned in the wilderness, where nearly a hundred years of rain and snow would have rotted the container, surely destroying the prescription inside. Now it seemed his concerns were unfounded.

When their leader was injured, the bandits became chaotic. Some quickly pulled out medicine from their pockets, others tore apart a silk gown to bandage Third Master’s wound, and some, seeking to please him, kicked the box far away, cursing: “Worthless junk.”

Amid the confusion, Jiang Lian noticed the advisor called Yanluo, looking puzzled, glancing repeatedly at the box.

Jiang Lian’s heart began to pound. He carefully examined Yanluo from head to toe.

This gang of bandits was wild brutes who only craved wine, women, and couldn’t recognize a single character. Only Yanluo had seen the world and was probably educated, knowing that valuable things extended far beyond gold and silver, and understanding that certain strange objects must have value.

Third Master was furious, his single eye nearly bulging from its socket: “Build a fire! Burn the damn thing!”

Yanluo quickly called out: “Third Master!”

He trotted over to Third Master’s side, smiling ingratiatingly: “Third Master, shouldn’t we hurry? After all, we’re robbing houses. What if someone else comes along the back route? That would be inconvenient.”

He pointed to the pile of boxes as high as a small mountain: “You have so many valuable boxes yet to open, why bother with a broken box? It’s not worth it. It’s just a lifeless object, it doesn’t understand anything.”

Third Master paused, then considered and found this reasoning extremely sensible. He praised him: “You always think things through, advisor. That’s why they say educated people are smarter!”

He glanced at the box again: “It’s worthless?”

Yanluo downplayed it: “The carving work is decent, maybe worth a couple of foreign coins, but only if someone wants to buy it. This box has no seams—in my opinion, it’s just a welded shell.”

The pigtailed thug was completely puzzled: “Advisor, why would they bring an empty box shell while fleeing?”

Yanluo explained: “This is where your knowledge falls short. It’s called the empty city strategy. Those who sell opium always carry several boxes of mountain goods, pretending to be legitimate merchants. When robbed, they throw away the decoy boxes, enticing thieves to steal them while they escape with the opium. It’s all a distraction.”

“This family bringing worthless paintings and an empty box follows the same principle. Fortunately, we surrounded them; otherwise, they would have thrown these valueless items to distract us while escaping with their gold, silver, and foreign money. Wouldn’t we have lost greatly then?”

The small thug suddenly understood.

Third Master praised Yanluo again: “Our advisor is truly knowledgeable. That’s why when establishing a mountain stronghold, one must have an educated advisor!”

Yanluo smiled modestly, and as he smiled, his gaze almost imperceptibly drifted toward the two boxes discarded to the side.

The subsequent box opening went much more smoothly, with each box proving satisfying. The Third Master had them repacked—foreign currency in one box, gold and silver in another, pearls and jewelry in a third, and fine silks and satins separately. They selected only the most valuable items, packing about ten boxes in total. When loaded onto the pack horses, even the animals’ legs trembled under the weight.

The third Master couldn’t be bothered with the remaining half-empty boxes and bodies scattered on the ground. With a wave of his hand, he was ready to lead everyone back to their stronghold. But Yanluo stepped forward with another suggestion: “Third Master, we should clean up. With all these bodies and boxes everywhere, passersby will immediately know there was a robbery and massacre.”

Third Master sneered: “Am I afraid of that?”

“It’s not about fearing officials being notified—they’re just rice-eaters anyway. The concern is that if word spreads that bandits occupy this mountain, travelers will avoid it. In the future, we’d have to travel much farther to catch fat pigs.”

Third Master considered this and drew in a sharp breath.

Yanluo continued calmly: “Better to clean everything up. Later, I’ll lead people to the nearest sinkhole and throw everything in. Problem solved.”

Jiang Lian watched as the bodies were lifted, stacked one atop another like acrobats onto the horses’ backs. Five or six horses carried over twenty corpses, trembling as they were shouted at and whipped, following the loot-laden horses as they slowly moved away.

Feeling unsatisfied, Jiang Lian followed, hoping to trace the box’s journey to its destination. But the Mirage Pearl’s imaging range was limited. When they reached a mountain pass, it was as if an invisible boundary existed—the people and horses disappeared after crossing it, as if they had come from the distant smoke of years past and were returning there, stopping briefly only to perform a play.

Silence returned. Jiang Lian stood at the mountain pass, still adapting to this shift between illusion and reality. The final image lingering in his mind was the woman in the white gown, draped lifelessly across a horse: her hands swayed left and right with the horse’s movement, as did her half-connected head.

Behind him, Meng Qianzi said, “This trip has yielded some results.”

Indeed. Jiang Lian pulled back his attention from the distant caravan.

This journey had been better than expected. The box still existed; they just didn’t know where it had been scattered.

But they could start with one person.

Yanluo.

It was already late when they returned to Yunmeng Peak, but Kuang Meiying still hadn’t gone to bed. She paced back and forth at the inn’s entrance. Seeing Jiang Lian get out of the car, she rushed over: “Jiang Lian…”

As more people descended from the vehicle, she swallowed the rest of her words, her tightly clenched hands trembling slightly.

Meng Qianzi smiled and said, “You two talk.”

With that, she quickened her pace. Everyone could read the situation and hurried inside.

Kuang Meiying bit her lip. After all the mountain folk had gone inside, she grabbed Jiang Lian’s wrist: “Did you… See it?”

Jiang Lian smiled: “Yes, I did.”

Kuang Meiying’s vision instantly blurred. She could feel tears about to spill from her eyes: “Did you see my great-grandmother’s appearance?”

“Yes, and I saw your grandmother as a child. When she grew up, she looked very much like your great-grandmother in her youth.”

Kuang Meiying let out a long breath. She released his hand, sniffled, and murmured: “Good, good.”

Suddenly remembering something, she asked: “What about… that box?”

Jiang Lian didn’t answer directly, only looking up at the sky: “Let’s rest first. At dawn… We’ll get to work.”

Early the next morning, after a hasty breakfast, Jiang Lian was again accompanied by Kuang Meiying as he shut himself in his room, closing the door to everyone.

Overall, today’s workload was similar to yesterday’s. Yesterday, the drawing was large, forcing him to kneel using the floor as a table. Today, he could work with normal-sized sheets, but there were more of them. Just for the box alone, with six sides, he needed to fill six sheets.

Kuang Meiying’s mood was different from usual. Although previous drawings were all related to her situation, they had seemed like practice tests. What he was drawing now was the crucial final exam.

The first image Jiang Lian drew was of the woman in the white gown holding Kuang Yuanying—this was what Kuang Tongsheng most wanted to see, so it had the highest priority.

Kuang Meiying watched, holding her breath, occasionally feeling a tightness in her nose. She had never met her grandmother but had seen photographs. As Jiang Lian had said, her young grandmother did indeed resemble this great-grandmother.

When this drawing was complete, Kuang Meiying took out her silenced phone, photographed it directly, and sent it to the caregiver. Then she quietly left the room and made a follow-up call, saying that when her great-grandfather was lucid, he should look at the image. Perhaps his good mood and lifted spirits would help him survive this brush with death.

Next came drawings of the box front, back, sides, and bottom. Stroke by stroke, the sun rose to midday and then began to descend westward. By the time all six drawings were completed, it was already afternoon.

The box was beautiful, carved with many animal and floral patterns, and numerous scenes. Kuang Meiying looked at them repeatedly, vaguely discerning that the carvings seemed to depict ancient mythology.

For example, there was a man with his lower body wrapped in animal skin, his hair and beard bristling, aiming a bow at the sky. In the air were seven or eight flame-like fireballs, with some falling—this must be Hou Yi shooting down the suns?

Then there was a man with loose hair, his waist and neck wrapped with leaves, holding a chisel and carving the yin-yang double fish and eight trigrams on a stone platform below him—anyone with basic knowledge would recognize this as Fu Xi creating the eight trigrams.

She also identified Suiren drilling wood for fire and Shennong tasting a hundred herbs. Some scenes were large, others small, some on the front, others on the back. The boundaries between scenes weren’t rigid but separated by the forms and postures of birds and beasts, creating a very natural layout…

As Kuang Meiying was absorbed in looking, she suddenly sensed something unusual at the door. Turning her head, she saw a white paper being pushed under the door gap, moving left and right.

This was a signal she had arranged with Wei Biao: while she accompanied Jiang Lian drawing, no one could disturb them. But if there was an extremely urgent matter, they would slide a white paper under the door and move it back and forth. After a few movements, she would naturally notice it.

Kuang Meiying’s heart sank: what could be so urgent at this moment? Could it be that her great-grandfather…

Her mind buzzing, she moved quietly yet quickly to the door, taking three steps in two, and went outside.

As she had guessed, Wei Biao delivered bad news immediately: “Master Gan is failing. They say he almost passed away. After emergency resuscitation, he’s breathing again, but probably won’t last long. The doctor told us to hurry to book the earliest flight. They say it’s just a matter of a day or two.”

Kuang Meiying nodded repeatedly, her heart racing, but unable to cry at the moment. She couldn’t help asking: “How… how can this be? He was stable before. I even sent him the portrait of his wife that Jiang Lian just drew—the one he’s been wanting to see. I thought perhaps his happiness might help him live a few more years…”

As she spoke, her eyes reddened.

Wei Biao was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized: “You sent him his wife’s portrait? Why did you do that?”

Was sending the portrait wrong? Kuang Meiying was confused: “I just wanted to… make him happy.”

Wei Biao was so anxious he nearly jumped: “An elderly person holding on with one breath is waiting for unfinished wishes to be fulfilled. Master Gan prepared his will years ago, so not seeing us wouldn’t affect his final instructions. What other wish could he have? With his greatest wish fulfilled, wouldn’t he let go of that final breath he’s been holding?”

Only then did Kuang Meiying realize she had probably harmed with good intentions. Her face instantly turned pale. After a moment’s pause, she regained her composure and steadied herself: “Jiang Lian told me he would draw eight sheets. The eighth one is almost finished. Book tickets immediately, the earliest flight possible. Start packing now, and as soon as Jiang Lian wakes up, we’ll leave right away.”