I loaded the Mysticism panel.

The numbers are climbing, but very slowly, much slower than the ornaments and the divination disc.

0.01... After a dozen seconds, it was still 0.01.

After another half minute, it became 0.02.

There's something inside, but it's being suppressed by some mechanism, so the penetration rate is extremely low.

Richard picked up the oil lamp and examined it in his hand.

The lamp body is heavy and solidly cast, with an inscription engraved around the edge of the base.

The strokes are angular and the structure is compact, with each character deliberately crammed into an equally sized square.

This is the priestly script of the Black Earth River basin; he had seen similar glyphs in the illustrations of the EVM book.

When my palm was pressed against the copper surface, the numbers on the panel were increasing at a rate of approximately 0.01 per minute.

too slow.

The ornament gained 1 point in just a few minutes, and the Divine Descent Plate gained about the same.

This oil lamp has clearly been treated in some way; the residue inside the sealed container has been locked in, with only a very small amount leaking out.

He turned the lamp over and looked at it carefully.

The inside of the base is engraved with another set of symbols, arranged differently from the outer inscription, and more closely resembles geometric shapes.

A circle encloses a triangle, with short lines extending from each of the three sides of the triangle.

Seal mark?

If the inscription is "lock", then this geometric shape is likely the "lock cylinder".

He wasn't sure, but it made sense logically.

It's unlikely that a dealer would completely uncover the sealed contents of an antique that comes from a legitimate source.

Adding a seal involves applying wax to the bottle to ensure that the contents will not leak during distribution or harm any unauthorized guests.

He put the oil lamp back on the shelf, then picked it up again, then put it down again.

It rises when you hold it, and stops when you put it down.

Ok.

He sat down on a chair nearby, carrying the oil lamp, placed the lamp on his knees, covered it with his hands, and began to wait patiently.

0.03...0.04...

The light outside the window was moving, and someone was walking past in the alley.

0.05...0.06...

The shop was quiet. The old man occasionally flipped through his old currency catalog behind the counter, the pages rustling softly.

0.07...0.08...

Richard's hands were getting tired, so he switched hands, supporting the base of the lamp with his left hand and covering the top of the lamp with his right, as if he were warming a small animal.

About half an hour later, the number finally climbed to 0.1.

He put the oil lamp back on the shelf, stood up, and walked to the counter.

"How much does this lamp cost?"

The old man looked up from behind the magnifying glass and squinted at the direction the other man was pointing.

"Oh, that one." He put down the magnifying glass. "Something from the Black Earth River, quite old, three pounds."

Three pounds.

Richard only had sevenpence in his pocket when he went out this time.

"Three pounds is a bit expensive."

"Bronze artifacts from the Eastern Continent. Judging from the age and condition, the sphinx shape of this lamp is an old-style casting method, not a later imitation."

The tail and wings were cast separately and then welded together, a technique dating back at least five hundred years before the Gregorian calendar.

The old man tapped the counter with his finger: "Three pounds is a very fair price."

"But it is missing the upper half of the floral pattern on the lamp holder, and there are repair marks at the wing seam, so it is not the original solder point."

The wings are rusted, indicating that it was placed in a humid and hot environment for a long time; such burial objects are generally considered less valuable.

The old man took off his glasses and looked him over again.

"You actually know about bronzeware?"

"I know some of them; we learned about artifact identification in the Black Soil River Basin in history class."

That's half true; Mr. Hutton did mention the basic characteristics of the Black Soil River artifacts in class.

Richard's ability to use technical terms like "separate casting and welding" and "inscription preservation" is mainly due to the various related books he memorized after enhancing his knowledge.

"Do you recognize the inscription on that base?" the old man suddenly asked.

"I'm not sure about the specific content of the priestly script, but judging from the density of the characters and the repetition pattern, it should be a prayer or ritual term."

Several batches of these inscribed lamps have been unearthed at temple ruins in the middle reaches of the Heitu River, and similar artifacts are documented in museums.

The old man put his glasses back on, and the way he looked at Richard changed.

This is no longer a student just looking at someone's legs; this is a knowledgeable customer.

"You have some knowledge." He paused for a moment, then said, "Two pounds and seven shillings."

"The lamp's beak ornamentation is damaged and the wings have been severely repaired, affecting its value and completeness. One pound."

"How can you bargain like that? Two pounds and five shillings is the lowest I can offer."

"One pound and five shillings, I'm a student!"

The old man was amused by the statement "I am a student":

"Okay, okay... You're a student, so two pounds it is. If it's any lower, I'll give it to you for free."

Since things have come to this point, it would be ungrateful to try to bargain any further.

Richard still couldn't afford two pounds, but he wasn't going to buy it right away.

"I'll keep it for now, could you please put it aside for me?"

"Alright." The old man pulled a notebook from under the counter: "Student, brass lamp, two pounds, what's your name?"

Richard Williams.

"My name is Clement, Albert Clement." The old man closed the notebook.

"I can only hold it for you for two months at most, after that it will be gone."

"it is good."

As Richard walked out of the store, he was calculating the bill in his mind.

Two pounds is definitely not enough with my current savings, but if I can get a place in the Cicero Cup, it will be enough to cover it.

Of course, that's on the condition that he gets a ranking first.

I looked up at the sky; the sun was already blocked by clouds, but the sky was still brighter than usual.

Evelyn's voice came from the direction of the alley entrance:

"Brother! What are you doing in there? I've been walking around three blocks already!"

She walked briskly from the direction of the candy shop, clutching a paper bag in her hand, probably having bought a few cheap candies.

"I looked at the antiques."

"How long have you been waiting? I've already bought two rounds of candy."

"Has it been that long?"

Richard touched the back of his neck.

To be honest, he did spend quite a long time squatting by the oil lamp.

To make the panel rise a little more, he kept turning the lamp over and over for more than half an hour.

After more than half an hour, I only managed to inhale 0.1 points.

The inefficiency was appalling, but it at least proved two things:

Clemente antiquities are not all ordinary old items; there are indeed some items that "carry goods" among them.

Furthermore, the absorption speed of sealed artifacts will be significantly suppressed.

"Why are your hands green?" Evelyn stared at his palms.

Oh no, I've been covering it for too long, and my hands are covered in copper spots.

"...touched an old lamp."

"Why did you spend over half an hour touching that old lamp?"

"Studying the inscriptions on it."

Evelyn's gaze moved from his palm to his face, back to his palm, and then back to his face.

"Brother, have you really been keeping a diary lately?"

"Yes."

"Then you must write down 'Today I touched the old lamp for half an hour'."

"Okay, okay, I'll write it."

"I think you should change your hobby. Collecting antiques is not something a family like ours can afford."

"I think you should mind your own business and stop interfering with your brother."

Evelyn sighed, took a toffee from the paper package, and put it to his lips:

Here, have some. It's to make up for not being able to buy a used lamp.

Richard caught it with his mouth.

The toffee was very sweet, almost cloyingly so.

The brother and sister walked side by side toward home.

Evelyn took a few steps, then suddenly spoke again:

"Brother, you're not really hiding something from us, are you?"

"What?"

"I don't know what it is, but lately you seem like a completely different person."

You used to lie down as soon as you got home, but now you stay locked up in your room until midnight every day.

You used to be so bad at frying bread that you couldn't even do it yourself, but now you're much better at it than I am.

"Before, when you were called on in class, you'd want to bury your head in your desk. Now, if you hear the teacher calls on you to speak, you can talk for ages..."

She counted a series of changes, and when she finished, she turned her head to look at him.

"If there's anything you can't tell Mom and Dad, you can tell me. Even though I'm a year younger than you, you know..."

She didn't finish the second half of her sentence, but it roughly meant: You know who's the most reliable person in this family.

Richard smiled inwardly.

"I was seriously ill, and I've come to understand a lot of things."

"What have you figured out?"

"I've figured it out. I can't let you and Mom keep worrying about me."

The girl paused slightly.

She didn't reply, but lowered her head and took a few steps.

Suddenly, she pulled another candy from the paper bag and shoved it into his mouth: "Who's worried about you!"