I loaded the Mysticism panel.

On Tuesday evening, Richard had just finished memorizing half of the stack of difficult historical terms that Mr. Holland had copied for him when his mother called from downstairs, asking him to come and answer the phone.

He went downstairs and answered the receiver. There was a coughing fit on the other end before the person slowly spoke.

"Kid, it's me."

Clement's voice was hoarser than usual.

"Mr. Clement, have you heard anything?"

"Last time I thought Stuart tightened restrictions periodically..." The old man swallowed.

"As a result, not a single item from this season's 'Category II' list has been released yet."

Richard held the receiver, not in a hurry to speak.

"I've been doing this for decades."

Clement sighed on the other end of the line.

"The last time the market was this cold, I heard from the older generation, was when the Eastern War broke out."

Ordinary people can't smell the game behind the scenes, but a veteran appraiser who has been handling goods at auction houses for decades can detect the same pattern simply by observing the comings and goings of the goods.

"Even the major auction houses in the capital are hoarding their goods."

Clement continued speaking.

"Anyone who has something good will hold onto it tightly and won't let go. My old friends don't have much stock either."

Richard's glimmer of hope gradually faded away.

"...I understand." He lowered his voice.

"Thank you for thinking of me. The market is slow, please take good care of yourself. We'll see when things recover..."

"Hey, don't hang up yet."

The old man changed the subject, and Richard's hand holding the receiver froze in mid-air.

"The main road is blocked, but that doesn't mean there are no other options."

"The people at the major auction houses now only recognize two kinds of goods: those that can be used in battle, or those that have great research value."

They were too lazy to collect the leftover scraps.

"Damaged goods, semi-dead items, and scraps are meaningless to them; holding onto them and waiting for prices to rise would only increase storage costs."

Clement coughed twice.

Do you remember those shops I mentioned to you last time?

Those appraisers will clear out their surplus inventory, exchanging it for whatever amount they can.

Richard's spirits immediately lifted.

You mean...

"Come out early after school on Friday," the old man said curtly.

"Come to my shop at 3 PM, let's go meet someone together."

"Okay, I'll ask for leave in advance."

"Let's make this clear first," Clement added.

"When you get there, talk less and observe more. I'll handle the bargaining."

"I've got it."

By Friday afternoon, the sky was overcast, the rain hadn't fallen, and the clouds were low.

Richard and Mr. Holland took a day off and arrived at Clement's shop at 3 o'clock sharp.

The old man had changed into his new outfit, wearing a top hat with a hard brim and leaning on a cane with a brass-topped handle.

"Let's go." The old man locked the shop door.

"Today I'm taking you to visit an old friend of mine."

The two walked north along Grafton Street and turned into a narrow alley that Richard had never noticed before.

The shops on both sides of the alley were crowded together, each one more inconspicuous than the last. There were shoe repair shops, pawnshops, and shops selling old newspapers.

As the old man walked, he explained that his old friend would collect unwanted items and resell them.

So don't expect to find complete artifacts there; even defective artifacts are rare.

Clement navigated the alleyway with practiced ease, eventually stopping at a wooden door without any sign at the very end.

The old man raised his hand and knocked on the door.

The sound of dragging footsteps came from inside the door, and an eye peered out through the crack.

"Clement?"

"It's me." The old man lifted the brim of his hat. "I brought a young man here to help you get some business."

The eye inside the door scanned Richard's face for a moment, then paused for half a second.

"The Ashford family's?"

Richard was startled. He hadn't said anything yet, so how did this person know?

Clement coughed beside him: "Did Old Tang let it slip?"

"Who can keep those things that happen on Flower Moon Street a secret?"

The person inside snorted and stepped aside.

"Come in."

Inside was a small shop, dimly lit, with only a gas lamp lit behind the counter.

The four walls were covered with display shelves, on which various old items were scattered about.

Upon seeing the person who opened the door, Richard rubbed his eyes, his face full of surprise.

He was bald and fat, with a monocle perched on his nose.

Aside from their faces and heights being somewhat different, they are practically a carbon copy of Donald.

"This is Tobin," Clement introduced Richard.

"He also came from Stuart, and he was in charge of screening goods for the second process."

Tobin tucked his monocle back into his eye socket and looked Richard up and down.

"Second place in the Cicero Cup," he said slowly.

"You have a sharp eye; you started betting so early."

"I've been betting my whole life." Clement leaned his cane against the counter.

"I bet on a few right, but I bet on even more wrong. This is the one I'm most optimistic about."

Tobin didn't reply, but turned around and pulled out a cloth-covered wooden tray from under the counter.

"With the market so cold, only individual customers like you are willing to go out and visit private shops."

He muttered to himself as he lifted the cloth.

"Those people at the major auction houses have all become incredibly shrewd now."

Good stuff is kept in the warehouse, waiting for a war to break out and its price to skyrocket.

"Aren't you from Stuart too?" Clement glanced at him sideways.

"I'm already out," Tobin said, pulling the cloth back completely. "Now I can only sell the scraps that people don't want to make a living."

Richard stood in front of the counter, his gaze sweeping over the plate of old items.

There were about a dozen odds and ends laid out under the cloth, mostly ordinary items.

A worn silver spoon, a chipped porcelain bottle, and one or two old coins of questionable quality.

"Let's make this clear first, Stuart's #039 Category 039 is divided into three tiers:"

Category A items go into secret auction, Category B items go to the unsold auction list, Category C items... don't even qualify for a spot, they are directly returned to the original handler.

All the files on this disk are C-files.

Tobin glanced at Clement and began his introduction.

Richard nodded. Better, rarer items wouldn't appear on a private shop's wooden tray, much less among the common, miscellaneous goods.

But for me, even a fragment can be squeezed out a little bit of value.

Among that pile of items, there were indeed two things that subtly sparked Richard's inspiration.

[Perception] The inspiration line, enhanced to level 2, has become increasingly accurate over the past few months.

He first slowly scanned the entire plate of food, making it seem like he was picking and choosing.

Finally, he casually glanced at the two items.

The first item is a talisman.

Blue glass pupils, set in a blackened silver setting.

The center of the eye is dark blue, the outer ring is light blue, and the very center is a black pupil, making it look like a wide-open eye.

"Where did this come from?" Richard pointed.

Tobin pushed up his monocle:

"These are old Ottoman artifacts, or possibly from the Persian region; their age is hard to say."

"The appraiser who handled the shipment glanced at it and put his pen down."

Tobin shrugged.

"I asked him about it privately, and he said... that thing 'glanced at him'."

Richard's heart skipped a beat.

He quietly deployed [Concealed Vision] without making a sound, without staring directly at the amulet.

Let the light from the gas lamp on the counter gently dab at your inspiration.

With that one touch, he understood.

That blue eyeball did indeed "see back".

A wisp of extremely faint and ancient ether seeped out from the circle of black and silver.

This is an old eye that's almost gone blind.

"This thing," Clement observed from the side.

"It's an old custom from the Mediterranean to the Middle East, called 'evil eye'."

"The Evil Eye?" Richard asked, following up on the conversation.

"People in that area believe that malice can hurt people. If others are jealous of you or curse you, that malicious gaze can bring you bad luck, illness, or trouble in your family."

Clement tapped the amulet with the bronze tip of his cane.

"So they did this, blue eyes to blue eyes, 'an eye for an eye.'"

You look at me with malice, and I'll reflect that malice back at you.

"Reflect it back..." Richard stared at the blackened silver base.

"Hang it on the door, wear it around your neck, or sew it into a child's swaddling clothes."

The old man nodded.

"The higher a family's status and the more enviable they are, the more they hang."

Blue is the rarest color in that area; it requires firing minerals, making it very precious.

Richard had a plan in mind.

This amulet was probably actually hung and used by someone back then, hanging there for many years and blocking many malicious gazes.

Ether was gradually dried up.

It has indeed been reflecting for hundreds of years, until finally its own eyeballs aged to the point of near blindness.

"This thing looks pretty good to me."

Richard casually pressed down.

"It's been sitting here for quite a while, judging by its condition."

Tobin narrowed his eyes: "You were introduced by Clement, so I won't rip you off. One pound, take it or leave it."

One pound, neither expensive nor cheap, Richard didn't haggle at first, and turned his attention to the second item.

It was a brass armlet.

The arm ring is coiled into the shape of a snake, with the snake's head and tail holding each other at the opening, making the entire arm ring look like a coiled snake with its head and tail connected.

The copper surface had a wet, glossy sheen, as if it had been sweating.

Before he could ask, Tobin began to explain.

"This is a Naga armband, and the notes say 'It will make you sweat in humid weather'... It really does make you sweat."

If you leave it in the cabinet overnight, a layer of dampness will seep out from the copper surface.

Richard reached out, this time bringing his fingertips closer, hovering half an inch above the armband, without actually touching it.

He caught a wisp of even, gentle ether, which was slowly seeping out from the bronze body of the coiled serpent.

Unlike the Evil Eye Amulet, it doesn't age quickly and die, nor is it sealed or locked away like other magical artifacts.

This wisp of ether seeps in smoothly and naturally, preserved by the passage of time year after year.

"Naga." Richard wasn't particularly familiar with this term. "It seems to be a serpent god?"

"It's a snake spirit from the water." Tobin pushed up his monocle.

"The customs and traditions of the southern mainland and the Spice Islands."

The Naga watch over the water veins, guard the treasures, and live in deep wells, at the bottom of rivers, and at the bottom of lakes.

It becomes active when the rainy season arrives.

The old folks there often say that if a well "sweates," and the canal's water level rises inexplicably, it means the Naga at the bottom of the well has turned over.

Richard stared at the layer of damp, coppery sheen.

You will sweat in humid weather.

This armlet shares the same nature as the serpent spirit it represents, both being related to water.

Richard straightened up: "I'll take both of these. Can you give me a discount?"

Tobin quoted a price: "The Evil Eye Amulet is one pound, and the Naga Armlet is two pounds and three shillings. I'll round it down to three pounds."

Clement coughed beside him:

"Old Tobin, it's the kid's first time here, why don't you give him a discount?"

Tobin rolled his eyes.

"These are already private shop prices, even lower than the auction house's reserve price."

"Prices at private shops vary from person to person," Clement said, placing his cane on the counter.

"One of these pieces is so old it's almost blind, and the other is just a piece of sweaty bronze... You think I can't tell? Two pounds!"

After several rounds of back-and-forth between Tobin and Clement, they finally settled on a price of two pounds and six shillings.

Richard counted out the money, wrapped the two items separately in oiled paper, and put them into his shoulder bag.

As he was leaving, he couldn't help but ask:

"Mr. Tobin, how did these things... get to Bristol back then?"

"How did it get here?" Tobin grinned. "It was transported back, of course."

"Wherever the Empire's ironclad warships sail, they will bring them back from there."

They moved things from temples, from graves, and even from the hands of the living.

The shop fell silent for a moment.

"This Evil Eye Amulet." Clement tapped Richard's shoulder bag with his cane.

"It was hung on the lintel of a Persian family's door back then, blocking the malice of several generations."

This Naga armlet originally belonged to a priest of the Spice Islands, who guarded a deep well.

"Later, the temple collapsed, the people dispersed, and the belongings were put on a ship, sailed across the ocean, and finally ended up in this narrow alley, where you bought it for two pounds and six shillings."

Richard gripped the strap of his shoulder bag without saying a word.

The plundering by the empire is the root of all this.

"Why are you thinking about these things at your age?"

Clement patted him on the shoulder.

"Once you have the item, treat it well."