Divine Eye Appraisal: Starting with a Lucky Pickup of a Beautiful CEO's Family Heirloom

Wen Zhaoye held the bronze talisman and stood motionless at the entrance of the passage.

Xuan Kongzi stood before the cauldron, motionless. The two were three or four steps apart, and the stone chamber was so quiet that one could hear the light within the cauldron slowly, very slowly pulsating.

"What did you say?" Wen Zhaoye asked, his voice hoarse, as if something was blocking his throat. Xuan Kongzi didn't avoid his gaze. He took out a bronze key from his robes, about the size of a palm, its surface engraved with dense patterns, exactly the same as the patterns on the cauldron. There was a recessed notch at the end of the key, as if something was missing. "When your father activated the Four Symbols Seal, he infused his own essence into the cauldron," Xuan Kongzi said, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper, "He became one with the seal." Wen Zhaoye stared at him, his fingers clenching tightly on the talisman, his knuckles turning white. "He's inside the cauldron," Xuan Kongzi said, his gaze falling on the crack in the cauldron, where the jade pendant was embedded, emitting a faint light, "maintaining the stability of the seal with his flesh and blood." Wen Zhaoye's mind went blank.

He felt something gripping his heart tightly, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the bronze cauldron, at its verdigris-covered surface, at the jade pendant of his father embedded in the crack. "You lied to me," he said, his voice trembling. "You knew seventeen years ago."

Xuan Kongzi remained silent.

"You knew my father was in the cauldron seventeen years ago. You came every winter solstice to activate the seal. You watched my grandmother raise me all by herself. You watched me being pinned to the ground and framed for stealing—you knew all of this, yet you said nothing."

Wen Zhaoye's voice grew louder and louder, the last few words almost shouted. Gu Qinghan stood at the entrance of the stone chamber, her hand on the hilt of her sword, and remained silent.

"Your dad forbids me to tell," Xuan Kongzi said softly.

"Bullshit!" Wen Zhaoye roared, his eyes reddening. "He's my dad! He's my dad, you know that?!"

Xuan Kongzi looked at him, his eyes filled with the weariness and guilt of seventeen years, but he did not look away.

"He said that if his son wasn't capable of getting here, he should never know," Xuan Kongzi said calmly. "He said that if his son ever came, he should tell him—'I'm sorry, I left you alone.'"

Wen Zhaoye stood there, trembling. He gripped the bronze talisman, his palms sweaty, feeling its weight like a stone, making it hard to lift his arm. His mind was a jumble, as if a thousand people were speaking at once, and he couldn't understand a word. But he knew one thing—his father was inside the cauldron.

His father is inside that cauldron.

His father was trapped inside for seventeen years, risking his life to guard that cauldron and the foundation of that dying dragon vein.

He turned his head and looked at the bronze cauldron.

The Divine Eye moved on its own.

Pale golden characters emerged from the surface of the cauldron, like ripples spreading across water, appearing line by line. Those characters pierced through the rust of the bronze walls, through the thickness of the bronze, and through seventeen years of darkness—

Wen Zhaoye saw it. Deep inside the cauldron, there was a blurry human-shaped outline.

Curled up like an infant in the deepest part of the cauldron, its humanoid silhouette was faint, as if it might vanish at any moment. A faint golden light flickered on its chest, slowly but steadily.

That's his dad.

Wen Zhaoye's hands began to tremble.

He released his grip on the talisman, which fell to the ground with a dull thud. He walked slowly towards the cauldron, his steps light, as if afraid of disturbing something. He reached out and gently touched the cauldron with his fingertips.

A slight vibration came from the body of the cauldron, as if something inside the cauldron had stirred and responded to his touch.

Wen Zhaoye's tears fell.

There was no sound, only tears streaming down his cheeks, each drop landing on the cauldron, on the verdigris, on the ancient characters.

"Dad," he called out softly, as if afraid of waking someone.

The cauldron trembled slightly, as if someone inside was responding. Gu Qinghan stood at the entrance of the stone chamber, watching this scene, his hand on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles turning white.

"Master," she spoke, her voice cold, "You knew this thirty years ago, why didn't you say so sooner?" Xuan Kongzi's gaze fell on the crack in the cauldron, where the jade pendant glowed faintly. He remained silent for a long time before speaking. "Because he said it," Xuan Kongzi's voice was hoarse, "If his son finds this place, tell him—don't cry. Your father's life was worthwhile."

Wen Zhaoye knelt down.

He knelt before the cauldron, his forehead pressed against its surface, feeling the coolness of the bronze seep into his bones through his skin. He made no sound, but his shoulders trembled violently, and he curled up in front of the cauldron as if crushed by something.

He didn't cry out loud.

His father told him not to cry. So he stopped crying. Gu Qinghan stood at the door, his hand loosening its grip on the sword hilt.

She watched Wen Zhaoye kneeling before the cauldron, watched his shoulders tremble, watched his forehead rest against the cauldron, like a child who had finally found his father, but could only be separated by the distance of bronze.

Xuan Kongzi remained silent. He stood before the cauldron, watching Wen Zhaoye's retreating figure, the bronze talisman lying on the ground, and the jade pendant within the cracks of the cauldron, which was faintly glowing.

The stone chamber remained quiet for a long time. Only the light inside the cauldron flickered slowly, very slowly.