The next day was the weekend.


Ye Chen was dragged out early by his father-in-law, driving to the antique market.


Xiao Changkun was in high spirits. As soon as he got out of the car, he waved to Ye Chen and said, “Come on, let me show you what it means to strike gold in the antique market!”


With that, he strode toward the market with great enthusiasm.


Ye Chen had no choice but to quicken his pace to keep up while casually surveying his surroundings.


On weekends, the antique market was much more crowded than usual.


The streets were lined with closely packed antique and jade shops, and temporary vendors had also set up stalls, making the whole place bustling and nearly impassable.


Many small traders simply spread a plastic sheet on the ground, displaying a variety of so-called antiques and jade artifacts, hoping to attract customers.


Ye Chen scanned the area briefly and saw that nearly all the goods were fakes—items meant to deceive unsuspecting tourists and those who knew little about antiques.


Many buyers who had been tricked into purchasing counterfeits were still oblivious, grinning as they held onto their so-called treasures, thinking they had scored a great deal.


“This is the place!”


Xiao Changkun suddenly stopped, his face filled with excitement.


In front of them was a makeshift stall where a few tourists were browsing. Afraid of missing out, Xiao Changkun quickly squeezed into the crowd.


Ye Chen glanced at the setup. The vendor had spread out an oilcloth on the ground, displaying a dozen or so items covered in dirt—blue and white porcelain horses, ancient coins, bronze goblets, blood jade bracelets, aged paintings…


The variety was impressive, but Ye Chen could tell at a glance that every single item was fake.


The stall owner was a thin, dark-skinned man wearing a rough blue cloth shirt. His hair was greasy and disheveled, and he had an honest but dull expression, appearing completely unremarkable.


“Look at this!” Xiao Changkun excitedly beckoned Ye Chen over, pointing at a colorful, wide-bodied, narrow-necked vase. He lowered his voice and said, “This matches my two cups! If I buy this and complete the set, its value will double!”


Ye Chen picked up the vase, weighed it in his hand, and then asked the vendor, “How much?”


The stall owner widened his eyes and replied in a slow, naive voice, “My… my father said… at least twenty thousand yuan! Not a cent less!”


Xiao Changkun nearly burst out laughing. He turned to Ye Chen and whispered, “This seller doesn’t know what he has! Let’s buy it before someone else snatches it up.”


As he spoke, he hurriedly reached for his wallet.


At that moment, Ye Chen swiftly pressed down on his hand and said with a smile, “Dad, this isn’t worth twenty thousand. We’re not buying it.”


“What?” Xiao Changkun was taken aback. “Then… how much do you think it’s worth?”


Ye Chen raised his hand and flashed five fingers in front of the vendor.


“Five thousand?” the vendor asked, eyes widening.


Ye Chen shook his head. “No. Fifty yuan.”


The vendor stared at Ye Chen for several seconds, as if he were an alien, before suddenly shouting, “Do you even know antiques? This is a real treasure passed down from my grandfather! You city folks are too cruel!”


Xiao Changkun grew anxious and tugged at Ye Chen’s arm. “Don’t talk nonsense! You’re going to ruin the deal!”


Ye Chen chuckled, flipped the vase over, and scraped away some of the dirt on the bottom. He then pointed to a tiny crevice and said, “Dad, take a look at this.”


The gap was extremely small—practically invisible unless pointed out. But hidden within it was a tiny row of English letters.


“MADE IN CHINA.”


Xiao Changkun froze, his mouth dropping open wide enough to fit an egg.


A moment later, his face flushed red with anger, and he pointed at the vendor, shouting, “You—you swindler!”


Ye Chen held up the vase and shook it lightly, smirking. “Even the manufacturer didn’t dare outright fake an antique, so they discreetly added this mark. You, on the other hand, were clever enough to cover it with dirt. Here’s the deal—thirty yuan. Take it or leave it.”


The vendor hesitated for a moment. Then, the so-called honest and simple expression on his face vanished. He slapped his forehead and chuckled awkwardly.


“Oh, dear customers, I must’ve grabbed the wrong vase in a rush this morning.”


“Wrong one?” Ye Chen snickered and casually picked up a dirt-covered snuff bottle. He scraped off some mud near the opening and held it up to the light. With a serious tone, he said, “And this one? It’s from Suzhou.”


Inside the snuff bottle, a tiny transparent inscription read:


“Made in Suzhou Arts and Crafts Factory.”


“I can’t read, so I don’t know what any of that says,” the vendor muttered, clearly flustered. Realizing he had been exposed, he hastily gathered his oilcloth, stuffing his fake bronze coins and jade horses into it, and tried to slip away.


Seeing this, Xiao Changkun fully grasped the situation and was seething with rage.


He grabbed the vendor by the collar and roared, “You fraud! Give me back my money!”


“What money? I don’t know you,” the vendor protested, struggling to break free. As he did, some of the trinkets in his cloth bundle fell to the ground.


A jade horse tumbled onto the pavement—and shockingly, it didn’t break. It was clearly made of hardened plastic.


“If you don’t give me my money back, I’m calling the police!” Xiao Changkun yelled, his face livid.


As they scuffled, something suddenly fell from the vendor’s chest pocket.


The moment it hit the ground, Ye Chen’s eyes sharpened, fixating on it.


It was a fist-sized, smooth, white pebble—completely unremarkable, just like the ones found on riverbanks. Grayish-white and dull.


But unlike ordinary stones, this one had three characters engraved on it—“Peace and Prosperity.”


The carving was crude, clearly done by hand.


Such stones were commonly sold at tourist sites and held no real value, which was probably why the vendor hadn’t even bothered displaying it.


However, Ye Chen took a swift step forward, snatched up the stone, and suddenly felt his blood boil.


Just now, he had sensed an unusual energy radiating from the stone!


Not just any energy—but spiritual energy—a force recorded in the Nine Heavens Scripture!


Spiritual energy was a long-lost, mysterious power. It could not only enhance the human body but also enable cultivation and other miraculous effects.


Ye Chen was ecstatic but remained calm on the surface. He weighed the stone in his hand and asked the vendor, “Is this yours?”


The vendor hesitated before nodding instinctively. “Y-yeah.”


“How much?”


Xiao Changkun was bewildered. “Why are you buying that worthless rock? Don’t you know everything this scammer sells is fake?”


“It’s just a stone,” Ye Chen said with a grin. “Might as well buy it to ward off bad luck.”


Sensing an opportunity, the vendor smirked and boasted, “Brother, you’ve got good taste! This stone may look plain, but it has a rich history! It was once the paperweight on Emperor Qian’s desk—”


Ye Chen cut him off impatiently. “Skip the nonsense. Name your price.”


The vendor chuckled. “Since you’re a connoisseur… two thousand yuan.”


Ye Chen scoffed. “You must be dreaming. Final offer—three hundred. Take it or I call the cops.”


The vendor sighed dramatically but relented. “Alright, three hundred it is.”


Ye Chen smirked and took the stone.


Just as Xiao Changkun was about to question him, a lazy, arrogant voice suddenly called out from the side.


“Well, well… that stone looks interesting. I’ll take it instead!”