Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Mysterious Box

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PS: Let me clarify something here. I've revised the relationships—Yang Wenhao and Yang Ying are not half-siblings through their father, but rather have no blood relation at all; their parents remarried when they were both very young.

The next day was the weekend, a school holiday, so there was no need to go to school.

Such days were usually reserved for sleeping in, though for Yang Wenhao, sleeping in meant spending more time cultivating. What he brought back from the martial world was not just jewels, but also some treasures of heaven and earth, like aged ginseng.

Yet Yang Wenhao was awakened early by Yang Ying.

She insisted they had to go to the station to pick up Yang Wenhao’s father.

Helpless, he had no choice—after all, it was his own father. He followed Yang Ying to the station.

The station was always packed with people.

Thankfully, they'd arranged in advance where to wait; otherwise, it would be nearly impossible to find anyone.

Leaning there, Yang Wenhao scanned the crowd, occasionally shaking his head and sighing.

Yang Ying, who didn’t understand his behavior at all, simply ignored him.

Soon, Yang Wenhao’s father appeared.

Clad in a sharp suit, eyes bright, with glossy black hair, he looked every bit the successful man.

And he was, in fact, a success. Yang Wenhao’s father, Yang Wentian, was an archaeologist, constantly traveling with Yang Ying’s mother. As a result, he was rarely home, leaving only Yang Ying and Yang Wenhao behind.

Yang Ying’s face lit up with joy. “Dad.”

Yang Wentian patted Yang Ying’s head, his eyes full of admiration. “It’s been so long, Xiaoying. You’ve grown so beautiful.”

Then he turned his gaze to Yang Wenhao, who was still scanning the crowd.

“You rascal, your own father’s here and you’re still looking around.”

Yang Ying chuckled quietly at the side.

“Dad, I know you’re here,” Yang Wenhao replied. He’d noticed Yang Wentian, but he’d just spotted some suspicious people, so he hadn’t responded immediately.

Yang Wentian showed no intention of letting him off. “If you knew I was here, why act like this? You’re not as sensible as Xiaoying.”

“Can’t be bothered to argue with you,” Yang Wenhao rolled his eyes, thinking that he’d be the bigger person and not bicker with his own father.

Yang Ying, well aware of their tempers, quickly changed the topic, “Dad, where’s Mom?”

Yang Wentian shot Yang Wenhao a glare, then turned to Yang Ying. “Xiaoyu had other matters to attend to. It’s just me coming home this time.”

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“Oh.” At his words, a hint of gloom flickered in Yang Ying’s eyes.

Clearly, not seeing her mother return made her feel a bit disappointed.

Yang Wentian noticed Yang Ying’s feelings and smiled. “Come on, let’s head home. Dad brought something really interesting for you this time.”

When they got home, Yang Wentian placed his suitcase on the table.

Yang Wenhao, however, was ready to return to his room to continue cultivating, not wanting to waste precious time.

“Where are you going, rascal?” Yang Wentian called out.

Yang Wenhao casually made up an excuse, “I’m going to take a nap.”

Yang Wentian replied, “What daydreams are you chasing in broad daylight? Come here and sit.”

“Dad, I don’t want to see your stuff,” Yang Wenhao said, clearly uninterested.

Over the years, though Yang Wentian rarely returned home, every time he did, he claimed to have brought something interesting.

But it was always some precious antique or academic material that Yang Wenhao couldn’t understand and cared little for, so he was never enthusiastic.

“Tsk, you won’t even listen to your father now?” Yang Wentian frowned at Yang Wenhao. “Sit down as I said. What I brought this time is unlike anything before.”

“Alright.” Unable to argue, Yang Wenhao sat down next to him.

Yang Ying had just brewed tea and brought it over, then sat beside them, watching intently.

Yang Wentian opened his suitcase and took out an ancient, elegant wooden box.

The moment he saw this exquisitely crafted box, Yang Wenhao, who had been indifferent, suddenly furrowed his brow.

Yang Ying’s eyes sparkled. “It’s so beautiful!”

“Of course,” Yang Wentian replied, pride creeping into his expression.

Yang Ying asked, “Dad, what is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Yang Wentian shook his head. “But this thing is strange. Originally, it was supposed to be transported and stored, but because of a sudden issue, the leader had me keep it for the time being.”

At that moment, Yang Wentian noticed Yang Wenhao’s odd expression. “See, I didn’t lie to you, rascal.”

Yang Wenhao shot him a look, thinking how his father always liked to compete with his own son.

Yang Ying asked, “Dad, can we open it?”

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“It should be possible,” Yang Wentian replied. “But it’s an artifact, so we can’t tamper with it.”

“Oh.” Yang Ying nodded, understanding the rules involved.

Yang Wenhao, meanwhile, kept his gaze fixed on the box.

“Dad, can I take a look?”

Yang Wenhao’s sudden request surprised Yang Wentian, but he nodded in agreement.

Yang Wenhao carefully placed the box before him, then gently pressed his hand atop it. As time passed, his expression grew increasingly serious.

Seeing his son’s demeanor, Yang Wentian was surprised. “Xiaohao, do you recognize it?”

“No,” Yang Wenhao shook his head.

“Well, that’s true. You barely know a handful of characters—how could you possibly recognize this?” Yang Wentian nodded to himself, convinced he was right.

Yang Wenhao felt exasperated. How had he never noticed his father was like this before?

In truth, it wasn’t recognition so much as sensing something.

He grew serious because his true energy was resonating with whatever was inside the box, indicating it would definitely be useful to him.

But opening it was out of the question—even if he wanted to, Yang Wentian would never allow it. Yang Wentian was only holding onto it temporarily and would have to return it soon. If anything went wrong, Yang Wentian would bear the responsibility, and as his son, Yang Wenhao didn’t want to cause him trouble.

Yang Ying asked, “Dad, you said this box was strange—what’s so strange about it?”

As a modern person, she didn’t believe in the supernatural without seeing it.

Yang Wenhao, curious himself, sat nearby, eager to hear what was so odd about it.

After a moment’s hesitation, Yang Wentian said, “It’s said that when it was excavated, the weather was perfectly clear. Then, in the blink of an eye, a torrential storm broke out. Most importantly, the two people who first unearthed the box were struck dead by lightning.”

“What?” Both Yang Ying and Yang Wenhao were stunned.

Struck by lightning? How unlucky could one be?

Though it was hard to directly connect the box, it was impossible to dismiss its involvement.