Chapter 109 – Extra 1

When Caesar received the call from the dean of that Chinese meteorological university, he was attending an auction as a form of leisure entertainment.

At that time, he had just concluded a sea voyage and finalized a massive business deal. The sea always seemed to bless him, and for him, compared to land, the vast, boundless ocean naturally gave him a profound sense of belonging—a feeling he attributed to his family’s business.

Born into a shipbuilding family in Germany, Caesar had learned to swim in the sea almost before he could walk. At seven, he first went to sea with his father, and by twelve, his innate knowledge and judgment in navigation had already made him somewhat famous in the Mediterranean. People jokingly called him the “second Black Sea Wolf” of the Elijah Hoff family…

Ah, the “Black Sea Wolf” was probably an ancestor of the Caesar family from five hundred years ago—a notorious pirate, the top dog in the Mediterranean, who lived a glamorous life but died a bachelor.

Caesar always laughed off such comparisons. He never believed in things like past lives or reincarnation, but he had to admit that when he flipped through those ancient documents and saw the sketches of a ship named “Wind Fury” on the yellowed pages, the simple lines without much explanation gave him an inexplicable sense of familiarity—

It was as if he had reached through the dust of history and touched that massive three-masted galley with his own hands. The ship, recorded in the literature as forever sailing the Mediterranean, appeared vividly in his mind. He could even recall how it looked when it set sail, cutting through the waves of the azure sea.

It was as if he himself had drawn the blueprints for that ship, as if he had created it with his own hands.

He gently closed the document and carefully placed it into the briefcase beside him. The phone in his hand felt warm, and on the other end, the old man from China was still chattering away. The old man spoke excellent German and was fully utilizing the patience, determination, and verbosity of an elder, relying on the fact that Caesar wouldn’t dare hang up on him, a senior in the field, to ramble on and on.

But me? A professor?

What a joke.

The man’s handsome face remained expressionless as he held the phone. It wasn’t until the auctioneer started banging the small metal hammer that Caesar finally frowned, sighed silently, pinched the bridge of his nose, and absentmindedly flipped through the brochure introducing the antiques up for auction.

“Boss, if you’re feeling stuffy, maybe we should just leave?” The red-haired assistant beside him bent over, barely containing himself.

“Let’s see how it goes. If you can’t hold it in, go out by yourself, you big trash.”

Without looking up, the man continued to flip through the brochure, only to realize he hadn’t absorbed a single word. Since this wasn’t a very formal auction, there were always some people trying to pass off fakes to bilk nouveau riche who were just starting to dabble in antiques. Among the dazzling array of antique items, Caesar’s amber eyes only needed to sweep over them, without even getting close, to distinguish which were genuine and which were recently dredged-up fakes.

Caesar always had an inexplicable passion and familiarity for treasures from the sea. He loved collecting treasures from the Age of Exploration in the 15th century, and despite their exorbitant prices, he had amassed a collection displayed in his studio. This behavior, akin to burning money, left Caesar’s father speechless. But since his son had been successful and untethered like a wild horse since adulthood, there was no stopping him, so he had no choice but to let him be.

The old man on the phone was still talking. Caesar remembered this was the third time the elder had personally called him—out of basic respect for the elderly, the man pondered, and in his mind flashed the image of his father blowing his top. The thirty-something man sighed again in resignation and finally conceded, telling the old man he would seriously consider filling the temporary vacancy for a maritime meteorology professor at his school.

When Caesar said he would consider it, it was 70% a yes.

So the old man hung up, satisfied.

Finally, peace returned to Caesar’s ears. His restless assistant had slipped away at some point, and the bidding paddle was placed to his right. The man shifted to a more comfortable position, lit a cigarette of his favorite tobacco from a centuries-old rural German workshop, and squinted as he tried to focus on the brochure to see if there was anything he wanted this time—

And just then, the auction began.

What had drawn Caesar to this auction was the fact that all the items up for bidding today were said to be relics from the 15th to 16th century Mediterranean.

From muskets to daggers, from oil paintings to jewelry, everything was there.

Propping his chin on one hand, the man lazily circled and marked items in the brochure. Most of the objects only warranted a glance, as they didn’t pique his interest much, and the fakes were ruthlessly crossed out with large red X’s.

The auction was lively, and the fakes often fetched high prices—mostly jars and vases. For the uncultured nouveau riche, these probably looked impressive when displayed at home—

“Fifty million—any higher bids?”

“Sixty million.”

“One hundred million!”

“…” The man chuckled, calmly watching a group of nouveau riche fight over a broken jar that pirates in the 15th century had probably used to pickle meat.

Unlike auctions designed for the truly powerful, this civilian auction had a poor atmosphere, filled with smoke and a motley crowd. The man bit the filter of his cigarette, and a flash of impatience crossed his amber eyes amidst the smoke. He decided that if nothing interesting came up in the next three items, he would leave—

“Next item, recently dredged from the sea last month, verified as a 15th-century royal artifact! A dog-shaped pendant inlaid with two high-quality rubies, exquisitely crafted, with immense collectible value!”

Behind the auctioneer, slides flashed, presenting a close-up of the small necklace pendant to all bidders.

Caesar listlessly lifted his eyelids to look, and what he saw nearly made him spit out his cigarette.

A royal artifact? Dog-shaped? High-quality rubies?—and exquisitely crafted?

This was just a crude dog-head pendant dredged up from some seabed—its eyes adorned with low-quality rubies, probably costing no more than three gold coins at a flea market back then. Sure, it was a genuine antique from the sea, but still…

Caesar stood up from his seat and moved a few rows forward, driven by curiosity to see this oddity.

Perhaps the pendant’s appearance was too foolish, as the bidding from the nouveau riche slowed down, some even hesitating. The man lifted his chin slightly and narrowed his eyes. On the elegant blue velvet cushion on the stage, the dog-head pendant was displayed properly. It seemed to have been carefully cleaned by experts, but no matter how you looked at it, it was an ugly thing that no one would want to wear around their neck. Yet, it bore signs of having been worn for a long time… Somehow, even after hundreds of years, the pendant still carried a sense of human presence and a faint aura of bloodshed—likely related to its original owner’s profession?

A pirate’s possession?

…Probably. Its owner must have cherished it… Such an ugly thing, yet it had a story…

As the man mused, he suddenly noticed something was off.

Well, to be precise, he felt something was off with himself.

His heart raced, as if the noisy auction hall had vanished, and he was plunged into a dark space. Countless things pressed down on him, trying to flood into his mind. But when he tried to grasp at them, he found the fragments couldn’t take shape. They were like a complete round mirror that someone had shattered into pieces.

Among those fragments was the image of the dog-head pendant.

Someone had once shoved it into his hand, yelling—

“Here, take it. It’s ugly.”

“…At times like this, even as a courtesy, you should say ‘thank you.'”

“Can’t say it.”

“I picked it out especially for you, and you just shove it into your pocket like that!”

“It’s the worst thing in my pocket. That alone is already an honor.”

…

Caesar rubbed his aching temples. When he looked up, the dog-head pendant had already been bid up to two million… Not bad, not too outrageous. Caesar silently nodded in approval; it seemed the nouveau riche’s taste could still be salvaged.

And then…

Then Caesar picked up the bidding paddle beside him, his thin lips parting as he spoke in a calm, magnetic voice.

“Ten million.”

The nouveau riche in the room: “…”

Nouveau Riche A: “Who’s that?”

Nouveau Riche B: “Don’t know.”

Nouveau Riche A: “An idiot?”

Nouveau Riche C: “…Nonsense, he looks familiar.”

Nouveau Riche B: “Isn’t that the only son of the Elijah Hoff family? Yeah, it’s him—Caesar.”

Nouveau Riche D: “Caesar’s taste is this bizarre? No way!”

Nouveau Riche C: “—Nonsense, if Caesar wants it, it must be good! Fifteen million!”

Auctioneer: “…”

Nouveau Riche A: “Twenty million!”

Caesar: “…”

Auctioneer: “…Twenty million, twenty million, twenty million—going once—”

Caesar: “Fifty million.”

Are they all insane? The auctioneer looked down at the hideous dog-head pendant that was almost unbearable to look at a second time. The two large, low-quality rubies sparkled under the lights as if silently laughing in wild glee. The auctioneer suddenly felt… he probably hadn’t woken up yet?

“Fifty-five million!”

“Fifty-six million!”

“Sixty million!!!”

…

In the end, Caesar secured the pendant for seventy million—a sum that couldn’t even buy you such a thing in today’s handicraft market because even counterfeit antique sellers have a conscience. Something this ugly would make them feel guilty trying to scam people.

When Caesar’s poor red-haired assistant returned from his break, he saw his boss signing a check for seventy million. Before he could catch his breath, he then watched as his boss solemnly hung the outrageously expensive piece of junk around his neck—something he never did.

The red-haired assistant felt like dying.

“…The hard-earned money from a whole month at sea isn’t enough for you to blow in the blink of an eye.”

“Shut up, you big trash. What do you know?”

The man disdainfully tossed the words at his chattering, money-pinching assistant and touched the dog-head pendant hanging closest to his heart. As he walked out of the auction hall, he glanced at the sky through the floor-to-ceiling windows—

The sky was overcast, and it looked like a never-ending snowstorm was about to hit.

Suddenly, Caesar had a strong premonition—

He needed to go somewhere.

There, someone was waiting for him, had been waiting for him for a long, long time. He had to go.

…

“Rick?”

“Huh?”

“Book a flight.”

“Where to?—Aren’t you going back to report to the old man?…Right, you just blew seventy million on a piece of junk. You wouldn’t dare go home—”

“…Do you always talk this much?”

“Well, you haven’t told me where we’re going yet!” The miserable assistant, looking pained, pulled out his phone from his bag and started tapping away furiously. “Quick, where are we off to wreak havoc this time?”

“China.”

“Huh?”

“If you can’t understand human language, you can retire early, you big trash.”

“Why are we going to China?”

“To teach? Probably.”

The red-haired assistant looked up, shocked. But all he saw was his boss’s resolute back as he walked away—Rick felt like he had never seen Caesar so determined before, as if the universe would explode in the next second if he didn’t book a flight to China.

With the seventy-million-dollar dog-head necklace around his neck, his boss hurried off.

As if he was headed to a long-awaited rendezvous.