Volume One: Taiwei Sect

Chapter 1: Henry Brooks and Grace Sutton

Turning off Jinghai Avenue, Henry Brooks parked his well-used Volvo sedan—already passed through three owners—outside the alley. Looking in from the entrance, the alley, seven or eight meters wide, was shrouded in dim light and shadow beneath the dense leaves of two rows of plane trees.

This was one of the few old stone alleys still preserved in the city. The old residential buildings on both sides had mottled walls with peeling lime, and the stone slabs paving the road had been worn smooth and glossy by centuries of footsteps, exuding a dark luster. Moss, weeds, and wildflowers with tiny petals grew sparsely at the base of the street walls...

Henry Brooks didn’t know why the other party had chosen such a place for their meeting and transaction.

Such an alley would have been unremarkable in the past, but as city dwellers grew weary of concrete high-rises, they began to appreciate the elegant charm of these old streets. Even though it wasn’t a holiday, quite a few men and women were wandering the alley, so it could hardly be called a secluded or deserted place.

It wasn’t yet the appointed time. Henry Brooks pulled out the squashed cigarette pack from his back pocket; the few remaining cigarettes inside were nearly broken. He cursed his luck, straightened one out, and after searching himself for a while, finally found his lighter. Lighting up, he took a couple of deep drags, and only then did his nerves settle a bit, as if the vague unease in his heart had drifted away with the curling smoke.

Henry Brooks was uneasy about the transaction set to take place in half an hour.

Fatty Goodwin said the other party had a batch of ancient relics dug up from a tunnel construction site and was eager to sell. If they could pull off this deal, they’d never have to worry about food and clothing for the rest of their lives. But Henry Brooks was well aware of the risks lurking behind this matter.

Dealing in relics looted from ancient tombs was not something law-abiding citizens would do, and the whole affair could very well be a trap set for them.

Although Henry Brooks had a bit of a reputation in this line of work, he would never dare boast that he’d never been fooled.

Nor would Henry Brooks ever trust Fatty Goodwin unreservedly just because they’d known each other for four or five years. After all, only Fatty Goodwin had had direct contact with the other party, and all he’d brought back were a few photos of the relics.

In this business, if someone had the chance to secure a lifetime of comfort, they’d sell even their own parents.

Henry Brooks picked up his phone from the dashboard and dialed Fatty Goodwin’s number. The music rang for a while, but no one answered.

Henry Brooks thought to himself that Fatty Goodwin was probably on his way. He had deliberately arrived half an hour early to circle the area a few times, just in case anything seemed off, so he could spot it in advance...

“What are you thinking about? Don’t tell me you’re thinking about me?”

Just as Henry Brooks tossed his phone onto the dashboard, a waft of fragrant scent drifted in through the car window. Grace Sutton had somehow walked up from behind and was now leaning in through the window to talk to him.

Grace Sutton was wearing only a black lace undershirt with a somewhat low neckline. As she rested her arm on the edge of the window to speak to Henry Brooks, her full, fair chest pressed against the window, revealing a deep, enticing cleavage, the curve of her skin as smooth as jade.

Henry Brooks ignored Grace Sutton’s flirtatious remark, glanced around and, seeing no sign of Fatty Goodwin, finally opened the car door to let Grace Sutton in. “Where’s Fatty Goodwin?”

“Why does he have to be the one to handle this deal? Can’t I do it myself?” Grace Sutton’s big, watery eyes fixed on Henry Brooks’s face as she asked coyly, her tone like that of a couple teasing each other.

Grace Sutton was an exceptionally beautiful and captivating woman. Besides her flawless features and fair, alluring face, her figure was also outstanding.

When the car door opened, Henry Brooks saw her long, shapely legs wrapped in jeans, and her full, round hips looked as if they might burst out of the denim. He couldn’t help but swallow, feeling the urge to reach out and give her a squeeze.

After graduating with a master’s degree in archaeology from Northeast University, Henry Brooks joined the city’s Cultural Relics Bureau, where Grace Sutton was already working.

In his youthful recklessness, Henry Brooks had once pursued Grace Sutton, but her shrewdness and rationality surpassed even her beauty. She knew exactly what she wanted—one could say she was pragmatic. She kept her relationship with Henry Brooks ambiguous, never too close nor too distant, but before long, she became the lover of the antique dealer Fatty Goodwin.

The largest antique market in Nanjing was at Caochangmen, but the antique business wasn’t limited to just a few city markets. It was mainly made up of two types of people.

The first type were the sources of ancient relics, controlling the supply. They often had direct ties to tomb robbers or counterfeiters, or were themselves part of such gangs.

These people were high-risk and moved in secret, rarely appearing openly in antique markets, yet they were the big sharks of the trade, known in the circle as “Grandmasters.”

The second type were the so-called “Second Masters,” the most common traders in the antique markets. They set up stalls or shops, selling all kinds of ancient bronzes, jades, porcelains—real or fake—directly to collectors and treasure hunters.