Taking two deep breaths, Owen Sutton calmed himself down. Afterward, when he once again willed the boxes to rise, the two boxes slowly floated up once more.

However, manipulating the water to float the boxes was extremely exhausting—compared to how his consciousness had previously roamed the lake, it was a world of difference.

The boxes had only floated about ten meters high before Owen Sutton was already too exhausted to continue, and the oak boxes fell back into the lake.

The feeling of having the treasure chests so close yet being powerless to get them drove Owen Sutton crazy. Later, he came up with an idea: after resting for a while and regaining his strength, he used his consciousness to control the water’s direction, rolling the treasure chests toward the shallow shore.

This way, it was much less effort for him.

After hiding the treasure chests by the shore, Owen Sutton put on his clothes and ran out of the inn. He saw the innkeeper had a Ford pickup parked out front, so he said, “Hey man, here’s the thing—my grandpa’s fishery has some stuff that needs to be taken care of. Could I borrow your truck for a bit? Uh, I’ll fill up the tank for you.”

The chubby white innkeeper chuckled and said, “Qin, your grandfather was a great man. I admire him a lot. For his sake, you can use the truck whenever you want. Of course, if you fill up the tank, that’s even better.”

Auerbach had already introduced Owen Sutton’s identity. After the innkeeper heard he was Henry Sutton’s grandson, he even gave him a 20% discount on his room.

By now it was already afternoon, and the small town was starting to get lively. But Lake Chenbao was five kilometers outside of town, and the area around it was still quiet and deserted—perfect for Owen Sutton to make his move.

Taking advantage of the empty surroundings, Owen Sutton used his consciousness to control the water and push the two oak boxes onto the shore, then loaded them into the truck bed.

After securing the oak boxes, Owen Sutton drove straight to the Great Qin Fishery. There were quite a few buildings at the fishery. Owen Sutton found a two-story maple house; Auerbach had said this was his grandfather’s residence when he was alive. The two maple trees beside the house were planted by his grandfather himself when he first arrived at the fishery.

After going upstairs, Owen Sutton opened the small box. The iron chains wrapped around it had already fallen off in the water. There was a hammer in the house, and with a loud bang, he smashed it open.

When the box was smashed open, Owen Sutton’s eyes lit up, because inside were rolls of paintings sealed in plastic bags!

Chapter 0006: Squirrel Neighbor

Owen Sutton hurriedly opened the plastic bags. Thanks to the good sealing, the paintings were well preserved. He opened one and saw it depicted a poplar grove—a sketch. The poplar grove was drawn quite well, with a sense of wind blowing through the trees vividly captured on the paper.

The first thing Owen Sutton did was look for the artist’s signature, but there was no name, only the letters “A.A.P.”

“Who is this A.A.P. master?” Owen Sutton wondered.

He continued flipping through several more paintings and finally learned the full name of the AAP master: Arthur-Ashod-Pinajian, 亚瑟·皮那让.

Owen Sutton gave up hope—this guy was definitely not a master. Not because he hadn’t heard the name, but because he then found another painting, also signed by this so-called master, but it was a comic-style red-haired woman!

The woman was beautiful and voluptuous, and Pinajian’s comic art was absolutely top-notch. Even a portrait like this made Owen Sutton feel restless, which showed the artist’s skill.

But Owen Sutton had never heard of any master on the level of Picasso, Van Gogh, or Monet who also drew comics.

Owen Sutton sighed. He looked through all the paintings—they were all by this Arthur Pinajian, more than twenty in total, including landscapes, portraits, and comics. The styles varied, ranging from sketches, colored drawings, oil paintings, to abstract art.

Just as Owen Sutton was feeling down, a surprise arrived unexpectedly. When he opened the last painting, a cluster of blazing sunflowers appeared before his eyes. Next to the sunflowers was a line: To my wandering life, Vincent Willem van Gogh!

These sunflowers were like a raging fire, the style so magnificent, the colors so intense. After seeing Van Gogh’s signature on this sunflower painting, Owen Sutton’s heart was set ablaze: This is Van Gogh!

Owen Sutton vaguely remembered that Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” series had more than twenty paintings, some of which were lost. To confirm this, he took out his phone to search for information online, but the town’s network signal was terrible. He tried for ten minutes, refreshing over a hundred times, but couldn’t find a single result.

With no other choice, Owen Sutton called William Grant. Fortunately, he had activated global roaming before coming, or he wouldn’t have been able to call home.

It was already 4 p.m. in Canada, which was dawn back home. William Grant was still half-asleep: “Damn it, you’re a real beast, calling at this hour?”

Owen Sutton was anxious and shouted, “Be serious, damn it! Hurry up and look something up for me—how many ‘Sunflowers’ did Van Gogh paint? What do they look like? I found one in Canada!”

“No way, how could a masterpiece like that be so easy to find? You lucky bastard, are you for real?” William Grant asked.