The museum recognized the samples as being from the time period of Emperor Qin, otherwise known as the emperor who united the entire country, standardized the language, and from whom China gets its name, and paid him the equivalent of three years' salary for the three carts he'd brought. Unfortunately, Yang immediately had to hand the cash over to his employers, who reduced his cut of the booty to a half-day's pay (because, y'know, communism). After that, a museum was built on top of the discovery, displacing Yang and his fellow villagers, who at this point were presumably wishing he had gone with the "Let's throw these statues in the river" option.

VCG / Getty Images
And after seeing them sell little chocolaterracotta men in Santa hats, we wish he had too.

In a twist of fate, the museum became a huge hit. It began drawing millions of visitors a year, which ended up actually benefiting all those locals. Yang himself started signing autographs for museum-goers, which earned him up to 1,000 yuan a month (way more than he'd been earning digging holes in the ground and accidentally reclaiming lost history). He even met world leaders, including Bill Clinton.

Oved / Wiki Commons
Once you get past the dozens of morons pretending to be you for the sake of a couple bucks, it's a sweet-ass gig.

Then he abruptly decided to quit that job and sort of doesn't have any income now. Maybe he found another tomb somewhere and just doesn't want to tell anyone about it.

The Avengers are pretty awesome, right? Nobody hates superhero movies (except maybe Zack Snyder), and Earth's mightiest heroes have had some pretty bitchin' outings. So, if you were combing through old shoe boxes at a yard sale and happened to find an old Avengers comic for $2, you'd probably buy it. Now imagine you found an original sheet of uncolored art from one of the first-ever issues of The Avengers for $2 at a yard sale, and you didn't even have to kill anyone to get it. That's exactly what happened to 12-year-old Rasheemah Bartley.

Rasheemah and her mom are regular garage-sale browsers, and on one of their routine outings, Rasheemah spotted the sheet of black-and-white Avengers panels in a stack of some bullshit Frankenstein comics and bought the whole lot to take home and use as a coloring book.

Marvel Comics
Or just scribble black splotches all over that blasphemous not-Hiddleston who claims he's Loki.

When she and her mom brought the pages home, her stepfather took a look at them and realized they seemed pretty damn old. Since "pretty damn old" in the world of comic books can occasionally mean "worth all of the money," they took the pages to get them appraised and discovered that they were 100 percent original and worth about $48,000. Unfortunately, they also learned that the pages had recently been reported stolen from the Dallas-Fort Worth airport, which apparently has a Comic Book History wing. The police came by Rasheemah's house and forced them to sign the pages over but have yet to discover who actually stole them and why they chose to fence them at a yard sale for the cost of a bag of Fritos.

Imagine you're a farmer. (If you are a farmer, imagine you're a farmer who can breathe fire. It doesn't really have anything to do with the story, but it's pretty sick, right? You're a dragon who has mastered agriculture.) Imagine you're out there in a field, farming it up, and you come across a niche in a wall with a beautiful, ancient-looking statue. What do you do?

The answer, of course, is absolutely do not report your discovery to an officer of the French Navy.

Marie-Lan Nguyen / Louvre Museum
She loves playing hide-and-seek, but she can only hide since she can't cover her eyes.

That lesson was learned the hard way by Yorgos Kentrotas, another peasant who discovered history in a field, in the form of the Venus de Milo, one of the most famous statues ever sculpted. It's made appearances in museums, textbooks, and, most notably, Disney's Hercules.

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
Being destroyed in a film -- the true sign of fame.

How does a magnificent work of art like the Venus de Milo wind up in a random field? Well, you see, the sculpture dates back to Ancient Greece, and we aren't even entirely sure who made it. When Ancient Greece ceased to exist around A.D. 600, nobody really bothered to keep track of every little piece of Ancient Greek culture, and the Venus de Milo was one of the pieces that fell through the cracks for the next 1,200 years. That's when Yorgos Kentrotas stumbled upon it, nestled in some ruins on the island of Milos, in 1820.

NurPhoto / Getty Images
The one and only time a reputation like "a good place to hide the bodies" isn't all that bad.

At the same time, Milos was being handsomely explored by a French naval officer, Olivier Voutier, who helped Yorgos dig the statue out of the ruins. However, rather than return the statue to the people of Greece or compensate Yorgos in any way, Voutier and another officer decided it would be a perfect gift for their king, Louis XVIII, who apparently just loved the shit out of aloof, arm-less women. They shipped the Venus de Milo directly to France for King Louis, whose heartfelt, grateful reaction was, "Neat, we should put this somewhere." That somewhere turned out to be the Louvre, where the statue has (mostly) remained to this day. So, yeah, Yorgos should've kept his incredible discovery of priceless antiquity to his damn self.

Collection du Galion D'Or
At least he didn't live long enough to read all the books about Voutier "discovering" what he discovered.

You see, Michael's great-aunt had just died, and he was helping clean out her house of the decades of memorabilia that every old person is legally required to keep, when he found a bunch of perfectly preserved comics in a closet. They'd belonged to his great-uncle, who had died years before. Michael was vaguely aware of the comics' existence but had never been told about them in any detail and had no reason to think that any of them were valuable (indeed, most comics aren't).

It wasn't until he casually mentioned the collection to one of his co-workers that he decided to take a closer look. His co-worker mentioned offhand that it would be crazy if the collection contained the aforementioned Action Comics #1, or perhaps Detective Comics #27 (the first appearance of Batman). Michael went home to double-check and found that the box he had pulled from his great-aunt's closet had fucking both.

DC Comics
Good ol' great-aunt Martha.

According to some comic experts, Michael's collection, which in addition to the first appearances of Batman and Superman also contained the first appearance of The Human Torch and several early issues of Captain America, is one-of-a-kind. "The scope of this collection is, from a historian's perspective, dizzying," one said. The group of 200 comics, which had been begrudgingly shuffled from family member to family member like a hideous old desk lamp, sold at auction for $3.4 million in 2012, which is $50 million in 1938 money (the year Action Comics #1 was published).

Marvel Comics
Human Torch fetched $113,525, or $113,510 more than a Human Torch solo film would likely pull in.