Tang San Used a History Book to Find His Father

In the new dormitory at Perching Swan Academy, Qin Zhaoye withdrew the finger he had pressed against the bronze scroll.

The trace of an alteration on the underlying log page had now vanished completely, without leaving the faintest remnant.

"Even the Eye of Historical Observation can't detect the annotation. There's something else hidden beneath the Group Hub."

Qin Zhaoye narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't in a hurry to investigate. With a gentle flick of his fingertip, he switched the backend back to the main public screen.

After all, at the top of the screen, a notification for a live father-search check-in was flashing with golden light.

In a canyon deep in the mountains, Tang San stopped before a rocky riverbank, a pack on his back and a parchment covered in coordinates clutched tightly in his hand.

The parchment showed the route they had worked out by combining three lines of evidence. Even the bends in the mountain streams were clearly marked.

Tang San lowered his head and slowly pushed aside some dead grass beside a pile of rocks, revealing half a wooden hammer handle, rotted and blackened.

He crouched down and ran his fingers over the splinters at the broken end, then said in a low voice:

"The grain at the break matches the impact marks on the side of the stone furnace by the waterfall exactly. It really is here."

Since several people in the group had worked out the route together, Tang San remained silent for a moment before raising his hand and posting an image of the old half-handle to the group's public screen.

[Tang San: At the first marked coordinate, there's half an old hammer handle under the rocks on the riverbank. It matches the impact marks on the stone furnace.]

The moment the image appeared, the previously quiet public screen erupted.

Lan Xuanyu was the quickest. In the blink of an eye, he posted a high-definition comparison image from "Official History of the First Era: Artifact Studies" in the group.

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: It matches! That angled nonslip groove at the end of the handle was definitely made using the Holy Soul Village smithy's method!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Holy shit! He really dug it out from under the rocks?!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Old Lan, your lousy geography book even marked the exact spot where someone threw away a hammer handle?!]

The more Tang Wulin looked, the more excited he became, because the location of the hole was almost exactly where the geography book had shown it.

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Isn't the founding ancestor using a history book as a compass? Wherever it points, he hits the mark!]

[The Bystander Sees Clearly: The broken end points toward the northwest ridge. That suggests whoever threw the handle away back then was probably heading uphill.]

After commenting on the break, Huo Yuhao pulled out the old defense zone map and compared it again.

[The Bystander Sees Clearly: And it matches the route through the old defense zone's blind spots perfectly.]

Beside the mountain stream, Tang San looked at the comparison image marked with a red circle in the group and felt considerably more reassured. He covered the old hammer handle with grass again.

"At first I was worried I'd come all this way for nothing, but now even half a piece of rotten wood is exactly where it should be."

He tightened his grip on the parchment and climbed step by step along the northwest ridge Huo Yuhao had pointed out.

But the mountain path grew more remote as he went, and eventually even the cries of birds and beasts in the forest began to fade.

After walking for roughly half an hour, he finally came to a steep cliff face sheltered from the wind.

Tang San checked the second red dot on the parchment, reached out to push aside the hanging kudzu vines, and examined a hollow in the rock face with great care.

A chisel mark about an inch deep scored the bluish-gray stone, and a short inscription beside it recorded the year the mountain had been sealed.

It was the year the Clear Sky Sect had shut its doors and sealed the mountain. So much time had passed that the mountain winds had long since worn the edges of the inscription smooth.

"Even the year the mountain was sealed is carved here..."

Tang San ran his hand over the cold, hard inscription. After a while, he sent the second piece of physical evidence back to the group.

[Tang San: I found the inscription recording the year the mountain was sealed on the sheltered side of the cliff. The final coordinate is just ahead.]

This time, the spectator counter jumped straight to "Spectators are in an uproar ×9100."

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: The mountain-sealing inscription checks out too! Both landmarks are dead on. The secluded forge must be up ahead!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Aah, everything matches! He didn't take a single wrong turn! History-book navigation really didn't let me down!]

[The Bystander Sees Clearly: The chain of physical evidence is complete, so he's right ahead in the mountain hollow. There's no need for further doubt.]

At the desk in the new dormitory, Qin Zhaoye looked at the two verification images on the public screen and unhurriedly reached out to press the right side of the bronze scroll.

He retrieved the original coordinate file from the backend, the one produced by combining the three lines of evidence, and checked off the three pieces of physical evidence one by one.

The old stone furnace, the half hammer handle, and the mountain-sealing inscription all matched!

He tapped with his fingertip and pressed the golden "Hard Evidence Confirmed" reconciliation seal. The two file pages closed together with a click.

A glittering golden notice immediately sprang out above the scroll and stretched across the entire public screen.

[Golden notice: Father-search historical research validated, confirmed a second time, and proven live. The group owner receives 500 Talking Capital!]

Qin Zhaoye glanced at the amount credited, then tapped the scroll lightly and sent a line of text to settle the crowd.

[Group Owner: Three pieces of evidence confirmed, coordinates verified. This historian records only hard evidence.]

It was only one short sentence, but once it appeared on the public screen, the group's excitement surged again.

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: The group owner has so much presence! From the stone furnace to the forge, everything's exactly where he said it would be. It feels like he wasn't off by half a step!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: I used to think history books were just dead words, but once the group owner stamps something, it's iron law!]

Beneath the cliff, Tang San looked at the words "This historian records only hard evidence" on the public screen and let out a quiet breath.

The question of whether he would find him was finally settled, but another, heavier pressure welled up.

"He spent six years smithing without breathing a word, then hid in these deep mountains and old forests after leaving the village."

Tang San murmured to himself, "When I open the door, how should I start asking about Mother and the sect?"

He pinched the hem of his clothes and, without replying to the group, stepped around the final bend in the cliff.

When Tang San remained silent for a long time, the three descendants in the group immediately sensed the storm brewing.

Lan Xuanyu promptly submitted an application for a new betting pool in the Group Hub's betting section.

In the new dormitory, Qin Zhaoye caught sight of the application popping up in the backend and pressed the bronze button to approve the pool.

The next moment, a new pool with gold characters on a red background appeared at the top of the public screen.

"A new historical betting pool is open: 'In the father-son showdown, who will slam the history book on the table first?' Place your bets!"

As soon as the pool appeared, three golden streaks of wagered light raced to land in the pot.

Lan Xuanyu was the first to put 800 Talking Capital on "Tang San reveals the history book as his trump card first." Huo Yuhao followed with 500 on the same side, but Tang Wulin refused to follow suit, putting all 700 of his Talking Capital on "Tang Hao speaks up to question him first."

In the blink of an eye, the pot was full with 2,000 Talking Capital!

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Old Lan, you don't know a hammer's worth! The founding ancestor is so filial, he'll definitely greet him first when he goes in!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: The old ancestor's the one with a fiery temper. He'll definitely be the first to lose patience and slam the table!]

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: Oh, give me a break! You memorized the abridged ancestral precepts, while I read the original historical records!]

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: The founding ancestor took pictures as evidence all along the way. If he doesn't lay his cards on the table when he goes in, is he going to help work the bellows and hammer iron instead?!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: Bullshit! That's called courtesy before force! If the founding ancestor flips the table first, I'll copy the ancestral precepts backward ten times!]

[The Bystander Sees Clearly: One kept the secret for twelve years; the other investigated all the way here. Tang San holds the initiative, so I'm betting on him to lay his cards on the table first too.]

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: Hear that?! Even Old Huo is on my side. Just wait till you have to copy those ancestral precepts!]

In the new dormitory, Qin Zhaoye watched the 2,000 Talking Capital flow into the pot and, as usual, placed no bet.

"Go ahead and argue. Once father and son have finished their showdown, the ten percent commission will find its way into my account."

The shouting match across the public screen continued without end, and the counter climbed all the way to "Spectators are in an uproar ×9800."

In fact, this 2,000-Talking-Capital bet had pushed the "father-son showdown" to the top of the entire group's headlines!

Meanwhile, in a hollow deep in the mountains, Tang San had finished the final half kilometer of the mountain path.

In a clearing in the forest ahead stood a very crude forge built from rough timber and bluestone.

A faint smell of coal smoke drifted lazily from the chimney, but not a sound of hammering came from inside.

Tang San stopped before the wooden gate outside the forge, and the group's live feed froze on the weathered gate with him.

The shouting match on the public screen abruptly ceased. Not a single new comment appeared; everyone held their breath and waited.

Tang San stood outside the gate for a moment, then reached up and straightened the front of his clothes before knocking on it.

The mountain hollow was so quiet that the soft knock on the wooden gate sounded unusually clear.

There was silence inside at first. Only then did heavy footsteps sound.

With a creak, the gate was pulled halfway open from within.

Dim firelight shone through the opening, illuminating an empty left sleeve first.

The man who had gravely injured Spirit Hall's higher-ups in the history books held an iron hammer in one hand. Looking at his son outside, he asked in a hoarse voice:

"How did you find your way here?"