Son Confronts His Own Father with a History Book

Tang San looked at the empty left sleeve visible through the crack in the door. Without backing down, he stepped into the smithy.

The furnishings inside were exceedingly sparse. Though it was called a smithy, it contained little more than a forge burning with dark red coals and a blackened anvil.

Tang Hao held a hammer in one hand, his brows knotted tightly. Lowering his voice, he growled:

"Who told you to come running into these remote mountains? Get back to Nuoding Academy and study!"

He turned around and propped the hammer beside the anvil, cutting off the conversation in a stiff tone:

"I'm just a crippled blacksmith scraping out a living in the mountains. There's no reason to come looking for me. You're going back down the mountain tomorrow morning."

On the group's livestream, father and son stood face-to-face with the forge between them.

The spectator counter wasted no time, jumping to "The spectator gallery is boiling ×10200" as soon as things got started.

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: The old ancestor's still refusing to admit it! His son's already tracked him to his door, but he's still pretending to be an ordinary blacksmith!]

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: A textbook first-stage reaction. Deny everything to the death, and try to use his authority as an elder to scare the grandmaster into going back.]

In the new Perching Swan Academy dormitory, Qin Zhaoye watched the chat posts popping up on the public screen and reached for the session host's console.

He pressed the bronze "Lock topic" button, locking the discussion to "Father and son confront each other face-to-face," then casually suppressed two off-topic posts.

After that, he retrieved the previously archived summaries of the hard evidence from the backend and sent them to Tang San through the livestream channel.

[Group leader: The topic is locked. The original records of the hard evidence in the old cases have been submitted. Will the party involved please check them against the files.]

Inside the smithy, Tang San glanced at the history-book summary that had appeared in his palm, then looked up and met his father's bloodshot eyes.

"Dad, you're not an ordinary blacksmith."

Tang San's voice was steady as he read out each word in the quiet smithy:

"The Official History of the First Era says it clearly: your name is Tang Hao, and you're the youngest Titled Douluo in the Clear Sky Sect."

He watched his father's teeth clench tighter and tighter, but he didn't stop. He went on:

"Later generations called you the strongest blacksmith in history. You worked as a blacksmith in Holy Soul Village for six years, and back then, you severely injured a high-ranking member of Spirit Hall with a single hammer blow."

Tang Hao's right hand, resting on the edge of the forge, trembled violently, and sparks crackled in the firebox.

He whipped his head around, his gaze scraping across Tang San's face like a knife, then sharply changed the subject:

"Where did you hear all this madness?! Did someone out there make up this nonsense to trick you into a trap?!"

When Tang San said nothing, he hurriedly added another sentence.

"Little San, the waters out there run too deep. No matter who taught you to say these things, forget them right now and get down the mountain immediately!"

But Tang San didn't retreat so much as half a step. He merely brushed a finger across the phantom image in his palm, bringing up the second and third pages of the original records.

"No one tricked me. The history books of later generations recorded everything you did."

Tang San's gaze fell on his father's empty left sleeve, and his voice grew even deeper than before:

"The second entry records the truth about your severed arm. Back then, you cut off your own left arm to protect me and sever ties with the sect."

Tang Hao's breathing grew heavy all at once, and veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping the edge of the forge.

Tang San did not stop. Meeting his gaze, he read out the third piece of hard evidence:

"The third is the Clear Sky Sect's mountain sealing. Spirit Hall came to their door and threatened them, so the Clear Sky Sect shut its gates and sealed the mountain to protect itself."

At that, he paused.

"The sect left you outside its gates. All three of these things are written in the official history. Dad, how much longer are you going to hide them?"

When the three pieces of hard evidence had been read out in one breath, nothing remained in the cramped smithy but the crackling of the coals in the forge.

Tang Hao opened his mouth, but the rebuke on the tip of his tongue was completely blocked by the words "written in the official history."

He desperately wanted to deny it, but the six years in Holy Soul Village, the severed arm, and the sealing of the mountain were all matters no outsider could possibly have pieced together.

The forge fire flickered brighter and dimmer, illuminating Tang Hao's face and its unkempt stubble.

The veins in his right hand stood out one by one as he gripped the edge of the anvil, then his fingers slowly loosened.

After another moment, the Titled Douluo who had once smashed his way through Spirit Hall's encirclement finally let his shoulders slump and dropped onto the wooden block beside the anvil.

He lowered his head and stared at the scraps of iron scattered on the ground, falling completely silent.

After all, he had spent twelve years pretending to be an "anonymous blacksmith," only for his own son to expose him to his face with a history book!

On the livestream's public screen, the spectator counter exploded, climbing all the way to "The spectator gallery is boiling ×13600"!

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: A killing blow! From denying everything to forcing a change of subject, then going completely silent—it feels like all three stages of breaking his defenses landed!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: The grandmaster is so fierce! He unleashed his ultimate move right in the old ancestor's face with a history book, and the old ancestor couldn't even find the words to argue back!]

[The Bystander Sees Clearly: Three old accounts laid bare at once, every escape route blocked. So apart from his preset response, he probably has nothing left to say.]

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: While we're at it, a reminder for Old Tang: in that bet over which of them would be the first to slap a history book on the table, the grandmaster definitely showed his hand first!]

At the desk in the new dormitory, Qin Zhaoye watched the silent Tang Hao on the screen, then reached out unhurriedly and pressed the golden "Hard evidence verified" seal on the bronze scroll.

The first breach in the father-and-son confrontation had been pried open, so a gleaming golden notice immediately filled the public screen.

[Golden notice: Three major pieces of hard evidence established in the face-to-face confrontation between father and son. The party involved had his defenses broken on the spot. Group leader credited with 1,500 Talking Capital!]

[Group leader: The three major old cases have been verified face-to-face. The page on the blacksmith shop is now turned.]

At the same moment, in the Pope's Palace in Spirit City, Bibi Dong sat alone behind a long purple-and-gold desk. A long while passed before she finally moved her gaze away from the three pieces of hard evidence on the group's public screen.

With a cold expression, she reached out and personally twisted open the dark-iron hidden compartment on the left side of the desk, then slowly drew out a top-secret original scroll that had been sealed away for years.

It was the original internal file on Spirit Hall's hunt for Ah Yin and Tang Hao, and its subsequent pressure on the Clear Sky Sect to seal the mountain.

Her plan was simple: compare the details against the original scroll. If the group's history book exaggerated even one point or failed to match, she could settle it in her mind that the historian was merely chasing shadows.

But when she slowly opened the yellowed pages and scanned the casualty records and the sequence of events surrounding the mountain sealing, her hand suddenly froze.

The severe injuries and losses among the high-ranking members recorded in the original scroll, as well as the causes and consequences of the Clear Sky Sect's mountain sealing, matched the hard evidence read out in the smithy word for word!

She had intended to use the original scroll to prove herself right, but instead, she had personally stamped her seal on the group's hard evidence.

Bibi Dong stared at the vermilion seal at the end of the original scroll for a long time. Now, even the last shred of room for denial was gone.

She closed the top-secret scroll, then picked up a vermilion brush and added a forceful note to the ledger of doubts about the historian at her side:

"The original file on the old cases has been verified. It matches the official history in the group without the slightest discrepancy. This person possesses this hall's top-secret original records."

Only after she had finished writing did she set down the brush. Her fingertips tapped softly on the desk, again and again, her expression so dark it seemed it could drip water.

In the smithy nestled in the remote mountains, the forge fire had slowly dimmed at some unknown point.

Tang Hao sat on the wooden block for a long time without saying a word. At last, he raised a hand and wiped his face, then said hoarsely:

"Since you've even gotten to the bottom of the sect sealing the mountain and my severed arm, why come looking for a cripple like me?"

Tang San stood across the forge and was just about to speak when, all of a sudden, a rapid peal of bells rang out in the backend of the Myriad Ages Douluo Group!

Then a crimson-and-gold system announcement appeared directly at the top of the public screen:

"Group Hub monitoring report: Core living individual 'Tang Hao,' highly connected to the First Era timeline, detected. Causal weight meets the required threshold!"

"Automatic system selection procedure initiated. Countdown to new member joining the group has begun!"

Bright red countdown numbers ticked down rapidly in the center of the public screen.

[Ten-Thousand-Year Melon Field Contractor: Holy shit?! The Group Hub directly selected the old ancestor himself to join the group?!]

[Ancestral Precepts Recitation Champion: It's over! The grandmaster just pinned him down with a history book, and now he's going to streak naked under his real name on his first day in the group?!]

In the smithy, as the selection channel locked on, the phantom bronze scroll still visible in Tang San's palm suddenly burst into golden light.

Tang Hao instantly looked up from the wooden block, his sharp gaze fixed on the bronze light hovering over his son's palm.

His brow tightly furrowed, he lowered his voice and asked of his own accord:

"Little San, what is that thing in your hand?"