Chapter 270: Resolving Confusion, The Book of Heritage (5k)

Wen Yan was a bit angry at first when he listened, even ready to call Pei Tugou, but the more he heard, the quieter he became. In the end, his mood calmed down.

He dared to bet Minister Cai’s head on it—Sparrow Cat was just embellishing, making a mountain out of a molehill.

"I just came out of the Nanwu County Scorching Sun Department’s warehouse and got something."

Wen Yan aimed the camera at the fossil he’d taken out.

Sparrow Cat instantly fell silent, its pupils widening to their largest.

Wen Yan spoke unhurriedly.

"If this doesn’t work, I can go get something else to show you."

Sparrow Cat’s ears instantly went airplane-mode; it still understood what Wen Yan meant.

"I saw it clearly, really, that Taoist looked shifty-eyed and sneaky, secretly circled around the mountain to the front, peeped at the little one.

He even knelt in front of some portrait, saying he was going to take the little one away, for real.

I’m telling you, even if you shook out a whole trainload of yellow-robed Taoist priests, he wouldn’t even flinch."

"Did he say who he was?"

"No..."

"Tell me again from the beginning."

This time Sparrow Cat behaved, honestly recounting what it saw.

Toward the end, Wen Yan frowned—he found this description... kind of familiar.

"What did that Taoist priest look like?"

"Shen Gongbao’s goatee, shifty eyes, wearing glasses..."

"Alright, just take the phone and go find that Taoist."

Sparrow Cat grabbed the phone and shot out; sure enough, nearby it spotted the Taoist priest.

"Hey, you stinky Taoist, answer your phone."

The Taoist answered, glanced at the screen, vaguely feeling like the person looked familiar.

But Wen Yan recognized him at a single glance—this was the Taoist who, when Wen Yan was in his teens, had bamboozled him so thoroughly he’d remember it for a lifetime.

"Taoist Qingfeng, what wind blew you to Nanwu County? Back then you tricked me good, and now you want to abduct my son too?"

As soon as Wen Yan spoke, the Taoist looked more closely at Wen Yan, only getting more awkward the more he looked.

The thing was, over the years, he’d met so many people, and conned even more; he couldn’t recognize Wen Yan anymore.

Teenage Wen Yan and Wen Yan in his twenties—unless you knew him, that’d be quite a difference.

He thought back: it was probably seven or eight years ago, and when he met people outside, he used to call himself Qingfeng Taoist.

He hadn’t used that Dao title in many years now.

He switched his Dao title every year exactly to avoid this kind of scenario.

As long as he met someone who recognized him, as soon as the other party spoke up, he’d be able to recall roughly which year they’d met, and could quickly remember.

But this time—he really didn’t recognize this one.

Looking at the other’s age, doing a bit of mental math—he’d probably met this young guy when he was just a teenager.

No way, right? He should only have conned a handful of teenage boys, tops?

What did he con him about?

He really couldn’t remember.

Even more awkwardly, through the video, he could also see Wen Yan sitting next to a box with a tag, up on some steps, and behind him was the office building of Nanwu County Scorching Sun Department.

He’d traveled all over for years; of course he could tell at a glance where Wen Yan was.

And looking at that box—even he’d heard of those. That was the standard box from the Scorching Sun Department warehouse, all the labels totally uniform.

And for Wen Yan to be able to sit there so casually with the box, video calling someone—that was definitely not just some regular warehouse staff.

In other words, this young man was now with the Scorching Sun Department, and most likely had just made a contribution and received something from the warehouse as a reward.

Sure enough, before he could say anything, he heard Wen Yan continue,

"Taoist Qingfeng, isn’t what you’re doing just a bit much?

I’m on the frontlines, risking my life for the Divine Land, barely surviving all odds only to just return alive.

Meanwhile, you’re trying to quietly run off with my son behind my back.

Isn’t that a little too much?"

"I wasn’t! I wasn’t sneaking!" Qingfeng Taoist denied it instantly—this accusation he could not take.

"Fine, then just say it—were you planning to take my son or not? If you say you weren’t, I’ll go find the Minister now."

"No need for that, really... no need..."

Qingfeng Taoist let out a long sigh.

"This humble Taoist was just dazzled by what I saw and got excited, truly not meaning to be so abrupt.

I’ve cultivated many years, and normal matters wouldn’t make me lose my composure like this.

I bet even the current Heavenly Master, if he saw a still-nursing baby who—dammit—had already built a Spirit Platform Dao Foundation, would have their mind shaken like me.

I didn’t know you..."

Wen Yan was shocked—what? His dopey son had established a Spirit Platform Dao Foundation?

When?

Wen Yan instantly thought back to what had happened before.

The Seventh Great-Uncle Master gave him the Celestial Sword Master hoping he could use it as a Heavenly Master’s tool to fish for some benefit, maybe skip some of the troublesome early-stage stuff and go straight to building the Spirit Platform Dao Foundation.

If it didn’t work this time, then it would really mean Wen Yan had zero cultivation talent—so bad that even a Heavenly Master doing magic personally couldn’t save him.

Wen Yan already knew the result, but he couldn’t say at the time. He really, in the literal sense, had no soul; the soul had all gone to his dopey son, so he could forget about ever cultivating seriously in this lifetime.

Otherwise, the Calamity Protector Goddess had already given him the Heavenly Bestowed Treasure Talisman and the Calamity Protector Water Official Talisman—he would have tried cultivating with the treasure ages ago.

Having a Heavenly Bestowed Treasure Talisman—that starting point’s a whole class above ordinary Daoist Masters.

But he never even thought of it, because he already knew any attempts were pointless.

He’d never have guessed, though—he didn’t build the Spirit Platform Dao Foundation, but his dopey son, somehow, did.