I Am Your Natural Enemy

The Fourth Great-uncle Master had already pieced together a lot of information based on the records, plus the testimony Wen Yan brought.

Guarding for a thousand days can’t compare to just majorly beefing up the defenses here, then drawing the thief in.

If the other side wants to come, the first thing they’ll face is this epically enhanced grand tomb.

Back when Bai Jiahui came over, she first experienced the power of the grand tomb—her body was instantly destroyed.

Of course, if Wen Yan was handling this on his own, he’d totally do it this way too.

Guarding day in and day out is such a pain—just hurry up and kill ’em and be done with it.

But since it’s the Scorching Sun Department in charge, of course they gotta play it safe.

”When did the Scorching Sun Department start going with such a not-so-conservative strategy?”

”Ever since the third rift appeared, since even the Old Celestial Master said the Cloud Sea Grand Crevice was barely being held, the related strategies started shifting from ultra-conservative to just a bit more aggressive.”

”So, whether I get it or not, in the end, I’m still coming here to cast a blessing, right?”

”No, like I said, it’s up to you.” The Fourth Great-uncle Master said this very earnestly, like not only this matter, but even more things ahead—all for Wen Yan to decide.

Wen Yan pondered for a moment, and even now, he agreed with going for the direct blessing.

He hated this ”guarding forever” vibe, honestly he wanted to just barge over there himself and beat them down first—that’s way more reassuring.

He stretched out his hand, formed a Tao Finger, summoned the Explosive Great Sun, and vented its power in blessing-form; two almost visible surges of blazing yang energy poured into the two characters on the wall at the same time.

A surge of yang energy, like ripples, instantly swept across the whole grand tomb.

The chill inside the tomb was wiped out in a flash—like flames suddenly bursting forth, full of yang energy.

With his yang blessing as the medium, the two tombs finally fused completely, no longer separate, becoming a single special grand tomb—the rift suppressed dead center where the power was strongest.

The Fourth Great-uncle Master saw Wen Yan’s Tao Finger, light shining in his eyes, and totally didn’t care about keeping up appearances anymore—he just grinned hugely and burst out laughing.

They left the grand tomb together. After a few minutes, the Scorching Sun Department’s instruments went nuts with warning alarms, lights flashing, and all kinds of records popping up on the computer.

Off in the distance, a white French Bulldog in clothes was bolting over fast.

The dog was scowling as it gazed toward the entrance of the tomb.

”What the hell are you guys doing? That damn cat is wailing again! Are there even any other dogs left in a hundred-kilometer radius?”

The French Bulldog turned around and saw Wen Yan just staring at it, as if to say: Aren’t you a dog?

The French Bulldog thought for a second—maybe it wasn’t.

It hustled its little stubby legs and shot over to Wen Yan, head held high, opening its mouth with a tone way too old for its age.

”So you’re Wen Yan? Heard that dumb Sparrow Cat was adopted by you or something?”

”That’s not adoption, Sparrow Cat has his own salary.”

”Ha! Well, well, well! That dumb cat’s actually got a salary? What’s he get for food every day?”

”Like, a hundred and twenty, I think?”

The white French Bulldog’s already wrinkled face scrunched up even more. It stuck out a paw, scratched around on the ground for a bit, then just messily wiped away whatever it had scratched with both paws.

”Just tell me straight—is a hundred and twenty how many fifties?”

”Like, a little more than two?” Wen Yan guessed, not quite getting what this meant at first.

”Ha! Then that dumb cat’s behind—I’m at eight now. Though, he’s still young; just two in this little time, that’s not bad.”

Wen Yan thought through that logic and finally caught on—so that’s where Sparrow Cat’s demand for fifty per meal came from.

In this French Bulldog’s head, fifty was the bare minimum unit—if you couldn’t divide it by fifty, it just didn’t get it.

But dang, four hundred a day for food? That’s a lot of missions completed for this guy.

Four hundred just for raw ingredients—not including labor, not including gas—pure groceries. And their supplier has way better prices than normal folks at the market, with way stricter requirements.

”Impressive, impressive.” Wen Yan gave a thumbs-up, then pointed at the tomb.

”That sound coming out from inside—what’s it actually mean?”

”Doesn’t mean squat. If you translate it, it’s basically: ’I’m awesome—come work for me, I’ll make sure you eat good and live large.’

Basically just bullshitting idiots into coming to die—when in doubt, blood sacrifice.

Pfft, those cats have zero creativity.

Even some ghosts are more entertaining. Ghosts—now they each have their own tricks.

Last time I even met one that choked to death sneaking my kibble, and it was scared I’d steal its dog food...”

The white French Bulldog started rambling, bragging about all its past stories.

Wen Yan just listened, amused—it’s the kind of detail never in the files.

In the files, everything’s super official, striving for accuracy—like reading an autopsy report.

For a good story, nothing beats hearing people brag in person.

Wen Yan sat there, listening to the French Bulldog boast, and even poured it a bowl of water.

A few minutes later, a staff member from the Scorching Sun Department brought over a phone, set it down in front of the Bulldog.

The General Director’s voice came through the line.

”Little Bun, you’re at it again, huh? Got all your official duties wrapped up?”

”Of course I’m done! Easy as pie, nothing to it.

That cat over there never went to school, for sure.

All its bragging is basic and rough, same shtick over and over.

Or it’s just trying to summon by force, loud as hell.

Wants to summon me—what an idiot. I get eight meals a day, you know.

Three days with it and you’re starving nine times...”

The Bulldog jabbered nonstop, full-on roasting, and had long since kicked that other dog out of the ”Dog Club.”

”Alright, alright, just do your real work. If you solve this mess,

I’ll add another fifty for you—if you screw it up, I’m docking you two fifties.”

As soon as those words dropped, the Bulldog instantly shut up, and that miserable face went deadly serious—shot right to attention.

”I’m listening. That dumb dog over there is more desperate than before.

Hmm, there’s something else mixed in, too.

Yeah, something else, more dumb dogs around.

They’re brawling over there—that made the dumb dog start wailing.

Damn...that dumb dog’s lost it, starting to risk crossing worlds...”