Huh? Are they all real?...

It was as if someone had deliberately hidden all of this.

Moen, who had been walking nonstop, stopped the moment the thought crossed his mind.

After a moment of silence, he continued forward.

This is the most suitable divine path for him.

There is currently no other reason for him to give up this path.

As night fell in Baratheon, just before curfew began, Moen walked into the gates of a merchant guild.

Eastern Chamber of Commerce Alliance.

This is the association to which this chamber of commerce belongs.

They are the only ones in Baratheon who are the most powerful and capable of meeting Mohn's needs.

Not only do they have the most complete selection of goods, but their prices are also the fairest. Most importantly, they truly adhere to the principles of merchant ethics.

Protecting our guests' privacy is always our top priority!

It's safe to say that no one could be more suitable for Moen at this moment than them.

As soon as he entered, Moen addressed the receptionist:

"I have a good business idea that I'd like to discuss with your manager."

The receptionist smiled gently and then bowed to lead Moen to the meeting room next door.

A short while later, a lobby manager walked in:

"Sir, what do you need?"

Moen said:

"I have some newly acquired celebrity journals here. I think I can sell them to you in exchange for something."

"Celebrity journals? Sir, I must first tell you that not all celebrity journals can fetch a good enough price. Oh, gods above! Sir, please come with me to the third floor, I'll wake the chairman for you!"

Moen didn't say much, but simply took out a blank sheet of paper that he had just written a few words on.

Yes, I used the identity of the Lord of Westeros.

To be honest, Moen originally wanted to use a different identity and a different handwriting.

However, after much thought, the Grand Duke of Westeros's journal is still the most suitable for Baratheon.

Although it looks brand new, in the extraordinary world, as long as the handwriting is genuine, who can say it wasn't written twenty years ago?!

This is the first step Moen has prepared for his path to godhood—to resell his own notebooks a few times to earn start-up capital!

This is a combined chapter; I was so engrossed in writing it that I didn't notice it was separate, so I just posted it together.

Chapter 34 feels so real, it's like a fake.

On the second floor of the Eastern Chamber of Commerce, the Baratheon district branch president had just changed into his pajamas and was preparing to rest.

Then they heard a knock on the door:

"President, there is a guest I feel needs your personal attention."

The branch president's displeased expression vanished instantly.

"Wait a minute, I'll change my clothes right away."

"Yes, President."

The branch president asked while changing his clothes:

"What kind of guest is it? An extraordinary person, a nobleman, or both?"

"I'm not sure, but he looks like an ordinary civilian, the chairman."

"He called me without even knowing this? What business does he want to discuss?"

Slightly surprised, the branch president quickened his pace.

A successful businessman wouldn't act like a fool. The fact that his own people would come to him at this time clearly indicates that the other party is special.

"President, he has the Lord Westeros's notes."

"The Grand Duke's notes?"

The branch presidents couldn't help but exclaim in surprise.

This thing isn't exactly a contraband in Baratheon, but it's clearly not well-received on the surface.

Although the branch president knew that many nobles who had escaped death at the hands of the Grand Duke would secretly collect all sorts of things left behind by the Grand Duke.

To be honest, even the branch president couldn't understand what these people were thinking.

Shouldn't you all hate everything about the Grand Duke of Westeros?

Why do they criticize others so harshly on one hand, while simultaneously rushing to buy the legacy of the Grand Duke at a high price on the other?

The branch president couldn't understand, but he was a businessman; all he needed to do was collect goods and sell them at high prices.

Therefore, even their chamber of commerce only had a few less important documents signed by the Grand Duke.

"You said he seemed like a commoner, but he had the Grand Duke's notes in his hand. What kind of notes are they? Don't tell me they're some classified documents. We don't touch those things."

The principle of not crossing boundaries is one of the fundamental reasons why the Eastern Chamber of Commerce has grown so large.

The lobby manager said:

"President, please rest assured, it's just something I casually left behind. It doesn't even constitute a complete sentence."

"Oh, that's alright then."

Although such notes wouldn't be very valuable, it was still worth his effort to take action. After all, it was important to maintain the dignity of the Chamber of Commerce, and what if the other party still had the goods?

As they were talking, the branch president pushed open the door.

Upon seeing the president emerge, the lobby manager hesitated slightly before speaking:

"President, I have already sent someone to invite Mr. Hal."

"Hal? Why are you calling Hal? Is there something wrong with that notebook?"

Hal was a fortune teller in their chamber of commerce who specialized in authenticating these celebrity journals.

He is a prophetic being.

"President, I've seen it, it is indeed the Grand Duke's handwriting. But, but, it's too new."

A person who can become a lobby manager of a chamber of commerce must have unique abilities and a keen eye for talent.

"Too new?"

"Yes. It's so new."

"What kind of question is this?"

In the extraordinary world, it's not surprising that something is preserved in such good condition.

"President, you'll see when you see it. In short, I don't think it's fake, but I still feel like it's too new to be genuine."

The branch president gave him a strange look before laughing and tugging at his collar, saying:

"That's because your skills aren't up to par. Just you wait and see, with my eyesight, hehe!"

"Ah, it's so late, let's not wake Mr. Hal anymore. Let him get a good night's sleep!"

Hal was woken up, only to be told that he didn't need to go.

He scratched his head and drifted off to sleep again.

Meanwhile, at the Chamber of Commerce, the branch president, brimming with confidence, went up to the third floor and met Moen, who had been invited there earlier.

"Hello, sir. I've heard you have the Grand Duke of Westeros's notes here? Could you please authenticate them?"

Moen readily agreed, gesturing with his hand, and the staff member beside him presented the notes on the tray to the branch president.

The moment the branch president saw the notes, he broke out in a cold sweat.

This thing, this thing.

Is it real or fake?!

After glancing at the lobby manager beside him who seemed to be suppressing a laugh, the branch president wiped his sweat and forced a smile at Moen:

"Please wait!"

Then, he solemnly took out a pair of white silk gloves from his bosom and put them on.

After picking up the notebook, the branch president first examined it carefully under the light. From afar and up close, the result was that it was really bad, but also really fake.

After rubbing his eyes, the branch president held it to his nose and smelled it carefully.

The more he smelled it, the more he felt that it must be new paper that had been out of the factory for less than a week. He could even smell that it was produced by the Moss Paper Mill.

Theoretically, the result should be available by now.

The problem is that Moss Paper Mill is a century-old factory, and if someone had preserved it using a complex technique right after the Grand Duke wrote it down, it would be a problem.

This is not impossible.

After all, the handwriting on this paper is exactly the same as the Grand Duke's handwriting.

However, how should I put it, what's written here isn't anything secret, and it's not even a complete sentence.

It was as if the Grand Duke had left it unconsciously while he was thinking about something.

If it hadn't been left behind by someone of the Grand Duke's rank, it wouldn't have been worth anything at all.

So who would keep this thing?

Since he has access to the Grand Duke's first-hand documents and the right to dispose of and properly preserve them, wouldn't it be better for him to preserve something else?

At that moment, the branch president suddenly felt that this thing seemed to have appeared just to torment them, the merchants who were in the business of appraisal.

After forcing a few dry laughs, the branch president said to Moen:

Please wait a little longer.

The branch president then turned to the lobby manager and said:

"Quickly, go and call Mr. Hal here."

Poor Mr. Hal was woken up again just as he was falling asleep.

But he couldn't say no to his employer.

He had no choice but to come over, full of complaints.

Looking at the Grand Duke's Notebook before him, as a diviner of Sequence Six of the Prophet Path, his first reaction was that it must be fake.

Having been in the Chamber of Commerce for so long, he has developed some discernment.

The handwriting is indeed the same, but it looks too new.

So he didn't even take any preventative measures like magic potions, and immediately began his divination.

“Sir, wouldn’t you like to drink some potion or prepare for the ritual first? This is the Grand Duke of Westeros’s journal.”

Divination of those who have risen to power, even if they are deceased, can easily lead to trouble. After all, the fact that they are dead does not mean that the extraordinary entanglements they left behind have disappeared.

Moreover, it's not surprising that those in power are resurrected.

The fortune teller smiled and said:

"Need not."

Seeing this, Moen stopped trying to persuade him, figuring nothing serious would happen anyway.

The crowd then saw the confident fortune teller place his hand on his notebook, close his eyes, and fall asleep.

It's obvious that this is genuine.

Only genuine items can cause problems for those with extraordinary abilities who use them for divination.

Watching the fortune teller being carried away.

The branch president carefully put away Mo En's handwritten notes and said:

"You want to exchange this journal for three moonflowers and fifty milliliters of Silverlight Spring water. And, uh... let me see. Sir, are you sure you only want to exchange these things?"