Hundred Refinements Become True, Heavenly Craftsman Grandmaster

In the twenty-fourth year of Great Ming's Jingli reign, at the end of the midsummer in the Northern Frontier, the heat pressed down like a red-hot iron. In Northern Garrison City, blacksmith shops worked day and night, their furnaces casting a crimson glow across half the sky. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning iron filings, and even the wind carried a scorching heat.

Lin Zhao strode across the scorching bluestone path without pause, heading directly into the Myriad Treasures Pavilion in the city center, its eaves upturned like soaring wings. This establishment was the premier merchant of rare goods in Northern Garrison City. Two guards stood at the entrance, their saber sheaths polished to a shine, clearly seasoned fighters. They merely glanced at Lin Zhao, their composure suggesting they had seen it all before.

"Do you have Pangolin Dragon Essence?" Lin Zhao lifted the curtain, his voice low but cutting through the shop's hushed conversations. His accumulated Pangolin Dragon Essence was running low—it was a crucial auxiliary material for breaking through to the Heavenly Gang Realm. Every visit to Northern Garrison City, this was his top priority.

Behind the counter, the shopkeeper, a man with a goatee, paused his abacus and looked up, rubbing his hands with a wry smile. "My esteemed guest, you've been asking about that for half a year! Forget Northern Garrison City, even in the entire Northern Metropolitan Province, Pangolin Dragon Essence has become a legend for the past three years. On the Black Market, it's already fetching five hundred taels of silver per liang, but guess what? It's available in name only! If my shop had any stock, do you think I'd let dust settle on it?"

Lin Zhao frowned slightly, muttering to himself, Has Zhu Chenhao still not broken through to Legendary Grandmaster? Two years ago, it was rumored he faltered during his breakthrough due to internal energy imbalance. How long has it been? There's still no definitive news. If the imperial family shared some of their vast Pangolin Dragon Essence, I might have already reached the threshold of Grandmaster!

But such thoughts were only dared within his mind—he didn't have the guts to provoke that Imperial Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior. Zhu Chenhao's current prestige in the court and among officials was second only to the Director of Ceremonies and the Duke of Zhenguo. Even old noble families like the Duke of Zhenguo's Manor in the Northern Frontier garrisons treated him with courtesy. He represented the peak attainable by a Great Ming martial artist—the martial pressure of a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior could force an Entering Martial Master to their knees on the spot. Who dared to offend him?

Furthermore, whispers circulated among the martial world, claiming that to ensure Zhu Chenhao's peace of mind, the old emperor was considering breaking the ancestral rule of primogeniture succession and passing the throne to him, the prince who had the potential to advance to Legendary Grandmaster. Once the prince became a Mystic Martial Realm Legendary Grandmaster, he could suppress ambitious nobles with his martial might, deter the Oirat tribes who occasionally raided south, and reduce reliance on the Imperial Guard. The empire's stability would then depend on the fists of a Legendary Grandmaster.

"Then, do you have these materials here?" Lin Zhao suppressed his thoughts and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of hemp paper from his robes, handing it over. The list was densely packed with items: rare materials needed to forge the Heart Guardian Seal, Netherworld Grass, a necessity for the Netherworld Technique, and a few cultivation technique manuals he wanted to find. He didn't hold out much hope—none of these items were easily obtainable.

The shopkeeper took the list, his finger tracing the entries, his frown deepening. He shook his head like a rattle drum. "Forget the cultivation technique manuals. Our employers have a strict rule: martial arts registers are never sold, for fear of attracting martial world grudges. Among the other materials, I still have half a jar of Scaled Dragon Beast blood, but it's been in the storeroom for so long it's almost moldy. I have a small piece of Mithril, but it's already been reserved by someone from the Duke of Dingguo's Manor, scheduled for pickup next month. As for Mystic Iron Gold, Evil Dust, ** , and Netherworld Grass..." He paused, shaking his head with a bitter smile. "Let alone seeing them, I've never even heard of them! And this 'Radiant Crystal' at the end, what kind of rare item is that?"

"It's a type of strange stone that emits a faint glow, rumored to be formed from shattered meteorites from outer space," Lin Zhao said. He was surprised that even the Myriad Treasures Pavilion shopkeeper hadn't heard of it, sighing inwardly—the materials for forging the seal were truly obscure.

"A glowing strange stone?" The shopkeeper's eyes suddenly lit up. He quickly turned and shouted towards the back of the shop, "Xiao Sanzi! Go fetch the 'Night-Luminous Stone' from the innermost box in the storeroom!"

A moment later, a shop assistant rushed out, sweating profusely, carrying a wooden box half the height of a person. The cloth covering the box was yellowed with age. The shopkeeper personally lifted the cloth, and dust rained down, making the assistant cough. Inside was a stone about the size of a human head, covered in a thick layer of dust, looking no different from an ordinary rock.

But as the shopkeeper meticulously wiped away the dust with a silk cloth, a miraculous scene unfolded: the stone's surface instantly emitted a soft, shimmering glow, as if crushed stars had been scattered upon it. He had the assistant close the doors and windows, and the room was filled with a faint, firefly-like light. It wasn't dazzling but illuminated the entire counter clearly.

"This was consigned for sale years ago by a fallen nobleman. He said his ancestor picked it up from the Northern Desert, a stone from outer space. We all call it the Night-Luminous Stone," the shopkeeper said casually, tapping the stone with his fingertip. "If you want it, two hundred taels of silver, and it's yours."

"One hundred taels." Lin Zhao cut straight to the chase, halving the price, his tone firm and non-negotiable.

The shopkeeper's eyes darted around quickly. He gave a signal to the shop assistant, and they retreated into the inner room. Lin Zhao's sharp ears twitched. Using his [Wind Listening and Position Sensing] skill, even the hushed voices from the inner room sounded as if spoken right beside his ear: "Shopkeeper, we only bought this stone for twenty taels initially. It's been in the storeroom for almost three years, and no one has inquired about it!"

Lin Zhao chuckled inwardly—it seemed he still wasn't a good negotiator; he should have bargained for more. But this Night-Luminous Stone was clearly the Radiant Crystal he was looking for. Forget one hundred taels, he would have taken it even for two hundred.

A short while later, the shopkeeper emerged, straightening his robes and deliberately frowning, feigning pain. "Fine, fine! Seeing as you're a straightforward person, one hundred taels it is. Consider it a loss to make a friend!"

"And throw in that jar of Scaled Dragon Beast blood," Lin Zhao added calmly. As he spoke, a faint but heavy aura emanated from him—it was the internal breath of a top-tier expert, like a gentle giant stone, causing the shopkeeper's back to break out in a sweat. "The lid of that jar is covered in dust. Besides me, I doubt anyone else would want it."

The shopkeeper's expression changed instantly. He was a third-rate martial artist himself and was most sensitive to such restrained yet powerful internal breath. He knew this person was no ordinary wandering swordsman. He quickly plastered a smile on his face, his flesh bunching up. "We'll add it! We must add it! May I ask if you are a wandering swordsman? My Myriad Treasures Pavilion often has caravans traveling the northern routes, and they frequently encounter bandits. We are in need of a master like you to escort them. The monthly salary is six hundred and fifty taels, with room and board included!"

"Not considering it for now." Lin Zhao waved his hand and took the Radiant Crystal and the dragon blood, wrapped in linen by the shop assistant. The Radiant Crystal was heavy, and he could still feel a trace of warmth in his hand. He turned and left, giving the shopkeeper no chance to persuade him further.

Leaving the Myriad Treasures Pavilion, Lin Zhao turned into the Inkstone Study on the street corner. The shop was small but filled with the scent of ink. The shopkeeper, an old scholar wearing glasses, greeted him with a smile. "What book are you looking for, esteemed guest? We recently received several books on Oirat customs and traditions; even the Celestial Masters' Manor has come to borrow them."

Lin Zhao selected three books—one detailing Oirat tribal distribution, another with common Oirat vocabulary, and a third recording the terrain and dangerous areas of the Northern Desert. The Northern Frontier was unstable, so understanding the enemy better was always wise. After paying, he tucked the books away. As the sun began to set and the heat subsided slightly, he slowly made his way to a familiar gathering place for martial artists—the Xuanyao Tavern.

The moment he pushed open the door, a mixed aroma of alcohol, sweat, and blood assaulted his senses—the typical scent of martial artists. Lin Zhao, familiar with the place, found a corner seat and called out to the bartender, "A pot of 'Fierce Blood'!"

The liquor was a deep crimson, like freshly coagulated blood. As it was poured into a coarse ceramic bowl, it still emitted a faint heat. Lin Zhao took a sip, the spiciness burning from his throat to his stomach. His pores opened up, and his spirits instantly lifted.

After a couple of sips, he asked the manager about cultivation techniques. The manager spread his hands, shaking his head with a distressed expression. "Young Master Shen, please don't ask anymore! No one has consigned any cultivation techniques recently, and the Mystic Ice Technique you're looking for hasn't even shown a shadow—that's a high-level technique, how can it be sold casually? As for the commissions for Netherworld Grass and Evil Dust, no wandering swordsmen have accepted them; they all find them too rare and difficult to find."

Lin Zhao was not disappointed; rare items were indeed hard to come by. He tapped the Radiant Crystal in his cloth bag, a smile playing on his lips—obtaining such a large piece of Radiant Crystal on this trip to Cold Mountain City was an unexpected joy. For the Heart Guardian Seal, only a fingernail-sized amount of stone powder was needed for each cultivation session. This one piece would be enough for him for several years.

And his most crucial objective for this trip was just beginning—to establish the renowned title of "Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman" Shen Luo.

Lin Zhao stood up and walked directly to the commission auction area. He raised his hand and lifted the cloth bag he carried. The moment the deerskin slipped, a flash of cold, blue sword light cut through the air, and the eyes of the old craftsman responsible for appraisal went wide.

It was a sword forged from ordinary refined iron, yet its spine was perfectly straight, with fine forging patterns like flowing water; the blade gleamed with a cold light, utterly free of any burrs; the guard was shaped like a tiger's head, each whisker meticulously polished, exuding an indescribable exquisiteness.

Lin Zhao wore a gilded mask today, covering most of his face, revealing only a sharp jawline. He remained silent, watching the old craftsman repeatedly examine the sword, turning it over and over—tapping the spine, rubbing the blade with his fingertip, and even scrutinizing the wrapping on the hilt.

After a while, the old craftsman's eyes suddenly lit up. He turned and retrieved a brocade box from the inner chamber. Upon opening it, an old sword lay inside—its scabbard was made of darkened old cowhide, with the four characters "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer" engraved in a vigorous script. One could still feel the warmth of the wooden sword core through the material. It was the work of the great craftsman Zhao Hai, and it had been the Xuanyao Tavern's treasured item for twenty years.

The old craftsman placed the two swords side-by-side on the table and called over three experienced craftsmen. The four of them circled the swords for a long time. Some measured dimensions with rulers, some weighed them for comparison, and others gently rubbed the blade with fine sandpaper.

In the end, the old craftsmen exchanged glances, seeing shock in each other's eyes—the quality of this new sword was almost comparable to the old sword, the "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer"!

"Sir, this sword... is it truly crafted by your hand?" The old craftsman's voice trembled slightly, his tone lowered as if afraid of startling someone. "May I ask your name?"

Lin Zhao tightened his fingers on the sword hilt, the corners of his mouth curving under the mask. He didn't deliberately raise his voice, but every word landed clearly in everyone's ears, carrying an indescribable confidence. "It is indeed forged by myself. My name? Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman!"