Preparing to Go to Oirat

"Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman?"

The appraisers and craftsmen of Xuan Yao Pavilion's Northern Border branch looked at one another, their brows twisted tightly enough to crush flies—this title certainly sounded imposing, but across the Northern Border's blacksmith guilds, even the entire Ming Dynasty's forging world, who had ever heard of such a person?

To forge a sword comparable to one made by Zhao Hai, the "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer," one would have to be some old monster steeped in smithing for decades. How could some unknown nobody simply appear out of thin air?

"Master Heavenly Craftsman!" The branch manager hurriedly bent at the waist and approached, his back nearly folded down to his knees, the respect in his voice practically overflowing. "Are you planning to auction this Grand Master Craftsman-grade treasured sword through our pavilion?" From the corner of his eye, he stole a glance at Lin Zhao. That faint but unmistakable pressure from Lin Zhao's inner energy still lingered in his heart—it was the aura of a genuine Peak Martial Master! Someone who had cultivated both martial arts and forging to such heights, yet had no great power backing him? Who would believe that?

One had to know how much money it took to raise a Grand Master Craftsman—one hundred catties of refined iron yielded only one catty of usable material; the charcoal had to be made from Northern Desert hardwood; even the quenching water had to be living water drawn from deep pools. Those costs alone could smash an ordinary trading house flat. Since the "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer" passed away twenty years ago, no orthodox Grand Master Craftsman had appeared within the Ming Dynasty. Now that this "Heavenly Craftsman" had burst onto the scene, not only Xuan Yao Pavilion—even Celestial Masters' Manor and the Duke of Dingguo's Manor—would scramble to curry favor with him.

"Exactly." Lin Zhao nodded and lightly tapped the sword hilt with his fingertips. "Also, I'd like to form a long-term partnership with your pavilion. From now on, every month, I'll bring over a batch of Grand Master Craftsman-grade weapons and armor forged by my own hand for auction." He had long since calculated it: only three to five pieces at a time. For one thing, forging consumed a craftsman's mind and energy, and producing too much would easily expose flaws in his story. For another, rarity made things precious; too many would only cheapen them. Only a slow, steady stream could thoroughly establish the name "Heavenly Craftsman."

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" The manager's eyes shone like two lanterns as he slapped his chest in guarantee. "To cooperate with a master is the fortune of Xuan Yao Pavilion! This humble one will immediately report it to the higher-ups. From now on, whenever you visit the Northern Garrison City branch, the admission fee will be waived entirely, and the auction commission will be reduced by thirty percent—no, fifty percent!"

Then he changed tack, rubbing his hands cautiously as he lowered his voice. "It's just that, according to pavilion rules, we need to give you a small assessment before cooperating—not because we doubt you. We merely wish to watch you forge with our own eyes and confirm that the treasured sword was truly made by your own hand. We mean no offense whatsoever, so please be understanding!"

Why would Lin Zhao fear that? His forging skill had been hammered out blow by blow; true gold feared no fire. Following the manager into Xuan Yao Pavilion's privately established Blacksmith Shop, he deliberately slowed his pace. When lighting the fire, he piled the charcoal like a small mountain, and the furnace flames surged up with a boom, rising half a man's height and baking the shop scorching hot. When hammering, every bit of force behind his hammer blows was flawless. The clang-clang-clang sounded as though it were striking people's hearts, each strike making the anvil tremble slightly. When quenching, he lowered the sword blank into cold water. With a sizzle, white mist instantly filled the air, and even the air carried the metallic tang of iron.

After a full two hours, another long sword identical to the previous one was finally forged. Lin Zhao named the two swords: one was "Lake Light," its blade gleaming with a cold watery sheen; the other was "Autumn Hue," its spine marked with frost-white patterns.

The moment "Autumn Hue" left the furnace, the appraisers and old craftsmen present crowded around. As their fingers brushed the blade, even their breathing softened—the sword spine was as straight as an icicle in the Northern Border, the hammer patterns so fine they could reflect a person's silhouette, and the quenching heat had been controlled perfectly. It was three parts better than even the finest certified craftsmen in the blacksmith guild!

"Sign it! Sign the contract right now!" An old craftsman seized brush and ink, his hands trembling, terrified that this living treasure would run away. Lin Zhao looked over the terms of the contract and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. His future forged weapons now had a stable outlet. Once the name "Heavenly Craftsman" rang out, minor border-trade forces like the Wild Jackal Gang would become useless. Then not only could he settle old scores with the Wild Jackal Gang, he could also bring Zhang Laochui back from there—Zhang Laochui had endured for so long. It was time for him to come back and enjoy some comfort.

By nightfall, Xuan Yao Pavilion's monthly auction began on schedule. The main hall was packed with people: the silk robes of noble lords, the fitted martial attire of martial masters, and the coarse cloth shirts of craftsmen all mixed together amid a roaring crowd. Lin Zhao hid backstage, with no interest in the other auction items. He had searched through the entire list, yet found neither the Mystic Ice Technique nor rare items such as Netherworld Grass and Evil Dust.

After the warm-up, two attendants carried brocade boxes onto the stage, the red silk making the treasured swords all the more eye-catching. Xuan Yao Pavilion's dedicated auctioneer wore a water-green dress, her figure graceful and supple, her clear voice chiming like wind bells. "Honored guests! The next items up for auction are a pair of swords personally forged by our pavilion's exclusive Grand Master Craftsman partner, Master 'Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman'—'Lake Light' and 'Autumn Hue'!"

"These twin swords were made from Northern Border refined iron. The master poured his heart and soul into them, forging them through a thousand hammerings and a hundred refinements over twenty-one days! In terms of forging quality, they are on par with the works of the legendary Grand Master Craftsman of twenty years ago, the 'Blazing Fire Divine Hammer'!"

Boom! The crowd below instantly erupted.

"A Grand Master Craftsman? There are still people who can reach the Grand Master Craftsman realm?"

"Who is this 'Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman'? I've been in the blacksmith guild for thirty years and have never heard of him!" A burly man with a face full of bristling beard slammed his palm on the table with a smack, knocking over his teacup and spilling tea all over the floor. He was a certified craftsman from Northern Garrison City's blacksmith guild and could not stand anyone pretending to be a high-level smith. "Is Xuan Yao Pavilion making up a fraud to drive up the price?"

The auctioneer did not grow angry. Smiling, she beckoned toward the rear hall. "Someone, bring out the old sword of the 'Blazing Fire Divine Hammer' kept in our pavilion's collection!" Very soon, a long sword wrapped in aged cowhide was carried onto the stage. Though the four seal-script characters "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer" on its scabbard had faded somewhat, they remained vigorous and forceful.

"This master has doubts. Why not invite you and several knowledgeable guests onto the stage to examine them? Whether they are genuine or false will become clear at a glance." The auctioneer cupped her hands toward the bearded craftsman.

The bearded craftsman stubbornly lifted his chin and went onstage. Together with two guard martial masters from noble estates, he turned the three swords over and over for inspection. After a long while, his face shifted from green to white—"Lake Light" and "Autumn Hue," from the luster of their blades to the forging patterns on their guards, truly differed little from the old sword of the "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer"!

But he still refused to accept it, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Looks don't count! Weapons are meant for fighting! We need martial masters to use these swords in a real battle before we can tell whether they're good or bad!"

"Certainly!" The auctioneer's smile grew even sweeter. "Since you are also a craftsman, why not bring out a sword you forged? Let two martial masters of equal cultivation compare 'Lake Light' against your sword. How about it?"

The crowd immediately began shouting, "Fight! Fight!" Their cries shook the heavens. The bearded craftsman was riding a tiger with no way to get off, so he could only grit his teeth and have someone bring over his proudest personal sword. "Then let's fight! I refuse to believe ordinary refined iron can be forged into flowers!"

Before long, two low-level martial masters stepped onto the stage. One gripped "Lake Light," its blade gleaming with cold radiance; the other held the bearded craftsman's sword, whose blade also carried a hint of sharpness. At the auctioneer's cry of "Begin!", the two swords instantly collided—clang! The ring of metal echoed through the hall, sparks flying half a man's height and even scattering onto the hems of guests in the front row, frightening them into shrinking back.

Sword winds whipped the stage curtains into the air. The two exchanged blow after blow, fighting more than a dozen rounds in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, a crisp crack rang out—everyone focused their eyes and saw that the edge of the bearded craftsman's sword had curled, with a thin fracture running along the blade. Yet "Lake Light" still blazed with icy brilliance, without even the slightest nick!

"Th-this is impossible!" The bearded craftsman's eyes widened. He rushed onto the stage like a madman, snatched up "Lake Light," and examined it again and again, his fingernails nearly scraping the blade. "You must have mixed Northern Border cold iron into this sword! How else could ordinary refined iron be this tough? You cheated!"

"Master, don't be impatient." The auctioneer had prepared for this. She had someone bring out a black stone. "This is an iron-testing stone. It turns blue upon encountering cold iron, but remains unchanged with ordinary refined iron. Watch." As she spoke, she pressed the iron-testing stone against "Lake Light." The stone remained black, without the slightest reaction.

Backstage, Lin Zhao let out a cold laugh and tapped the anvil beside him with his fingers. "If I had cold iron, I'd have melted it down to forge the fourth form of the Frost Condensation Sword long ago. Why would I sell it? What shallow knowledge."

Faced with ironclad proof, no one could say another word. The bearded craftsman's face reddened like pig liver. Hugging his broken sword, he nearly tumbled off the stage before finally fleeing in disgrace amid a chorus of laughter. Some people slapped their tables as they laughed, while even the noble lords shook their heads. "This craftsman lost and still refuses to admit it."

The reasoning was actually simple: given the same refined iron, a Grand Master Craftsman could squeeze the material's potential to its limit, while an ordinary craftsman could not. That was the difference in realm.

In the end, "Lake Light" sold for two thousand taels of silver, while "Autumn Hue" sold for two thousand five hundred taels, totaling a full four thousand five hundred taels! One had to know that a refined iron sword sold by an ordinary Blacksmith Shop could be bought for just five taels!

Most of that premium came from the status of a "Grand Master Craftsman." For noble martial masters, owning a sword personally forged by a living master was not only practical—it was also a symbol of status. Back then, even an old sword from the "Blazing Fire Divine Hammer," no matter how rusted, could be bid up to more than a hundred taels. These two swords were brand new.

Lin Zhao held the banknote for his share when the manager came over again, his face piled high with smiles. "Master Heavenly Craftsman! Just now, many honored guests asked this humble one whether they could commission weapons from you. Martial masters from Celestial Masters' Manor want armor-piercing sabers, while the commander of the guards at the Duke of Dingguo's Manor wants Mystic Iron Armor. What do you think...?"

"I have no time for private commissions." Lin Zhao refused directly, his fingers still tapping the money pouch.

"But what if... they are willing to pay more?" The manager rubbed his hands and lowered his voice further. "The people from the Duke of Dingguo's Manor said they are willing to offer fifteen hundred taels for custom armor!"

Lin Zhao paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—fifteen hundred taels was enough to buy tens of thousands of catties of refined iron. "If they pay more, then it isn't impossible to discuss." After thinking it over, he added, "But don't take too many clients. At most two pieces a month. As for the specifics, you can arrange them as you see fit. In any case, all the weapons I forge will be handed over to your pavilion for disposal."

With that, he tucked away the banknotes, turned, and left Xuan Yao Pavilion. He found a quiet inn and stayed there. That night, he took out the Oirat Tribal Records and Northern Desert Vocabulary he had bought during the day. After flipping through only a few pages, he frowned. He tried linking the contents of the books to his "Proficiency Panel," but there was not the slightest reaction from the panel. Not even a prompt for "Beginner" appeared.

He switched from one book to another, but the result remained the same. Lin Zhao closed the books and sighed. It seemed he could not rely on reading to rapidly master the Oirat language. Even so, he still had to go to Oirat in the Northern Desert—only there might he be able to buy enough Pangolin Dragon Essence to help him break through into the Heavenly Gang Realm.

"I need to find someone from the Northern Border who knows the roads of the Northern Desert well to serve as a guide." Lin Zhao gazed at the moonlight outside the window, his eyes becoming resolute. The Northern Desert was bitterly cold, and Oirat cavalry roamed there as well. Without a reliable guide, he feared he would fall into trouble before even finding the Pangolin Dragon Essence.