"Master, there's no need to panic. I'm the original owner of this Mò Dāo."
The old blacksmith looked suspicious and uncertain as he sized up Chu Feng several times. Only after confirming that Chu Feng truly hadn't come to seek revenge did he let out a sigh of relief.
"Young hero, you nearly scared me to death..."
He had been wondering the same thing. How could someone so peerlessly brave and powerful die so easily?
Then he looked at the Mò Dāo, which had already been broken into three sections, with a pained expression.
The breaks were incredibly smooth, without a single burr. Clearly, it had been severed by an exceedingly sharp weapon!
This was the work of his heart and soul. Although it had been left in a corner gathering dust all this time, he had finally managed to sell it.
Yet the rare materials used in it had all been carefully selected by him. What kind of Divine Weapon could have reduced the Mò Dāo to this state?
After hesitating for a moment, the old blacksmith still asked, "May I ask, young hero, what kind of weapon severed this Mò Dāo?"
Chu Feng pulled the Silver Short Sword from his robes. It was far too small to serve as a primary weapon, and Chu Feng didn't have a corresponding cultivation method for it, so he kept it on him as an emergency weapon.
"This... This is the Demon Suppression Division's Demon Suppression Blade?"
The old blacksmith carefully took the short sword. Then, at the base of the blade, he clearly saw two tiny characters: "Demon Suppression."
He immediately broke into a cold sweat. Then he warily inspected the shop inside and out. After discovering that there were no outsiders, he quickly shut the shop door.
"Young hero, may I ask where the owner of this short sword is?" the old blacksmith asked with a bitter expression.
Chu Feng didn't know why he was asking, but he still answered calmly, "Dead!"
"Ah..."
The old blacksmith abruptly fell backward onto the floor, then said in panic, "Young hero, you killed someone from the Demon Suppression Division?"
The Demon Suppression Blade was the standard weapon of the Demon Suppression Division, so its owner must have been an important figure in the organization.
Now that the short sword's owner was dead, didn't that mean the young man before him had killed that important figure?
He had been dragged into enormous trouble!
The old blacksmith felt his body go weak. His legs gave way, and cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead.
After thinking it over briefly, Chu Feng understood what the blacksmith was afraid of.
He smiled. "I snatched this sword from a Demonic Warrior. It has nothing to do with the Demon Suppression Division, so rest assured..."
"Oh, that's a relief."
The old blacksmith staggered to his feet and wiped the cold sweat from his brow.
Seeing that the blacksmith had steadied himself, Chu Feng slowly explained the purpose of his visit.
"Master, can this Mò Dāo still be repaired? And could you add some harder materials while you're at it? Don't let it get chopped apart so easily again..."
The old blacksmith said awkwardly, "I can repair it, but if you're talking about having it clash with that Demon Suppression Blade, I'm afraid it won't do!"
"The material used in that Demon Suppression Blade is Mithril ore controlled by the imperial court, combined with master-level forging techniques. I can't compare..."
The old blacksmith knew his own limitations. He was merely a blacksmith in a small town. Here in Yong'an County Town, he could beat his chest and declare, "I submit to no one!"
But in Jizhou—or even throughout the Great Zhou Dynasty—he was just a little village blacksmith, utterly insignificant.
Chu Feng scratched his head, feeling that things were rather difficult. As his strength increased, his original Mò Dāo was already unable to keep up.
He even suspected that if he unleashed his full power, the Mò Dāo might not last through more than a few battles before being ruined again.
If it broke after only a few uses, what would be the point of repairing it?
With that thought, Chu Feng looked at the silver Demon Suppression Blade and said, "Melt this thing down for me, then mix it into the Mò Dāo. It should become much stronger, right?"
The old blacksmith looked horrified. "Young hero, absolutely not! This Mithril ore is a material controlled by the imperial court. If it's forged privately in the mortal world, the entire family will be executed..."
Chu Feng's expression didn't change. He said calmly, "If you mix this Mithril with several kinds of iron ore, how could outsiders tell? Once it's done, I can give you two hundred taels of silver as payment!"
"Besides, now that you've seen this Demon Suppression Blade, do you think I'll let you off?"
Chu Feng appealed to reason while tempting him with profit.
"What the young hero says makes perfect sense. This old man is willing to give it a try..."
The old blacksmith wore a bitter expression. He knew that he had no choice but to board this pirate ship.
He could only count himself lucky that his two apprentices happened to be away. Otherwise, the crime deserving execution would have dragged them in as well.
Since he had agreed, the old blacksmith stopped hesitating. He carefully examined the Demon Suppression Blade, then said,
"We need to melt this sword first..."
After that, the old blacksmith seemed to become an entirely different person, turning exceptionally eager and proactive.
First, he brought out the Silver Frost Charcoal he had treasured for many years, made by smoldering century-old sandalwood.
It was silvery-white in appearance. When struck, it rang like metal and stone. It was precious charcoal worth as much as an equal weight of silver.
"You old rascal, were you just pretending to be reluctant earlier? How come you're even more enthusiastic than I am now..."
Seeing the strange look in Chu Feng's eyes, the old blacksmith scratched his head and said with a chuckle, "Every blacksmith dreams of forging a legendary weapon, hehe..."
Chu Feng: "..."
Why did it feel as though he was the one who had been played? Still, it didn't matter. It was a win-win situation.
The old blacksmith would forge the legendary weapon he had dreamed of, while Chu Feng would obtain a Divine Weapon.
The old blacksmith didn't dare let outsiders learn the details of the forging process, so he specifically gave his two apprentices leave and devoted himself entirely to forging a new Mò Dāo.
The old blacksmith first used wood to ignite the Silver Frost Carbon. Once the flames turned fierce, he placed the various raw materials into the furnace to be heated.
Then he began pulling the wooden bellows, fanning the flames and fueling the fire.
The old blacksmith was old, after all. Before long, he was already panting heavily. Most of the materials in the furnace had melted, but the Demon Suppression Sword had merely turned red from the heat, without the slightest sign of melting.
The old blacksmith grew anxious. Unfortunately, his strength couldn't keep up. No matter how hard he worked, he could only maintain the current state.
Seeing this, Chu Feng took hold of the bellows handle and began pushing it with force.
A gust of wind several times fiercer than before was forcibly compressed into the furnace. The golden flames suddenly surged, the Silver Frost Carbon burned violently, and the flames turned blue-white...
Chu Feng remained neither hurried nor flustered, slowly maintaining his rhythm.
After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the stubborn Demon Suppression Blade finally began to show signs of softening and melting.
The old blacksmith was overjoyed. He hurriedly added more Silver Frost Carbon to replenish what had been consumed by the fierce burning.
Several hours later...
The damaged Mò Dāo, the Demon Suppression Blade, and some rare ores had all been transformed into chunks of iron the size of fists.
Chu Feng picked one up and weighed it in his hand. A single chunk weighed a hundred pounds. Next came Hundred Refinements and Thousand Refinements, hammering out the impurities.
Hundred Refinements meant hammering the fist-sized chunk of iron flat, then folding and hammering it repeatedly a hundred times. That was Hundred Refinements; a thousand times was Thousand Refinements!
The old blacksmith, weakened by age, brought one hammer after another down on the iron chunk. Sparks flew everywhere, yet the iron chunk didn't change in the slightest.
After hammering for quite a while, he not only failed to remove the impurities but exhausted himself half to death first.
"Ugh..." The old blacksmith's expression turned somewhat ugly.
He dreamed of becoming a legendary blacksmith, but he possessed only a mortal body and wasn't even a warrior. Forget Hundred Refinements—even Ten Refinements was exceedingly difficult for him.
All he could do was gaze at the gradually cooling iron chunk and sigh...
Before you continue