Xu Yi wore nothing but a pair of shorts. With both hands spread, he sent two streams of qi—one thick, one thin—shooting from his palms. Under the control of the thick stream, a pitch-black Forging Hammer struck a three-foot crimson short sword over the furnace flames, its blows falling at an extremely regular rhythm.
Under the control of the faint stream of qi, the short sword stayed as steady as a mountain, without so much as a tremor.
After a hundred strikes, the deep-blue furnace flames suddenly went out. A burst of qi sent the short sword flying into Xu Yi's hand. He examined it closely, then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Upper-grade!"
Just then, Yan Zi raked a pile of emerald-green flakes out of the furnace at the other end. She reached out and caught the iron essence just as it was about to fall from the furnace, tucked it into her robes, then lifted the basket brimming with green flakes and poured them all into a snow-white sack beside the wall on the left.
Dozens of sacks now lined the wall.
Seeing Xu Yi stop forging, Yan Zi hurried over with a brown wine jar in her hands. "Young Master, that's your third sword today. Take a break."
Her chestnut hair was loosely tied behind her head, and her delicate face glowed like a rosy sunset. Her slim, fitted trousers hugged her healthy, lithe figure but couldn't contain its fiery allure.
Though Xu Yi had grown used to seeing her these past few days, his gaze fell on Yan Zi's shapely figure and his mouth suddenly went dry. He took the jar and drained it in one go.
The wine was clear, cool, and sweet. It eased the heat in his chest a little.