Applying to be a blacksmith?
The burly man turned and gave the young man a long look. Thinking he must have misheard, he said, "A blacksmith?"
"That's right."
The man was ninety percent certain the boy was lying. Though he was tall and looked like he had some strength, his face was clearly young—sixteen or seventeen at most.
Blacksmithing couldn't be done with shortcuts. It took real skill, hammered out blow by blow. Many apprentices spent three to five years doing odd jobs, and without a decade of experience, they might not even be able to forge a Twenty Refinements Weapon.
But the Weapon Forging Workshop was open for business. The notice had been posted at the end of last year, and the man didn't want to ruin the workshop's reputation by outright rejecting him. Besides, everyone had to pass a test before joining. They might as well see whether he was a horse or a mule.
"Fine. If you're determined, come with me." The man reluctantly led the boy into the Weapon Forging Workshop.
Whoosh!
As they passed the smithies, they glimpsed roaring furnace flames. The temperature around them rose by more than ten degrees, and dozens of bare-chested blacksmiths sweated as they worked. Their hammers rose and fell, sending sparks flying like fireflies.
The communal smithies were bustling with activity, but the boy's attention was drawn to five blue-stone smithies deeper inside. Plaques hung outside three of them—"Cold Pool," "Green Edge," and "Mysterious Iron"—and the clang of hammering rang from within. The other two had no plaques and were silent.
"Those are the private smithies of the three Master Craftsmen." Seeing Su Mu pause, the man leading him explained, "The Weapon Forging Workshop has a hundred-year legacy. The first workshop master built five private smithies for Ranked Forging