Hundred Refinements, Truly a Genius

Zhen Hua led Lin Qingzhou out of the office and through a maze of corridors. The walls on both sides were covered in portraits of past master blacksmiths and photographs of their representative works; some photos had already yellowed, their age exceeding the combined duration of Lin Qingzhou's two lifetimes.

Zhen Hua didn't say much along the way, but he would occasionally glance sideways at Lin Qingzhou, his gaze filled with a quiet, unobtrusive scrutiny.

Mu Ye had slipped away quietly at some point without even saying goodbye, but Lin Qingzhou knew perfectly well that the old cook had likely gone to verify his story.

As for Proud Arrival City, it was impossible for Mu Ye to lack his own channels of information.

The door to the forging room was made of alloy and at least thirty centimeters thick; once pushed open, a whole new world revealed itself inside.

The room was about the size of half a basketball court. In the center stood a large hydraulic forging press and a matching soul-guided furnace, with a multi-functional metal processing device of an unrecognizable model sitting to the side.

Dozens of forging hammers of various specifications hung on the wall, ranging from the smallest precision hammers to the largest heavy hammers, neatly arranged across the entire surface.

In the corner stood several precision instruments whose functions were unknown, the soul-guided circuits on their dashboards flickering with a steady blue light.

Zhen Hua walked to the wall, took a hammer from the rack, and turned to hand it to Lin Qingzhou.

Lin Qingzhou's hand dipped slightly as he took it. This hammer was much lighter than the war hammer he had forged previously, but the feeling in his grip was completely different.

The hammerhead was made of Thousand-Refined Tungsten Steel, its surface densely covered in fish-scale forging patterns that shimmered with a restrained silver-gray luster under the light.

The handle was worn smooth but remained non-slip, with faint, lingering indentations left by long-term use.

The weight distribution of the hammerhead was extremely precise; one could feel exactly where the center of gravity lay without even exerting force.

"This hammer is called a Thousand-Refined Tungsten Steel Hammer."

Zhen Hua watched the way he held the hammer, his gaze nodding imperceptibly.

"It was one of the basic hammers I forged in my early years. Tungsten Steel itself is heavy and hard enough, and after a thousand refinements, its density and toughness have been elevated to a new level. It's not some divine weapon, but it is perfectly suited for testing a blacksmith's basic skills."

"Give it a try. The materials are on the forging table; pick one yourself."

Zhen Hua stepped back two paces, yielding the position in front of the forging table.

Lin Qingzhou stood before the table, his fingers brushing over several metal blanks: ordinary Iron Essence, Deep Silver, and Magic Silver.

Magic Silver was expensive among common metals, but its properties were excellent; its ductility and affinity for soul power were both very high, making it suitable for precision components.

Mang Tian had used it a few times when taking on precision orders, always feeling a pang of heartache over the material costs. Lin Qingzhou picked up the piece of Magic Silver, weighed it in his hand, and placed it on the forging table.

He took a deep breath, and the things Mang Tian had taught him automatically surfaced in his mind. These weren't profound techniques, but the most basic breakdown of movements.

The entry into the fire had to be uniform; one couldn't just burn one side. The hammer strikes had to be precise; one couldn't rely solely on brute force. The hammer face had to be perfectly flush with the metal surface; even a one-degree deviation would warp the texture.

The timing of the quenching was more important than anything else—too early and it would shatter, too late and it would soften.

As the furnace temperature rose, he clamped the Magic Silver into the hearth, watching it slowly change color under the high heat, from grayish-white to dark red, and finally to a bright orange.

Once the color was uniform, he clamped it out onto the anvil, raised the Thousand-Refined Tungsten Steel Hammer, and brought down the first strike.

"Clang."

It was crisp and highly penetrating. He had spent months hammering metal in Mang Tian's forging room and was intimately familiar with this sound.

Yet, the sensation of the hammer in his hand was completely different from before. The feedback from the Thousand-Refined Tungsten Steel Hammer was exceptionally clear; with every strike, the vibration of the hammer face told him honestly whether his blow was on target.

Zhen Hua's hammer was a fine tool; every strike was teaching him something.

He did not let his focus waver.

After nearly two hours of continuous hammering, the Magic Silver slowly transformed under his strikes from an irregular blank into a roughly shaped metal component.

Hundred-Refined.

Although the things Mang Tian taught him were basic, the foundation was solid, and every step had been guided hand-in-hand.

Zhen Hua had been watching silently from the side the entire time, neither interrupting nor offering pointers.

Only when Lin Qingzhou put down the hammer did he step forward, pick up the finished piece of Magic Silver, examine it thoroughly for a long while, and then set it down, his gaze landing on Lin Qingzhou's face.

"You didn't use soul power." When Zhen Hua said this, his tone was calm, but his eyes were clearly much more serious than before.

"I couldn't be a soul master before," Lin Qingzhou wiped away his sweat and said truthfully. "All my blacksmithing relied on raw strength."

Zhen Hua was silent for a moment, wondering what he was thinking. After a long while, he finally spoke.

"Kid, your talent for forging is higher than I thought. I can take you on and be your forging master. That old guy Mu Ye brought you here for this very reason. What do you think?"

Before Lin Qingzhou could speak, the door to the forging room was pushed open. Mu Ye leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a look that suggested he had "found a treasure."

"Old Zhen Hua, you can't rush a good thing. You haven't even poured him a cup of tea, and you're already in such a hurry to take on an apprentice?"

Zhen Hua glanced at him without refuting. Mu Ye walked in, stood beside Lin Qingzhou, and fixed his gaze on the youth who was still holding the Thousand-Refined Tungsten Steel Hammer.

He had just gone out to verify Lin Qingzhou's claims, using his connections to confirm the records from Proud Arrival City.

The Evil Soul Master attack was true, and Lin Qingzhou's background was consistent with his own description; there was nothing suspicious.

The way he looked at Lin Qingzhou was several degrees softer than it had been on the fishing boat.

"Alright, kid."

Mu Ye placed his rough, large hand on Lin Qingzhou's shoulder, his voice casual. "Zhen Hua will teach you forging, and I will teach you cultivation and fighting. The two of us will be your masters together."

"Both of you together?" Lin Qingzhou looked at Zhen Hua, then at Mu Ye, feeling that this configuration was a bit too luxurious.

"What, you think that's too many?" Zhen Hua raised an eyebrow.

"No." It was rare for Lin Qingzhou to be at a loss for words. In this life and the last, he had never encountered a situation where people were fighting over him.

"Alright, alright, stop dawdling. This kid belongs to both of us now. Hurry up and finalize the apprenticeship; we have real business to attend to later." Mu Ye had already made the executive decision from the sidelines.

Lin Qingzhou did not decline again.

He stepped back half a pace and bowed to the two of them. He had only learned the basics of the apprenticeship ceremony at Mang Tian's smithy, but he knew exactly what needed to be done.

He truly wanted to take them as masters; after all, the two people before him could provide him with more paths for advancement, grant him access to greater resources, and ensure his strength improved much faster.

His fists tightened slightly, his gaze resolute. Strength was of vital importance to him, for it meant the resurrection of Na'er.