A Letter Crosses the Sea, Prelude to Taking a Master

The air in the workshop gradually cooled, but the [Spirit Refinement Star-Sky Black Iron] floating in midair still emanated a palpitating rhythm of life.

It was like a black heart. With every beat, it drew in the surrounding metal elements.

Mang Tian sat in the battered rattan chair he usually only used for drinking tea. The cigarette in his hand had burned down to the end and scorched his fingers before he suddenly came back to his senses.

"Whew..."

He let out a long breath and looked at Tang Linyuan, who was wiping away his sweat. His expression became exceptionally complicated.

There was both the gratification of watching a fledgling eagle spread its wings and the reluctance of having to let go.

"Linyuan, Wulin."

Mang Tian's hoarse voice broke the silence. "Sit down. I have something to tell you."

The brothers exchanged a glance, then obediently fetched small stools and sat down.

"Now that you've produced Spirit Refinement today, this little blacksmith shop in Aolai City can no longer contain you."

Mang Tian pointed at the somewhat blackened ceiling overhead and gave a self-mocking smile.

"I, Mang Tian, am only a sixth-rank master. I might count for something around Eastsea City, but teach a nine-year-old Spirit Refinement master? I'm not that shameless."

"Teacher, you..." Tang Linyuan had just started to speak when Mang Tian raised a hand to cut him off.

"Let me finish."

Mang Tian stood up and walked to the window. Looking out at the turbulent Ocean in the distance, his back appeared somewhat desolate, yet even more resolute.

"On the path of forging, Hundred Refinement makes steel, Thousand Refinement makes material, Spirit Refinement grants life, Soul Forging awakens intelligence, and Heavenly Forging creates gods."

"What I can teach you now is only this much about Thousand Refinement. As for the sights beyond Spirit Refinement, I haven't even understood them myself. How could I teach you? Should I let you become like me, forging farm tools and parts here for the rest of your life?"

He abruptly turned around, his blazing gaze fixed on Tang Linyuan.

"You need a bigger stage. You need stronger flames. And you also need... a teacher standing at the very peak of the pyramid."

Tang Wulin looked somewhat nervous. "Teacher, are you sending us away?"

"You silly boy, I'm sending you to the heavens."

Mang Tian returned to the table and activated the Soul Guidance Communicator that he rarely used. His fingers tapped across the virtual keyboard, and his tone became incomparably solemn.

"On this continent, there is only one person capable of guiding a nine-year-old Spirit Refinement blacksmith in the art of forging."

"That is the current president of the Blacksmith Association, the only existence on the continent above an eighth-rank Saint Craftsman—the Divine Craftsman, Zhen Hua."

Tang Wulin drew in a sharp breath upon hearing that name.

Zhen Hua!

He was a legend who lived in textbooks, a god in the hearts of all blacksmiths.

It was said that any piece of Heavenly Forged metal he created could trigger a scramble among countless Titled Douluo.

"Teacher, you mean..." Tang Linyuan narrowed his eyes slightly.

Naturally, he knew of Zhen Hua, the man hailed as "a peerless genius of his generation."

"I'll send your information, along with the information on this piece of Star-Sky Black Iron, to an old friend through an internal encrypted channel."

Mang Tian drew a deep breath.

His name is Cen Yue. He's a high-ranking member of the Blacksmith Association and my sworn brother. Once he sees it, this matter won't stay hidden from Zhen Hua."

"I want that Divine Craftsman to personally accept you as his disciple."

"Only the resources and vision in his hands are worthy of your talent. And only he can protect a peerless sword as sharp as you from being snapped by other forces."

After saying that, Mang Tian looked at Tang Linyuan, his eyes seeking an answer. "Are you willing?"

Tang Linyuan fell silent for a moment.

He stood and gave Mang Tian a deep bow.

"A teacher for a day, a father for life. No matter how far I go in the future, no matter who my teachers may be, you will forever be the mentor who set me on this path, Mang Tian."

"Good! With those words, my life has been worth it!"

Mang Tian's eyes reddened slightly. He laughed loudly, then turned around and began composing a letter on the light screen, one capable of changing the landscape of forging across the continent.

[To: That Stubborn Old Fossil Cen Yue]

There were no flowery phrases and no polite official pleasantries.

Mang Tian's fingers flew across the keys as though he were wielding a hammer.

"Old Cen, are you dead yet? If not, get your ass up and read this letter."

"I won't waste time exchanging pleasantries. I found two treasures here in Aolai City. The younger one is nine, born with immense strength, Thousand Refinement Grade One, a future Saint Craftsman prospect."

"But the older one... I can't teach him anymore."

"Nine years old. Spirit Refinement achieved."

"You didn't read that wrong, and I'm not drunk. A nine-year-old Spirit Refinement blacksmith, and it was Spirit Refinement of freakish stuff like Star-Sky Black Iron. He succeeded in one attempt, granted the metal a spirit, and achieved perfect purity."

"I've sent the information in the attachment, along with a holographic image of the metal. See for yourself."

"This child's existence has already exceeded the limits of my ability. His talent is too terrifying. If he isn't properly guided, it will be a loss for our entire Douluo forging world."

"Old Cen, don't let this uncut jade remain buried in the dirt. I want you to use your connections and send this matter straight to President Zhen Hua."

"Tell Zhen Hua that if he doesn't want to regret it for the rest of his life, he should get his ass over here and take a look."

"—Your brother, Mang Tian."

He selected it and sent it.

Seeing the words "Transmission Successful" appear on the screen, Mang Tian seemed to have cast off a thousand-pound burden. His entire body slumped into the chair.

"The letter's been sent."

Mang Tian lit a fresh cigarette and took a deep drag. The curling smoke concealed the hands that trembled faintly with excitement.

"Now, we wait for the wind to rise."

Tang Linyuan stood beside him, looking at the Soul Guidance Communicator glowing faintly.

He knew that this letter was like a paper crane crossing the sea. It would not fly directly to distant Heaven Dou City, but would first land in Eastsea City—the place where the winds began.

"Divine Craftsman Zhen Hua..." Tang Linyuan murmured, a confident curve rising at the corner of his mouth.

"Since I'm going to take a master, then let the upper echelons of Douluo Continent see what it means to be... a monster born knowing."

Outside the window, seagulls swept across the sky.

The legend of these two brothers, following that encrypted electronic letter, broke through the tranquility of Aolai City at the speed of light and shot toward the Blacksmith Association in Eastsea City, a hundred miles away.

Eastsea City, Blacksmith Association Building.

As one of Eastsea City's landmark buildings, this place was filled year-round with the clang of metal and the roar of soul guidance machinery.

Inside an office on the top floor, Cen Yue rubbed his throbbing temples as he impatiently dealt with mountains of accumulated paperwork.

As a high-ranking Association council member and master-level blacksmith, he hated nothing more than these administrative trivialities.

"Beep—"

A special notification sounded.

Cen Yue glanced at the screen. When he saw the sender's name, "Mang Tian," his tightly furrowed brows relaxed slightly before turning into a helpless wry smile.

"That old Mang hasn't contacted me in ages. Whenever he does, it's never good news. Is he asking me to get some rare metal for him this time? Or borrow money?"

He casually lifted his teacup and opened the email marked "Top Secret."

"Old Cen, are you dead yet? If not, hurry and read..."

Reading the utterly impolite greeting at the start, Cen Yue cursed with a laugh, "Old bastard."

However, when his gaze swept over the second line, the hand holding his teacup suddenly froze in midair.

"Nine years old. Spirit Refinement achieved."

"Pfft—!"

The hot tea he had just swallowed sprayed directly across the screen.

Cen Yue did not even bother wiping it off. His eyes widened as he stared at the screen as if it had gone mad.

"A nine-year-old Spirit Refinement blacksmith? How much fake liquor did that old bastard Mang Tian drink? He actually dares brag like this? Isn't he afraid the wind will make him bite his tongue?"

He cursed under his breath while instinctively reaching to close the email.

But out of trust in his old friend's character over many years, his finger hovered in the air. In the end, as if possessed, he clicked on the [Holographic Image Data] in the attachment.

The image appeared.

It showed a dim workshop.

A black-haired youth used no hammer, both hands pressed against a piece of red-hot Star-Sky Black Iron.

Then, a pitch-black pillar of light shot into the sky. The sound of the metal breathing rang clearly through the speakers and filled the entire office.

Dead silence.

Cen Yue remained in the posture of wiping the screen, as though he had been turned to stone.

As a master-level blacksmith, he knew far too well what that pillar of light represented.

The metal had been granted a spirit, resonating with heaven and earth!

"It really is... Spirit Refinement?!"

"Star-Sky Black Iron?! That's the kind of stuff even I only have a thirty percent chance of handling... and he, he succeeded in one go?!"

Cen Yue sprang up from his chair. The chair crashed loudly to the floor, but he did not notice at all.

His heart pounded wildly as the trembling sensation of witnessing history instantly swept through his entire body.

"No! This is too big! I can't handle this!"

Cen Yue grabbed his communicator. Without even bothering to put on his coat, he rushed out of the office like a rabbit with its tail on fire and sprinted madly toward the president's office at the end of the corridor.