Blacksmith Shop

Returning to Notting Academy, life settled back into its original rhythm.

Tang San spent his days cultivating, eating, sleeping, occasionally sparring with Xiao Wu, and sometimes reading in the library.

The work-study students had grown accustomed to the routine of their "boss."

He would head out before dawn and only return after dark, and even then, he would sit in meditation to cultivate until late into the night.

Huang Fei's life, however, was a completely different scene.

He slept until he woke up naturally every day, returned to bed to lie down after breakfast, found a cool spot to lie down after lunch, and after dinner... he continued to lie down.

The work-study students had transitioned from initial shock to numbness, and finally to their current state of taking it for granted; the smoothness of this mental shift was something they found incredible even themselves.

Wang Sheng once asked Tang San in private, "Is Brother Fei... really alright? Sleeping all day like that, won't his soul power regress?"

Tang San thought for a moment and answered earnestly, "He's been like this since he was a child. But whenever he encounters a situation, he has never dropped the ball."

Wang Sheng nodded, half-believing, and asked no more.

Xiao Wu, having observed Huang Fei for a few days, reached a conclusion that no one could refute: "Did he die of sleepiness in his past life?"

When Huang Fei heard this assessment, he was in the middle of eating.

He looked up at Xiao Wu and said seriously, "Possibly, so I'm making up for all the sleep I missed in my past life during this one."

Xiao Wu was choked by his righteous attitude, and her rabbit ears almost popped out from her ponytail.

Days passed by, one after another.

Winter in Nuoding City grew deeper; a thin layer of white frost would coat the playground in the morning, and breath turned into white mist.

The work-study students increased their quilts from one to two, and the difficulty of getting up in the morning upgraded from "a bit difficult" to "almost impossible," which was good news for Huang Fei—he had even more reason to stay in bed.

Tang San's soul power was growing steadily.

After absorbing his first soul ring, his Mysterious Heaven Skill seemed to have cleared some blockage, and its circulation speed was much faster than before.

He didn't deliberately measure it, but judging by the feeling of fullness in his soul power, he estimated he was already approaching level fifteen.

He attributed this to his persistent daily cultivation and didn't think much more of it.

But outside of cultivation, Tang San began to ponder a problem.

His methods were too singular.

The Entangle of his Blue Silver Grass was indeed useful, especially when dealing with those three bandits with the scarred faces; once the vines emerged, the opponents didn't even have a chance to resist.

But that was only because the opponents were too weak—three first-ring white-ring soul masters with soul power only at level eleven or twelve, and combat skills equal to zero—which allowed the Blue Silver Grass to exert such an effect.

What if he encountered a true powerhouse?

Tang San simulated it in his mind.

Suppose the opponent was an agility-attack soul master with high speed and great strength; before the Blue Silver Grass vines could wrap around, the opponent would already have charged right in front of him.

Suppose the opponent was a power-type assault soul master; after the vines wrapped around, a single forceful struggle from the opponent would likely shatter them, given the current toughness of the Blue Silver Grass.

The Life Flow path of the Blue Silver Grass required time to grow.

The day it became as tough as iron and as regenerative as a demon, it would indeed be very powerful.

But until that day arrived, he needed other means to compensate for the shortcomings of the Blue Silver Grass.

Hidden weapons.

Tang San thought of the Tang Sect hidden weapons from his previous life.

Those things he had used for two lifetimes, those lethal weapons that required no soul power to activate, no martial soul coordination, and could be used by anyone.

In this world, it seemed no one knew of the existence of hidden weapons.

At least, he had scoured every book on weapons in the Notting Academy library and had not seen a single record related to hidden weapons.

This was a blank slate.

Tang San's heart began to race.

He didn't need to start with those complex hidden weapons that required precision mechanisms and rare materials.

He needed the simplest, the lowest cost, and the easiest to manufacture.

Silent Sleeve Arrow.

This was the most basic of the Tang Sect hidden weapons, and also the one with the lowest threshold for production.

Its principle was simple: a metal cylinder containing a spring and a trigger mechanism inside; the arrow was hidden within the cylinder, and upon pulling the trigger, the spring would eject the arrow. It was strapped to the arm and concealed by the sleeve, so the arrow would be fired before the enemy could even react.

Materials needed to make a Silent Sleeve Arrow: metal cylinder, spring, arrow, trigger mechanism.

He had none of these materials on hand.

But there were blacksmith shops in Nuoding City.

Thinking of this, Tang San immediately sat up from his bed.

The sky outside was not yet fully bright, the Dormitory Seven was dim, and the work-study students were still sleeping soundly in their respective quilts.

He put on his clothes lightly and felt for the bag of Gold Soul Coin he had received from the Martial Soul Hall at the head of his bed.

One coin a month; he had already collected two months' worth, and combined with the meager savings he had scraped together from odd jobs in the village over the years, it should be enough to buy the materials.

As he walked out of Dormitory Seven, the morning breeze hit him head-on, making him shrink his neck from the cold.

The blacksmith shops in Nuoding City were concentrated on a street in the west of the city, about two incense sticks' worth of travel from the academy.

When Tang San arrived, most of the shops had not yet opened their Space Gate, and only the one closest to the street corner had removed its door panels, with the sound of "ding-ding-dang-dang" hammering echoing from within.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, where a wave of heat mixed with the smell of rust rushed to meet him.

The shop was not large, and the shelves against the walls were filled with all sorts of ironware.

Farm tools, kitchen knives, horseshoes, iron chains, and some semi-finished sword blanks.

In the center, the furnace fire was burning brightly, and a shirtless middle-aged man was swinging a hammer, repeatedly striking a piece of red-hot iron, sending sparks flying everywhere.

"Little brother, what are you buying?" the blacksmith asked without looking up, his hands not stopping their work.

Tang San's gaze swept around the shop, finally landing on a pile of scattered metal strips in the corner.

"Boss, do you have any ready-made metal cylinders here? About this thick and this long." He gestured the dimensions with his hands.

The blacksmith stopped his hammer and looked up at him.

There was a hint of surprise in his eyes.

Such a small child, running to a blacksmith shop early in the morning to buy metal cylinders?

"Cylinders? What are they for?"

"Making some small things." Tang San did not offer further explanation.

The blacksmith did not press him. He put down his hammer, walked over to the pile of scattered items in the corner, rummaged through them, and tossed a few metal cylinders of varying sizes onto the counter.

"These are scraps left over from previous jobs. If you want them, I'll give them to you cheap. Five Copper Soul Coin each."

Tang San picked one up, weighed it in his hand, and held it up to the light to check the smoothness of the inner wall.

Not good enough.

The inner wall was a bit rough, which would affect the sliding of a spring inside.

He picked up the second one; still no good.

The third one was barely acceptable, but the dimensions were a bit too large.