A Great Help

Sun Ping picked through the blue-black scraps Shen Chu had smashed, choosing the best one and tucking the other into his tunic.

He clamped the iron into the furnace, retrieved it once the temperature was right, and swung his forging hammer, the rhythmic clanging filling the air.

This went on for over an hour.

Sun Ping was fully focused, sweat rolling down his forehead, yet he had no time to wipe it away.

His technique was more precise and delicate than usual, every strike poured with his heart and soul. Shen Chu watched from the side, eyes unblinking, occasionally stepping in to add coal or fetch water.

As the final hammer blow landed, Sun Ping plunged the forged short blade into cold water.

A hiss erupted as white steam billowed upward!

Once it cooled, Sun Ping retrieved the blade, wiped it dry with a cloth, and held it up to inspect.

A cold light rippled across the edge, and the blade's surface possessed a texture distinctly different from ordinary ironware.

Shen Chu leaned in to examine the short blade, his voice filled with curiosity: "Master Sun, why does this short blade look so different from the others? It feels... it feels like it's something extraordinary."

Sun Ping could no longer hold back; he threw his head back and laughed, a sound laced with a hint of a sob.

He wiped the sweat and tears from his face, turned, and handed the short blade to Shen Chu, his voice hoarse yet unable to hide his excitement:

"Of course it's different! This isn't just an ordinary blade; this is a low-grade short blade! I've been smithing for decades, and today, I've finally forged a low-grade weapon!"

By the end, his eyes were red and tears streamed down his cheeks. He hurriedly raised his hands to wipe them, but the more he wiped, the more they flowed, so he simply let them fall, smiling like a child.

Shen Chu finally realized what had happened and quickly cupped his hands in congratulations: "Congratulations, Master Sun! Truly, congratulations!"

However, the moment he lowered his head, his gaze had already caught the small, floating box hovering above the short blade:

[Low-grade Short Blade: (100/100)]

Steward Li sat in his room, the tea brought by his servant growing cold, yet he remained oblivious, staring blankly at the delivery manifest on his desk.

Three hundred refined iron long blades, with a seven-day deadline.

He had already quietly checked the warehouse; even if the current skilled workers pushed themselves to the limit, they could produce at most two hundred blades in seven days, and that was an optimistic estimate.

With Han Tieshan and his crew gone, there was a shortfall of about a hundred blades that simply could not be filled.

Only two paths lay before him.

The first was to hold out, refuse to seek out Han Tieshan, and fail to deliver the order on time.

But the Zhao Family was not a group to be trifled with. Not only would he lose three thousand taels of silver in compensation, but the reputation of the Li Family would be shattered. If the higher-ups blamed him for this, his career as a steward would surely be over!

The second was to swallow his pride and beg Han Tieshan to return.

Since Han Tieshan had dared to leave so decisively, he must have calculated that Li would eventually bow his head. Han Tieshan would certainly demand conditions—higher wages, better benefits, and perhaps even a share of his authority.

At the mere thought of Han Tieshan's smug face, Steward Li's teeth ground together with a sharp click.

He wanted neither path.

But time waited for no one; if he dragged this out any longer, even the chance for a remedy would vanish.

Steward Li closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.

Forget it. Sometimes, one must sacrifice their pride.

He stood up slowly, preparing to head to where Han Tieshan was staying.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door, followed by Shen Chu's voice: "Steward Li, I have something to report."

The moment Steward Li heard it was Shen Chu, an inexplicable rage flared up within him.

If it weren't for the trouble this kid had caused, would he have ended up in such a predicament?

He suppressed his anger, sat back down, and said coldly: "Come in."

Shen Chu pushed the door open and bowed respectfully.

Steward Li glanced at him, his tone indifferent: "What are you here for? If you're here to plead for mercy, don't bother. I'm in no mood to deal with you. Go back to your station, do your work, and spend a few more years as an apprentice honing your basics before you..."

Before he could finish, Shen Chu suddenly produced a short blade from behind his back, presenting it with both hands, and said loudly: "Steward Li, this is a low-grade short blade just forged by Master Sun himself!"

Steward Li's words came to an abrupt halt, the second half of his sentence stuck firmly in his throat.

"What did you say?! A low-grade short blade?!"

He stood up abruptly, his eyes locked onto the cold, shimmering blade in Shen Chu's hands, his face filled with disbelief!

Shen Chu held the blade with both hands and nodded: "Yes, Steward Li. Master Sun forged this blade with his own hands right in front of me just now. It is absolutely true."

Steward Li strode over to Shen Chu, snatched the short blade, and turned it over repeatedly to inspect it.

The cold light of the blade reflected in his pupils, and his breathing grew heavier.

"How is this possible... Old Sun has been smithing for decades and has never produced a ranked weapon. How could he today..." Steward Li muttered to himself, then suddenly looked up at Shen Chu.

"Tell me exactly what happened, from start to finish!"

Shen Chu recounted the events exactly as they had unfolded:

How he had followed Master Sun's method to smash the iron, how he had smashed out a few different pieces of material to ask for guidance, and how Master Sun had used one of those pieces to forge this low-grade short blade.

Steward Li listened in silence for a long time, his gaze shifting between Shen Chu and the short blade.

He suddenly turned, grabbed the short blade, and strode toward the door: "Follow me!"

Shen Chu hurried to keep up.

The two walked through the corridor and arrived at the Sword-Forging Courtyard.

It was nearly mealtime, but Sun Ping had not stopped working. He was sitting at his station, using a cloth to carefully wipe the blue-black iron, a lingering smile on his face.

"Old Sun!"

Steward Li called out from a distance.

Sun Ping looked up and, seeing Steward Li and Shen Chu arriving together, was not surprised. He stood up with a smile and cupped his hands: "Steward Li is here."

Steward Li walked up quickly, placed the short blade on the table, and lowered his voice to speak with Sun Ping.

The two huddled together, whispering for a long time, their voices rising and falling, occasionally punctuated by gasps of amazement.

Shen Chu tactfully retreated a few paces, not wanting to disturb their conversation.

But he could feel that as Steward Li spoke with Sun Ping, he would glance at him from time to time.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the two finally finished their discussion.

Steward Li turned and walked toward Shen Chu.

Shen Chu quickly stood straight.

To his surprise, the gloom and displaced anger were gone from Steward Li's face; instead, it was filled with smiles, and his tone had softened considerably:

"Little Shen, Master Sun has told me everything. He was able to forge this low-grade short blade, and you, my boy, have been a great help."