Trial Work

"No, I mean, keep ten Gold Soul Coins for yourself."

Not only did Shui Bing'er not take them back, she pushed them toward him again.

"But..."

"No buts. Won't you need money later on?"

"The school term just started. What if something urgent comes up? Take it all. It's not like I'm short on this little bit."

Standing nearby, Shui Yue'er said sourly, "Sis, you're being way too generous, aren't you? Last time I asked you for money to buy a new hairpin, you refused no matter what. You even said kids shouldn't spend money carelessly. But now, you're lending sixty Gold Soul Coins just like that?"

Xue Wu crossed her arms, a teasing smile on her lips. "Yeah, sixty Gold Soul Coins."

"Changkong, just accept it."

"Exactly. My sister is being this forward already. If you keep refusing, you really won't know what's good for you."

She had clearly said that on purpose for Shui Bing'er to hear.

Sure enough, Shui Bing'er's face turned red again.

"Yue'er, am I wrong? Even if I gave you two hundred Gold Soul Coins, it still wouldn't be enough for you to spend."

"And I'm lending them to Changkong. Friends should help each other."

Gu Qingbo quietly asked, "So you don't like Changkong?"

"Huh? This..." Shui Bing'er was utterly dumbfounded by the question.

Wu Changkong patted Shui Bing'er. "Alright, stop teasing Bing'er."

"This loan is indeed out of friendship. As for whether it'll still be friendship in the future, we'll talk about that later."

Shui Bing'er looked puzzled. Could it become something other than friendship in the future? Love?

Then Wu Changkong reached out and accepted the sixty Gold Soul Coins.

"I'll repay you with interest within a year."

"No interest needed."

"There will be."

With that, Wu Changkong turned around and took all eighty Gold Soul Coins from his storage belt, placing them together with Shui Bing'er's fifty. A total of one hundred and thirty Gold Soul Coins lay on the table.

"Uncle, one hundred and thirty Gold Soul Coins. Please count them."

The bald uncle nodded. "Exactly one hundred and thirty. Not a coin short."

Afterward, Wu Changkong went to the warehouse in the back. The uncle weighed out the iron ore Wu Changkong wanted piece by piece and handed it to him.

"Alright, it's all weighed out and given to you."

"Mm. Uncle, do you need a blacksmith here?"

The smile on the bald man's face froze as he looked Wu Changkong up and down.

That refined, otherworldly air of his simply had nothing to do with the word blacksmith.

"You want to be a blacksmith, not someone else?"

"Me, of course. Why else would I buy iron ore?"

"I thought you were buying it for someone else to forge for you."

"No, I'll forge it myself."

Shui Yue'er could not help cutting in. "Changkong, don't you still have school? Where would you find time to work as a blacksmith?"

"Besides, our Skywater Academy cultivation assignments are so demanding. You still have to reach level forty within a month. Where would you find the time to come out and forge?"

"I'm only doing this part-time."

"I'll come when I have time and charge by the hour."

"And I won't take up class or cultivation time. For example, on weekly rest days or after class on regular days."

"I won't charge much either. The boss can pay me an apprentice's rate."

For him, making money was merely a secondary objective.

What truly mattered was that he needed a professional forge he could use long-term to complete his Battle Armor.

Skywater Academy did not have forging equipment. If he could find a suitable place outside the academy, his Battle Armor crafting plan could begin ahead of schedule.

This shop had everything he needed: blazing furnaces, quenching pools, bellows, and anvils.

Working part-time here would not only earn him money, but also allow him to use the shop's equipment to forge his Battle Armor openly and legitimately. It was killing two birds with one stone.

The bald man stroked his chin and reassessed the boy before him.

Charging by the hour? That was the first time he had heard of such a thing.

He had been a blacksmith for most of his life and had taken on several apprentices, all paid by the year.

There was no wage in the first year, though food and lodging were provided. Only in the second year would they start receiving pay.

This kid had opened his mouth and asked to be paid by the hour. His mind was certainly flexible.

And the rate he had offered was extremely low to begin with.

"Little brother, fine words aren't as good as fine work."

"How about this? Try your hand at it first."

"If you can do the work, I'll pay you by the hour."

"If you can't, don't bring this up again. Go back and be a student properly. How does that sound?"

"Deal." Wu Changkong nodded slightly.

"Alright then. My name is Tie Meng. Just call me Uncle Tie. And you?"

"My name is Wu Changkong."

"Alright, come with me to the forge now."

At that moment, Shui Yue'er asked, "Uncle, can we come watch?"

"You can, but it'll be a little hot and a little dirty."

The four of them exchanged glances...

"What's there to be afraid of? A little heat and dirt won't hurt."

"Fine, come with me."

The forge was far livelier than it had appeared from outside.

Besides Tie Meng, there were two other blacksmiths working in the shop.

One was an old blacksmith in his fifties, with a grizzled beard and eyes narrowed into slits from years of furnace smoke. He sat on a small stool in the corner, puffing away at a dry tobacco pipe.

The other was Tie Meng's apprentice, just over twenty, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, with arms thicker than Wu Changkong's thighs.

At the moment, he was leaning beside the bellows, curiously looking over the unfamiliar boy and the four young girls behind him.

The old master asked, "Ah Tie, who are they?"

"This young man is here for a trial shift. Those four girls are here to watch."

After explaining, Tie Meng picked up a half-finished short blade from beside the anvil, weighed it in his hand, and held it out to Wu Changkong.

The short blade was only a rough blank. Its surface still bore the black oxide scale left from forging, its edge had not yet been sharpened, and its handle was merely a bare iron tang that had not been wrapped in time.

"A customer ordered this short blade. The rough blank is already finished."

"The work isn't hard. Smooth it out, hammer out the rough bevel for the edge, then quench it to set the shape."

"The requirements aren't high. As long as it's usable, that'll do."

"If you can handle it, you'll be an hourly worker here from now on."

Wu Changkong took the rough blade, turned it twice in his hand, and lightly ran his fingertips over several subtle uneven spots on the blade. Then he nodded without saying anything unnecessary.

He walked to the furnace, shoved the rough blade into the hottest layer of coals, and pulled the bellows lever with his right hand.

The bellows began to wheeze, and the furnace fire shifted from dark red to bright orange.

His movements were neither hurried nor slow. The rhythm of his bellows work was steady and even, never allowing the furnace temperature to drop while wasting no unnecessary strength.

The old master knocked the ash from his pipe in the corner, squinting at Tie Meng. The meaning in his eyes was clear: this kid was quite skilled.

When the rough blade had heated to just the right orange-red, Wu Changkong clamped the iron bar with tongs in his left hand and picked up the long-handled hammer beside the anvil with his right.

Tie Meng's hammer weighed at least fifteen pounds, yet Wu Changkong lifted it one-handed without the slightest effort. With a flick of his wrist, the hammerhead landed steadily on the most uneven section of the rough blade.