People Really Can Be Infuriating by Comparison

Wu Changkong looked at Big Ox's ghost-struck expression and said, torn between laughter and tears, "I'm male."

"Male? You're male?"

"Isn't Skywater Academy a girls' academy? I grew up in Skywater City, and I've never heard of Skywater Academy accepting male students... You're not lying to me, are you?"

"I'm not."

"I was admitted as an exception this year. The dean thought my talent was decent, so an exception was made for me."

"Skywater Academy has stood for centuries. I'm the first male student."

"Admitted as an exception? The first in centuries?" Big Ox sucked in a sharp breath.

He looked Wu Changkong up and down again, as though he were seeing him for the first time.

He muttered, "Just how strong do you have to be for Skywater Academy to break centuries of rules? Brother, what rank of Soul Master are you?"

"Level thirty-nine Soul Elder."

"I'm already twenty and still hovering around level twenty-five. Master said it was questionable whether I'd ever break through to Soul Elder in this life."

"Thirteen years old and level thirty-nine... No wonder the dean was willing to make an exception for you. Comparing people really is enough to infuriate someone to death."

He patted Wu Changkong on the shoulder, his honest smile carrying a trace of admiration. "Then you definitely didn't buy all this metal for the smithy to make farming tools, did you?"

"Mm, I need it for myself." Wu Changkong did not explain further, and Big Ox did not press him.

After ten that night, all the work in the shop was finished, and the last customer picking up horseshoes had paid and left.

The night wind poured in from the alley mouth, carrying a faint chill.

Tie Meng picked up his coat from behind the counter and slung it over his shoulder. He walked over to Wu Changkong, who was still checking the iron stock at his workstation, his face full of emotion. "Changkong, I heard you study at Skywater Academy?"

"Yes."

"Level thirty-nine?"

"Mm, level thirty-nine."

Tie Meng clicked his tongue and rubbed his shiny bald head, his tone full of wonder. "Back when I was at Soul Master Academy, the strongest genius in my year was only level twenty-two. He later even joined Spirit Hall."

"You swung a hammer in my shop all afternoon today. I nearly forgot you were a Soul Master."

"A thirteen-year-old level thirty-nine Soul Elder squatting in my shabby shop making woodcutting knives... I'm afraid no one would believe it if they heard."

"I don't care whether others believe it. I just do my job well."

"Fine. I'm definitely making you my friend, Iron Uncle."

"It was just luck."

"By the way, Iron Uncle, I want to forge some things of my own using materials I bought myself. Is that all right?"

Tie Meng waved a large hand and said heartily, "Of course. Use the furnace however you like. If there isn't enough charcoal, go carry some over from the backyard yourself."

"I live across the street. Come call me when you're done, and I'll lock up. Don't stay up too late—you still have classes tomorrow, right?"

"All right. Thanks, Iron Uncle."

Tie Meng waved him off, tossed his coat over his shoulder, and strode toward the other side of the street.

Big Ox and Old Zhou also packed up and left one after the other, leaving Wu Changkong alone in the spacious forging room.

Wu Changkong took out a piece of Sinking Silver from his storage belt.

He drew a deep breath, stuffed the Sinking Silver ingot into the hottest layer of charcoal in the furnace, and pulled the bellows with his right hand.

Sinking Silver conducted heat far better than ordinary iron. In less than a quarter of an hour, it changed from silver-white to dark red.

He used tongs to take the thoroughly heated Sinking Silver ingot out and steadily placed it on the anvil, then raised the heavy hammer in his right hand.

When the first hammer blow fell, he deliberately held back seventy percent of his strength. Sinking Silver was extremely malleable; one strike could spread it over more than three times the area of ordinary iron. Using the force meant for refined iron on Sinking Silver would only ruin the material.

His movements were neither hurried nor slow, and the force behind every hammer blow was controlled to the finest degree.

Under his hammer, the Sinking Silver ingot gradually spread out, changing from a palm-sized silver ingot into a curved armor plate of even thickness.

That was the initial outline of a Battle Armor breastplate.

Every blow adjusted the curvature, ensuring that the breastplate would perfectly fit the body's contours once formed.

The breastplate's curve needed repeated adjustments, with every hammer blow making minute changes to its curvature.

With a hiss, white mist rose, and a layer of icy blue sheen appeared over the quenched armor plate.

He held the armor plate up to the light. "This forging turned out well."

Then came the second piece, then the third.

He divided the Battle Armor breastplate into three separate armor plates—the left chest, right chest, and central heart guard—and forged them separately. The curvature and thickness of each piece strictly followed the measurements on last night's blueprint.

During the forging process, he discovered a problem.

Although Sinking Silver's amplification of Soul Power conduction was excellent, its threshold for plastic deformation was lower than the blueprint had estimated. That meant several additional stress-relief grooves would need to be added during later assembly.

He silently noted down the correction to the measurements, intending to update the blueprint when he returned.

Time slipped quietly by amid the sounds of hammering and bellows...

By the time he removed the last breastplate piece from the quenching pool, wiped the water from its surface with coarse cloth, and carefully inspected its curvature under the light, the old wall clock was already pointing to one in the morning.

He stacked the three roughly formed Sinking Silver armor plates and put them into his storage belt, then began tidying the forging room.

It was a habit he had developed while growing up in the smithy. When using someone else's equipment, he had to cherish it even more than his own.

After cleaning up, he went to Tie Meng's residence across the street and lightly knocked on the door. A moment later, Tie Meng opened it with his coat draped over his shoulders, yawning sleepily.

"Finished? What time is it?"

"One o'clock."

"One in the morning? Kid, don't you have classes tomorrow?"

"Of course I do."

"I just wouldn't feel at ease if I didn't finish."

Tie Meng looked at the young man before him, covered from head to toe in coal dust, and smiled. "All right, get back now."

Wu Changkong nodded, thanked him, and turned toward the academy.

When he returned to the academy, the iron gates were already closed, leaving only a small side door for teachers and students returning late.

The uncle in the security room was dozing with his head on the desk. Startled awake by the sound of Wu Changkong pushing open the door, he raised his head and rubbed his eyes groggily.

He froze for a moment when he saw who it was, then recognized Wu Changkong.

"Why are you back so late? And you're filthy all over?"

"I went to work part-time at a smithy and accidentally stayed too late."

"Part-time work?"

"You're a Soul Master, and you went to forge iron as a part-time job? Are you really that short on money? Don't Soul Masters receive subsidies from Spirit Hall? That's several dozen Gold Soul Coins a month—not a small amount."

"I spend too much. It's all gone."

The security uncle waved a hand. "Go on back. It's good for young people to have drive, but don't wear yourself out."

"Your homeroom teacher, Ling Shuang, is famously strict. Be careful not to get punished with laps if you doze off in class tomorrow."