When Comparison Breeds Resentment

Wu Changkong looked at Big Ox's ghost-stricken expression and said with a helpless laugh, "I'm a man."

"A man? You're a man?"

"Isn't Skywater Academy an all-girls academy? I grew up in Skywater City, and I've never heard of Skywater Academy admitting male students... You aren't lying to me, are you?"

"I'm not lying."

"I was exceptionally admitted this year. The dean thought I had decent talent, so she made an exception for me."

"In the hundreds of years since Skywater Academy was founded, I'm the first male student."

"Exceptionally admitted? The first in hundreds of years?" Big Ox sucked in a sharp breath.

He looked Wu Changkong over from head to toe again, as though he were meeting him for the first time.

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

"Level thirty-nine Soul Elder."

"I'm already twenty and still hovering around level twenty-five. My master said whether I can break through to Soul Elder in this lifetime is still a question."

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

He patted Wu Changkong on the shoulder, admiration mixed into the honest smile on his face. "Then you definitely didn't buy all this metal for a blacksmith shop to make farm tools, right?"

"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 who had come to collect horseshoes paid and left.

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

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

"Yes."

"Level thirty-nine?"

"Mm, level thirty-nine."

Hearing that, Tie Meng smacked his lips and rubbed his smooth bald head, his tone full of feeling. "Back when I was in Soul Master Academy, the strongest genius in my year was only level twenty-two. Later, he even got into Spirit Hall."

"You spent all afternoon swinging a hammer here 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 machetes... No one would believe it if you told them."

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

"Good. I'm definitely making a friend of you, Uncle Tie."

"I was just lucky."

"By the way, Uncle Tie, I want to forge some things of my own with materials I bought myself. Is that alright?"

Tie Meng waved his large hand grandly. "Of course. Use the furnace however you like. If there isn't enough charcoal, go carry some in from the backyard yourself."

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

"Alright, thank you, Uncle Tie."

Tie Meng waved him off, flung his coat over his shoulder, and strode across the street.

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

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

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

Sinking Silver conducted heat far better than ordinary iron. In less than fifteen minutes, it changed from silvery white to dark red.

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

When the first hammer fell, he deliberately held back seventy percent of his strength. Sinking Silver was extremely malleable; a single blow could spread it over 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 unhurried, and the force of every strike was controlled with pinpoint precision.

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.

It was the initial outline of a Battle Armor breastplate.

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

The curve of the breastplate needed repeated adjustment, with every strike making minute changes to its curvature.

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

He raised the plate beneath the lamplight. "This piece turned out well."

Then came the second piece, then the third.

He divided the Battle Armor breastplate into three separate plates—the left chest, right chest, and central heart guard—and forged them separately. The curve and thickness of every piece strictly followed the parameters on the blueprint from last night.

During the forging process, he discovered a problem.

Although Sinking Silver had excellent Soul Power conduction amplification, its threshold for plastic deformation was lower than the blueprint had estimated. This meant several additional stress-relief grooves would be needed during later assembly.

He silently noted down the revised parameter, planning to update the blueprint when he returned.

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

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

He stacked the three roughly formed Sinking Silver armor plates and stored them in his storage belt before beginning to tidy the forging room.

It was a habit he had developed from childhood in the blacksmith shop. When using someone else's equipment, he had to cherish it even more than his own.

After finishing up, he walked to Tie Meng's residence across the street and lightly knocked on the door. A moment later, Tie Meng opened it in his coat, yawning sleepily with bleary eyes.

"Finished? What time is it?"

"One o'clock."

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

"Of course I do."

"It's just that I 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. "Alright, hurry back."

Wu Changkong nodded his thanks, turned, and headed toward the academy.

By the time he returned to the academy, the iron gate had already been closed, leaving only a small side door for teachers and students returning late.

The uncle in the security room was dozing over his desk. The sound of Wu Changkong pushing open the door woke him, and he raised his head, rubbing his eyes groggily.

When he saw who it was, he froze for a moment before recognizing Wu Changkong.

"Why are you back so late? And why are you covered in grime?"

"I went to work part-time at the blacksmith shop and accidentally stayed out this late."

"Part-time work?"

"You're a Soul Master, yet you went to forge iron for a part-time job? Are you that short on money? Don't Soul Masters get subsidies from Spirit Hall? That's several dozen Gold Soul Coins a month, which isn't little."

"I spend too much. It ran out."

The security uncle waved his hand. "Hurry back. It's good for young people to have drive, but don't work yourself sick."

"Your homeroom teacher, Ling Shuang, is famously strict. If you doze off in class tomorrow, be careful she doesn't make you run laps."