Spirit Forging Moonlit Gold

Three mornings later, the forge burned thirty percent hotter than usual.

Yun Zhiyu stood before the workbench in a fitted gray work uniform, her cuffs and trouser legs tightly bound. Her silver hair was tied into a ponytail with a leather cord, exposing her fair neck. The color had returned to her face, and the vertical slit in her violet eyes was hidden deep within; only the occasional flicker of starlight revealed the lingering effects of that martial soul fusion.

Feng Wuyu and Zhen Hua stood on either side, one with a blade of grass between his teeth and the other holding a teacup, yet both wore equally solemn expressions. Yali sat in a chair in the corner, the soul power of her Wish Angel circulating quietly as she prepared for any accident. Yun Ming leaned against the doorframe, his black robe dark as ink, his gaze calm. Long Yeyue sat by the window with her cane across her knees, her clouded eyes half-open, as though resting—or judging a destiny about to be born.

Yun Zhishu lay across Yuan En's lap, her amber-gold eyes wide as saucers. She clutched half a pastry in her little hand but had forgotten to eat it. Ye Xinglan stood at the outermost edge, her slender sword held across her chest, her dark eyes fixed unblinking on the forge. She knew Yun Zhiyu was forging a sword for her today, but she had never expected her to directly attempt Spirit Forging.

"Moonlit Gold," Zhen Hua said in a deep voice. "It absorbs the essence of the moon. It's light and swift, with extremely high compatibility with the Star God's Sword. Are you sure you want to choose it? Spirit Forging is more than ten times harder than Thousandfold Forging."

Yun Zhiyu did not answer immediately. She took out a piece of metal from beneath the workbench and held it in her palm.

It was an ore chunk the size of a fist, its surface gleaming with a faint silver-blue luster, as if a pool of moonlight had been frozen solid. Under the light, it shifted with an unusual texture—heavy as mercury one moment, light as a feather the next—as though it might float from her palm and melt into the daylight beyond the window.

"I'm sure," she said softly. "Xinglan's sword needs a sheath that can nurture sword intent. The lightness of Moonlit Gold will let her draw her sword faster. Its affinity for star power will allow sword intent to resonate with her martial soul. Thousandfold Forging can only shape it; only Spirit Forging can give it life."

She paused and looked at Ye Xinglan, a smile in her violet eyes. "And besides, I promised her I'd give her the best."

The tips of Ye Xinglan's ears reddened slightly. Her grip on her sword tightened, but she said nothing.

Feng Wuyu spat out the blade of grass and strode to the workbench. "Then begin. The essence of Spirit Forging lies in using soul power as the guide and spiritual power as the bridge, allowing metal to develop its own spirituality. You're not forging it—you're awakening it."

"I know."

Yun Zhiyu placed the Moonlit Gold into the furnace. The flames were specially made, and their temperature had to be controlled precisely. It could not be too high—Moonlit Gold feared heat, and excessive temperatures would disperse the moon essence contained within it. She watched the changes inside the furnace as the silver-blue metal gradually softened, fine cracks appearing across its surface like ice thawing beneath spring sunlight.

"Out."

She drew the metal out with tongs and placed it on the anvil. The Moonlit Gold cooled rapidly in the air, its silver-blue glow growing richer, like a mass of solidified moonlight that might begin to flow at any moment.

The first hammer fell.

"Clang—"

The sound was crisp, yet it carried a strange echo, like striking a hollow piece of jade. The lingering resonance drifted on without end. Yun Zhiyu's wrist went numb. Moonlit Gold's recoil was completely different from Astral Black Iron's—not a fierce collision, but a flexible rebound, like punching cotton. The force was scattered, dissolved, and reflected back at her.

"Its spirituality is resisting," Zhen Hua warned in a low voice. "Communicate with it through your spiritual power. Don't force it."

Yun Zhiyu closed her eyes. Her spiritual power extended like fine threads and seeped into the metal. She "saw" it—the internal structure of Moonlit Gold was not an ordinary metal lattice, but countless tiny silver-blue points of light, like a compressed starry sky. Every point rotated slowly, carrying an ancient rhythm.

I'm not here to conquer you. I'm here to awaken you.

Her spiritual power became a gentle touch, like a spring breeze brushing over a lake, like moonlight falling upon branches. At first, those silver-blue lights resisted. Gradually, one lit up, then a second, then a third... Like stars being kindled, they answered her call one after another until they connected into a brilliant river of stars.

"Now!" Feng Wuyu barked.

Yun Zhiyu opened her eyes, and the second hammer fell.

This strike was entirely different from the first. The instant the hammer touched the metal, silver-blue light erupted. Rather than spreading outward, it contracted inward, drawing her soul power and spiritual power into the metal with it.

She felt her consciousness dragged into a void. Flowing starlight surrounded her, soft moonlight lay beneath her feet, and ahead of her, an unfinished sword sheath floated silently.

Spirit Forging Creation...

This was the essential difference between Spirit Forging and Thousandfold Forging. Thousandfold Forging purified, shaped, and bestowed spirituality. Spirit Forging, however, meant entering the metal's spiritual world, conversing with its spirituality, resonating with it, and merging with it. Every piece of Spirit Forged metal was a life jointly nurtured by the forger and the metal.

The hammering resumed.

Yun Zhiyu's strikes became gentle, as though she were caressing it, as though she were speaking with it. With every strike, the starlight within the Moonlit Gold brightened, producing a subtle resonance with the Xuanyuan Sword intent and Star God's Sword force within her spiritual sea. She recalled her martial soul fusion with Ye Xinglan that day—the dazzling intertwining of stars and giant sword, the warmth and sharpness of their souls touching.

Xinglan's sword, she sketched the blueprint in her mind. It must be fast, light, able to hide its edge in the sheath and nurture its intent within.

Under her hammer, the Moonlit Gold stretched, curved, and drew together, gradually taking the form of a sword sheath. Its body was long and elegant, its curves soft, with fine star patterns emerging across the surface as though a stretch of sky had been compressed within it. She sealed a strand of her soul power into the sheath's mouth, then branded her understanding of the Star God's Sword intent into every inch of its patterns. This was not merely a container—it was a cradle for sword intent, an extension of a martial soul.

"Hundredfold Tempering Purification complete," Zhen Hua murmured.

Yun Zhiyu did not stop. Her hammering accelerated, silver hair dancing in the firelight. The slit in her violet eyes opened fully, the star patterns deep in her pupils reflecting the radiance on the metal's surface. The phantom of the Fourfold Hammer Echo appeared around her, but the hammers did not fall at once. They descended in sequence, alternated, and revolved, like the changing seasons, like the turning of sun and moon.

Each hammer shadow carried a different frequency, forming four kinds of vibrations inside the metal that interwove into a complex chord. Moonlit Gold's spirituality awakened, grew, and rejoiced within that chord like a newborn child experiencing the warmth of the world for the first time.

"Thousandfold Forging has spirit..." Feng Wuyu muttered.

But Yun Zhiyu knew this was not enough. Thousandfold Forging merely awakened it; Spirit Forging was what granted life. Her spiritual power immersed itself fully into the metal, merging with that river of stars. She felt every star's pulse and guided them to arrange, combine, and condense.

"Soul power, inject it," Zhen Hua reminded her.

Yun Zhiyu gritted her teeth and poured every last drop of soul power in her body into the hammerhead. The Torch Dragon Bloodline boiled through her meridians, while the lightning power of the Winged Dragon ran down her arm to her palm, colliding with, merging with, and sublimating the starlight of Moonlit Gold.

Boom—

The forge blazed with light.

The silver-blue luster on Moonlit Gold's surface suddenly transformed into a deep violet-gold, like stars burning, like moonlight boiling. Yun Zhiyu felt her consciousness thrust violently into the metal's deepest core. There, she saw a mass of unfinished light—the spiritual core of Moonlit Gold, the embryonic form of the life it was about to become.

Wake up, she said in her heart. Witness this world with me.

The ball of light trembled, then slowly opened a pair of eyes.

They were not real eyes, but a kind of perception, a kind of will, a presence linked to Yun Zhiyu by blood. It "looked" at her with the innocence and curiosity of something newborn, yet also with an ancient gentleness born from the essence of the moon.

"I am your forger," Yun Zhiyu said. "And your friend. From this day on, you will shelter a sword from wind and rain and nurture its sharpness. Are you willing?"

The light was silent for a moment, then gently "nodded"—if light could nod.

In reality, Yun Zhiyu's final hammer fell.

There was no thunderous crash, only a strange clear cry, like a baby's first wail. The Moonlit Gold had completely taken shape. A sword sheath lay quietly atop the anvil, its surface glowing violet-gold, its star patterns flowing slowly as though a living thing were breathing.

Spirit Forging, complete.

Yun Zhiyu staggered, and Yali rushed over to support her. Her face was pale as paper, her soul power completely exhausted. Even the Winged Dragon within her spiritual sea had weakly closed its eyes. Yet a faint curve rested on her lips as she looked at the sword sheath with almost maternal tenderness.

"It's done..." she said hoarsely.

Feng Wuyu and Zhen Hua stepped forward at the same time. Their four hands hovered above the sheath, but neither dared touch it. They "saw" it—the spirituality contained within the sheath was not that of a dead object. It was alive. It could sense, respond, and grow.

"A seven-year-old Spirit Forger..." Zhen Hua's voice trembled. "When I was seven, I was still smashing iron blocks and playing in the mud..."

"So was I," Feng Wuyu said, unusually without arguing. His beard stuck out high. "This girl isn't human."

"What are you talking about?" Yali shot him a glare and held her daughter tighter. "Zhiyu is exhausted. She needs rest."

"Wait," Yun Zhiyu struggled slightly. "It's not finished yet..."

She took several rare metals from her system storage—Star Sand, Void Mithril, and Chaos Red Copper. They were all rewards from her years of check-ins, and their properties matched Moonlit Gold. Her fingers trembled, but she stubbornly embedded the metals one by one into the sheath's mouth and tip, using her final spiritual power to carve runes.

"This is..." Ye Xinglan finally spoke, her voice hoarse.

"Accessories for the sheath," Yun Zhiyu said without looking up. "Star Sand strengthens its affinity for star power, Void Mithril reduces its weight, and Chaos Red Copper stabilizes its structure. When you inject soul power into it later, the sheath will automatically absorb surrounding star power and nurture the sword intent. When it isn't in use, the sword will rest in the sheath, but its intent will keep growing."

She paused and looked up at Ye Xinglan. Her exhaustion could not conceal the smile in her violet eyes. "I promised you. The best."

Ye Xinglan stared blankly at her—at the girl whose face was pale and whose hands were trembling, yet who still stubbornly forged a sword sheath for her. She remembered her lonely childhood, the cold stares within her clan, and the pride and bitterness no one understood whenever she drew her sword.

And now, someone had forged her a sword sheath. Not a container, but a cradle, a guardian, a message that said, I understand your sword, and I understand your loneliness.

"...Thank you." In the end, those were the only two words she said, though her eyes had reddened.

Yun Zhiyu handed the sheath to her, her movements as gentle as though she were passing over a life.

The instant Ye Xinglan received it and slid her slender sword into the sheath, the star patterns flared brightly. They resonated with her Star God's Sword martial soul as silvery-white light intertwined with violet-gold radiance, casting a flowing galaxy through the forge.

"It likes you very much," Yun Zhiyu said softly. "Moonlit Gold's spirituality recognizes you as its master."

Ye Xinglan lowered her head to look at the sword and sheath in her hands. Feeling that warm bond as though it ran through her bloodline, she suddenly felt that she would never be alone again.

Yun Ming walked over and lifted his daughter into his arms. His black robe spread like wings, shielding everyone in its shadow. His voice was low, filled with a father's pride and heartache. "Enough. We're done for today. Zhiyu, sleep."

"Dad," Yun Zhiyu mumbled against his shoulder, "was I amazing?"

"Amazing." A faint curve appeared on Yun Ming's lips. "But next time, you are not allowed to exhaust yourself like this again."

"...Mm."

Yali followed behind them, quietly circulating the soul power of her Wish Angel to soothe her daughter's overdrawn meridians. Yun Zhishu jumped down from Yuan En's lap, ran after them, and grabbed her sister's sleeve. Tears welled in her amber-gold eyes. "Sister, you scared me to death!"

"Don't be afraid." Yun Zhiyu reached out and rubbed her sister's hair. "Big Sister was forging a sword—a very powerful sword."

"For Sister Xinglan?"

"Yes."

"What about me?" Yun Zhishu pouted. "Where's mine?"

"Yours..." Yun Zhiyu thought for a moment, a trace of amusement flashing through her tired eyes. "Once Big Sister has rested, I'll forge you a divine sword. It'll be even more impressive than Sister Xinglan's."

"Pinky promise!"

"Pinky promise..."

Her voice grew softer and softer until she finally fell deeply asleep in her father's arms. Silver hair spilled downward, her violet eyes closed, yet that faint curve remained on her lips, as though in her dreams she continued forging some miracle yet to be born.

Inside the forge, everyone remained silent for a long time.

Leaning on her cane, Long Yeyue walked to the anvil and lowered her head to look at the remaining star patterns on the sheath. A sharp light was concealed in her clouded eyes. "A seven-year-old Spirit Forger... In over twenty thousand years of Douluo Continent's history, has there ever been anyone like her?"

"No." Yun Ming's voice came from the doorway. He held his daughter in his arms, his back straight as a pine. "She is the first."

"And she will be the strongest," Zhen Hua added, his voice carrying almost fanatical certainty. "I'll wait. I'll wait for her to become a Divine Craftsman, for her Heavenly Forging, for the day she... changes the world."

Feng Wuyu said nothing. He merely walked to the anvil, carefully lifted the sword sheath, wiped away nonexistent dust with his sleeve, and handed it to Ye Xinglan. "Keep it safe. This is Zhiyu's heart's blood, and also... her trust."

Ye Xinglan accepted it and pressed the sheath against her chest, feeling its warm pulse as though she were holding a tiny heart.

Outside the window, the sun slanted westward, and the rippling waters of Sea God Lake reflected a sky full of stars. The forge fire gradually dimmed, while the star patterns on the sheath continued to flow slowly, as though waiting for some night, some sword, some soul that would resonate with it.

And Yun Zhiyu, in her father's embrace, beneath her mother's holy light, amid her sister's chatter, sank into sleep. In her dream, she stood beneath a starry sky, holding an unfinished hammer. Before her lay countless metals waiting to be awakened, and behind her stood countless people waiting to be protected.

One step at a time, she murmured in her dream. Steady and sure.