Focused hammering

The furnace fire gradually grew stronger.

The piece of Heavy Silver lay quietly in the center of the forge. A soft red glow first spread over its silvery-white surface, then seeped inward little by little, like cold iron from the deep sea finally having its shell pried open by intense heat, slowly reaching a temperature fit for hammering.

Tang Wulin stood before the furnace, in no hurry to act.

He simply watched.

He watched the Heavy Silver change color bit by bit in the fire, watched the sheen that first appeared at its corners, watched its stubborn hardness refuse to soften easily even in the intense heat.

Then he raised his right hand.

Silver light flashed, and the Star-Sinking Hammer slipped silently into his palm.

The instant the hammer settled into his hand, Tang Wulin became utterly still.

For the past three years, he had always used it for Forging.

Not an ordinary forging hammer, not one of the workshop's standard iron hammers, but the Martial Soul that had accompanied him ever since the day of his awakening.

Others held tools.

What he held felt more like a length of weight extending from his own bones.

Mang Tian stood beside him without speaking, watching quietly.

The light fell across the boy's profile and the hammer's dark body. After merging with a Soul Spirit, the Star-Sinking Hammer had grown somewhat heavier. The few faint dark-gold patterns deep within its face occasionally flickered in the furnace glow, like threads buried deep in iron.

Only after nearly half an hour of heating did the Heavy Silver finally reach the right temperature.

Tang Wulin pressed the slot mechanism, and the Heavy Silver slowly rose.

A wave of heat struck his face, lifting the loose strands over his forehead. Yet he did not blink. He merely raised the Star-Sinking Hammer slightly and gave one corner of the Heavy Silver a gentle tap.

"Ding."

The sound was clear.

Not brittle, but taut.

As though something inside was stretched tight and would let him hear only the faintest echo.

A test strike.

This was one of the first things Mang Tian had taught him: before truly beginning, listen to whether it was willing to speak.

Listening to that echo, Tang Wulin's gaze sharpened slightly. Then his left foot moved half a step forward, and the Star-Sinking Hammer finally descended in earnest.

"Clang!"

The first blow struck a corner of the Heavy Silver.

The entire piece of metal trembled lightly, yet showed almost no obvious deformation, only a circular dent on its surface that was neither deep nor shallow.

The second, third, and fourth blows followed close behind.

The ringing of the hammer soon joined into an unbroken sequence.

It was nothing like a sudden downpour, much less a furious assault. Instead, it carried a steady rhythm. The intervals between blows were almost identical, their placement precise, as though he were not striking a heavy, rare metal but knocking, little by little, on a door that still refused to open.

Tang Wulin did not use his full strength.

He used only thirty or forty percent of it.

Heavy Silver was unlike the common metals he usually worked with. It was too hard, too heavy, and too stubborn. If he began with nothing but heavy blows, he would only cave in its surface without necessarily understanding the grain within. With something like this, haste was the least useful thing of all.

So he did not hurry.

He struck blow by blow and listened bit by bit.

The Heavy Silver's recoil was powerful, far greater than that of ordinary metals. Whenever the hammer face touched it, the resisting force drove back along the handle, as though the metal were using every bone in its body to fight his intrusion. But Tang Wulin's hands were steadier now. His wrists, elbows, shoulders, and back all held tight, absorbing wave after wave of recoil before channeling it smoothly into the next strike.

At first, the Heavy Silver's response was cold.

Like a reef at the very bottom of the deep sea: heavy, hard, and unwilling to speak.

Tang Wulin did not urge it on.

Time passed little by little.

Only the soft hiss of the furnace fire and the rhythmic fall of the Star-Sinking Hammer remained in the Forging room.

Mang Tian stood to one side, his expression calm, though a faint trace of satisfaction slowly surfaced in his eyes.

This child's most precious quality had never been his strength.

There were plenty of strong people, and no shortage of those willing to endure hardship. But Tang Wulin possessed enough monstrous strength to bulldoze his way through, yet could rein himself in so steadily when delicate work was truly needed. That was what made him exceptional.

He had not decided to beat the Heavy Silver into submission simply because his strength had increased and he now had a Soul Ring.

On the contrary, he was more patient than before.

That meant not only his hands but his heart had grown steady.

An hour passed, and the Heavy Silver had only tightened slightly. It was nowhere near the purification of hundred refinement, let alone Thousand Refinement.

Tang Wulin showed not the slightest impatience.

His breathing remained even. Although sweat had begun to bead on his forehead, his gaze grew ever more focused. The Star-Sinking Hammer fell again and again on the Heavy Silver's surface, each circular mark almost identical in size, as though someone were patiently driving them, one by one, into the metal's bones.

During the second hour, the hammer strikes grew more closely spaced.

Not more hurried, but more fluid.

Tang Wulin was gradually coming to understand this piece of Heavy Silver's temperament.

It was weighty and dense, its surface almost stubbornly hard, yet the intense heat revealed an exceedingly fine layer of give within. Unlike other metals, that pliancy did not show itself openly. It was more like an undercurrent hidden in deep water, requiring repeated probing and pressure before he could find the places where it would truly yield.

The longer he hammered, the more focused he became.

So focused that nothing remained before his eyes except this piece of Heavy Silver.

The furnace fire, the lights, the Forging room, his teacher, even time itself slowly faded. Only the instant of contact when the hammer fell and the faint vibration the Heavy Silver returned grew clearer and clearer, increasingly like a conversation only the two of them understood.

At one moment, Tang Wulin even distinctly felt as though he had "heard" the Heavy Silver.

It was not a sound.

It was something subtler.

Where it was tight and where it was loose; where it had already been pushed to the brink and where it was still holding firm; where it was hard outside and soft within, and where it was cold through and through—all of it traveled back, bit by bit, through the hammer and his wrist.

He did not know whether this counted as the "communication" his teacher had described.

But he knew he had begun to truly reach it.

After two hours, Tang Wulin finally paused.

Not because he was too tired to lift his hand, but because he knew the moment was right.

In those two hours, he had made little real progress in purification, but he had learned the nature of this piece of Heavy Silver from top to bottom. Every tiny circular pit on its surface was both a probe and a marker. Together, they revealed the metal's inner pathways little by little, slowly outlining the grain that had originally been hidden deep within.

Tang Wulin raised a hand and wiped away his sweat. The loose strands over his forehead were soaked and clung to his skin. Yet his eyes shone brightly—not with shallow excitement, but with the exhilaration of truly finding a way forward.

Watching him, Mang Tian finally spoke slowly:

"Figured it out?"

Tang Wulin did not answer at once. He simply nodded lightly.

Then he tightened his grip on the Star-Sinking Hammer again.

This time, his stance changed.

It was no longer merely steady; it had sunk lower. His feet seemed nailed into the ground, his calves engaged, his waist and back tightened. His strength no longer stopped at his arms, but seemed to draw upward from the ground, finally gathering entirely in the hammer.

"Clang."

The first heavy blow delivered with real force finally fell.

Its sound changed instantly.

Deeper, louder, and more resonant.

The second and third blows came crashing down immediately afterward.

Tang Wulin had begun to unleash his strength in earnest.

The Star-Sinking Hammer rose and fell in his hand, trailing an ever-heavier rush of air. With each strike, he could feel that familiar warmth surge gently up his spine. It no longer swelled out of control as it had a few days earlier. Instead, his movements, breathing, and intent gradually gathered it in, turning it into purer strength.

This was not a Soul Skill.

Nor was it his bloodline running wild.

It was more like an instinct beginning to be tamed.

With a kick, he stoked the furnace fire beneath his feet. Orange-red flames instantly leaped from the surrounding vents, driving the Heavy Silver's temperature upward again. The fire lit the metal a glowing red, while the Star-Sinking Hammer in Tang Wulin's hand struck again and again, forcibly driving that layer of radiance inward.

The hammer blows grew ever more closely spaced.

The sparks flew ever higher.

The Heavy Silver no longer merely braced itself in resistance. At last, it began to yield little by little beneath his heavy hammer. Not a collapse, but like a door long shut, finally pushed at the right spot until a narrow crack slowly opened.

Mang Tian stood beside him, his gaze now utterly intent.

He had originally thought Tang Wulin would be doing well to find the threshold tonight.

But now, it seemed this child had done more than merely find it.