"A Divine Smith?!" Zhen Hai nearly laughed aloud at that. "Young man, Grandmaster Ou Yezi is currently the only Divine Smith on the continent, and he's already over fifty. You look barely in your teens. At most, you could be a junior blacksmith. Besides, you have no calluses on your hands, your skin is as white as fine jade, and with the way you're dressed, you don't look like a blacksmith at all."
Although Zhen Hai did not believe a word Huo Yuhao said, his tone held no mockery or contempt. He remained perfectly polite. After all, he figured Huo Yuhao was probably trying to boast in front of his young sweetheart and show off his abilities. Young men were wild and reckless; he had been the same way himself.
Just then, the three of them heard a booming voice hawking wares up ahead. "Step right up! Don't miss out! A Silver-Scale Breastplate personally crafted by a direct disciple of Divine Smith Feng Yezi, the current president of the Blacksmith Association! Only one available, going at a bargain!"
"Feng Yezi?" Wu Feng sounded puzzled. "Does a Divine Smith's disciple need to hawk wares in the street?"
"Heh, as a senior blacksmith, I'd advise you not to fall for this scam," Zhen Hai said with a derisive chuckle. "As president of the Blacksmith Association, Grandmaster Feng Yezi could rightly be called the king of blacksmiths. But as for this armor that fellow is selling, I have just one word for it: garbage."
By then, quite a crowd had gathered around the source of the shouting. Huo Yuhao and his two companions followed the crowd inside and finally saw what was going on.
It was an ordinary-looking smithy, and the man hawking its wares was a burly, middle-aged fellow with his bronze,