Divine Craftsman Feng Yezi, president of the continental Blacksmith Association and the leading figure among the blacksmiths of his age, was actually bowing humbly before a young man, calling himself a lowly smith. If the blacksmiths outside had seen this, their jaws would have littered the floor.
Yet Feng Yezi, Huai Zhen, Bai Qi, and even Zhen Hai and Huang Shilang all found it perfectly natural, without the slightest discomfort. They were scholarly types wholly devoted to forging and Soul Tool technology, with little interest in other formalities. In their hearts, only one thing determined a person's standing: skill.
"Senior Feng Yezi, what are you doing? Please, stand up! You're honoring me far beyond what I deserve."
Huo Yuhao smiled faintly to himself, but he could not neglect outward courtesy. He hurried to help Feng Yezi up. Feng Yezi, however, firmly refused to straighten, insisting on remaining bowed with his head lowered.
"Having witnessed Mr. Gao's forging skills today, I am astonished beyond words. I suddenly feel that most of my life amounted to nothing but broken bricks and shattered tiles, my days spent in vain. From this day onward, I, Feng Yezi, relinquish my rank and standing and will no longer accept the title of Divine Craftsman. Everything I have learned in my lifetime is mere child's play. Only Mr. Gao deserves to be called a true Divine Craftsman."
"I wouldn't dare accept that." Huo Yuhao waved his hand. "Senior Feng Yezi, please don't smother me with praise. I truly cannot bear such compliments from you."
Hearing Huo Yuhao's response, Feng Yezi could not help growing anxious. His aim was quite clear: he wanted to learn the forging techniques Huo Yuhao had just demonstrated. Thus, half out of sincerity and half with an ulterior motive, he had praised Huo