The group then left Cold Crow Valley, heading northwest toward the mighty city renowned throughout the world.
About an hour later, the outline of Swordforging City came clearly into view.
The city was built against the mountains, backed by the perilous peaks of the Yan Mountains.
Even before they drew near, they could sense the distinctive scent permeating the air-the sulfurous smell of subterranean fire.
This was the very foundation upon which Swordforging City stood.
Several pure branches of subterranean fire ran beneath the city, providing an inexhaustible source of searing energy for forging swords. Meanwhile, several cold springs lay in the mountains, their waters frigid beyond compare-superb treasures for tempering sword edges and stabilizing the nature of a blade.
Subterranean fire and cold springs: one hot, one cold; one yang, one yin.
Together, they ensured that the weapons produced in Swordforging City were unrivaled in the world, whether in toughness, sharpness, or spirituality!
The city's furnaces burned year-round, and the faint clang of forging could be heard.
Every swordsman and martial artist under heaven took pride in owning a peerless weapon personally forged by one of Swordforging City's master craftsmen. This was a true sacred ground for blades, yet also a hotbed of trouble where people from every creed and walk of life gathered.
With the Silver Sword Token in hand, they entered the city without any obstruction, just as expected.
After examining the token, the disciples standing guard all saluted solemnly and let them through.
Han Zhou's clinic stood in the Hundred Crafts Ward on the eastern side of the city. Craftsmen and merchants made up most of the residents here, filling the neighborhood with the bustle of everyday life and making it a relatively inconspicuous location.
The clinic had a modest storefront. Its sign bore the name