The days after his breakthrough were like the thin morning mist in Cast Iron Alley: seemingly no different from before, yet quietly changed within.
Loa still rose before dawn to practice his swordsmanship in the courtyard. The physique and internal energy of a Rank 4 Warrior had brought his control over his body to a new level. The "qi" he had once needed to deliberately summon now answered the slightest thought as readily as his own limbs. The Gale Thrust cut through the air with a shorter, sharper whistle, while his two-handed greatsword strikes had lost some of their stiffness and gained a measure of fluidity. He had even begun trying to slowly blend the two sharply contrasting styles of sword intent-abruptly delivering a streamlined, vicious thrust amid the broad, sweeping movements of his two-handed sword, or suddenly switching from a flurry of quick strikes to a heavy, powerful chop. The transitions still showed signs of forced workmanship, but his direction was clear: rather than confining himself to established sword routines, he would innovate and forge his own path.
That morning, the forge in the Blacksmith Shop burned as fiercely as ever.
The rough blank for the Thousand-Fold Steel Warblade was complete. What remained-shaping, cutting grooves, grinding, and fitting the hilt-required greater patience and fine craftsmanship, and Bob handled most of it. Loa assisted beside him, taking care of supplementary forging and quenching work.
Clang!
Loa swung his hammer, driving an iron band meant to reinforce the hilt into a prepared groove. The hammer struck precisely, transmitting its force evenly through the band, leaving the wooden form of the already roughly shaped blade undamaged while making the joint fit perfectly. The entire process flowed without a break, and the hammer's ringing faded in a short, clean echo.
Bob, who had been smoothing the curve of the blade's spine with a fine file, paused slightly and looked up at Loa. He was not looking at the iron band, but at the smooth, natural relaxation of Loa's arm muscles as he drew back his hammer, the nearly nonexistent gap between his breathing and exertion, and the weighty, steady air about him.
The old blacksmith narrowed his eyes and suddenly spoke, his voice sounding somewhat abrupt amid the roar of the forge. "You brat. You broke through?"
Loa was wiping the hammer handle with a damp cloth. At those words, he nodded. "Yes. A couple of days ago."
Bob stared at him for two seconds. His file scraped a long, shrill note along the blade's spine before he muttered deep in his throat, "Damn... You geniuses just get more unreasonable by the day. All told, you've only been in the Holy Capital a little over half a year, haven't you? Jumping from Rank 3 to Rank 4, and you're not even twelve..."
He shook his head, seemingly in wonder, or perhaps with a sigh stirred by some distant memory. He lowered his head and resumed filing, but kept talking. "When I was your age, I was still back in the countryside fighting my father for the hoe, trying to figure out how to save enough strength to turn over another couple of rows."
A little embarrassed by his words, Loa rubbed his nose. "Good luck, along with your guidance, Uncle Bob."
"Spare me the flattery." Bob snorted, though there was little genuine annoyance in his tone. He filed silently for a while longer, then suddenly asked, "How does it feel? The difference between Rank 4 and Rank 3?"
Loa thought carefully before answering. "My qi is more condensed, and it circulates much faster. Moving it used to feel like pushing a heavy cart. Now... it's like riding an obedient horse. I can sense my body more clearly too. The exertion of my muscles, the movement of my tendons and bones, even the flow of my blood-I can 'hear' all of it more clearly. And then..." He paused, raising his right hand and lightly clenching his fist, tightening the smooth lines of muscle along his arm. "In terms of sheer strength and endurance, I've probably gained around thirty percent. Before, when forging Hundred-Fold Steel billets continuously, I'd start struggling after about eighty hammer blows. Now I feel... I could easily go past a hundred."
"Mm." Bob offered neither agreement nor disagreement, the rhythm of his file unchanged. "At least you've learned something. You're not an idiot who only gains strength without using his head. Remember that feeling. Rank 4 is a beginning. Every step beyond it requires finer control over your body and qi. Otherwise, you'll have strength, but it'll be scattered when you strike."
"I'll remember." Loa nodded solemnly. He hesitated, watching Bob's profile as he concentrated on filing the blade. That face, baked by the forge and covered in fine wrinkles and sweat stains, always seemed unfathomably deep. When he had been weaker, he had simply found Bob inscrutable. Now that he had broken through to Rank 4 and his perception had sharpened considerably, he still could not gauge Bob's strength. It did not feel like facing emptiness, but rather a dormant volcano: calm on the surface, yet holding energy within that made his heart tremble.
Unable to suppress his curiosity in the end, Loa ventured, "Uncle Bob, what... rank of warrior are you, exactly?"
The file in Bob's hand stopped. He slowly straightened and turned to Loa, his face expressionless in the red glow of the forge. "What? Grown a little stronger, and now you're digging into your uncle's secrets? How come you never asked before?"
Loa looked a little sheepish. "Before... I couldn't tell, and I didn't dare ask carelessly. Now that I've broken through, I feel I understand your strength even less, so..."
"So you're even more curious?" Bob's mouth twitched, and he lowered his head to resume working, his voice flat. "Rank 6. Been stuck at that hurdle for some years."
Rank 6! Loa was shaken. Though he had his suspicions, hearing it confirmed was different. A Rank 6 Warrior, as strong as Captain Hillman, would count as a solid mainstay even in the Royal Capital. Yet here he was, tucked away in Cast Iron Alley, running an unremarkable blacksmith shop?
"Then... what attribute of battle-qi do you cultivate?" Loa could not help asking.
"What, want to take a guess?" Bob did not look up.
Loa considered it. "Fire Element? Or Earth Element?"
"Oh? Why?"
"The Fire Element would give you masterful control over the forge's temperature and the heat needed to smelt metal, making forging twice as effective. The Earth Element would give you a stronger physique and greater endurance, making it suitable for work that requires prolonged physical exertion," Loa explained his reasoning.
Bob fell silent for a few seconds, then gave a low, slightly hoarse chuckle. "Good lad. Your eye's getting sharper. That's right. I'm Fire Element, Rank 6." He scraped the file hard against a spot on the blade's spine, sending out a spray of sparks. "Fire Element Battle-qi is volatile and hard to tame, but used properly, it's a powerful tool for forging and tempering too. You think I forge with nothing but muscle? Every hammer blow carries the force of Fire Element Battle-qi, helping it penetrate and fuse. Otherwise, do you think Thousand-Fold Steel can be hammered out through brute force alone?"
Loa understood. No wonder he had always sensed a distinctive penetrating power and a feeling of "fusion" in Bob's hammer blows when watching him forge. There had been more to it all along. This was a model example of perfectly combining the characteristics of one's battle-qi with craftsmanship.
After another stretch of work, the preliminary rough grinding of the Thousand-Fold Steel Warblade was finished. The remaining fine grinding and polishing required a quieter environment and specialized tools, so the day's work came to a close. The forge gradually died down, and the scorching heat slowly dissipated from the shop.
The two went into the courtyard, each scooping a large dipper of cool well water from the water jar and tipping his head back to gulp it down. The refreshing liquid washed down their throats, carrying away the heat and fatigue of the morning.
Autumn had quietly seeped into Fenlai City. The afternoon sunlight was still bright, but no longer fierce, and the breeze carried a barely perceptible chill. A pale yellow rim had quietly appeared along the edges of the old locust tree's leaves at the alley entrance. Bare-chested, their skin damp with sweat, the two sat on stone stools in the courtyard to cool off, enjoying this rare moment of leisure.
Bob wiped the sweat from his neck with a rag, his gaze settling on the high, clear autumn sky framed by rooftops at the end of the alley. Suddenly, he said, "With that freakish talent of yours, haven't you ever thought about... getting your magical aptitude tested?"
Loa froze for a moment. "Magical aptitude?"
"Mm." Bob turned to look at him. "Every autumn, the Radiant Church organizes a test. It's a huge affair. You're just the right age to qualify. If your elemental affinity turns out to be high and your spiritual force meets the requirements, you can go straight into the Magic Academy. Then you learn a few powerful spells, stay out of the wind and rain, and enjoy a respected position. Isn't that better than spending every day choking on smoke and fire and living on a knife's edge like us?"
At those words, Loa recalled the Saint Warriors in the preface to General Principles of Battle-qi mocking magi as "sissies," and could not help smiling. "I think being a warrior is pretty good. The feeling of a fist hitting flesh, the sound of a sword cutting through the wind-it's more exciting than chanting spells from far away. A man should have some courage to face a clash head-on. Landing solid punches is a real man's romance!"
Despite saying that, he was a little stirred by the idea. Testing his magical aptitude would not be solely for learning magic. As the book had said, cultivating battle-qi of different attributes was closely tied to a person's constitution and elemental affinity. Someone with exceptional Fire Element Affinity who forced himself to cultivate Water Element Battle-qi would be lucky to get half the results for twice the effort; he might even suffer cultivation deviation. His Weapon Combat Battle-qi currently seemed to have no attribute and appeared fairly compatible with others, but if he wanted to choose a more systematic, higher-level elemental Battle Qi Manual in the future, knowing his elemental inclinations beforehand would undoubtedly be crucial.
"If I get the chance, I might as well take a look," Loa added. "Even if I don't learn magic, at least I'll know what I'm worth when it comes to sensing elements, so I don't choose the wrong path later."
Bob nodded and tossed the rag aside, his gaze distant. "True enough. Autumn's almost here... Every year around this time, Fenlai City fills with unfamiliar faces. Adults bring their children from all over the Kingdom, even neighboring countries, eagerly hoping for that sliver of a chance to change their fate. Some rise to the heavens in a single step. Others leave in dejection. It's the same every year."
As his words faded, the courtyard fell quiet for a time, with only the faint, scattered ringing from other blacksmith shops drifting through the distant alley.
Autumn... The test...
Loa watched a wisp of cloud drift slowly across the sky, but his thoughts wandered far away.
That familiar large tree in Wushan Town, and beneath it, that black-haired boy whose shining eyes were filled with longing for magic... Linley.
By my reckoning, that kid... should be coming soon, Loa murmured inwardly.
He clearly remembered Linley's almost obsessive desire to become a magus. Now, with the guidance of the Saint-level Magus Doehring Cowart, Linley would certainly not miss this grand event that drew the attention of the entire Fenlai Kingdom. With his talent and opportunities, he was probably long past being the ordinary boy who could only dream.
"It's been a long time..." Loa murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly without his noticing. It was a smile mingled with nostalgia, anticipation, and a certain complicated feeling akin to moving forward side by side.
The Royal Capital was vast, its crowds immense. Yet Loa had an inexplicable feeling that in the bustling autumn to come, they might meet again.
Beneath that White Spire, in that square where countless people's fates would be decided.
The breeze brushed through the courtyard, bringing a clearer chill and stirring the quiet yet increasingly resolute light in the boy's eyes.
Autumn deepened, and life had to go on.
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