Night, the twenty-fifth day of the twelfth lunar month.
In a secret chamber of the Heavenly Craft Workshop, Zhao Xuan listened to Zhao Ming's report about Wu Youcai and the troublemaking man suffering successive setbacks during the day. Rather than anger, a faint, composed smile appeared on his face, as though everything was already in hand.
"Father, you... aren't angry?" Zhao Ming was somewhat apprehensive.
"Angry?" Zhao Xuan leisurely toyed with a smooth piece of warming jade, his gaze unfathomable beneath the glowstone's cold light.
"Why should I be angry? I never expected these little tricks to accomplish anything. They were merely... stones thrown to test the road, and a way to wear down his mind while we were at it."
He looked up at his son. "Ming'er, remember this. Dealing with someone like him is like breaking a hawk. First, you must grind away his edge and drain his strength, keep him running himself ragged and unable to find peace. Once he thinks he has cleared hurdle after hurdle and lets his guard down a little, or... believes he can hold out, strike the killing blow. Only then will he truly have no way out."
Zhao Ming only half understood. "Then... what is our killing blow?"
Zhao Xuan did not answer immediately. He rose and walked to the furnace-cauldron statue of the "Machine Spirit" by the wall. After gazing at it for a moment, he slowly said, "Qin Feng was buried on Emerald Cloud Mountain, wasn't he? I heard his disciple cut down trees himself and cremated him on the spot?"
"Yes, that's what everyone in the alley says. The brat carried his master up the mountain, chopped the firewood himself, and burned him."
"Mm." Zhao Xuan nodded, a sharp gleam flashing through his eyes. "According to the Great Xuan Code's Miscellaneous Laws on Households, Marriage, Fields and Land, 'Within mountain forests, reservoirs, and marshes, none may fell trees or gather fuel without authorization. Offenders shall receive twenty strokes and a fine of two taels of silver.' Furthermore, 'Within cities and their outskirts, and in rural fields and dwellings, none may set fires without cause. Offenders shall be fined two to five taels of silver. Should the fire spread, the offense shall be treated as accidental arson.'"
Zhao Ming's eyes lit up. "Father, you mean..."
"Qin Feng's burial may be understandable, but the law cannot accommodate it. In the countryside, if the people lodge no complaint, the officials make no inquiry, and that is that. But if someone insists on pursuing it..." Zhao Xuan turned and took a prepared letter and a plain little wooden box from a desk drawer. "Last year, County Magistrate Wang commissioned our Heavenly Craft Workshop to make a special sword for his son studying at the prefectural martial academy, didn't he?"
"Yes. We didn't charge him. It was practically a gift."
"When a favor needs calling in, call it in." Zhao Xuan pushed the letter and wooden box toward Zhao Ming. "Tonight, I will visit County Magistrate Wang in person. Prepare the carriage."
"You're going personally? What makes that brat worthy of..." Zhao Ming was astonished.
Zhao Xuan waved a hand. His tone was calm, yet carried unquestionable authority. "Even a lion uses its full strength to catch a rabbit. This concerns our contribution to the sect. There can be no mistakes. Besides... letting the magistrate 'witness' an immortal's methods will make things easier for us in Ink City later."
At midnight, in the rear hall of the county office.
County Magistrate Wang stared at the small flying sword hovering above the table before him, slowly revolving and emitting an inch-long blue-green gleam. Cold sweat streamed down his forehead, and the back of his official robe was already soaked through. He forced out a smile uglier than crying. "I-Immortal Master Zhao, this humble official... understands. Everything, everything shall be done as you wish."
Zhao Xuan curled a finger, and the flying sword whooshed back into his sleeve as though it had never appeared. Wearing a gentle smile, he pushed the little wooden box forward. "You are too kind, Magistrate Wang. This is merely a trifling matter. Simply handle it according to the law. The Clear Heart Jade Pendant in this box helps focus the mind and calm the spirit. It will be of some small benefit in handling official affairs and nurturing your body and mind. Please accept it."
"This... I am unworthy, unworthy." County Magistrate Wang wiped his sweat. How could he dare refuse?
"Young Qin Tiexin is alone and bereft. I, too, feel sorry for him. Yet the law of the land stands like a mountain and permits no private sentiment. Considering that this is his first offense, and that he acted to bury his master, leniency may be shown. Let the fine be two taels of silver, with a deadline of... half a month. Payment before the fifteenth of the first month will suffice. If he cannot pay, taking his shop property in compensation would also accord with the law." Zhao Xuan spoke with breezy ease.
"Yes, yes, yes! You are merciful, Immortal Master! This humble official will send men to handle it tomorrow. It will certainly be dealt with impartially!"
Early morning, the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth lunar month.
Qin Tiexin had just bundled the firewood he had cut the night before and was preparing to go to work in the south of the city when someone pounded on the shop door.
Three bailiffs stood outside. Their leader was an unfamiliar constable with a stern expression. Early risers in the alley gradually gathered around.
"Qin Tiexin?" The constable looked him up and down.
"That's me."
"Someone has reported that on the eighth day of the twelfth month, you felled trees without authorization on the southern slope of Emerald Cloud Mountain and set a fire in the open to burn a corpse. Is this true?"
Qin Tiexin's heart sank. He nodded. "Yes. I was laying my master to rest."
"Understandable, but the law cannot accommodate it." With businesslike formality, the constable took out a document and read aloud, "Under the Great Xuan Code, unauthorized felling of mountain trees carries a fine of one tael of silver; setting a fire in the wild without cause carries a fine of one tael of silver. The total fine is two taels of silver. Considering that you had cause and did not act with deliberate intent, the county magistrate has shown mercy beyond the law and granted you time to pay. Deliver the two taels to the county office's household affairs office before the fifteenth of the first month. Should you fail to pay by the deadline, your shop shall be sealed, appraised, and taken in compensation. Do you understand?"
Two taels of silver!
A stir ran through the watching neighbors. Aunt Wang could not help speaking up. "Officer, this... this is too... The child has only just lost his grandfather, and he's all alone..."
The constable glared. "Everyone is equal before the law! Besides, His Honor has already shown leniency! Are you people trying to resist the law?"
Everyone fell silent, their faces filled with distress and helplessness. Two taels of silver would have been nothing to the Qin family's shop in the past, but now...
Qin Tiexin looked at the constable's expressionless face, then at the concerned yet powerless gazes of his neighbors. It felt as though a cold lump of pig iron weighed on his heart. He drew a deep breath, his voice somewhat dry. "I understand. I'll pay before the fifteenth."
The constable handed him a copy of the document and left with his men without another word.
The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving a few sighs behind. Uncle Li came over, pulled a small cloth bundle from inside his robe, and insistently pressed it into Qin Tiexin's hand. "Tiexin, take this for now. It isn't much, just five hundred copper coins. A little something from your aunt and me..."
"Yes, I have three hundred here too..."
"My family has another two hundred..."
Several longtime neighbors gathered around.
Looking at those rough hands and the scattered copper coins they held, Qin Tiexin felt his eyes grow hot. He pushed Uncle Li's hand back, then cupped his fists toward the others. "Uncle Li, Aunt Wang, everyone, I appreciate your kindness. But I can't take this money. The shop is still here, and so are my skills. There's still time. I can... earn it myself."
He spoke firmly. Knowing his temper, they could only sigh and put their money away.
"Then... if you need help with anything, make sure you say so!"
"Yes! Don't just grit your teeth and bear it!"
Qin Tiexin nodded without saying more. He locked the door, shouldered his hemp rope, and headed south again.
The days that followed became a repeating ordeal.
There was even less work at the southern freight yard. With the New Year approaching, many businesses had closed.
Often, he waited an entire day only to haul one or two loads and earn twenty or thirty copper coins.
His wages were low, but he could not eat less. Fifteen mixed-grain cakes only left him mostly full, and there was not a trace of fat in his food. He could clearly feel the brimming strength he had when swinging his hammer slowly draining away. His muscles remained sharply defined, yet faintly showed the hardness and fragility of something hollowed out.
Returning to the freezing shop at night, he still practiced the Old Qin Household Body Tempering Method without fail. After eight repetitions, he sweated as much as ever, but that steaming current of Qi and Blood grew weaker and weaker. Each time he finished, the trembling and dizziness became more pronounced.
The night of the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month.
Qin Tiexin counted the copper coins he had saved over the past few days. Together with what he had left before, they totaled four hundred and twenty-seven. He was still far short of two taels of silver-two thousand copper coins. And less than half a month remained.
He sat on the icy anvil, watching the red glow that burned through the night at the Heavenly Craft Workshop opposite and listening to the maddeningly regular hammering. Despair seeped through every limb and bone like cold ink.
Master... what should I do?
He unconsciously raised his right hand and rubbed the cold black ring on his middle finger. His master had worn this ring for thirty years before leaving it to him. Apart from being warm in winter and cool in summer, it seemed to have no other use.
He slipped it off and placed it in his palm. The pitch-black band had no luster beneath the oil lamp. It was so plain it was almost ugly. Yet his master had left it behind. It was an "inheritance."
He closed his eyes and imagined the old man sitting on the stool opposite, puffing on his tobacco pipe and watching him forge through narrowed eyes, then scolding him for his incorrect hand movements and restless impatience.
"Master... I might not be able to keep the shop..." he murmured into the empty room, as though confiding in someone, yet also talking to himself. "I haven't dared neglect the skills you taught me for even a day... but they... they won't leave me a way to live..."
"I'm not afraid of exhaustion or hunger... but these two taels of silver... I can't earn them..."
"You said a blacksmith's bones were hard... Are my bones still not hard enough?"
Silence. Only the dying firewood in the furnace occasionally gave a faint crackle.
He clenched the ring tightly in his palm, its chill penetrating to the bottom of his heart. He stopped speaking and immersed his entire mind in the ring, as though through it he could touch the traces his master had left and grasp that tiny, distant hope.
Give up? Take the money and leave, as Zhao Ming said?
No.
The instant that thought arose, he ruthlessly snuffed it out. The shop was his master's, and his skills had been passed down by his master. Losing the shop meant losing his master's roots.
But how could he keep it?
Forging? But there had been no business for days.
Strength? He had plenty of strength. But it could not earn him enough copper coins.
What else? What else did he have?
Under the collision of this utter desperation, refusal to submit, and his almost stubborn determination to hold fast to "forging" itself-
Hum!
Without warning, the black ring in his palm grew scorching hot, as though he were clutching a red-hot branding iron!
Qin Tiexin grunted but did not let go. His eyes flew open.
Everything within his sight twisted and blurred.
The oil lamp's halo spread, and the walls, anvil, tools before him... all seemed to dissolve into flowing darkness.
Then a speck of golden light burst through the gaps between his clenched fingers.
The golden light rapidly spread, weaving, tracing, and unfurling in the air before him... until it became an enormous, hovering scroll of dark gold!
Neither silk nor paper, the scroll had the texture of an ancient sheet of metal, with dim light flowing along its edges like cloud patterns. It quietly unfurled, revealing archaic characters Qin Tiexin had never seen, yet somehow understood.
At the top of the scroll, four enormous characters shone like stars:
[Illustrated Catalog of Ten Thousand Artifacts]
At the same time, a vast, desolate Intent, as though it had crossed endless ages, poured directly into his mind-not as sound, but as clear understanding:
"The inheritance nears extinction, yet the craftsman's soul remains unbroken. Your unwavering Intent fulfills the covenant; the Catalog awakens for the first time."
"Craftsman's Covenant: restore one 'Intent-Containing Artifact' and keep its 'Intent' from dissipating."
"Artifacts possess spirit, and their spirit lies in 'Intent.' A work into which a craftsman has poured his heart's blood, a weapon that has accompanied a warrior through life and death, even an object in which an ordinary person has placed deep affection-all may contain a faint power of 'Intent.' Find an artifact whose 'Intent' is on the verge of dispersing. With your heart's blood and skill, help its 'Intent' endure. Only upon success will the Catalog's foundations truly become yours to use."
"This covenant has no deadline. It awaits only the artifact's completion."
"Once the artifact's Intent is sustained, the Catalog will unlock the two functions of [Appraisal] and [Deduction]. Access to [Virtual Realm · Forging Hall] will be granted: ten within to one without."
"In consideration of your difficult circumstances, you are temporarily permitted to enter [Virtual Realm · Forging Hall] for two hours each day. Within the Void Realm, time differs from the outside world. One breath of your soul may equal ten breaths outside. You may practice restoration techniques and study the diagrams of ten thousand artifacts."
The flow of information abruptly stopped.
The dark-gold scroll before him slowly faded, but did not disappear entirely. Instead, it became a faint golden pattern imprinted at the edge of his vision, something he could "see" whenever he concentrated.
Qin Tiexin stood rooted to the spot, his palm still burning hot and his heart hammering inside his chest so hard that his eardrums buzzed.
Just now... what was that?
An Immortal Method? A monster? Or... the part of this ring his master had called "not simple"?
He suddenly recalled his master's expression before his death when he mentioned the "Hundred Refinements Sect" and "Ouye." Could it be...
Wild joy surfaced for only an instant before deeper bewilderment and exhaustion pressed it down. Even if this was real, a fortuitous opportunity... where would he find an "Intent-Containing Artifact"? Restore it? He could not even afford food now. What could he use to restore anything? As things stood, this task was distant water that could not quench his immediate thirst.
Yet light slowly gathered in his eyes again.
At least... he had a direction now. A direction other than waiting to die in despair.
Master, what you left me... really was more than just the shop.
He gripped the black ring, which had turned cold again, then solemnly slipped it back onto his finger. Following the faint guidance left by that Intent, he concentrated and silently envisioned "Virtual Realm · Forging Hall."
The scene before his eyes suddenly changed!
He seemed to be standing in an infinitely vast hall beneath a towering dome.
Beneath his feet lay a black stone floor as smooth as a mirror. Countless enormous shelves rose around him, so tall their tops vanished from sight. He could vaguely make out densely packed phantoms of artifacts in every shape on them, but none were clear.
At the center of the hall stood an ancient bronze-colored forge with a roaring fire. Beside it were an anvil, hammers, and a quenching pool-everything was there, yet all bore an illusory quality, as though lacking physical substance.
Time here clearly flowed differently from the outside world. He could feel his thoughts accelerating.
Two hours of real time later, Qin Tiexin's consciousness returned to his body. His face was pale, his head felt ready to split, and he felt as though he had performed heavy labor for three days and nights without stopping. Yet his eyes burned with an unprecedented light, sharp and focused.
Inside the "Void Realm," following some kind of guidance, he had "browsed" countless pieces of "knowledge" concerning types of artifact damage, basic restoration techniques, and the identification of material properties. Though most were obscure and incomprehensible, as though hidden behind thick fog, there were always tiny fragments that aligned and combined with his years of smithing experience, bringing sudden understanding.
So restoration was not as simple as filling a gap. The transmission of force, the grain of a material, even the invisible scars left by the "stories" an artifact had experienced... all left traces to follow.
He struggled to his feet and drank a large dipper of cold water. Hunger surged over him like a tide. He took out two cold mixed-grain cakes and mechanically stuffed them into his mouth, chewing hard and swallowing.
Then he went out again, heading south.
Life remained difficult. His copper coins still accumulated slowly. He still trembled and grew dizzy while tempering his body.
But something had changed.
By day, he was a quiet young laborer at the dockside freight yard who could carry a double load at once. By night, he was an apprentice in the blacksmith's shop in Soot Alley, tracing lines of force in the dust with his fingers beside the faint furnace fire, repeatedly simulating restoration in his mind.
Late at night, when all of Ink City fell asleep, he entered the miraculous "Virtual Realm · Forging Hall." Enduring the severe drain on his soul, he thirstily absorbed that ancient, profound knowledge. Tenfold time allowed him to quietly accumulate insight and a foundation of skills beyond the ordinary amid his desperate circumstances.
The twenty-ninth, the thirtieth...
New Year's Eve.
Scattered firecrackers rang out across Ink City, and the fragrance of reunion dinners drifted through the air. Qin Tiexin finished work and returned early, because the south of the city had closed down too.
He used his last bit of rice to cook a pot of very thin porridge. There were no side dishes, only a little salt.
Holding his porridge, he sat on the threshold and watched the Heavenly Craft Workshop opposite, where the furnaces had been extinguished early and red lanterns hung. Faint sounds of laughter and cheerful voices drifted over.
He touched the black ring on his hand again.
Master, it's the New Year.
You've reunited with Mistress and Little Junior Brother over there, haven't you?
I... still have hope here too. Though it's very small, and very far away.
He lowered his head and finished the cold porridge, mouthful by mouthful.
Then he returned to the rear courtyard, stripped off his shirt in the biting wind, and planted his feet firmly.
Opening stance · Furnace Fire First Ignites.
This time, his gaze was calmer and brighter than ever before.
As though deep within his eyes, a furnace fire had also been kindled, one that would never go out.
Faint, yet tenacious.