Zhao Ming practically fell through the back door of the Heavenly Craft Workshop.
The sharp pain in his wrist and the sensation that his bones had been crushed had kept his face frighteningly pale the entire way. Several workers followed behind him, not daring to breathe loudly, their faces still haunted by lingering fright. A few longtime residents of the alley peered out through cracks in their doors, their gazes holding something impossible to identify as pity or anything else. It made Zhao Ming feel as though he had been slapped several times, his face burning with pain.
Gritting his teeth, he passed through the bright, spacious, lavish workshop out front, its furnace fires blazing. The enormous "Type A Number One Furnace"-commonly known as the "Divine Forging Furnace"-gave off a low, rhythmic hum. Its automatic forging hammer rose and fell, pounding red-hot iron billets into prescribed shapes, while a specially made cover contained every shower of sparks. It all looked efficient and cold. Several young men who looked like apprentice craftsmen wore matching gray cloth jackets and worked busily before the furnace, their eyes numb. Seeing the young master enter in such a state, they hurriedly lowered their heads and pretended not to notice.
Zhao Ming ignored them and went straight to the rear courtyard. He pushed open a heavy wooden door that looked as though it led to a storage room and hurried down the stone steps beyond.
At the bottom of the steps lay a secret chamber. Stones embedded in its walls emitted a steady white light, illuminating the room as brightly as daylight. Behind an ironwood desk sat a middle-aged man in a dark blue satin robe. His face bore a fifty or sixty percent resemblance to Zhao Ming's, but there was more gloom and weariness between his brows. He was frowning over a ledger and several strange, faintly glowing ores. He was Zhao Ming's father, Zhao Xuan.
Hearing the commotion, Zhao Xuan looked up. At the sight of his son's disheveled state and the glaring ring of bruises around his wrist, his brows immediately drew tight.
"What happened?" Zhao Xuan's voice was not loud, but it carried the oppressive weight of someone accustomed to giving orders for years.
"Father!" Zhao Ming rushed up to the desk, his voice thick with irrepressible grievance and resentment. "That Qin Tiexin... he actually dared to attack me!" He raised his swollen, reddened wrist. "Look! He nearly crippled my hand!"
Zhao Xuan set down the ore in his hand, rose, and walked over to Zhao Ming. Taking hold of his wrist, he examined it carefully. The finger marks were clear and sank deep into the flesh, revealing astonishing finger strength. Zhao Xuan's gaze darkened.
"Didn't you take four men with you?" he asked, his tone betraying neither pleasure nor anger.
"I did! But that brat... that brat simply isn't human!" Zhao Ming gestured agitatedly. "Just one move, and I went flying! Those four couldn't withstand even two blows! His strength was terrifying, and he struck so fast... Father, that brat must have trained!"
Zhao Xuan released his wrist and paced a couple of steps through the chamber with his hands behind his back. The light from the luminous stones on the walls fell across his face, revealing a trace of complicated emotion in his eyes. He walked to one side of the chamber, where a miniature furnace-cauldron statue of peculiar design, made of something neither gold nor iron, stood enshrined. Two archaic characters were carved beneath it-"Machine Spirit."
"Trained? His master, Qin Feng, was something of a figure in the mortal martial world back in his day. His title of 'Iron Hand Sword' wasn't earned for nothing." Zhao Xuan spoke slowly, his voice echoing through the enclosed space. "Qin Feng's body-tempering method supposedly had something to it. It could temper the sinews and bones and cultivate strength far beyond that of ordinary people. This disciple of his seems to have inherited his true teachings."
"Then what do we do?" Zhao Ming asked anxiously. "He won't take the soft approach, and the hard approach... it looks like we can't manage that for now either. That brat has monstrous strength. Unless we enlist the experts at the yamen, or..." He stole a glance at his father.
"Or use immortal methods?" Zhao Xuan glanced at him and shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of self-mockery and helplessness. "Ming'er, how glorious do you think your father's title of 'outer disciple' really is? I'm merely a servant with an inferior Spirit Root and no hope of Foundation Establishment, sent out by the sect to manage mundane affairs and gather wealth for it. What immortal methods could I employ with my meager cultivation at the Qi Refining Third Layer? The sect's rules are strict. Using spells against worldly mortals without cause is strictly forbidden. Violators have their cultivation crippled and are expelled from the sect. Is one shop worth that?"
Zhao Ming opened his mouth but did not dare respond. He knew his father had long bottled up resentment, brooding over his stalled cultivation and low standing within the sect.
Zhao Xuan returned to his seat behind the desk and tapped the ledger with his fingers. A sharp gleam flashed through his eyes. "When Qin Feng was alive, he had friends far and wide, formidable skills, and deeply intertwined connections with Ink City's local powers. We were newcomers. Squeezing him through commercial competition was acceptable, but forcibly seizing his property could easily have brought trouble and cost us more than we gained. That's why I told you to talk to him first and offer generous benefits. I never expected this disciple of his, young as he is, to have bones just as hard as his master's."
He paused and looked at Zhao Ming. "But now, the circumstances have changed. I just received word that Fatty Li's application for a second 'Divine Forging Furnace' over in Green Yu City has been approved."
"What?!" Zhao Ming blurted, his expression instantly turning ugly. Green Yu City was one of Ink City's chief rivals on the sect's "Contribution Ranking."
"Our Ink City produces abundant high-quality coal, so our smelting costs are already lower than elsewhere. That is our advantage." Zhao Xuan's voice sank, carrying a note of resolve. "But a single furnace's output has its limits. If we can swallow up the Qin family's shop and open up that plot of land, we can expand the workshop and apply for a second furnace with complete confidence. Then our output will double and costs will fall further. A place in the top three of the Contribution Ranking will be ours for the taking!"
He looked at Zhao Ming, his gaze sharp. "The sect has decreed that those who make outstanding contributions may receive one 'Spirit Awakening Pill' for a direct descendant. Though it grants only a Pseudo Spirit Root, with cultivation limited at most to Early Qi Refining, that... is still a thread of immortal opportunity, the starting point that will determine whether our Zhao family can transcend mortality and enter the Dao! Ming'er, this shop is no longer merely a shop."
Zhao Ming's breathing quickened. Pseudo Spirit Root... immortal opportunity... Those words seared his heart like fire. He immediately forgot the pain in his wrist and asked urgently, "Father, what do we do now? That brat won't yield to either the soft or the hard approach..."
"If neither approach works, we'll leave him nowhere to turn." Zhao Xuan gave a cold laugh. The air of a scholarly merchant vanished from his face, revealing a cultivator's indifference and calculation. "Qin Feng is dead. Human affections run warm and cold, and they fade with time. A sixteen-year-old orphan with neither roots nor backing-how long can he hold out?"
He tapped the tabletop with a bent finger, clearly laying out his plans one by one:
"First, mobilize every bit of money at our disposal. Secretly buy up iron at high prices, or sign exclusive contracts with the major mines and suppliers, and control the iron entering the market in Ink City and its surroundings, especially the good stock. I want Qin Tiexin unable to buy decent iron even if he has the money!"
"Second, send more quick-witted people around the neighborhoods to spread some talk. Say that hand-forged goods contain too many impurities and rust easily, unlike the products of our Heavenly Craft Workshop's 'Divine Forging Furnace,' tempered through a thousand hammerings and a hundred refinings, uniformly pure. Besides, how much of an old master's skill could his disciple have learned? With Old Qin gone, the goods from the Qin family's shop probably aren't what they used to be."
"Third, those longtime residents of Soot Alley love to patronize his business, don't they? Find a pretext to give them a warning. It needn't be a threat. You can discuss their children's prospects, or their own little businesses... Mortals always have plenty of concerns."
"Fourth," Zhao Xuan glanced at the ceiling of the chamber, as though he could see through the ground and hear the never-ending hammering, "have them stoke the furnace out front to its hottest! Day and night, it must not stop! I want that sound and that firelight to remind the brat across the way at every moment what the tide of the times means! Wear him down! Drain his spirit dry and grind his will to pieces!"
As Zhao Ming listened, his eyes gradually brightened, as though he could already see Qin Tiexin at the end of his rope, kneeling and begging for mercy. "Father, you truly know best! I'll arrange it right away!"
"Remember," Zhao Xuan called him back, his tone chilling, "keep your hands clean. Don't give anyone grounds to use against us. Our Heavenly Craft Workshop is a respectable business. Go."