Grandmaster's meaningful words were like a pebble cast into a deep pool, sending ripples through the night before a deeper silence swallowed them.
New ideas after the Soul Hunting Forest?
Ling Feng mulled over those words as he returned to bed, but he did not fall asleep immediately.
Grandmaster's persistence stemmed from his thirst for knowledge, and from his refusal to accept his own bottleneck. He was like a traveler who had trudged through the desert for too long, suddenly glimpsing a trace of an oasis in a mirage and wanting to seize it at any cost.
Perhaps that persistence could be used.
But first, I must have enough capital to support that "use."
Strength was always the only hard currency.
Cultivating Soul Power was not the work of a single day, but he could build up other aspects at the same time.
The next day.
After the afternoon classes ended, most students scattered to cultivate or play.
Ling Feng went alone, following the ringing clang of iron toward a bustling, smoke-filled spot in a corner of the academy-the academy smithy.
Its main work was forging and maintaining equipment for the academy, though it also took private commissions. Occasionally, students came to help or learn, such as Tang San.
The shop was small, its furnace blazing. Heat washed over him, and the air carried the distinctive mingled smell of coal and metal.
A bare-chested old blacksmith with bronze skin and knotted muscles was swinging a large hammer, repeatedly pounding a glowing red iron billet. Sweat slid down his sturdy back and struck the ground with faint hisses.
His rhythm was steady, his strength powerful and deep.
When he saw Ling Feng enter, the old blacksmith kept working. He merely lifted his eyelids to glance at him and asked in a rumbling voice, "Boy, need something? Ordering something or looking for someone?"
"Just looking around." Ling Feng swept his gaze through the shop.
Iron stock, half-finished pieces, finished farm tools, and weapon blanks lay in a jumble that still had its own order. A row of hammers of various sizes stood against the wall.
System, check in at the smithy.
He issued the command silently.
[Ding! Host detected at a new location: Nuoding Academy Smithy. Check in?]
Yes.
[Ding! Check-in successful! Congratulations, host! Reward obtained: "Basic Forging Mastery" (includes basic metal identification)!]
In an instant, a flood of information poured into his mind: the fundamentals of forging, techniques for applying force, metal properties, key points of quenching, and more.
It was as though he had spent years hammering beside this furnace.
His hands unconsciously began to itch.
The old blacksmith had just finished a round of hammering and pushed the billet back into the furnace to heat. Taking advantage of the interval, he picked up a huge palm-leaf fan and fanned the furnace hard several times, sending the flames leaping higher.
He wiped away his sweat and looked at Ling Feng, who was still studying the tool wall. "Boy, interested in smithing? This is tiring work, not something you children can play at."
Ling Feng smiled without answering directly. Instead, he pointed at a medium-sized forging hammer by the wall. "Master smith, could I borrow that hammer?"
The old blacksmith paused, sizing up his thin arms and legs suspiciously. "You? Know how to use it?"
"Watching you work made my hands itch. I wanted to see how it feels." Ling Feng sounded relaxed, as though it really were just a passing whim.
The old blacksmith snorted, thinking this student did not know how high the heavens were or how deep the earth was, but he did not refuse. He waved a hand. "Take it, take it. Be careful-don't smash your foot. There's a lump of scrap iron over there for practice. Go play."
He pointed at a black, irregular lump of iron in the corner, clearly thinking nothing of it, then turned back to the billet in the furnace.
Ling Feng walked over and hefted the forging hammer.
Its weight was moderate, its feel solid.
He approached the scrap iron but did not start immediately. Instead, he gently tapped its surface with his fingers and tilted his head to listen to the resonance.
The knowledge granted by "Basic Forging Mastery" surfaced automatically-many internal impurities, loose structure; begin with heavy blows, then refine with lighter ones...
He planted his feet neither square nor fully splayed, drew a deep breath, engaged his waist and abdomen slightly, and raised his arm.
Although the old blacksmith was watching the furnace, he still glanced over from the corner of his eye, ready to watch the boy make a fool of himself.
Yet the instant Ling Feng's hammer fell, his expression changed!
Thud!
A dull yet exceptionally solid impact rang out!
The force penetrated without scattering, and the strike landed precisely!
Most important were that posture and that method of applying force!
Shoulders lowered, elbows sunk, waist and stance united, strength rising from the ground!
That was no beginner's form! It was even more precise and practiced than that of apprentices he had trained for years!
Ling Feng did not pause. His arm rose naturally with the rebound, traced a short, efficient arc, and fell again!
Thud! Thud! Thud!
A rhythm emerged at once!
Blow followed blow, each even in strength and accurate in placement. Beneath his hammer, the stubborn scrap iron began changing shape at a speed visible to the naked eye. Its oxidized surface flaked away, faintly revealing the dark metallic sheen beneath!
The old blacksmith forgot to move the palm-leaf fan in his hand. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes round, his face filled with disbelief.
This... this boy...
Just then, a voice came from the doorway.
"Uncle Shi, I came today to..."
The words stopped abruptly.
Tang San stood in the smithy doorway, still holding some small tools he had polished himself. He had clearly come to work and practice.
His attention was immediately drawn to the highly rhythmic hammering in the corner.
When he saw who was swinging the hammer, he froze.
Ling Feng?
What was he doing here?
And... that hammer technique...
Tang San's gaze sharpened instantly.
He was an expert in this field and had thoroughly grasped the essence of forging Tang Sect Hidden Weapons. With a single look, he could tell that Ling Feng's seemingly simple hammering actually contained exceptionally sophisticated techniques for applying force!
Every ounce of strength was used on the blade's edge, without the slightest waste! Rhythm, angle, force-everything was just right!
This was absolutely not something one could imitate after watching a few times! It required years upon years of practice and understanding!
But he had clearly made inquiries. Ling Feng should never have had any contact with forging!
Ling Feng seemed immersed in some state. He hammered another dozen or so times before slowly bringing his movements to a close and gently exhaling.
A little sweat appeared at his temples, but his eyes were clear and bright.
"Master smith, was that all right?" He turned toward the old blacksmith, who stood as wooden as a carved chicken.
The old blacksmith abruptly came to his senses and rushed over in a few strides. First, he carefully inspected the iron, which had already been hammered into a preliminary shape, then looked Ling Feng up and down as though examining a monster.
"All right... more than all right!" The old blacksmith's voice rose an octave, filled with incredulous excitement. "Boy! Have you really never worked iron before? That technique... who taught you?!"
"I read some books and muddled through it myself. Sorry to make a fool of myself." Ling Feng set down the hammer, his tone as calm as ever.
"Muddled through it?!" The old blacksmith's voice climbed even higher. "If that's muddling through, haven't all these decades of my life gone to the dogs?!"
Listening to their exchange from the doorway, Tang San felt doubt and astonishment surging through him like a tide.
Reading books and muddling through?
That could bring him to this level?
His gaze settled on Ling Feng's fair hands, which barely showed any calluses, then shifted to the piece of iron, its hammer marks clear and the force evenly distributed.
That was utterly contradictory!
He silently entered the shop and set down his tools without interrupting their conversation, but his ears were pricked sharp. His eyes flicked toward Ling Feng from time to time, filled with scrutiny and a trace of indescribable wariness.
Just how many secrets was this person hiding?
Ling Feng naturally sensed Tang San's gaze. He smiled inwardly; his objective had been achieved.
He did not linger. After exchanging a few polite words with the old blacksmith and courteously declining his enthusiastic invitation to "stay and work together-we can discuss the pay," he turned to leave.
As he passed Tang San, his steps paused slightly, as though something had suddenly occurred to him. In a tone of pure, uninitiated curiosity, he murmured softly, almost to himself:
"If the hammer's force could be concentrated a little more, and its speed increased a bit, could it hammer grooves of specific depths straight into the billet? Like... a catch for some kind of mechanism?"
His voice was very soft, as though it were merely a meaningless association.
Having said that, he walked out of the smithy as though nothing had happened.
Yet when those words reached Tang San's ears, they were nothing short of a thunderbolt!
Concentrated force! Speed! Specific grooves! Mechanical catches!
Those few terms struck with perfect precision at the central forging difficulties of several Tang Sect Hidden Weapons he was researching and designing!
He jerked his head up and stared fixedly at Ling Feng's retreating back, his heart pounding wildly!
Was it coincidence?
Or...
What exactly did he know?!
Ling Feng walked back, the sunlight stretching his shadow long.
The faintest hint of a smile rested at the corner of his mouth.
The bait had already been scattered, seemingly without intention.
Now it remained to be seen when this cautious fish would lose its hold on its curiosity and come bite the hook of its own accord.