Return to Blacksmith Village

The road back to Blacksmith Village was shorter than Nan Feng remembered.

It took two and a half days to walk from Nuoding City to Blacksmith Village. On the evening of the second day, the old crooked-trunked locust tree at the village entrance came into view in the distance.

The autumn maple leaves had turned a deep red, staining the mouth of the mountain hollow dark brown and crimson.

Nan Feng walked along the dirt road with a bundle on his back. Winter wheat seedlings poked through the brown soil on either side, looking soft and fuzzy in the setting sun.

Ye Lingling walked beside him, dust on her plain white dress, her gaze resting on the outline of the village in the distance.

"Where you grew up?" she asked.

"Mm."

When they reached the village entrance, Auntie Zhang came out carrying a winnowing basket to dump the grain husks. It took her two seconds to recognize him, and she nearly dropped the basket.

"Nan Feng? Nan Feng's back!"

Her shout brought half the village out. Before Nan Feng reached the smithy, a string of people had fallen in behind him, asking all sorts of questions. He nodded and answered them as he quickened his pace.

The smithy door stood half open. The fire still burned in the forge, its dark red glow spilling through the gap in the door, along with the smell of iron filings and burning charcoal.

Old Chen stood behind the anvil, a hammer in his hand. His old apron was covered in little black marks burned into it by sparks.

When he saw Nan Feng, his hammer stopped in midair. After two seconds, he set it on the anvil, took off his apron and draped it over a wooden post, then walked out of the smithy.

He stopped in front of Nan Feng and looked him up and down.

Old Chen was a little older than he had been six years ago. There was more white at his temples, and the skin over his cheekbones had grown loose. His eyes, lit by the forge for decades, were still dark and bright.

He reached out and patted Nan Feng on the shoulder. He used the same force as six years ago, neither too hard nor too soft, much like patting a billet of iron at the forge.

"You're back."

"I'm back."

Old Chen nodded, then looked past Nan Feng's shoulder and saw Ye Lingling a few steps away. He glanced at the girl, then at Nan Feng, and the corner of his mouth moved.

"Come in. There's still porridge warming on the stove."

Nan Feng followed him inside. The room was just as it had been six years ago: a square table, benches, and a stove connected to the earthen kang. The window paper had been replaced.

Old Chen took a pot of porridge off the stove, sliced half a plate of pickled vegetables, and set them on the table.

Nan Feng sat down, picked up a bowl, and took a sip. The sweet potato porridge had a little salt in it, and the grains of rice had been cooked until soft, just as they had six years ago. He drank half a bowl in one go.

Old Chen sat opposite him and watched him eat without speaking.

Ye Lingling sat beside them, eating her porridge. Her gaze occasionally shifted between father and son, but she did not interrupt.

After the meal, Nan Feng helped clear the bowls and chopsticks. Old Chen washed the dishes while he stood beside him. The silence was exactly the same as it had been six years ago; there was no need to say anything.

When the dishes were done, Old Chen took out his pipe, lit it, and took a couple of puffs.

"How many days are you staying this time?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon."

Old Chen smoked without answering. After a long while, he tapped his pipe against the corner of the table.

"Where are you going?"

"Gengxin City first. After I finish my business there, I'll go to Heaven Dou City, then travel around."

Old Chen tucked his pipe behind his waist, stood up, and walked into the smithy. Nan Feng followed.

Old Chen rummaged through the scrap iron for a while, then pulled a dark object the size of a fist from the very bottom and set it down in front of Nan Feng.

It was very heavy and landed on the anvil with a muffled thud.

Its surface was rough and uneven, full of tiny holes, with a bluish tint to its blackness. In the forge light, fine golden lines gleamed within it.

He picked it up and turned it over. When his fingertips touched the holes, the Soul Power in his dantian gave a sudden jump.

Old Huai's voice came from the crack at the base of the tower, very low.

"Meteoric Iron Core. It fell from the sky, and the Power of the Stars is sealed inside it."

"The door on the tower's first floor is half open, and its hinge was never welded securely. This is just the thing."

Nan Feng gripped the Meteoric Iron Core in his hand. He could feel a faint warmth seeping out against his palm, with the same quality as the warmth in the crack at the base of the tower.

He held the Meteoric Iron Core out to Old Chen.

"Dad, I can use this."

Old Chen glanced at the stone, then at Nan Feng's expression.

"Take it. It's just sitting here anyway. The water washed it out of the creek bed last autumn. I saw how heavy it was, and it didn't look like an ordinary stone, so I tossed it on the materials pile. It's no good for smithing. Too hard to hammer flat."

That night, Nan Feng lay on the old kang with the Meteoric Iron Core beside his pillow.

Moonlight slipped through a crack in the window and fell on the black-blue stone.

He closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into the depths of his soul. The nine-story Bronze Tower floated in a dark void, the blue-green light in the crack at its base pulsing brighter and dimmer.

He drew the Meteoric Iron Core's shadow into his consciousness space. The actual stone still lay beside his pillow, but its essence had been captured by the tower's perception and floated in as a ball of black-blue light.

The instant the tower touched the ball of light, the whole structure trembled.

The verdigris around the edge of the crack seemed to be pushed from within. A fine layer flaked away, exposing a deeper surface of the tower.

New patterns covered that surface, denser and finer than the inscriptions outside, winding up the tower in ring after ring.

After the tower absorbed the ball of light, something inside the half-open door on the first floor was knocked firmly into place. The hinge no longer wobbled.

The door had not been pushed all the way open. That required Soul Power at level twenty. The gap in the doorway was more stable than before.

When Nan Feng activated Tower Suppression, its suppressive force was heavier and steadier than before, like an iron hoop clamped tight around the doorframe.

"The first floor's foundation has been welded secure," Old Huai said. "From now on, using Tower Suppression won't cause Soul Power backlash, and it'll consume ten percent less. The Power of the Stars in that Meteoric Iron Core will be enough to feed the tower for a while."

"But welding the hinge doesn't mean the door is open. To push it all the way open, your Soul Power has to reach level twenty. Only then will the tower truly evolve."

Nan Feng opened his eyes.

The same strip of moonlight lay there, and the same earthen kang was beneath him. The Soul Power in his dantian flowed more smoothly than before.

He turned his head to look at the Meteoric Iron Core beside his pillow. Its color was darker than it had been during the day, and its golden lines had faded, as though some of what was inside had been drawn away.

Its weight remained, pressing down heavily.

The next morning, Nan Feng woke to the sound of hammering iron.

Old Chen was already at work in the smithy. When Nan Feng came out, Old Chen was lifting a red-hot billet onto the anvil with tongs. His hammer came down, sending sparks flying.

Nan Feng picked up another hammer and stood on the other side of the anvil. Just as when he was a child, Old Chen struck once, then he struck once.

Sparks flew onto their arms, burning tiny red spots into their skin. Neither of them moved out of the way.

When they finished hammering that billet, Old Chen set his hammer on the anvil, took out his pipe, lit it, and took a couple of puffs.

"How many days are you staying this time?"

"Didn't I tell you yesterday? I'm leaving this afternoon."

Old Chen smoked without answering. Only after a long while did he say, "All right."

He tucked his pipe behind his waist, picked up his hammer, and resumed working the billet, which had yet to take shape.

Nan Feng watched for a while, then turned and went back inside to pack his bundle.

He left the bag of copper coins Old Chen had pressed on him in the room. Old Chen needed the money more than he did.

He took the bag of gold coins he had saved at Nuoding Academy from his bundle, set it on the stove, and placed a bowl on top of it.

After their last meal at noon, Old Chen did not see him out. He only stood at the entrance to the smithy, holding the old hammer that had been with him for decades.

Nan Feng crossed the courtyard with his bundle on his back. Ye Lingling was waiting outside the courtyard gate, her plain white dress clean in the afternoon light.

At the gate, Nan Feng looked back.

Old Chen stood beside the forge. Its fire lit his face, casting his wrinkles in varying depths. His back was very straight.

Nan Feng nodded to him. Old Chen nodded back, then turned and returned to the anvil.

The hammer came down, its clear, steady blows falling one after another, as though he meant to hammer all the days ahead into that piece of iron.

Nan Feng listened to a few blows, then turned and walked toward the village entrance.

The hammering followed him for a long time before the wind finally scattered it at the mouth of the mountain hollow.

Ye Lingling walked beside him, and after they had gone some way, she spoke.

"Your father doesn't say much."

"Mm."

"But he looks at you differently than he looks at other people."

Nan Feng turned his head to glance at her. Ye Lingling's gaze rested on the dirt road ahead, as though she were stating a fact she had sensed with Nine Heart Begonia.

Nan Feng did not answer. He lowered his head and looked at the red hair ribbon around his left wrist. Its freshly tied knot fluttered in the wind.

There was a fork in the road not far beyond the village entrance. Ye Lingling stopped.

"See you in Heaven Dou City," she said.

"Mm. See you in Heaven Dou City."

She turned onto the southbound road, her plain white figure receding until she rounded a low hill and disappeared.

Nan Feng waited until she was out of sight, then turned onto the northwestern road.

The deep yellow, purple-tinged light at the base of the Soul Ring in his palm pulsed against his skin, rising and falling in answer to the blue-green light in the crack at the tower's base.

The hinge of the first-floor door at the base of the tower had been welded secure. The Power of Mountain Suppression seeping through the gap was more than twice as solid as before.

His Soul Power was at level sixteen, still four levels short of twenty. After those four levels, the door would open and the tower would evolve. Only then could he help Xiao Wu touch that seal.

The road was still long. But every step he took was steady.