The Young Craftsman by the Stream

Do you have salt?

Lin Xiao squatted by the stream, scooped up a handful of water and splashed it on his face. The water was mixed with mud, so he spat twice and wiped his face.

Lu Yuan looked at the low houses in front of him. Dozens of wooden houses were crammed on both sides of the stream, with wisps of smoke coming out of their chimneys. The clanging of blacksmiths mingled with the whooshing of bellows.

It's a craftsman's workshop.

The two walked along the compacted dirt road. Several shirtless men were banging farm tools outside. They glanced at them and then lowered their heads again. Unfamiliar faces were not uncommon here, but they were not welcome either.

Lu Yuan needed salt, and their rations were almost gone. The cloth strips on Lin Xiao's shoulders were stiff and stained with dark red.

The stream was yellowish, with bits of grass floating on it. As we reached a bend, the sound of blacksmithing grew louder.

Lu Yuan stopped in his tracks.

A boy, about twelve or thirteen years old, was squatting on a blue stone by the stream. He was short but sturdy, wearing a patched gray cloth jacket. He had his head down and was holding a small iron hammer in his right hand, hammering a palm-sized piece of dark metal.

The movements are very slow.

Hammer rises, hammer falls. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The rhythm was frighteningly steady.

Lu Yuan narrowed his eyes. This was no ordinary polishing—each time the hammer fell, an extremely subtle amount of Soul Power was injected into the metal. It was around level two, pitifully weak, but the steady and even force was as if it had been measured with a ruler.

What's even more remarkable is that the Soul Power follows the material's texture, smoothing out stress and compressing the grains.

It's incredibly detailed.

Lin Xiao saw it too, raising an eyebrow. "Oh."

He had a keen combat instinct, and although he didn't understand Soul Tool, he was sensitive to control. The boy's output was so stable it was almost unbelievable, which made him instinctively feel something was off.

Lu Yuan didn't move, but watched the hammer blows for over a dozen minutes.

Near the clamp on the left side of the metal block, there was a very slight stagnation in the flow of Soul Power. It wasn't a problem with the boy's control; rather, there was a micro-crack inside the material that was barely visible to the naked eye. When the Soul Power flowed there, it would unconsciously "circle" around it.

He walked over.

The boy immediately stopped and looked up. His bright black eyes met Lu Yuan's, his expression blank, showing only bewilderment and wariness at being disturbed.

"Here." Lu Yuan crouched down, pointing to that corner, "Concentrate your Soul Power, don't go around it."

The boy froze, looked down at the parts, then at the spot Lu Yuan was pointing to, his brow furrowing slightly. He didn't see anything unusual.

Lu Yuan lightly touched the metal block with his index finger, about an inch above it.

"Can you feel it? Your Soul Power pauses here." His voice was steady. "Don't dodge, press down. Wrap it with a smooth arc, 'ironing' it along the texture. Use half a millisecond of force, and a slight increase in frequency."

The boy looked at him, his eyes filled with confusion and a hint of resistance. But the hand gripping the hammer unconsciously adjusted its posture slightly.

Soul Power was injected again.

As it flowed past that corner, the boy hesitated for a moment, trying not to "circle" around it. His Soul Power formed a more rounded arc, gently yet firmly covering the area.

bite.

The hammer falls.

The sound seemed a bit crisper.

The boy picked up the metal block and brought it close to his eyes. The originally dull surface in that corner now had a slightly more even sheen. It was extremely subtle, but he handled these things every day, so his eye was sharp.

A look of surprise flashed in his eyes, and he looked up at Lu Yuan again.

"... Thank you," he said in a muffled, dry voice. He then lowered his head and continued working. But with the next strike, the flow of Soul Power was noticeably smoother.

Lu Yuan stood up.

Lin Xiao, arms crossed behind him, smirked, "A sharp eye. That steady composure is one in a million. In a sect, he'd definitely be a promising inner disciple."

He paused, then looked at Lu Yuan: "You're tempted?"

Lu Yuan did not deny it.

It's a rough gem. Its Soul Power is at level two, and its upper limit seems to be locked. It's buried here to undergo rough polishing. But the instinctive and precise control over force and Soul Power output, that kind of obsessive patience and stability, are something that most Soul Master don't have.

If there is proper guidance, systematic theory, and sufficient resources...

Several research directions flashed through Lu Yuan's mind: engraving runes on Soul Tool, micro-controlling the temperature of pills, and balancing the nodes of Soul Power arrays—all of these required this abnormally stable control.

Talented individuals. The kind that are scarce.

He almost asked for his name.

Lin Xiao's voice rang out softly from the side. "Look at ourselves."

He slightly raised his chin, gesturing to the blood-soaked strip of cloth on his shoulder, and then glanced at Lu Yuan's faded white clothes.

"Being watched by Teacher Sun, harboring a grudge against the Hundred Refinements Pavilion, and dealing with a mountain of family troubles. The road ahead leads to Vast Sea City, and who knows what awaits in Old Shipyard Alley." He paused, looking at the boy by the stream, "This place may be remote, but at least it's safe. He'll just be poorer and more tired here, but his life won't be in danger. Getting involved with us..."

The rest was left unsaid.

The meaning is clear.

Lu Yuan remained silent.

He looked at the boy—he knew his name from when the man in the workshop called out, "Su Yan, stop dawdling"—and watched him hammer away, intently polishing the gradually smoothing part. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the willow trees, dancing on his sweat-dampened brow.

Those bright black eyes were fixed solely on the work in their hands. Perhaps there was a hint of resentment at the limitations of their talent, but more so, a resigned focus.

Lu Yuan closed his eyes briefly.

When I opened my eyes again, the ripples in my eyes had subsided.

He turned and walked toward the pancake shop Lin Xiao had mentioned.

After replenishing his rations and salt, Lin Xiao used the remaining Copper Soul Coin to exchange for a roll of fine cotton cloth and some low-quality wound medicine. He drew water from the communal stone well and used the icy well water to wash and re-bandage his shoulder.

Throughout the entire process, Lu Yuan did not look towards the stream again.

But as he was leaving, he paused.

Lin Xiao had already reached the stone archway at the exit of the settlement and looked back at him.

Lu Yuan turned around and quickly walked back to the stream. Su Yan was still there; the parts were roughly formed, with smooth edges and a uniform matte finish.

Lu Yuan squatted down.

Su Yan stopped again, looked up at him, her eyes calm but questioning.

"When the Soul Power converges," Lu Yuan said in a low, rapid voice, "imagine it's not a stream of water, but an extremely thin and resilient net. Each node experiences equal force. The wrist adjustment isn't about thinking, it's about this—"

He pointed to his forearm.

"A subtle tremor in the tendon travels to the fingertips. Practice this feeling more."

Having said that, he immediately stood up, turned around, and strode away without lingering.

Su Yan was stunned.

He looked down at his right hand, then at the smooth part. Lu Yuan's words were short, but they were like a Key, unlocking a window he had always vaguely sensed but couldn't quite grasp.

The nodes of the wrist, tendons, and network of tendons?

He subconsciously followed Lu Yuan's instructions, gripping the hammer again and releasing a slight surge of Soul Power. This time, it felt truly different. A clearer, more "real" sense of control spread from his arm to his fingertips.

He suddenly looked up.

All I could see was the back of that old man in simple clothes, meeting up with another tall young man under the stone archway. The two walked out of the settlement without looking back, stepping onto the dirt road they had come from, and disappearing around the bend in the hills.

The stream gurgles and splashes.

The clanging of the hammer still echoed.

Su Yan withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and gripped the hammer tightly. The part, which he had polished to an exceptionally smooth finish, lay quietly on the bluestone, reflecting the slanting afternoon sunlight, its edges shimmering with a faint, warm luster.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then, pick up the hammer again.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

The tapping sound resumed, still steady. But if you listened closely, you could hear a subtle, harmonious rhythm that was never before present.