“My word… Could it be? Junior Brother… is truly the reincarnation of our ancestral founder?”
Guo Ju, a towering man of over two meters, stood dumbfounded, his massive frame frozen like a statue. He muttered these words with a trembling voice, disbelief etched on his rugged face.
Reincarnation of the founder…
What began as a casual jest between Guo Ju and Xiao Xunhuan, marveling at Su Zhe’s absurdly rapid progress, now seemed eerily plausible to the gathered disciples of Artisan Hall.
While tales of people born with extraordinary strength were not unheard of, even the strongest could barely muster 800 or 900 pounds of force. Breaking past a thousand pounds might raise eyebrows but wouldn't astonish to this degree. Yet Su Zhe had exhibited the raw might of one ox force—1,200 pounds—rendering even natural-born prodigies like paper before him.
Sun Tiexin, their master craftsman, watched the scene, his lips trembling as he murmured, “Could it be… I’ve really stumbled upon an unpolished gem?”
Su Zhe, however, paid no heed to the chatter around him.
Empowered by the “Blade at Ease” technique, Su Zhe felt a surge of enlightenment toward the way of craftsmanship. The forging hammer, weighing 15 pounds, felt as light as a feather in his hands. With each swing, he exerted his full strength, seamlessly combining his inherent physical power with the one ox force granted by his training and equipment.
Every strike channeled the principles of the Thousand Tempering Technique, maximizing the potential of his body. Thus, each hammer blow landed with a crushing force of 2,000 pounds, shaking the forge as though struck by a falling mountain.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The anvil shuddered incessantly under his strikes, sending vibrations rippling through the hall like rolling thunder.
Sweat poured from Su Zhe in torrents, yet his eyes burned with excitement.
At the intermediate level, forging techniques focused on controlling power, mastering the balance of exertion and restraint. But at the advanced level, the goal was to extract every ounce of strength, pushing beyond all limits.
One hammer strike…
Two strikes…
Three strikes…
Su Zhe’s motions were tireless, methodical, relentless. Before long, a hundred hammer strikes had fallen, and on the embryonic blade being forged, a faint pattern began to emerge.
“It’s done! A single pattern!”
A disciple exclaimed, his voice breaking the tense silence.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The First Forge had succeeded in imbuing a weapon with its initial spiritual mark. Su Zhe had achieved the impossible.
“Not bad at all! You’ve finally lived up to my expectations!”
Sun Tiexin’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction as he nodded approvingly.
Meanwhile, Guo Ju nudged Xiao Xunhuan with his elbow, prompting Xiao to glare at him bitterly.
“Why the push? Do you think I’d deny my own junior brother’s talent?” Xiao Xunhuan grumbled. Though clearly envious, he forced a smile. “I knew all along that Junior Brother was a dragon among men. First Forge, one pattern—it’s nothing extraordinary for him! Why, I was just looking for an excuse to gift him a fine set of gear!”
Though his words brimmed with bravado, Xiao’s pride had clearly taken a hit.
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“Not enough! I must achieve mastery in tempering techniques!”
Su Zhe began to feel his strength ebb. Though he had a miraculous technique at his disposal, every strike taxed his body to the extreme. His recovery simply couldn’t keep pace.
Yet he was so close—mere inches from the pinnacle of forging mastery.
He couldn’t stop now.
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
The hammer rang out like thunder on the forge. Sparks scattered like stars as iron met steel, filling the hall with a symphony of metallic rhythm.
Two hundred strikes…
The second pattern emerged.
Still, Su Zhe refused to stop.
His arms trembled as if about to snap under the strain. The pain, the numbness, the burning—it all blurred into a distant sensation. His arms no longer felt like his own, but mere extensions of the hammer he wielded.
Beyond two hundred strikes, Su Zhe reached his absolute limit.
Yet his unyielding spirit burned brighter than ever, fueled by sheer willpower.
“Not enough! First Forge, a finished blade!”
“I, Su Zhe, will forge three patterns and bring forth a true weapon of war!”
The Thousand Tempering Technique was no mere method for tempering metal. Each strike also honed the craftsman’s body, forging their spirit alongside the weapon.
The residual medicinal power from the Blood Energy Elixir and the Dragon Boar meat Su Zhe had consumed began to stir under the pressure, revitalizing his depleted strength.
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“Two hundred and ninety strikes…”
A hushed voice broke the oppressive silence.
Every eye in the hall was glued to Su Zhe.
The average Artisan Hall disciple could manage ten strikes on their first attempt at the Thousand Forging Technique, a feat that already hinted at talent. Xiao Xunhuan, hailed as a prodigy, had reached ninety strikes, earning high praise.
But Su Zhe?
He had not only forged a single pattern—unheard of in the region—but was now pushing toward three patterns in a single forging session, aiming to transform an ordinary weapon into a mortal-grade blade.
Xiao Xunhuan’s face turned ashen. His pride shattered into fragments; his supposed genius reduced to a cosmic joke in the face of Su Zhe’s overwhelming talent.
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Finally, with the three hundredth strike, a deafening roar erupted.
The embryonic blade glowed with life; its surface marked by three distinct patterns that shimmered before merging into the blade itself.
A mortal-grade blade was born.
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Su Zhe staggered back, wiping the sweat from his brow. Though physically drained, his spirit burned brightly as he handed the completed blade to Sun Tiexin.
“Disciple Su Zhe, the weapon is complete. I humbly request your evaluation, Master.”
His voice was steady, humble, and without arrogance.
The gathered disciples stared in awe at the weapon—a long saber with a peerless edge, its core resilient and unyielding, a masterpiece surpassing anything mundane.
In silence, they realized: Su Zhe had not only accomplished the unimaginable but had done so with poise and grace, outshining them all without the need for boasting or fanfare.
Perhaps this… was the mark of a true master.