The next morning I woke up to the crow of a rooster. I looked across the hovel to where the old man was snoring peacefully.

God did I miss coffee. It almost felt like there was no point in getting up without it. The people around here probably drank tea if there was any caffeine at all. Grumbling, I rolled to my feet and yawned. The dawn light didn’t come through the opening in the wall that counted as windows but the warmth was already beginning to spread.

I needed some sort of toothbrush. Dragon’s breath might have been an understatement for how bad my breath was this morning.

The old man and I polished off a few jars of honestly delicious wine with dinner and both fell asleep soon after. Though I didn’t remember our conversation. It was something about wizards I think. Thankfully I’ve always been almost immune to hangovers. Almost, there was definitely a bit of throbbing this morning though.

I glanced around at the place and tried to make sense of my situation in general.

After waking up in the woods I didn’t really have a chance to do more than find the bare minimum of edible plants. Then once I found civilization I was immediately taken into custody. Now, suddenly I’m staying with an old man that has some sort of kung fu powers. That was scary as hell.

Oh I can accept an isekai, but shouldn’t it be a harem of beautiful waifu’s going on an adventure with me instead of staying in a shack with an ornery old blacksmith? So far the women I’ve met have either run away screaming “monster!” or quite simply screamed in terror.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. Simple breathing exercises to help me keep calm. I’ve been doing them as long as I can remember at this point. I closed my eyes and focused on leveling my breathing.

A sandal hitting me in the face pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Your breathing technique is shit.” The old man was eyeing me critically.

“You’re not even pulling any energy in.” He yawned as he propped himself up. He took a swig from a gourd and swished it around his mouth as he tossed it to me and spit whatever it was into the fire pit. I sniffed it, mint. It was mouthwash thank god. The old man stretched and ambled over to a tea pot where he started to make a pot of what I assumed was tea.

“What energy? This just helps with heart rate.” I explained as I started to stretch. The old man lifted an eyebrow at that, but didn’t say more. Suddenly a smell hit me, it was heavenly. The powerful enticing aroma could only be one thing.

Coffee.

My head snapped towards the old man that was pouring out two cups and tears began to well in my eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you, never seen coffee before?” He looked at me quizzically as he handed over one of the small cups. The tears began to fall as I took a sip. It was perfect. It had a dark color and strong taste. A touch of cream and it would have been exactly how I made it at home.

“Not in months.” I answered. And got a knowing nod.

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“Well, boy, time for you to make breakfast.” He said pointing to a sack of rice next to some herbs and vegetables.

I didn’t complain. It seemed I needed his hospitality to survive here and I enjoy cooking anyways. Before long I had made rice topped with root veggies and eggs. Simple and filling but in desperate need of a good sauce. After breakfast I started to clean while the old man went to the back and prepared the forge. I had never seen ancient smithing techniques. I took a few classes on blacksmithing when I was younger just to learn how to make my own knives since it seemed fun but it wasn’t anything I had truly focused on.

I snuck towards the back once I was done cleaning to get a look. The entire thing was a much smaller affair than I had expected. A simple awning gave a bit of shade but it was otherwise open. A brick, almost oven looking structure housing the fire was set towards the edge connected to a large rectangular contraption with a large chain sticking off it. He sat on a tiny wooden stool in front of a rather small anvil. The old man was smashing away fruitlessly at a chunk of metal. Grumbling about ‘stupid stubborn iron’. It seemed even kung fu masters were bad at some things.

He kept going for some time. Not stopping until it was already nearly the afternoon. The metal had hardly moved from the initial shape.

The old man went off in a huff after that, probably to cool down in the river. While I was watching I had started getting this twitch in my eye. It wouldn’t go away. For some reason I ended up walking up to the forge and putting my hand next to the fire.

It was fucking stupid yeah, but it felt cold.

Suddenly I was working. I wasn’t sure what came over me but it was like the metal couldn’t be anything else. It almost felt like I was in a trance while I heated up the metal and began to shape it.

Everything flowed so smoothly. It was like molding clay. Before long a shovelhead had taken shape and I came back to my senses. I glanced behind me and noticed the old man had been watching.

“Uh, sorry.” I tried to smile in the most friendly way possible. He was staring at me like he was looking at a monster. Which was fair enough.

"How the hell did you know I was making a shovel..." He trailed off.

___________________________________________________

Long Fa had lived in this little village for over a decade. He came here during his pilgrimage and had decided to stay. He had been a smith in a small sect that cared more for cultivating power than any craftsmanship. So while he had been properly trained he wasn’t some heavenly forger. Besides that, there was something about the iron mined around here. It was far more stubborn than anywhere else. It even refused to accept any form of qi. He had tried many things and not one of them worked. Then suddenly a young foreigner came from nowhere and showed craftsmanship he hadn’t thought possible.

The fire had reached the point Long Fa was forced to back away while he worked. That was with his energy circulating at almost full power. Yet when he thought about it it was rather simple. Make it hotter. The real question was what sort of human could withstand that heat.

He watched while the large man swung the hammer with steady repetition and uninterrupted breathing. He almost seemed to be in a martial trance like the ones he had seen his sect members go into during an epiphany.

He didn’t have the slightest hint of qi inside him, yet even Long Fa had heard the hunter's tale about the man fighting a thunder elk. It was impossible to believe yet here he stood. Working with nearly molten metal and his breathing uninterrupted the entire time.

It was tragic that he was an adult. He would have made an incredible martial apprentice. He was a bit too bulky to be a cultivator but it wasn’t unheard of. He even used a breathing technique already, if an incredibly weak and sloppy one. Long Fa had spent the past few days working this chunk of iron slowly. Now it was complete in a single morning.

The old man rubbed his stubbly chin as he looked at the strangely shaped shovel head in front of him. He pulled out his short sword from seemingly nowhere and struck down. There was a chip on his sword as he inspected it. The shovel was almost unharmed.

The old man let out a dejected sigh. This sword was his pride of so many years forging. An upper spiritual realm cold iron sword made of some of the rarest ores he could find, and it broke upon this man's shovel. A man that had laughed at him as if he was a fool when he tried telling him about cultivators. He had even started saying strange things while giggling. Speaking of magical sticks and flying brooms rather than swords.

Honestly, using a broom instead of a sword was a bit interesting. If only for the intimidation factor…