On the table that was once used only for a rare meal or scattered clothes, now lay a plethora of charts and tables placed about in an organized manner for ease of deciphering. The forge was filled with the scent of burning metal and the soft glow of embers, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The rhythmic clinking of metal against metal echoed through the room, mingling with the occasional hiss of steam.

  Elder Shariz hunched over a large magnifying glass in the middle of the table next to a rudimentary Bunsen burner and crucible, surrounded by various clean white ceramics, each bearing scratches and marks from rigorous testing.

  “Okay… let’s see. From the scratch test, the result is 3.5 on the Mohs hardness scale. Next is the flame test… right, yes, right, I can’t use my Qi. Bunsen burner… Bunsen burner, ah… the color is green, and the chart reads it to be ‘Copper’. Extraordinary!” He laughed at the surreal results that had proven to be tried and true.

  Having been trained for centuries and taught by many masters, he had always believed it was the method and Qi flame that determined the perfection of the craft, not just the ore itself.

  Knock Knock

  “Don’t bother me when I’m having fu—testing material! Oh, ahem, Brother Mùchén, what brings you here?” Elder Shariz corrected his greeting when he saw the silhouette in the hut’s door frame.

  “Did I disturb you? I did not see the smoke, so I had thought you were available,” Elder Mùchén said, raising an eyebrow at Shariz’s unusual reaction.

  “No, no, not at all. If anything, it is good that you are here. Look at the glyphs and formations that Master Soloman gave to me. If you follow their instructions and interpret the results, it will reveal to you the identity of the ore!” Elder Shariz proudly showcased his workstation and his recent achievements. “Look here, look here. This ore, I have just finished as you came in, is ‘Copper’.”

  “I-I see.” Elder Mùchén raised his arms to calm down the mad-eyed elder. “It is incredible that you were able to create a ‘formation’ that reveals the mystery of earth. You will undoubtedly be written into the annals of history… Did you say ‘Master’ Soloman?”

  “There is no one in smithing I respect more. It is my privilege to be under his tutelage; it is by his wisdom that these ‘formations’ are given to this world.” Elder Mùchén gave the zealous-looking Shariz a concerned and questioning gaze, looking back and forth between him and the papers placed on the table to determine if they were enchanted with witchcraft.

  “Why are you here today anyway?”

  “It has been many months since I sent Soloman here to fulfill his debt of a sword. I was going to check its progress, but it appears it will take much longer given the state of the workshop.” He looked around the shop to see papers, ceramic plates, and an obstructed ‘Fire Mold’ formation.

  A large dome was now under the chimney with an active fire in its center, surrounded by oddly shaped hand-sized tools, a jagged leather contraption, and buckets of ice water placed next to a rhombus-shaped metal box. “What has happened to the ‘Fire Mold’ formation you took so much pride in, which made all the sect’s tools?”

  “Bah… utter garbage that thing was,” Shariz scoffed at the claim of being proud of that formation.

  “What?!”

  “Good riddance to it.” He gestured as if to shoo it away. “Your sword was finished months ago. In fact, I believe it was two months after the commission was made.” Shariz started tapping his chin in a thinking gesture as if the act had taken place years ago.

  “Hah~ It would usually take you a year or two to make such a large sword of suitable quality for an elder. It has only been eight months. I came early now just to check on Soloman, in truth.”

  Pfft. “It is my greatest shame to have wasted all that metal and time. Give me a moment, I’ll go fetch it.” He started rummaging through the stacks of clothes and ceramic plates like a person trying to find a clean shirt amongst dirty ones.

  “Did Soloman and yourself design all these devices?”

  “I just tended to the flame and water. Master Soloman made those himself, though it irritated him to have to make everything from scratch. He berated me for not having any tools to begin with and insisted we make both the proper tools and weapons together.” The elder shuddered at the memory of ores and banging sounds being thrown around the shop with Soloman chastising him with equal vigor for two weeks straight.

  “And you, an elder, a ‘Golden Core’ cultivator… just took it?”

  “…Have you ever seen someone, a mortal, dig into a mountain to pilfer its ore and carry it back?”

  “Villagers do that during all times of year to survive. Nothing grandiose to expect that from him as well.”

  “…In three days… that’s how long it took him to find a vein, with four days to have us dig them out and carry the content back here.”

  “You mean those two hill-sized heaps out front are from a week’s worth of labor?”

  “Here it is! Catch.”

  Elder Mùchén caught the sheathed sword, his eyes widening in disbelief at the notion of a blacksmith throwing his work around carelessly. Looking at the commission he had ordered, the sheath was made of discolored, plain wood that contrasted with the elegant grip and half-moon pommel. Mùchén looked back at the once-proud blacksmith in confusion.

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  “You should have told Master Soloman what sheath you wanted,” Shariz reprimanded as he gazed at the lackluster sheath that housed the requested sword, lamenting that the piece of art was inside only due to the poor judgment of the commissioner.

  Sigh.

  “An artisan such as Master Soloman has every right to only fulfill the request you gave him and nothing more.”

  “You blame me for this! If it was so great that you choose to berate me, why would you leave it in a garbage heap? Clearly, you believe its quality matches its sheath!”

  “Tsk. Open it.”

  “Hah~”

  “You’ll see. And then regret.”

  Elder Mùchén skeptically unsheathed the blade to find it was beautifully polished with a slight rainbow tinge. The fuller was perfectly symmetrical from the center ridge tip to the ricasso near the grip. The beauty of the blade filled him with visions of slaying monsters with ease and grace while projecting a charismatic figure to inspire all to follow him. He raised the sword to gaze in the light from the sun and fire to further admire the craftsmanship, bringing him a sense of pride, strength, and fulfillment.

  “It is truly a grand blade," he softly whispered.

  "WHY WOULD YOU MISTREAT IT TO THE FLOOR?!” Elder Mùchén’s voice echoed through the forge, his eyes wide with disbelief.

  “We made better ones anyway, and you took too long, so we had forgotten about it,” Shariz stated matter-of-factly, picking at his ear.

  “Better?!”

  “Meh—pour your Qi into it and realize that you may owe Master Soloman now.”

  Elder Mùchén curiously injected his Qi through the handle to feel it flow as easily as water. “Hmm?… He—Heaven-Grade?!”

  “Not incorrect.”

  “Huh?” His eyes widened at the remark.

  “The highest grade currently in Lotusia is ‘Heaven-Grade’, but that blade on its own can split any other. Once your Qi is placed onto it… it would split the sword and its wielder.”

  “Preposterous!”

  Hearing his peer be as skeptical as he was when Master Soloman first made the blade, Shariz couldn’t help but smile. He walked towards a rack behind the modern forge and wheeled out a set of five weapons for his peer to see. Elder Mùchén noticed the rack held a torso-length, two-finger-width curved blade, a set of twin daggers, and two identical swords of similar dimensions to his own, each giving off a similar aura of Heaven-Grade.

  “This—this is incredible! You have really outdone yourself, Brother Shariz.” Elder Mùchén was gobsmacked at the sight of not only one Heaven-Grade sword in his hands, but five placed before him nonchalantly. Furthermore, they were not acquired through travel or trade, but forged here in their very own sect by their very own elder. “Even Sect Master Aria will have to give you a voice in sect matters beyond material acquisition.”

  “Yea-huh.” Shariz swelled with pride at the mention that he would have greater influence in the sect, equivalent to the Sect Master. “But don’t forget, it is only because of Master Soloman that I could reach this level of attainment."

  "Anyway, this here is a Heaven-Grade dagger that was gifted to me by my first forge master. Strike it casually without any Qi.” Shariz pulled out a finger-length, one-sided dagger, dark green in color. It was a weapon he had taken great care of when he first earned it while in the Golden Pill Realm, which had saved him many times.

  “Wasn’t this your most treasured item from your predecessor that ascended you to the rank of elder?” Elder Mùchén could not believe that Shariz would risk his most treasured item just to prove how exceptional the new sword was.

  “Bah! The best future for this blade is to be melted and forged anew. Now hurry, Master Soloman should return soon,” Shariz quickly urged.

  Tink.

  The dagger lay on the floor, cleaved in two, showing a clean, polished bisection. Elder Mùchén picked up the remnants to observe the core, seeing the amalgamation of mineral and metal. The elegant exterior of the dagger hid a hideous interior that resembled a ‘Snowdrift Owl’ pellet.

  “How can equal grade weapons be so… unequal?”

  “Hoho, use this ‘Leeuwenhoek Microscope’ to look at this metal left behind by Master Soloman of what we call ‘Heaven-Grade’ metal. Understand the difference between solid crystalline metal and our current weapons.”

  “Soloman can make spirit artifacts?!”

  “Pfft. He does not need spirit energy to understand the laws of heaven and earth. Now observe and broaden your horizons.”

  “Mmm… How do I use this sheet of metal?”

  “Use the circular bulge and look through the glass ball,” Shariz sighed and spoke matter-of-factly, irritating Mùchén to the point of wanting to reaffirm the hierarchy between them.

  “My goodness, it is as clean as fresh snow.”

  “What we cultivators have been using as weapons are nothing more than pig-iron, as Master Soloman called it. Metal that has not been refined to remove the impurities. In your hand is what people of his world call ‘high carbon steel’.”

  “Steel?”

  “Iron that has been refined to extremes while being struck and hammered to allow carbon to attach itself to the atomic structure,” Shariz explained, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar scientific terms.

  “…But weren’t impurities what caused your dagger to cut?”

  “I-I may know, but not necessarily understand. Yet! But I will come closer to the truth of earth and metal soon under his guidance.” Shariz grew embarrassed as his explanation sounded contradictory. “Anyway, we will need to consult with Sect Master Aria about finding a new mine that has more veins of iron with fewer pollutants.”

  “I will relay your request. Where is Soloman? I did not sense him when I came over,” Elder Mùchén asked, glancing around the forge.

  “Master Soloman asked Sect Master Aria if he could be allowed into our library, to which she gave him a task to rid us of some bandits to earn an admission token. And she made a request for her own sword, too. That was about five months ago now.”

  “She entrusted him with a dangerous sect mission for a mere library card? Her prowess does not require a sword to demonstrate her power,” Elder Mùchén said, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  “She has always been enigmatic. The mission itself is not as dangerous as you believe; the bandits near Reed Village are only mortals with a couple of Foundation Stage level leaders. The sword she requested was something she mentioned that her village once had: the Seven-Branched Sword.”

  “That ceremonial blade was lost during the demon culling two thousand years ago. Would a replica really satisfy her? And Soloman accepted the commission so easily?”

  “On the condition that he would not be followed or monitored during the bandit mission. Odd thing was, he only brought some sparse tools with him. Oh, he instructed me to tell you the two swords there are for your twin disciples. Something about accidentally stamping one.” He used his thumb to point to the weapon identical to their master’s.

  “And why would she argue with someone who can make Heaven-Grade weapons in an afternoon, right?”

  “If I were to give them such high-quality weapons, it may prove detrimental if they were to over-rely on the weapons and not techniques.”

  “Although he may not fully understand the cultivation path, he did take my advice about their martial arts and how it may impact them. Their swords are not made of steel like yours, but reinforced aluminum. I believe they will be manageable for them, especially with the incoming feral beast tide this winter.”

  “Mmm… I don’t understand the difference, but I will take your discretion on the matter of smithing. I’ll be sure to inscribe the complementing elements onto them.” He nodded slightly while placing the unseemly sheath against the wall without Shariz noticing, refusing to have his sword housed in such an ugly thing.

  “By the way, is that rack you pulled out not suited to hold six weapons?”

  “…”

  “…”