Chapter 22: Forging a weapon

The forge roared with life, the air thick with heat and the sharp scent of burning coal. Molten steel glowed in the crucible, casting flickering shadows along the soot-streaked walls. Master Yun stood near a rack of metal ingots, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching Jin Ye with something between curiosity and suspicion.

"You know how to hold a hammer. That much is obvious," Yun said, his voice rough like old iron. "But talent doesn't make you a blacksmith. That title has to be earned."

Jin Ye met his gaze without flinching. "Then tell me how."

Yun let out a short, dry laugh. "Straight to the point, eh? Fine. Listen up." He tapped a calloused finger against the metal rack beside him, where stacked ingots gleamed under the forge light. "You want to be recognized as a real blacksmith? Then you need a title. A rank. That means the Blacksmithing Guild."

Jin Ye said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"The Guild doesn't care about your background, only your skill. There are five official ranks—Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Master. Iron-tier is where every idiot with a hammer starts, but if you want to forge weapons that warriors respect, you need to reach Silver or higher. The best smiths in this city? Most don't even make it past Bronze."

Master Yun turned, resting a heavy hand on the rack of metal. "You? You're rankless. Doesn't matter how good you think you are. Without proof, you're no different from some street-side forger hammering out cheap swords for merchants."

Jin Ye's expression didn't change. "Then I'll get my rank."

Yun scoffed. "Oh? And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Jin Ye rolled up his sleeves, stepping closer to the forge. "By forging my own weapon."

The blacksmith studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a slow exhale and nodded. "That's the right answer."

He reached into a side drawer and tossed something toward Jin Ye. A small iron badge, its surface engraved with a crossed hammer and anvil.

"You forge your own blade—one that can hold its own in real battle—and I'll personally vouch for you at the Guild," Yun said. "But be warned. If you mess it up, I'll make sure you never set foot in a forge again."

Jin Ye caught the badge, turning it over in his fingers. The weight of it meant nothing to him—what mattered was the opportunity.

"I won't fail."

"Good," Yun grunted. He motioned toward the stacks of metal. "Then pick your material."

Jin Ye's gaze swept over the arranged ingots, noting the subtle variations in color and Qi signatures. Yun watched him carefully as he reached for a slab of Spirit-Infused Black Iron, his fingers brushing the cool surface.

"Smart choice," Yun muttered. "But before you start, you need to understand the difference between metal that makes a blade and metal that makes history."

He moved toward the storage shelves, tapping different ingots as he spoke. "At the lowest level, you've got Refined Iron and Star Copper. Good for common Qi-infused weapons, but nothing special. Most low-tier cultivators use them until they break."

Next, he gestured to deep gray and silver-blue slabs, the faint glow of Qi humming from their surfaces. "Then you've got Spirit-Infused Metals—Black Iron, Deep Silver, Frost Steel. This is where real weapons begin. These metals hold Qi naturally, allowing a cultivator's techniques to channel through them. If you forge your weapon properly, it'll feel like an extension of yourself."

Jin Ye listened, absorbing every word.

Finally, Yun stopped in front of a small locked case, its protective seals glowing faintly. Though he didn't open it, Jin Ye could feel the immense energy radiating from within.

"And then, there's Celestial-Grade Metal. Sky Obsidian, Abyssal Jade, Starfire Gold. These aren't just weapons—they're legends. Weapons forged from these materials are bound to history. Dao inscriptions, sentience, world-breaking techniques… you name it." Yun glanced at Jin Ye. "But that's not something you need to worry about yet."

Jin Ye smirked. "Yet."

Yun snorted. "Cocky brat." He grabbed the slab of Spirit-Infused Black Iron Jin Ye had chosen and tossed it toward him. Jin Ye caught it effortlessly.

"You picked a solid metal, but shaping it into something worth wielding is another matter," Yun said, stepping back toward the forge. "Let's see if you actually know what you're doing."

Jin Ye stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. The forge's heat washed over him, the roar of the flames greeting him like an old friend.

"Then let's begin."

Jin Ye placed the Spirit-Infused Black Iron onto the forge's anvil, feeling its dense weight settle into his grip. Unlike ordinary iron, this metal resisted shaping, its Qi-infused structure naturally rejecting force. A lesser blacksmith would struggle, relying on brute strength and repetitive hammering, slowly chipping away at the material.

Jin Ye had no such need.

He adjusted the forge's heat, watching as the flames flickered between orange and deep red. Every metal had a breaking point—a precise temperature where it became malleable without losing its essence. Most smiths relied on experience or luck to find that balance.

Jin Ye felt it.

When the glow of the metal shifted, he moved, gripping the tongs and pulling the heated slab from the flames. Sparks danced in the air as he placed it onto the anvil, the steel singing as it met the cooler surface.

Master Yun leaned against the workbench, watching closely.

"Careful," he warned. "Most apprentices ruin their first spirit-infused metal by hammering too early. The balance between heat and Qi infusion is—"

The first hammer strike rang through the forge.

Master Yun's words died in his throat.

Jin Ye's hammer came down again, the impact precise, controlled. Sparks erupted as the impurities within the metal were drawn out rather than forced away. Most blacksmiths struggled against their materials, forcing the metal into submission.

Jin Ye guided it.

Each impact sent a wave of energy rippling through the metal, shaping it not just physically but spiritually. His strikes followed the natural flow of the metal's Qi, something that even master blacksmiths struggled to sense.

Master Yun remained silent, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locked on Jin Ye's movements. He had seen thousands of apprentices fail at this step.

Jin Ye wasn't struggling.

He was shaping the blade with instinctive mastery.

The hammer rose and fell, striking the metal at the exact points where refinement was needed, the rhythm so natural it was as if the steel itself had become an extension of his will.

The forge roared, embers swirling around him, and for a moment, he felt like his past self again.

He wasn't just forging a weapon.

He was forging his path forward.

The heat wrapped around Jin Ye, the hammer in his grip steady, precise. His body knew what to do before his mind had to think. It was an instinct carved into his bones from another lifetime.

The blade took shape faster than expected, the impurities melting away with each measured strike. The weight of the metal adjusted slightly, its density shifting, the balance forming even before the finer details were refined.

Master Yun's arms remained crossed, his expression unreadable, but the silence spoke volumes.

Jin Ye knew what he was seeing.

Most smiths fought against the metal, bending it to their will. Jin Ye let it breathe.

Master Yun exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath, "You weren't just an apprentice, were you?"

Jin Ye didn't look up. "I told you. Experience."

Yun scoffed, shaking his head. "Damn brat. Keep working."

Jin Ye smirked. He lifted the half-formed blade, its shape crude but unmistakable. It wasn't finished, but it had already begun to take its true form.

This would be more than just a weapon.

This would be his sword.

The forge's heat pressed against Jin Ye's skin, the roar of the flames drowning out all other sounds. His hammer struck in precise rhythms, the glow of the Spirit-Infused Black Iron shifting with each impact. The metal was taking shape, bending to his will, but it was far from complete.

Master Yun remained silent, arms crossed as he watched. The old blacksmith had expected Jin Ye to fail—expected hesitation, misjudged hammer strokes, an inability to handle spirit-infused materials properly. Instead, he had witnessed something unnatural.

This wasn't talent.

This was mastery disguised as experience.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "Damn brat," he muttered under his breath.

Jin Ye smirked but said nothing, continuing to refine the blade.

After a final strike, he pulled back, letting the metal settle. The blade was still rough, still in its rawest form, but the foundation had been laid. It already felt right in his grip, perfectly balanced, a part of him in ways no weapon before had ever been.

It was far from finished.

But it was already his.

Master Yun stepped forward, taking the unfinished weapon from his hands. He turned it over, running a rough thumb along the edges, his keen eye studying every inch.

After a long moment, he grunted.

"Fine. I'll admit it. You're better than I thought." He tossed the blade back to Jin Ye, who caught it effortlessly. "But forging the shape is the easy part. The real challenge is tempering and refinement."

Jin Ye nodded. He knew this well. A blade was more than its metal—it was its process, its trials, its intent.

Master Yun crossed his arms. "Get this weapon right, and I'll take you to the Blacksmithing Guild myself. Mess it up, and you'll be buying your own damn materials."

Jin Ye smirked. "I won't mess it up."

Yun scoffed, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes. "Big words, brat. Let's see if you can back them up."

Jin Ye ran his fingers over the unfinished blade, feeling the energy that pulsed faintly within the steel. He had forged plenty of weapons in his past life. But this was different.

This wasn't just a weapon.

This was a statement.

A sword that fit him, and him alone.

The forge burned bright, and the first step toward his true weapon had begun.