Master of Blade Forging

Qi cultivators have always relied on the vast and surging true energy within their bodies to strengthen themselves, meeting opponents by countering force with force. Yet, once their true energy is completely depleted, they often cannot even stand against martial artists of lower rank. Disciples from major sects have their own methods, but they lack the endurance to endure hardship; even when presented with the finest medicines, they would rather merely smell them than consume them. Many dedicate themselves solely to qi cultivation, yet their physique, agility, and experience often fall short compared to wandering martial artists.

Lu Xun collapsed onto the ground, staring at the motionless youth before him, whose internal energy was terrifyingly strong. At this moment, Lu Xun could fully discern the youth’s previous incarnation: a prodigious talent born of a great sect, equipped with secret manuals and extraordinary techniques, tempered through hardship beyond that of common martial wanderers, and rich in experience—truly flawless. Now, Lu Xun no longer saw a spirited youth but rather a future titan of martial arts. He finally understood how some veteran wanderers could judge a person’s future achievements simply by perceiving their former self.

Lu Xun stood stunned, his hair disheveled and filthy, paying no mind to his state, hoping the other would finish him swiftly and decisively. Yet, after waiting a long time with no sign of movement, he summoned his courage to rise. Unexpectedly, he realized the other had exhausted all his strength and could no longer deliver a fatal blow.

Lu Xun’s mind became chaotic, seemingly forgetting that nearby stood an inconspicuous third-rank martial artist. Under normal circumstances, with his exquisite sword-drawing technique, anyone below second rank would never survive an encounter with him. So now, he completely ignored Zhang Ling, his eyes wide as he immediately picked up the broken wooden blade on the ground and prepared to thrust it toward Song Linjie.

But after taking a single step, Lu Xun felt a sudden weakness in his chest. Looking down, he found a tiny puncture wound, as if pierced by a needle, his breath faltering and his mind growing hazy. Finally, he collapsed with a heavy thud.

An elderly onlooker gasped, theatrically stepping away from Zhang Ling: “Wow, kid, such deep scheming! At first, I thought if he fell because of my words, I’d rush to save him, but I never expected you had already prepared a hidden arrow—no, a hidden needle.”

Zhang Ling paid no attention to the old man’s self-directed performance. He helped Song Linjie to rest beside a tree, collected the silver needles hidden in the surrounding trees, then finally pulled back Lu Xun’s clothes to retrieve the sharpest needle, one that pierced the heart yet bore no bloodstain.

The old man approached again, whispering, “The Silver Needle of the Saint of Medicine? And your earlier uncanny lightness skill—surely the secret art of Shadow Steps from the Medicine King Valley. I never expected that a great Saint of Medicine would take in someone so scheming and ruthless as you. The reputation of Medicine King Valley might be ruined by your hands!”

Zhang Ling was not surprised the elder immediately recognized his background. He had guessed the man’s identity when he saw him guiding Song Linjie. Zhang Ling revealed, “Senior must be Zheng Haiguan, one of the four great forging masters of our time and the creator of the Tempered Heaven Blade.”

Song Linjie, who had been weak and disheartened, suddenly raised his head in surprise. “Is it really you?”

The old man smiled and nodded. Unable to rise, Song Linjie cupped his hands in salute. “Thank you, Senior, for the gift of the blade.”

Zheng Haiguan waved his hand with a smile. “No need to thank me. When I gift a blade, I always judge whether the recipient is worthy. When your father came to request a blade, I was reluctant; I had never before given a blade I painstakingly forged to a stranger. But I heard you defy fate and bear the mark of heavenly punishment. I was curious about the person who incited such heavenly envy. I do not believe one can defy heaven simply by a name. Clearly, you are no ordinary person. I also wished to show respect to the Sword King Song. If you disappoint me in the future, I will reclaim the blade myself.”

Song Linjie grinned. “Then Senior will not have that chance.”

Zheng Haiguan frowned. “Your temperament is unlike your father’s but exactly like your grandfather’s—brazen and overbearing. Yet you have not disappointed me. Had you not been exhausted earlier, you would have been able to ignite the red patterns. The Tempered Heaven Blade is not a famous blade, but it rivals any divine weapon in the world. It grows stronger with the wielder—and this strength is not about the foe, but the bearer.”

Song Linjie bowed again. “Please, Senior, tell me more.”

Zheng Haiguan looked puzzled. “What do you wish to ask?”

Song Linjie recounted what he had witnessed: “During a previous sword training session, when my energy neared its peak, I saw the Tempered Heaven Blade burst into flames for a moment, then suddenly vanish. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have believed what you said.”

Zheng smiled knowingly. “I see. Today, such phenomena are not uncommon. It’s due to the unique metal used to forge this blade. Most famous blades and swords are made from meteorite iron, some extremely light, some heavy. Each weapon has its strengths and weaknesses. Some are as flexible as silk threads, yet bend more easily than soft swords or waxwood spears. The Tempered Heaven Blade is unique. When I first saw a fire descend from the sky—a swirl of red and blue flames burning for ten days before extinguishing—it revealed a piece of mysterious iron. The fiery patterns on the blade were not carved by me; they formed naturally as the two flames parted and settled on each side. Such a phenomenon was a first in my life. When you can freely ignite these flame patterns, it will likely mark the day you become a grandmaster.”

Zheng Haiguan paused, voice deepening. “Is there anything else you wish to ask?”

The three found shelter from the rain and rested. Song Linjie chattered incessantly about famous blades and swords around the world, while Zhang Ling listened quietly, showing particular interest when the topic turned to the Guoshang Blade.

After their conversation, Zheng Haiguan departed first. By dawn, the rain had lessened. Song Linjie stretched and smiled brightly. “Let’s head back to the academy.”

Unexpectedly, after evading Lu Xun, Zhang Ling struck Song Linjie’s head. “Running off so quickly? First, return the horse. You seem carefree, but a full belly doesn’t know the hunger of the starving. That horse is likely all the other fellow’s belongings.”

Song Linjie protested, “I never said I wouldn’t return it. Why hit me? If I really had no energy left, could you have caught me?”

Zhang Ling rubbed his forehead thoughtfully. “This kid’s words are getting more irritating by the day.”

The two donned human skin masks and traveled for a while before returning to the inn. Those remaining at the inn did not expect them to come back so soon—just to return a horse? When did wanderers become so kind? After waiting long enough without seeing the first to flee return, they assumed he had been killed by the two. Only after they left did someone dare report the matter to the authorities. On the way back to the academy, Zhang Ling and Song Linjie removed their masks and took a small path home, carefully covering their tracks before relaxing.

However, when the two reached the foot of the mountain, they encountered Wu Zhi blocking their way. He demanded, “Where have you two been?”