By the fifth month, the world around Tian Lei had begun to change.
The forge was no longer just a room—it was alive. Every flicker of flame, every hum from the runes, every pulse of molten ore beat in time with his heart. His spiritual core had expanded like a blazing sun, each rhythm echoing with the steady might of a true blacksmith.
But as his mastery grew, so did the danger.
Each attempt to fuse essence now pulled on powers beyond his control. Space around him shimmered and warped—sometimes a whole day vanished in a blink, other times, a single hammer strike seemed to last an eternity.
Still, Tian Lei endured.
He no longer ate or slept; his body was fueled purely by spiritual flame. His veins glowed faintly, as though liquid fire ran through them.
Heartflame, resting beside him, pulsed faintly—its glow in tune with his every breath, as if quietly acknowledging his growth.
