The blacksmith's strength test was always divided between the left and right arms.
From the very first time Ray had taken this test, he had already surprised Gilbert. His strength was unusually balanced, with only a slight advantage on his dominant right side.
That balance had remained consistent through the years, making his growth even more astonishing.
Ray grasped the forging hammer with his left hand. The spiral grooves carved into the handle bit into both tender flesh and thick calluses, yet his grip tightened naturally, steady and immovable.
He drew in a slow breath, rotated his body halfway, and in the next instant unleashed the full power of his frame.
At the moment his strength peaked, a familiar warmth surged from his tailbone. Like a heated current, it raced up his spine and flooded his limbs.
The hammer shrieked through the air, its whistle sharp enough to pierce the ears, before crashing down onto the testing plate.
Bang—!
The mercury column inside the metal pillar shot upward like a released arrow. A clear, ringing boom echoed through the workshop, leaving both Ray and Gilbert momentarily deafened.
Gilbert rubbed his eyes, as if doubting what he had just witnessed.
The display flickered, then stabilized.
A cold electronic voice announced, "Striking power: 642 kilograms."
For a moment, both of them stood frozen.
The previous year, Ray's right arm had already produced Four hundred kilograms of force, enough to shock Gilbert. But now, his left arm alone had nearly reached seven hundred kilograms. That number had already surpassed Fred's full strength.
And this was only one arm.
Gilbert swallowed hard, forcing his emotions back under control. "Right arm."
Ray switched hands. This time, his breath slowed, his focus sharpening. A faint golden glimmer flickered deep within his eyes. He twisted his waist and shoulders again, channeling every ounce of power into the swing.
The warmth surged once more, fiercer than before.
The hammer screamed.
The air itself seemed to rupture as the strike landed.
Bang—!
The entire room trembled. Tools rattled. Gilbert instinctively covered his ears as the reverberation rolled through the walls.
The display updated.
"Striking power: 791 kilograms."
Seven hundred and ninety one?
Gilbert felt his thoughts stall completely.
At nine years old, Ray's two arms combined could produce over a thousand kilograms of explosive force. This wasn't merely abnormal. It was monstrous. Even many power-system Soul Grandmasters couldn't rival this raw strength. Such force usually only appeared after entering the Soul Elder ranks.
And yet…
Why was his martial soul Silverfalls Vine?
If this child had awakened a hammer-type martial soul, he would have been a once-in-a-generation prodigy.
Ray stared at the numbers, equally stunned. Even without fully grasping what five hundred kilograms meant, he understood one thing clearly. With just a single soul ring, his strength already exceeded that of many Soul Masters using soul skills.
"Teacher…" he asked hesitantly, "can I really learn Thousand Refinements?"
Gilbert exhaled slowly, finally regaining himself. "With strength like this, there's no reason you can't. Come with me. To your forging room."
Inside Ray's workspace, Gilbert retrieved a block of silver-white metal and placed it on the table.
"This is Heavy Silver," he said. "I've already taught you which metals are capable of undergoing Thousand Refinements. Heavy Silver has exceptional ductility and soul power conductivity. Only through Thousand Refinements can its true value be revealed. Use this for your first attempt."
He paused, then continued with solemn emphasis.
"Thousand Refinements is not simply hammering metal a thousand times. It is the continuous expulsion of impurities, increasing density, strengthening the structure. But its true essence lies in refinement. Only when the metal itself is transformed can it be called Thousand Refined."
He gestured toward Ray's hammer.
"The tungsten steel in your Thousand Refined Tungsten Hammer was already strong. After refinement, its size was reduced by one third, its strength doubled, and its weight increased by thirty percent. That increase in weight is a sign of qualitative change."
Gilbert's voice grew heavier.
"The better the refinement, the more extraordinary the metal becomes. Any item forged from Thousand Refined material is worth a hundred times more than one made from Hundred Forged metal. Only after mastering Thousand Refinements can one truly be called a blacksmith."
Ray listened intently, unaware that for most blacksmiths, this level was an unreachable lifetime dream.
Strength alone was not enough.
What mattered was comprehension.
"Teacher," Ray asked, "what techniques should I use for Thousand Refinements?"
Gilbert shook his head. "There are none I can teach you."
He looked straight into Ray's eyes. "Treat the metal as a living being. Learn to communicate with it. Feel its veins, its resistance, its acceptance. Thousand Refinements is also called Thought Forging. Every blacksmith's method is different. Use your heart."
"Understand that, and begin."
"Yes," Ray replied, bowing his head slightly.
Gilbert gave no demonstration. Instead, he stepped back, leaving Ray alone with the task.
Ray opened the forging table and fed the Heavy Silver into the furnace. The metal shimmered softly, its silvery glow reflecting across the room as heat enveloped it.
Heavy Silver was rare, mined from ocean depths beyond a thousand meters. It was incredibly dense, extraordinarily heavy, and an exceptional conductor of soul power, capable of amplifying it by five to ten percent.
A block less than a third of a meter across weighed nearly three hundred kilograms.
Its density limited its use in mecha manufacturing, but in solid-state soul devices, it was priceless.
As the furnace roared, the Heavy Silver gradually softened, its rigidity yielding to heat. Only in this state could it be forged.
Ray watched silently.
His first Thousand Refinements was about to begin.
Ray lifted his Thousand Refined Tungsten Hammers, the knowledge of Heavy Silver flowing through his mind like a carefully memorized script.
The moment his palms wrapped around the cold hammer handles, his spirit steadied. The lingering gloom that had followed him for days vanished without a trace. In his thoughts, only two words remained, heavy and resolute.
Thousand Refinements.
Under the workshop's lamplight, the bodies of the Thousand Refined Tungsten Hammers appeared dark and muted.
Upon closer inspection, faint petal-like patterns could be seen etched into the metal.
These were the distinctive marks left behind by repeated refinements, a silent testament to their quality.
After half an hour in the furnace, the Heavy Silver finally reached the correct forging temperature.
Ray drew it out, its surface glowing softly. He tightened his grip on the twin hammers and narrowed his gaze. Raising the hammer in his right hand, he brought it down gently.
Ding.
The crisp sound rang out.