Jay returned to the smithy, the heat hitting him like a physical blow the moment he stepped through the massive, soot-stained archway. The symphony of industry was in full swing with the roar of the forges, the hiss of steam, and the relentless, rhythmic clang of hammers on steel. He found Master Tareth where he had left her, by the Grand Forge, her eyes of molten steel already fixed on a new ingot of glowing metal.
She didn't look at him as he approached. "Back again," she said, her voice a gravelly rasp that cut through the noise of the workshop.
Jay bowed respectfully, though he knew her attention was on the blade. "Yes, Master. I have improved my control, but... I am still blind to the metal within the stone. I cannot find the Star-Iron."
Tareth gestured with her tongs toward the dark corner of the smithy without taking her eyes off the forge. "Then you know where the pile is. Get to work."
It was a dismissal, but Jay took it as the instruction it was. He walked to the mountain of slag and discarded metal scraps and sat, the ambient heat making sweat bead on his brow instantly. He picked up a chunk of cooled slag, a worthless piece of rock, and impure iron fused together. He closed his eyes and poured his Qi into it, feeling its structure, searching for the tell-tale density of true metal. Finding nothing, he focused his will, and the rock crumbled into fine, grey dust in his hand. He tossed it aside and picked up another.
He continued this work for hours, a monument of patience in a corner of the sweltering smithy. He broke down dozens of chunks, piece by painstaking piece, his pile of discarded dust growing steadily. He was a man trying to find a single grain of rice in a silo by inspecting it one handful at a time.
From across the smithy, the rhythmic hammering stopped. Tareth's voice, sharp with frustration, cut through the din.
"Boy! What are you doing over there, playing with pebbles?"
Jay looked up, startled. "I am searching for the Star-Iron, Master."
"You are blundering. Is this what you've been doing the last three days?" she corrected him, her voice dripping with the exasperation of a master watching an apprentice use a hammer to paint. "You have a Foundation Establishment's worth of Qi in your dantian, yet you use it like a child cracking nuts one at a time. Stop looking with your hands and start looking with your spirit. The pile is earth. You are earth. Feel the entire pile at once!"
The words hit Jay like one of Tareth's hammer blows. It was so obvious. So simple. He had been so focused on the granular task that he had completely missed the larger solution. He kicked himself internally for his foolishness.
He stood, facing the mountain of slag. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and this time, he didn't pick up a single piece. He pushed his spirit sense out, sinking it deep into the massive pile. He felt the coarse texture of slag, the brittleness of common iron, the dead weight of plain stone. Then, deep within the center of the heap, he felt it, a single, cool, incredibly dense speck that hummed with a quiet energy, completely different from everything around it. 'Is this it?'
Tareth watched, impressed that he could scan the entire pile at once, a fine display of raw power.
But what Jay did next left her dumbfounded.
Having located the ore, Jay didn't move to dig for it. He raised his hands, palms facing the pile. The entire mountain of slag and stone began to tremble. The individual rocks and chunks of metal started to shift and flow, not like an avalanche, but like thick, viscous liquid. The pile deconstructed itself, the useless slag flowing away to the sides while the central mass of pure rock began to coalesce, rising upwards. The earth flowed and compressed under his silent command, forming a perfectly smooth, dark grey plinth in the center of the cleared floor.
Resting on top, gleaming in the forge-light, was a single, fist-sized nugget of unrefined Star-Iron, its surface shimmering with faint, silvery light.
Tareth was shocked into silence. She slowly walked over, her expression a mixture of awe and sheer disbelief. She reached out and took the ore. It was heavy, dense, and pure. There was not a speck of rock or impurity clinging to it.
She looked at Jay, her eyes wide with a questioning gaze. "What... did you just do?"
Jay, still focused on his work, seemed almost surprised by the question. "You told me to find the metal. I found it. But there was a lot of rock still attached to it, so... I removed it."
Tareth was floored. This wasn't just control; it was a level of innate, intuitive mastery over earth that she had never witnessed. To not only locate but also simultaneously separate and refine an ore from a mixed pile, using only Qi... it was a feat that even Gao the Unmovable would struggle with. And this boy had done it after only three days of her half-hearted training.
A low, rough chuckle escaped her lips, a sound of pure, astonished admiration. She looked at Jay, no longer as an apprentice, but as a peer. "Boy," she said, her voice losing its harsh edge. "If you can do that, then I have nothing left to teach you about controlling the earth. The only thing left for you to learn here is how to swing a hammer. With that level of control, you could become the greatest blacksmith this sect has seen in hundreds of years."
It was the highest form of praise she could offer, an invitation into her smithy.
The sudden offer took Jay aback, but he gave a deep, respectful bow. "Thank you for the honor, Master Tareth. But... I have no interest in blacksmithing." He managed a small, sheepish smile. "I can't stand the heat all that much either."
Tareth let out another gruff chuckle. "A waste of talent, but an honest answer." She looked down at the gleaming nugget of Star-Iron in her hand, then pushed it into Jay's chest. "Here. You earned it. A smith can't forge a blade without good ore. And a cultivator can't forge a new path without a foundation."
Jay looked at the heavy, shimmering metal in his hands. It was the first resource he had truly earned, not with sect points or allowances, but with his unique talent and understanding.
"Thank you, Master," he said, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.
"Don't thank me," she grunted, already turning back toward the roaring heat of the Grand Forge. "You did the work. Now get out. You're still letting the heat escape."
Jay smiled, clutching the ore. He gave one final, deep bow to her back and walked out of the smithy.
---------------------------
Back in the training grounds, Gao and Alex were in the heat of battle.
Gao stomped his foot, and the entire stone platform beneath Alex's feet rippled like water, the ground itself becoming a treacherous, uneven surface designed to break an opponent's stance.
But Alex's mind was already gone. He had slipped back into the instinctual, silent world of the Art of the Headless Body. His feet, moving without conscious thought, found purchase on the shifting stone, his center of gravity adjusting with an unnatural fluidity.
Gao narrowed his eyes. The boy had an uncanny degree of adaptability. He plunged his hand into the platform and drew forth a sharp sword of polished, compressed earth. He charged, his movements direct and powerful.
The fight that followed was a clash of opposed philosophies. Gao wielded the battlefield; the very ground was his weapon. Jagged spikes of earth would erupt from the floor, forcing Alex to weave and pivot. The stone would turn to mud, trying to trap his feet. And through it all, Gao would press his attack, his stone sword a solid, unrelenting force.
Alex, in contrast, was a phantom on the field. He didn't use any fancy techniques; only his reaction speed guided him through. He met Gao's battlefield control not with his own Qi, but with his body. He danced between the erupting spikes, his feet never staying in one place long enough for the mud to take hold. And the swords...
Gao would form a blade, and Alex would meet it. A crackle of force, a sharp impact of flesh against stone, and the formed weapon would explode into gravel in Gao's hand. The Golden Core expert was forced to draw a new sword, then another, and another.
The crowd of disciples watched in stunned silence. They were witnessing an impossibility. A Foundation Establishment disciple was shattering a stage three Golden Core's manifested weapons with his bare fists.
'What is this kid's body made of?' Gao thought, a mix of frustration and genuine astonishment warring within him. The raw, dense power behind each of Alex's strikes was absurd. It didn't feel like the Qi of a Foundation Establishment disciple at all; it felt like pure, unadulterated physical force, something primal and unrefined.
He had to end this.
Alex, however, was adapting. The initial shock of Gao's terrain control had worn off. His body, guided by pure instinct, was learning the rhythm of the earth itself. His feet found a new tempo, his speed increasing in a sudden, explosive burst that caught everyone off guard. He slipped past a newly formed sword, flowed under Gao's guard, and for the first time, had a clear, undefended shot.
He put every ounce of his cultivation, every bit of his refined Ironbone strength, into a single, devastating punch aimed at Gao's chest. The air in front of his fist seemed to compress, letting out a low hum.
Just as the blow was about to land, something stopped him.
It wasn't a block, but a gentle and absolute negation of his momentum. A hand, appearing from nowhere, had simply wrapped around his wrist, effortlessly stilling the incredible force of his attack.
The world of pure instinct shattered, replaced by the jarring reality of the training grounds. Alex's mind snapped back into focus, and he looked up, bewildered.
It was Kai Jin.
The Nascent Soul expert stood between them, holding Alex's fist an inch from Gao's robes. He hadn't even been on the platform a second ago.
Kai Jin let out a hearty, booming laugh that broke the stunned silence of the crowd. "Easy now, juniors," he said, releasing Alex's wrist. "I thought this was supposed to be a friendly spar, not an attempt to disfigure a fellow disciple."
Gao and Alex both stared at him, their expressions a perfect match of confusion.
"Senior Brother Kai Jin," Gao said, his voice tight with displeasure. He had been on the verge of unleashing his own finishing move. "This was an informal assessment."
"And a fine one it was," Kai Jin said, clapping him on the shoulder with a force that made the Golden Core expert stumble. "But I believe the lesson is over." He turned to Alex, a wide, challenging grin on his face. "Besides, I believe this young brother came here looking for me. It would be rude of me not to oblige."
Gao's face soured. He had been robbed of his victory, but he couldn't argue with a Nascent Soul cultivator even if it was only the first stage, the power difference was immense. He gave Kai Jin a stiff, respectful nod, shot a final, unreadable glance at Alex, and strode off the platform, his displeasure a palpable cloud around him.
Now, it was just Kai Jin and Alex on the sparring platform.
"Well now," Kai Jin said, his voice a low, excited rumble. "Let's see what you've really got. Are you ready?"
Alex looked down at his own trembling hands, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through him. He was exhausted, his Qi reserves nearly half-empty. He reached into his robes, pulled out one of the mid-grade recovery pills Finne had given him, and popped it into his mouth. A cool, pure stream of energy flowed through him, replenishing his strength.
He looked up, meeting Kai Jin's gleaming eyes. "Yes, Senior Brother. I am."
Kai Jin's grin widened. "Good. And this time," he said, settling into a relaxed but powerful stance, "don't hold back like you were before."