During the meal, Long Xuan had indirectly placed a responsibility on Zhao's shoulders. Yet strangely, the young prince only smirked slyly at his words. Ruo Yun watched her beloved carefully, reading every subtle movement, trying to understand what thoughts lingered in his mind.
"Now that you are officially one of us, you must learn to live the Minggu way," Long Xuan said, setting aside his empty plate. "First, about combat and survival—you will learn to fight as Gao fought against you. But before that, you'll need a black blade."
"Where can I get one?" Zhao asked.
Long Xuan shook his head. "You won't get one. You must forge it yourself."
"I've never forged a single piece of iron in my life."
"Don't worry. Shen Jian is one of our best blacksmiths. He'll teach you."
"Shen Jian? Who's that?"
After the meal, they ventured deeper into the cavern. Torches cast flickering light across walls studded with green crystals, shimmering faintly in the damp air. The further they went, the thinner the oxygen became.
"Where are we going?" Ruo Yun asked.
"To the Forge," Long Xuan replied. "The place where Kraiman is smelted. It is the hardest metal on earth—six times harder than titanium. And it cannot be tempered by ordinary fire, only the flames of the earth's magma."
After fifteen minutes, they reached a chamber blazing with unbearable heat. Red light pulsed like the heartbeat of the volcano, magma streams raging beneath the surface, funneled into reservoirs to soften metal.
A young man, slightly older than Zhao, worked at the forge. His body glistened with sweat, reflecting the molten glow as he pulled down a massive lever.
"Long Xuan?" He blinked, surprised. "I didn't expect you to visit."
"I've brought our two guests to forge their weapons. How have you been, Shen Jian?"
But the man's focus shifted instantly to Zhao. His eyes lit up, his smile spreading wide with almost uncontrollable joy.
"You… you're him! Oh Heaven, I can't believe the day has come. My name is Shen Jian Dwei—it is an honor to meet you, Shèntiān." He bowed deeply before Zhao.
His excitement was so overwhelming that it unsettled Ruo Yun. "What's wrong with this man?" she whispered.
"He is our finest smith," Long Xuan explained. "He ensures the Forge runs smoothly. And as you see, he is one of the few who truly believes in the prophecy. Just like I do."
"I've longed to meet you," Shen Jian said fervently. "My prayers to the heavens never ceased, waiting for the messenger who would one day save us and lead us back to paradise above. My deepest gratitude for gracing me with your presence, O great Shèntiān."
Zhao's green eyes locked onto Shen Jian's, sending a strange mix of awe and fear coursing through the smith's heart. But Zhao saw something else—the glowing threads of energy flowing from the man's body. Bright, almost like Long Xuan's, yet softer, more fluid.
Zhao smiled faintly, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Shen Jian, I can see your sincerity. Of all here, you and Long Xuan are the only ones who believe in me. But I came here to take my blade."
"Take? You mean forge," Shen Jian corrected gently. "Forgive me, Shèntiān, but it is tradition. Every Minggu must craft their own blade. A weapon only serves the one who forges it."
But Zhao's eyes hardened. He leaned in, voice resonating with a force that shook Shen Jian's very core. "You will forge a blade for me. The finest blade you've ever made. Do you understand?"
Shen Jian's heart froze. The command reverberated deep within, undeniable. Even Long Xuan was left speechless, unable to protest despite knowing Zhao had just defied a sacred tradition.
Wordlessly, Shen Jian took a lump of black Kraiman stone from storage and began his work. The chamber grew heavy with tension. Long Xuan leaned against the doorway, his face dark with disapproval.
Zhao, however, watched with an intense, almost feverish gaze, following every strike and every spark. Ruo Yun's eyes softened with worry. There was something about Zhao's power that she could not understand—something that frightened her.
"Shen Jian."
"Yes, Shèntiān?"
"How long until my blade is finished?"
"Please be patient. Kraiman is not easy to soften. Right now it's melting in the furnace—it will take about twenty minutes. Be patient, I can already see it beginning to yield."
[Throw the green stone into the furnace!]
Zhao's eyes fell on a palm-sized green stone at his feet. Without hesitation, he hurled it into the roaring furnace.
"What are you doing?!" Long Xuan shouted across the chamber.
"Shèntiān! That stone must not be thrown into the fire!" Shen Jian cried, rushing to retrieve it with iron tongs.
Too late.
The green stone melted instantly into the Kraiman, its glow spreading like veins of light. Green radiance erupted from the furnace, sparks crackling like lightning. Moments later—
BOOM!
An explosion tore through the forge, shattering tools and scattering debris. The molten magma container held—barely—but the chamber was left in ruin.