Huff… huff…
Chen Junting approached a secluded workshop. The door stood slightly ajar, leaking waves of heat and the rhythmic clang of metal.
Pushing inside, he was hit by the sharp tang of sulfur and coal, mingled with blistering heat.
The interior wasn't cluttered—aside from a soul-guided furnace roaring at its center, the blacksmith's tools lining the walls seemed barely used.
(Though in truth, they were far from idle.)
Within the furnace, familiar yet ravenous flames churned violently, casting a golden glow over everything—so intense the very air shimmered amber.
This was unmistakably a blacksmith's forge.
But not one for ordinary farmers' tools.
This was the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's soul-guided workshop, specially built for one person.
Before the furnace stood a brawny, muscular man, facing the inferno bare-chested. His skin gleamed coppery under the firelight, sweat tracing paths down his chest and arms.
He'd been so absorbed in his work that Chen Junting's arrival went entirely unnoticed.
His focus? Forging a longsword.
Hammer in hand, every strike was precise, powerful—sparks flying as he guided the blade's form.
Over time, the glowing sword blank softened in the heat, yielding under the smith's masterful hands until its final shape emerged.
With the final hammerfall—
Huuuum—!
The blade sang—a clear chime marking its completion. The smith examined his creation, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
He plunged the sword into quenching liquid.
Hiss—!
Steam hissed as the steel's surface hardened instantly. After meticulous polishing, the blade gleamed with a lethal, icy sheen.
Chen Junting watched the entire process in silence—patient, respectful.
Finally—
"Junting… what brings you here?"
"Uncle Tai."
Chen Junting bowed slightly—the man before him was none other than Thousand-Arm Douluo, Tai Yu.
This forge existed purely for Tai Yu's leisure. As a descendant of the Strength Clan, blacksmithing was his ancestral craft—a tradition he refused to let fade.
"I was just passing by," Chen Junting said—though his eyes drifted to the newly forged sword.
One glance confirmed its exceptional quality.
This was Ji Juechen's sword—the one Chen Junting had entrusted to Tai Yu for restoration.
Knowing his own mediocre smithing skills, he'd sought the sect's finest artisan to avoid future flaws.
And this blade? Flawless.
"Not bad, right?" Tai Yu boasted, flicking the Transfigured "Heavenly Meteorite Iron Sword."
It flexed slightly under pressure, then snapped back—a testament to its resilience.
Chen Junting learned Tai Yu had infused it with elastic memory metal.
"All weapons shatter if too rigid. A touch of flexibility benefits the wielder."
He scoffed. "No idea which reckless brat 'repaired' this before—utterly crude! Good thing I'm here."
That 'reckless brat' was me. My deepest apologies, Chen Junting thought dryly.
But Tai Yu's skill—a master smith even by ancient standards—was why Chen Junting had sent Ji Juechen to him.
With a last fond glance at his "child," Tai Yu sheathed the sword and tossed it to Chen Junting.
"Take it to him. It's no 'divine artifact,' but its quality rivals a Title Douluo's Martial Soul True Form."
"Understood."
Chen Junting hefted the sheathed blade.
With this, Ji Juechen's martial soul resonance would boost his strength by at least 10%.
…
Nightfall.
After a simple meal, Chen Junting walked alone to a quiet grove. Beyond it lay the Stone Forest—
Rows of jagged stone pillars, sharp as blades, stood under the moonlight.
Between them, a tall figure moved—longsword flashing in the dark, its glow flickering like dying embers.
Disciples said Ji Juechen challenged sect members by day and trained here by night. Find him after dark? Guaranteed.
"Old Ji."
Chen Junting called out, tossing the sword.
Ji Juechen spun, catching it left-handed. Instantly, his martial soul thrummed in recognition.
He stowed his temporary blade and—
Shing!—
drew the new sword.
One glance.
"Good sword."
Chen Junting stepped closer, smiling. "Want to test it?"
Ji Juechen's stance shifted—battle intent flaring like wildfire.
"Instruct me."
Chen Junting didn't refuse. The moment his martial soul manifested—
Two sword energies clashed!
Time blurred.
Only when the stars above burned brightest did the duel end.
"Satisfied?" Chen Junting asked, noting Ji Juechen's marked improvement—both from his soul power's growth and the sword's enhancement.
"Satisfied." Ji Juechen's reply was terse, but his eyes shone with unguarded joy. To a swordsman, a perfect blade was everything.
"No name for it?"
Ji Juechen paused.
"'Ji' (寂—Stillness, Lonely/Loneliness, Solitary)."
Chen Junting nodded—no objections.
But his visit wasn't just about the sword. He produced a jade box.
"Old Ji… you're close to breaking through to Soul Saint, right?"
Ji Juechen, puzzled but honest, confirmed: Sect resources had granted him a 10,000-year soul bone, pushing him to Level 69. Level 70 loomed.
Chen Junting smiled. "Then let me help."
He opened the box.
"Finally! I'm suffocating!"
A voice burst out—startling Ji Juechen—as an orchid shot from the box, hovering midair.
"A… 100,000-year soul beast?!"
"Correct," Chen Junting affirmed. "But it's also a divine herb—Eight Petal Immortal Orchid."
Ji Juechen frowned at the unfamiliar term.
"Immortal herb…?"
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