The encounter with the Whispering Shadows had left Li Wei with a sharpened resolve, his spirit bolstered by the cryptic guidance of the spectral elder, whether it was a true visitation or a fevered vision. The hidden valley, with its shimmering pool, ancient tree, and glowing blossoms, pulsed with an energy that seemed to affirm the warmth in his dantian—a warmth he believed was his nascent Golden Core, nurturing a fledgling Nascent Soul. Azure Dragon, his scruffy spirit beast, remained a loyal companion, curled by the stone altar as Li Wei pored over the scroll, its worn bamboo slats a sacred guide through his trials. The scroll's latest passage unveiled a tangible new challenge: "The Spirit Forge, where the cultivator crafts a vessel of qi to temper the soul's essence."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had devoured in Beijing, forges were mystical crucibles—sacred fires or spiritual workshops where cultivators crafted divine weapons or talismans to enhance their qi. The scroll's description was less fantastical but equally compelling: "Shape the earth's gifts with the fire of intent, and let the forge refine the spirit. Craft with purity, for flaws weaken the soul." Li Wei, tempered by lightning, betrayal, and moments of clarity, saw this as an opportunity to create a physical embodiment of his cultivation, a tool to solidify his Nascent Soul. His body, ravaged by hunger, fever, and the lingering pain from his infected wounds, protested with every movement, but the valley's mystical aura and the scroll's promise fueled his determination.
Li Wei envisioned forging a new Star Blade, an upgrade from the sharpened branch he'd wielded in his Heavenly Sword Art. The valley, with its abundant resources, seemed the perfect workshop. He scoured the area with Azure Dragon limping at his side, gathering sturdy branches from the ancient tree's fallen limbs, their wood glowing faintly with the same energy as its blossoms. He also collected smooth stones from the pool's edge, their surfaces etched with natural spirals that mirrored the Starstone's carvings. The scroll emphasized "intent" in crafting, so Li Wei resolved to infuse his creation with his qi, believing it would temper his spirit as much as the blade itself.
Back at his altar, Li Wei set up a makeshift forge, using a shallow pit lined with rocks to contain a fire fueled by valley wood. He placed the scroll, jade slip, Starstone, and stolen booklet at the altar's center, surrounding them with glowing blossoms to channel the valley's qi. Azure Dragon watched, head tilted, as Li Wei worked, his blistered hands trembling as he carved a branch into a sleek, sword-like shape, its tip sharpened against a stone. The scroll instructed him to "temper with fire and spirit," so he chanted its incantations, visualizing his Golden Core's warmth flowing into the blade. The fire roared, its flames dancing as if alive, and Li Wei held the branch over it, careful not to burn it, believing the heat would fuse his qi with the wood.
Hours passed, his fever spiking, sweat soaking his tattered shirt. His infected wounds throbbed, but he pushed through, chanting louder, his voice blending with the valley's whispers. He visualized his Nascent Soul—a radiant figure—guiding his hands, infusing the blade with spiritual essence. As he carved a spiral pattern into the wood, mimicking the Starstone, the blade seemed to glow faintly, or so his feverish eyes perceived. But the wood was brittle, and as he tested a swing, it cracked, splintering in his hands. Pain seared through his palm as a shard embedded itself, blood trickling onto the altar. Azure Dragon whined, nudging his leg, as Li Wei stared at the broken blade, disappointment warring with determination.
The scroll had warned of flaws, and Li Wei saw the cracked blade as a reflection of his own imperfections—his frail body, his lingering doubts about the scroll's jest. Yet, the warmth in his dantian surged, stronger and clearer, as if the act of crafting had refined his qi. He chose to believe the Spirit Forge was a success, not in the blade but in his spirit. He bandaged his hand with a strip of cloth, salvaged the unbroken half of the blade, and scribbled in his notebook, hands trembling: "Spirit Forge attempted. Blade flawed, qi tempered. Soul endures, path strengthens."
During the next video call with the Order of the Jade Dawn, Li Wei shared the ritual, holding up the broken blade, its spiral carvings glinting in the campfire's light. Zhang Wei, eyes wide, called it a "spiritual triumph," suggesting he infuse the blade with moon berry essence to mend it. Liu Mei, her serene face lit by moonlight, praised his effort but urged him to treat his wounds: "The forge is within, but the body must heal." Chen Xiu saw it as a divine test, while Zhao Feng, skeptical, questioned the blade's worth, sparking a heated debate that tested Li Wei's leadership. He hid the severity of his fever and the pain in his hand, fearing their concern might shake their faith.
As dawn broke, Li Wei sat by the pool, the Starstone warm in his hands, Azure Dragon snoring softly. The scroll promised that the Spirit Forge refined the soul, but also warned of greater trials. The valley's whispers seemed to approve, their murmurs blending with the morning breeze. With his sect's support and the scroll's guidance, Li Wei felt ready to face the next challenge, his Golden Core and Nascent Soul pulsing as beacons of his unyielding pursuit of immortality, one flawed blade at a time.