The encounter with Old Chen, whom Li Wei had cast as the Hidden Master, had grounded his cultivation in a humility that resonated with the simplicity of his earlier Enlightenment Dawn. 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 Celestial Forge, where the cultivator crafts a divine vessel to amplify the spirit's light."
In the cultivation novels Li Wei had devoured in Beijing, celestial forges were mystical workshops—sacred fires where cultivators crafted weapons or talismans imbued with divine qi, elevating their power to new heights. The scroll's description was less grandiose but equally compelling: "Shape the earth's essence with the fire of the heavens, and let the forge birth a vessel for the soul. Craft with clarity, for flaws reflect the heart's impurity." Li Wei, tempered by lightning, betrayal, and moments of clarity, saw this as an opportunity to refine his cultivation through creation, building on his earlier attempt at the Spirit Forge, where his Star Blade had cracked. His body, ravaged by hunger, fever, and the throbbing infection in his hand, ached with every movement, but the valley's mystical aura and the scroll's promise fueled his determination to craft a new vessel.
Li Wei envisioned forging a new Star Blade, one worthy of the Celestial Forge, using the valley's sacred materials. His previous attempt had failed due to brittle wood, so he sought a stronger medium—a smooth, pale stone from the pool's edge, its surface etched with natural spirals that mirrored the Starstone's carvings. He believed this "Celestial Stone" could hold his qi, becoming a blade to amplify his Heavenly Sword Art. With Azure Dragon limping at his side, he gathered additional materials: sturdy branches for a handle, vines to bind it, and the ancient tree's glowing blossoms to infuse the forge with spiritual energy. The scroll emphasized "clarity" in crafting, so Li Wei resolved to focus his intent, purging doubts about the scroll's jest or his own frailty.
Back at his altar, Li Wei set up a grander forge than before, digging a deeper pit lined with rocks to contain a fire fueled by valley wood and blossoms. He placed the scroll, jade slip, Starstone, and stolen booklet at the altar's center, surrounded by more blossoms, their light pulsing like a celestial flame. Azure Dragon watched, head tilted, as Li Wei sipped the valley's crystal-clear water, its coolness a fleeting relief against his persistent fever. He began at twilight, when the valley's energy felt most potent, lighting the fire, its flames roaring with an otherworldly glow. Chanting the scroll's incantations, he visualized his Golden Core's warmth flowing into the Celestial Stone, shaping it into a blade with a sharpened stick and sheer will.
Hours passed, his infected hand throbbing, his fever spiking, sweat soaking his tattered shirt. The stone was stubborn, resisting his crude tools, but Li Wei chanted louder, his voice blending with the valley's whispers and the fire's crackle. He visualized his Nascent Soul—a radiant figure—guiding his hands, infusing the stone with qi. The scroll urged him to "birth a vessel for the soul," so he pressed the Starstone against the Celestial Stone, imagining their energies merging. The fire seemed to respond, its flames dancing higher, and the Celestial Stone took shape—a rough, blade-like form, its spirals glowing faintly, or so his feverish eyes perceived. But as he tested its weight, a crack split the stone, the blade shattering in his hands, a shard grazing his arm, drawing blood.
Li Wei collapsed by the altar, panting, Azure Dragon whining and nudging his leg. The failure stung, echoing his earlier Spirit Forge, but the warmth in his dantian surged, stronger and clearer, as if the act of crafting had refined his qi despite the broken blade. The scroll had warned of flaws reflecting the heart, and Li Wei saw the crack as a mirror of his own imperfections—his frail body, his lingering doubts. Yet, he chose to believe the Celestial Forge was a success in spirit, if not in form. He bandaged his arm with a strip of cloth, salvaged the largest shard of the Celestial Stone, and scribbled in his notebook, hands trembling: "Celestial Forge attempted. Blade shattered, qi amplified. 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 shard, its spirals glinting in the campfire's light. Zhang Wei, eyes wide, called it a "divine effort," suggesting he infuse the shard with moon berry essence to mend it. Liu Mei, her serene face lit by moonlight, praised his persistence but urged him to treat his wounds: "The forge is within, but the body must heal." Chen Xiu saw it as a test of the Dao, while Zhao Feng, skeptical, dismissed it as a futile craft, sparking a debate that tested Li Wei's leadership. He hid his worsening fever and the pain in his arm and hand, fearing their concern might fracture the sect's unity.
As dawn broke, Li Wei sat by the pool, the Starstone warm in his hands, Azure Dragon snoring softly. The scroll promised that the Celestial Forge amplified the soul, but also warned of greater trials. The valley's whispers seemed to approve, their murmurs blending with the morning breeze, the ancient tree's blossoms glowing brighter. 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 shattered blade at a time.