Three hours after leaving the Punishment Hall, Jiang Muchen stood before the anvil in the Artifact Refining Hall.
The furnace fire painted half the hall in blazing red. Heat rolled toward him in waves, thick with the smell of charcoal, molten metal—and faintly, blood. The kind new apprentices left behind when their hands slipped.
Elder Huoyun stood bare-chested beside the furnace, sweat glistening across his back like oil brushed onto bronze.
"Watch carefully."
He plunged his hand into a basin of Cold Spring water, hauled out a chunk of Scarlet Flame Essence Gold, and tossed it onto the anvil. Frost clung to the surface, shimmering red and white under the firelight, eerie and alive.
Huoyun lifted his hammer.
Not a common smith's tool, but a heavy, pitch-black forging hammer etched with dense runes. The grip was wrapped in some kind of beast hide, worn smooth by years of use.
The first strike fell.
CLANG—
It didn't sound like stone cracking.
It sounded like a bell.
The echo rolled through the hall, deep and lingering. Ripples spread across the surface of the Essence Gold, and flakes of black impurity scattered away.
"This is called resonance tracing," Huoyun said without looking up, his second strike already falling. "Every material has its own pattern. Follow it, and you save effort. Go against it—"
His wrist twisted mid-swing. The hammer struck at an unnatural angle.
CRACK.
A hairline fracture split the metal.
"—and that's what you get."
Jiang Muchen's pupils shrank.
"Refining isn't about smashing things," Huoyun said, straightening as he passed the hammer over. "It's a conversation. Hear what the material is telling you, and it will give you what you want. Fail to listen—and it breaks just to spite you."
The hammer felt brutally heavy in Jiang Muchen's hands. At least thirty pounds. He took a breath and raised it—
"Stop."
Huoyun's hand clamped down on his wrist, burning hot. Like grabbing a heated iron. Slowly, deliberately, the elder guided his arm through a smooth arc, then let the hammer fall gently.
CLANG—
This time, the sound was right. Deep. Even. Rhythmic.
"Feel it?" Huoyun released him. "The metal is breathing. Your hammer has to breathe with it."
Jiang Muchen closed his eyes.
A faint vibration traveled through his palms—through the handle, through the anvil, through the Essence Gold itself. It pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat.
He lifted the hammer again.
This time, he followed the rhythm.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Strike after strike, the sounds wove together. Layers of black impurity peeled away, revealing a warm, flowing crimson beneath—brightening, purifying, alive with motion, as if liquid fire stirred within the metal.
Huoyun folded his arms, watching silently. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.
A quarter-hour later, Jiang Muchen stopped.
His arms were numb. His palms split and bleeding. But he barely noticed. For those fifteen minutes, he had been completely immersed—each strike answered by the metal itself. Here is hard, go light. There is soft, strike true.
"Not bad," Huoyun said, tossing him a vial. "Ironhand Salve. Apply it. Same time tomorrow."
The vial bore the seal of the Refining Hall—a salve that healed wounds fast and toughened the skin.
"Elder," Jiang Muchen asked while applying it, "how many steps are there in artifact refining?"
"Three." Huoyun dragged over two stone stools and sat. "Material selection. Shaping. Awakening. What you're learning now is the most basic part of shaping—purification."
He took a swig of liquor. "Most refiners get stuck here for life."
"Why?"
"Because they treat refining like a craft, not cultivation."
He pointed at the furnace. "Fire control is cultivation. Push too hard, too fast, and you ruin everything."
Then the anvil. "Force is cultivation. A hair too strong, it cracks. A hair too weak, impurities remain."
Finally, Jiang Muchen's chest. "But the most important cultivation happens here. Respect the material. Understand it. Only then will it acknowledge you. Those who just bash metal will never create a true spiritual artifact."
Jiang Muchen absorbed every word.
"I heard you went to the Punishment Hall today," Huoyun said suddenly.
"Yes."
"You win?"
"Yes."
"Good." The elder drank again. "Refining Hall disciples can be crude, hot-tempered—but never spineless. If you'd backed down today, you wouldn't be welcome here tomorrow."
The weight of those words settled heavily.
Jiang Muchen untied the Azure Nether Dragon-Calling Flute from his waist.
"Elder… this flute—"
"Let me see it properly."
Huoyun examined it with painstaking care—tracing each carving, holding it to the fire to study the jade's inner veining, tapping it lightly to hear the echo.
At last, he exhaled slowly.
"Azure Nether Dragon-Calling Flute. Genuine." His expression darkened. "One of the three sacred artifacts of the ancient Azure Nether Sect. The others—the Phoenix-Taming Zither and Tiger-Driving Drum—have been lost for a thousand years."
"So it's valuable?"
"Valuable—and dangerous." Huoyun lowered his voice. "The Azure Nether Sect had enemies everywhere. When it fell, these artifacts vanished. If any descendant of those old monsters recognizes this flute…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Jiang Muchen tightened his grip.
"Hide it," Huoyun said. "Use your green jade flute day-to-day. Only reveal this one when your life is on the line."
Then he glanced at the obsidian sword. "That blade's clean. Dark-patterned mystic iron—excellent for soul conduction. Stone Fool… what a waste."
A sigh heavy with decades of regret.
After a pause—
"How do you nurture artifacts?" Jiang Muchen asked.
"With soul energy," Huoyun replied. "Communicate daily. Let them grow familiar with you. Over time, they develop spirit. Your flute and sword both have potential."
He hesitated. "But nurturing costs energy. That flute… it's hungry, isn't it?"
Jiang Muchen froze.
Huoyun waved a hand. "Relax. I refine artifacts—I know the signs. There's something alive inside it. Feeding on your soul energy."
"…Yes."
"Normal." The elder tossed him a small pouch. "Three Soul-Nourishing Pills. From the Pill Peak. Use them. Later, you'll need proper nourishment for that thing—dragon qi, soul crystals, or blood essence from high-grade beasts."
Warmth spread through Jiang Muchen's chest.
"Don't thank me yet." Huoyun stood. "Three months. One hour every evening. If you can independently complete a mortal-grade artifact blank by then—I'll take you as a registered disciple."
Registered disciple.
Jiang Muchen bowed deeply. "I won't disappoint you."
"One more thing." Huoyun added casually. "The Essence Gold—split it three ways. One for me. One for you. And one for Liu Zhen."
Jiang Muchen blinked.
"He testified for you today. Offended Azure Nether Sword Sect." Huoyun said. "Compensation—and investment. Refiners keep accounts clear. Debts and favors both."
A lesson in more than refining.
"I understand."
Carrying the three refined chunks—each glowing like gemstones—Jiang Muchen left the hall.
Night fell. Moonlight washed the path back to the Servants' Court.
A figure stepped from the shadows.
Purple robes glinted coldly.
"Senior Brother Chen?"
Chen Song tossed him a pouch. "Thunder Essence Pills. Thunder Hall specialty. Temper meridians. Boost lightning affinity."
Three violet pills crackled faintly inside.
"Too valuable—"
"Trade," Chen cut in. "For your Moonlight Grass. I don't owe favors."
He turned to leave.
"Senior Brother," Jiang Muchen called. "Thank you—for today."
Chen paused.
"I wasn't helping you," he said flatly. "I just hate Azure Nether Sword Sect."
Gone.
Near the Servants' Court, another figure waited.
Liu Zhen—bandages still blood-stained, posture straight.
"I came to thank you," he said.
Jiang Muchen handed him the Essence Gold.
Liu Zhen stared. "Top-grade… worth at least eighty spirit stones."
"Glad you like it."
After a long silence, Liu Zhen looked up. "From today on, you're my brother. If you need anything—say the word."
He left.
Moonlight settled on Jiang Muchen's shoulders.
He touched the guest token at his waist… the pills in his robe.
And entered the courtyard.
That night, he cultivated.
Dragon qi seeped from the flute, thin but potent. His meridians strengthened. Hidden injuries healed.
At this pace—
Qi Condensation Fourth Layer within a month.
Outside, the Refining Hall furnace burned through the night.
Its fire leapt and flickered—
A proclamation.
The era of a nameless servant had ended.
Another era was being forged in flame.
The Way of the Lick — True Words:
Giving is like playing chess. One casual move should shape ten to come. True investment isn't money—it's offering a reason no one can refuse, and letting them step willingly into your design.