anwhile, a blazing furnace cast dancing shadows onto Adam’s sky-blue hair and twitching eyes.
If soone told him one day that he’d craft a trash item intentionally, he knew he would have lashed out at the fool. Yet, here he was, sweating over an anvil to make the tal as horrible as his pride would allow.
’Shit! Why is it harder than when I made my mythical blade?!’
He cursed, swinging his Qi-infused hamr with all his strength.
BANG
Sparks flew, illuminating his twisted lips. The bright tal underneath bent, a slight crack forming at its core.
’I won’t make it ugly no matter what! It’ll be stylish but broken inside. Hahaha!’
His crazed laughter terrorised the disciples who took the exam with him. Their heads snapped in his direction, and their jaws dropped at the frenzied hamring. What did the kid go through to display such ferocity at his age?
They shook their heads, bitter smiles curved their lips as they imagined the worst. Perhaps his parents were sick, or maybe he was an orphan desperate to earn sect points before being kicked out. In any case, Adam’s relentless pounding nursed their imaginations.
As the older ones secretly cheered for him, Adam shaped his creation.
To avoid attention, he went for sothing simple and unpopular: a throwing knife. Therefore, each strike shaped the short double-edged blade in a ticulous symphony aid at altering its balance and imbuing it with his Qi. Once satisfied with the rough piece’s flaws, he used smith’s tools for the first ti to sand it.
This made him sigh in relief since he didn’t know the technique, aning he wouldn’t have to ss it up on purpose. After all, he had always used miniature wind blades of different sizes to achieve flawless results.
Instead, he wrapped an old cloth filled with a mixture of sand, clay, and oil and rubbed it against the tal by hand.
A grating noise assaulted his ear, so unpleasant that he vowed never to use this thod again. Still, he rubbed for several minutes until he held a polished throwing knife. The edges were still rough, and cuts showing his inexperience covered the fra.
Yet, a few spectators gasped upon seeing the practical design and the tallic circle crowning the handle. The polished parts reflected the ceiling despite its flaws, while the edges made them understand how sharp the end product would be.
However, their awed gasps turned into choked horror, and their eyes widened when they saw him grip a smaller hamr and a chisel. What was he doing?
The ones who cheered him earlier shook their heads. This little brother would fail for the saddest reason: his desire to prove himself. But sotis less was more—sothing he would learn the hard way.
anwhile, Adam reheated the tal until it glowed a soft red. With masterful precision, he carved stylish channels around the fra and added a few calligraphed characters as flourishes. Nodding in satisfaction, he threw the knife into an acidic tube, gripped a piece of copper ore, and lted it inside a crucible.
Qi forging had almost nothing in common with magical enchantnt. For example, he had imbued the knife with his Qi during the shaping—when he should have placed his enchantnts. Yet, one thing remained the sa: he didn’t like others to see his thods. That’s why he had faked it, and his real enchantnt would be on the part he valued most—the style!
Once he heard the copper bubble, he gripped large pincers used to manipulate the scalding crucible, then poured the steaming, viscous liquid into a thin thread mold.
As the tal cooled, he retrieved the knife and observed it. Now corroded by the acidic solution, the bright tal turned lusterless dark. Even if it seed unimportant, it wasn’t. After all, it didn’t reflect light anymore, making it deadlier.
Now in the final phase, he picked up his hamr again and, before the onlookers’ disbelieving glares, he pounded the copper thread into the channels, adding a thin line of reddish-brown to raise the knife’s style to a new level.
Simultaneously, he infused his Qi into the copper to give the weapon the most common enchantnt he could think of: enhanced sharpness.
But that was also the part that made him frown the most. Even the onlookers gazed at him, pity and encouragent lding in their eyes as sweat covered his forehead.
The sensation of his abundant energy, akin to a raging torrent, suppressed into a thin stream—what a horrible feeling. Enduring it, he sighed when the edges vibrated.
Slightly at first, the intensity increased until the rough layer shed like a chrysalis to reveal razor-sharp edges.
’Did I still overdid it?’ He cursed as he passed a finger into the circular part that crowned the handle.
Then, he spun the dark throwing knife and threw it at a wooden board.
CLANG
Dragged by the flawed balance, the knife tilted mid-flight and clanged on the ground.
’At least I thoroughly ssed it up. It’ll also break after a few uses, so it should be fine.’
With a smile, he picked it up and jabbed it into the wood.
The blade pierced a few milliters before it stopped, reassuring him further about his successful failure.
Eager to present it, he turned, finally noticing the flabbergasted gazes of the crowd.
"What’s wrong with the glares?"
He raised his palms, a vein throbbing on his forehead.
Instead of the fellow disciples, a middle-aged man walked to him, the anvil crest embroidered on his chest and the five golden stars surrounding it glinting.
"You pass."
The man’s green eyes darted between the boy and the throwing knife before his dark hair fluttered over his smith’s robes as he turned.
"Follow . I’ll introduce you to a few friends and discuss the rank we should attribute to you."
’Shit...’ Adam facepald, his jaw clenching. ’Look at what you’ve done with your stylish obsessions!’
He cursed under his breath, knowing he had ssed up. After all, the man spoke about what rank to attribute to him.
’Just give one star and leave alone!’ He clenched his fist. ’I’ll break the knife before them if push cos to shove.’
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