With the crisis averted and a new, promising commission arranged, the tense atmosphere in the Iron Wind Forge dissipated, replaced by one of gratitude. Master Tie Feng, after having his apprentices apply a soothing dicinal paste to his injured arm, insisted on personally showing them the masterpieces in his waiting area, his earlier gruffness now gone, replaced by the quiet pride of an artisan sharing his life’s work.
They spent so ti in the showroom, a veritable museum of deadly art. Jian Xuan, as a master swordsman himself, was deeply engrossed. He would gaze at a longsword for minutes on end, his eyes tracing the faint, Damascus-like patterns in the folded steel, sensing the potent spiritual energy sealed within.
“The balance on this one is perfect,” he would murmur, looking at a blade that seed to hum with a faint, windy aura. “The spiritual pathways are forged directly into the grain of the tal. This is not the work of an enchanter adding formations after the fact; this is a true integration of art and power. Your skill is truly profound, Master Tie.”
Master Tie grunted, a rare, pleased smile touching his lips. “A blade must be born, not simply built. The spirit of the weapon must be coaxed from the steel itself.”
As they looked around, a pattern beca evident. Every single piece on display was a weapon designed for cutting, stabbing, or bludgeoning. There were no other types of artifacts in sight. It was a workshop dedicated to a single, deadly purpose.
“Master Tie,” Li Yu began, his tone casual, “your craftsmanship is incredible. We’ve never seen weapons of this quality. It makes
wonder about the other artisans in this city. Do you know of anyone who specializes in more… unique artifacts? Sothing made from a conch, for example?”
Master Tie looked at them, a flicker of his old gruffness returning. He waved a dismissive hand. “Conches? Baubles and trinkets. Why would anyone waste master-level forging techniques on such things?” He shook his head. “My world is the forge and the blade. I pay no mind to what the trinket-makers are doing. This is a city of weapons. If you want a finely crafted hairpin or a musical box, you should have gone to the capital.”
His answer was blunt but honest. “I have not heard of anyone making artifacts like a conch around here,” he finished. “But then again, I wouldn’t know everything. Now, if you’ll excuse , I have preparations to make for your friend’s new sword.”
Understanding they had gotten all the information they could, they thanked the master smith for his ti. “We will return in five days, then,” Fat Pig said with a respectful bow.
“It will be ready,” Master Tie promised, his gaze already turning back towards the heart of his forge, his mind consud once more by his craft.
They left the Iron Wind Forge and stepped back out into the noisy, bustling streets of the city. The sun was high in the sky, and the day was still young.
“Well, we still need to be thorough,” Fat Pig said, taking the lead. “If the conch was made in this city, the creator must have a workshop sowhere. Let’s see what this city has to offer.”
For the rest of the day, they conducted a ticulous search of the city’s artisan and rchant districts. It was a journey through a world obsessed with tal and might. They started in the industrial sector near the port, a chaotic and noisy district where they saw massive workshops producing parts for the great sky-ships and sea-faring vessels. The work was impressive in its scale and practicality, but it was all industrial.
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From there, they moved to the central market, a sprawling maze of streets and stalls. This was the heart of the city’s comrce, where thousands of rchants hawked their wares. They visited dozens of shops, from humble stalls selling mass-produced daggers to grand emporiums with arrays of high-quality spiritual weapons.
They entered one shop that specialized in heavy, beast-thed armor. Xylia, who had been quiet for most of the day, paused before a magnificent set. The pauldrons were shaped like roaring bear heads, and the gauntlets were tipped with claws forged from a rare, lightning-aspected tal. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes lingered on the set with a look of quiet, professional appreciation.
Fat Pig, who missed nothing since learning from Kui, saw her interest. His face split into a broad, generous grin. “Shopkeeper!” he bood, startling the proprietor. “This set here! My friend likes it. I’ll take it! Put it on the Golden Shell Guild’s account!”
Xylia looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Nonsense!” Fat Pig said cheerfully. “The White Paw Company protects our assets, and our assets must be well-protected! Consider it a bonus from the Guild for a job well done. You deserve the best!” He clapped her on the back, and Xylia, after a mont’s hesitation, gave a rare, small smile and a nod of thanks.
Their next stop was a dusty, cluttered shop that dealt in rare and unusual ores. It was a geologist’s dream, filled with rocks of every shape and color, from common spirit iron to strange, softly glowing moonstones. As they were browsing, Khaos’s voice, cold and demanding, suddenly echoed in Li Yu’s mind.
‘That one,’ he said, directing Li Yu’s attention to an unassuming, fist-sized black rock in a bin of cheap, miscellaneous ores. The sign above the bin read “Starless Iron – 10 Spirit Stones per piece.”
‘What is it?’ Li Yu asked internally.
‘The fools who mined it think it is simply a dense, non-spiritual tal,’ Khaos explained, a hint of ancient hunger in his voice. ‘But its core has been touched by the void. It is saturated with a trace of its essence. It is useless to them, but a delicacy for . Buy it.’
Li Yu walked over to the bin and picked up the unremarkable black rock. It was heavy, but otherwise felt completely inert. He purchased it without haggling, adding it to his storage ring. It was a small, secret victory in an otherwise fruitless search.
As dusk began to settle, casting long shadows across the smoky city, they finally regrouped. Their long day of searching had yielded no clues about the conch. They made their way back to the Golden Shell Guild’s residence, a sense of quiet frustration settling over the group.
They gathered in the main courtyard, and Fat Pig had a platter of food and a jug of ale brought out.
“Nothing,” Fat Pig said with a sigh, taking a large gulp of ale. “I talked to two dozen rchants, so of whom have been in this city for over a hundred years. No one has ever heard of an artifact forger who specializes in sound manipulation or works with materials like that conch. It’s weapons, armor, and ship parts. That’s it. This city knows how to make things to hit people with and things to travel in. Anything else, they don’t seem to care about.”
Jian Xuan nodded in agreent. “The entire crafting culture of this city seems singularly focused on the martial and the industrial. It is a city of pragmatists. An esoteric item like the conch does not seem to fit their character.”
Xylia, who was busy testing the fit of her new, lightning-clawed gauntlets, simply grunted in agreent.
Li Yu was silent for a mont, staring up at the glowing forges of the Crimson Forge Sect on the mountain. His own search had been equally fruitless. “If the conch was made here,” he said finally, his voice low and thoughtful, “then its creator is either no longer in business, or they are operating in complete secrecy.”
Their investigation, which had started with such a promising connection, had hit a solid brick wall. The city was a labyrinth of forges and workshops, but the one they were looking for was nowhere to be found on the surface. They would have to find another way to look deeper.
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