Ash sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his chamber, the door firmly sealed with a minor concealment array.
Before him, the Forgespirit stood silently. Its hunched body shimmered with faint heat, its glowing coal-like eyes locked on Ash as though waiting.
The blade it had forged inside the Ironroot furnace—slender, curve-edged, with a faint bone tint running beneath the metal—rested beside them. Ash hadn't dared test it yet.
Not until now.
---
Ash spoke softly, "I should name you."
The spirit tilted its head, as if curious.
Shen Mu's voice echoed faintly from within his soul:
> "A name is binding. In necromancy, it is the link between will and spirit. Once named, it cannot leave you—unless it dies, or you do."
Ash nodded.
> "Then from now on... your name will be—Vulcan."
The spirit blinked.
Then bowed.
The name etched itself deep into Ash's soul sea—a new mark on the edge of the throne altar. The connection with Vulcan pulsed stronger, more fluent.
> [Forgespirit: Vulcan - Bound / High Rank]
Ash held up the bone-forged blade Vulcan had crafted. Its edge shimmered in candlelight—smooth, light, unnaturally cold.
He stepped outside and slashed once through a hanging talisman test cloth used by disciples to measure weapon sharpness.
The cloth split in absolute silence.
Not a sound.
Not a tremble.
Just clean, flawless severance.
Ash raised his brows.
> "That... wasn't just a sharp cut."
Shen Mu hummed.
> "There's silence in that metal. He shaped it from soul-infused iron. That blade disturbs no qi when swung. Ideal for assassins, and... masked guests."
Ash thought for a moment.
---
A Plan
He returned to his quarters, lifted the simple mask Vulcan had forged—a dull-gray bone mask with two curved slits for eyes—and fitted it over his face.
The moment he did, Vulcan stepped forward and tapped the blade once.
A faint layer of illusion covered the weapon, turning it into an ordinary iron dagger.
Ash stared, then chuckled.
> "So you're clever too, Vulcan."
---
That night, Ash made his way into the underground auction circuit beneath Holy Saint Sect.
With his spiritual pressure masked, his face hidden behind bone, and his qi cloaked by a soul-shadow formation Shen Mu had taught him, he became someone else entirely.
At the edge of the auction square, he slipped a letter and wrapped blade into a delivery box to a silent broker.
No words. No name.
Only a signet made from a sigil of death qi.
The broker opened the case. Eyes widened.
> "Who brought this?"
"No idea," the courier whispered. "He just left."
The broker looked again. A blade that made no sound, disrupted no qi, and had a faint regenerative essence woven through the hilt.
---
By morning, it had sold for 300 contribution points, ten times a typical disciple's monthly pay.
Ash returned to his chambers to find Vulcan already forging another weapon—this time using a combination of bones from spirit beasts Ash had collected during trial training.
A short dagger... with curved grooves.
---
The Message
Two nights later, Ash found a sealed note slipped under his chamber door.
It bore no sect symbol, no name—just four words:
> "Interested in business?"
—Ghost Forge Hall
---
As Ash stared at it, Shen Mu's voice said one thing:
> "Step carefully. Someone noticed. And if this continues... your second life will become a second will become a second war"