Deciding on my next project, I pulled several chunks of spiritual metal from my storage ring. The ore gleamed with a faint internal light—nothing spectacular compared to the materials I'd inherited from Jihasti, but perfect for someone at my level.
This would be my first attempt at artifact crafting. The knowledge sat clear in my mind, courtesy of Jihasti's memories, but knowledge and experience were different beasts entirely. My cultivation was barely adequate for the task. Meridian Opening first layer was the bare minimum needed to summon a spiritual flame hot enough to melt ore. Regular fire worked fine for low level herbs, which is why I'd managed the Foundation Building Pills, but spiritual metals demanded something stronger.
Without a furnace to contain and direct the heat, a lot of the heat would dissipate and be lost in the air. With only the first layer of Meridian Opening, I'd only opened four of my primary meridians so far, which meant my flame would be weak and my vital energy would run out quickly. Luckily, I had the Heavenly Dao to supplement my lost energy.
I settled into meditation position on the palace floor and arranged the ore chunks in front of me.
Three types of ore sat in a rough triangle. The first was Thermal Copper, its surface a deep burnt orange with veins of gold running through it like lightning strikes frozen in stone. The second was Quicksilver Iron, darker than regular iron with a strange shimmer that made it look almost liquid in the right light. The third was Condensation Jade, not actually jade at all despite the name, but a crystalline metal that gleamed pale green and felt cool to the touch even when exposed to direct sunlight.
Each ore would take some effort to melt, their natural resistance to heat part of what made them valuable. But once the impurities were extracted and the ores were mixed together into an alloy, they would become an extremely heat malleable metal with a very high melting point.
This meant the finished product could change its temperature extremely fast, a critical requirement when performing alchemy or artifact refinement that needed rapid temperature adjustments. A furnace made from this alloy would respond instantly to vital energy commands, heating or cooling in seconds rather than minutes.
I took a deep breath and extended my vital energy outward. The ore chunks lifted into the air, hovering at chest height in front of me. They rotated slowly, giving me a complete view of each piece.
Holding my palm up, I channeled vital energy through my meridians and converted it into several small flames beneath each ore. The Thermal Copper needed the highest heat to start breaking down. The Quicksilver Iron required a moderate but steady temperature. The Condensation Jade demanded the lowest heat, but it had to be absolutely consistent or the ore would crack instead of melt.
Each ore required subtly different temperatures to melt and refine, which meant I needed to manage multiple flames simultaneously.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I carefully maintained the temperature of my flames. The Thermal Copper began to glow first, its surface turning molten orange. Black impurities rose to the surface like oil on water. I used the vital energy holding the ore in the air to pull those impurities away, letting them drop to the palace floor in smoking clumps.
The Quicksilver Iron followed next, its edges softening as the heat penetrated deeper. Gray slag separated from the pure metal, drifting away under my guidance.
The Condensation Jade took the longest. Its crystalline structure resisted the heat stubbornly, but I couldn't risk increasing the temperature. Too much heat would shatter it completely.
My meridians ached from the constant flow of vital energy. The four channels I'd opened burned with exertion, struggling to supply enough power for three separate flames plus the telekinetic control needed to manipulate the ores.
Soon I found my vital energy running low. The flames flickered, threatening to collapse.
That's when the Heavenly Dao supplemented my energy. A cool rush of power flooded through my meridians, not my own but borrowed from the world bead itself. The flames stabilized immediately, burning with renewed intensity.
All three ores hung suspended before me, completely liquefied. The Thermal Copper glowed like molten sunset. The Quicksilver Iron rippled like mercury caught mid-flow. The Condensation Jade shimmered with an almost ethereal quality, pale green light pulsing beneath its surface.
This was the moment everything could go wrong. Once I mixed them into an alloy and allowed the mixture to cool and solidify, that was it. The molecular bonds would lock permanently. If I got the ratios wrong, if I mixed them too quickly or too slowly, the entire batch would be worthless. Worse than worthless, actually, since melting it down again would destroy every useful property the ores possessed.
I drew the three molten metals together slowly, watching them drift through the air like luminous clouds. They met at the center point, and I began rotating them in a careful spiral. The Thermal Copper formed the outer layer, wrapping around the other two. The Quicksilver Iron came next, bleeding into the copper with threads of darker metal. The Condensation Jade sank to the core, its crystalline structure dissolving into the mixture.
The colors swirled together, orange and gray and green becoming something new. The alloy took on a burnished bronze hue with flecks of silver dancing across its surface. Heat radiated outward in waves, but I kept the temperature steady, letting the metals fully integrate before moving to the next step.
I spread my hands wider, pulling the molten alloy into a rough sphere. Then I began shaping it, using vital energy like invisible hands molding clay. The bottom flattened into a circular base. The sides rose upward, forming walls thick enough to contain intense heat. The top remained open, a wide mouth that would accept whatever materials needed refinement.
The basic shape was easy. The hard part came next.
While the alloy remained molten, I had to engrave the inscriptions directly into the metal. Three separate engravings, each serving a critical function, all of them requiring precision I barely possessed.
I started with the base, carving channels into the still-liquid metal with threads of vital energy. The first inscription would split a single flame into multiple controlled fires, letting me heat different materials simultaneously at different temperatures. The pattern resembled a branching tree, each line perfectly spaced from the others. One mistake, one line carved too deep or too shallow, and the entire inscription would fail.
My hand trembled slightly as I worked. The Heavenly Dao steadied my vital energy, but the actual carving had to come from me.
The second inscription wrapped around the interior walls, a complex spiral that would contain all heat within the furnace. No energy would leak out. No external temperature fluctuations would affect what happened inside. The lines interlocked like a puzzle, each segment reinforcing the others.
The final inscription covered the upper rim, a network of sensory nodes that would feed information directly back to my spiritual sense. I'd be able to see, feel, and monitor everything happening inside the furnace without opening it or disrupting the refinement process.
The alloy was cooling faster now. I could feel it beginning to solidify, the molecular structure locking into place. I carved the last few lines of the sensory inscription with desperate speed, finishing just as the metal hardened completely.
The furnace settled onto the palace floor with a dull thunk.
I sat back and examined my work. The furnace wasn't much, barely a foot tall and crude compared to the professional equipment I'd inherited from Jihasti. This one could barely be considered a low quality spiritual artifact.
Artifacts fell into three broad categories that matched cultivation progression. Spiritual artifacts served mortals, from Body Tempering all the way through Void Tribulation. Immortal artifacts were crafted for those who'd transcended mortality, and divine artifacts were tools wielded by gods.
Each category subdivided further into four quality tiers: low, medium, high, and top. The distinctions came down to materials, inscriptions, and craftsmanship. A low quality spiritual artifact like my furnace used common spiritual metals with basic engravings. The power requirements matched what a Meridian Opening cultivator could supply. A top quality spiritual artifact might incorporate rare materials with complex inscription networks, demanding the vital energy output of someone at Void Tribulation just to activate.
Those divine furnaces in my vault contained multiple dimensional spaces that could simultaneously refine dozens of materials in perfect isolation from each other. They could shrink down to the size of a marble and hide inside their owner's inner core, always ready for use. The highest quality ones even possessed their own spiritual awareness, capable of adjusting refinement processes automatically based on subtle energy fluctuations.
This thing? It was a glorified pot with some basic inscriptions carved into it.
But it was mine, crafted by my own hands, and it would serve its purpose. The temperature control inscription would let me work with stronger ores that demanded heat far beyond what my weak spiritual flames could normally produce. The containment inscription would trap and recycle that heat, multiplying its effectiveness. And the sensory inscription meant I'd have precise awareness of everything happening inside, letting me make adjustments in real time instead of guessing blindly.
I settled back into meditation, drawing spiritual energy from the world bead's abundant atmosphere. The Core Region's density made recovery quick, the energy flowing into my meridians like water filling a dry riverbed. My four opened channels absorbed the power greedily, replenishing what I'd spent on the furnace's creation.
An hour passed before I felt fully restored.
I pulled several new ore chunks from my storage ring and arranged them beside the furnace. Ironwood Ore, black as midnight with a grain pattern like actual timber frozen in metal. Razorstone, a crystalline mineral that naturally formed edges sharp enough to cut through regular steel. And a small piece of Windsilver, its surface rippling with constant motion even while solid.
The dagger took shape in my mind before I began. A straight blade, eight inches long, single edged with a reinforced spine. The handle would need balance, weight distribution that felt natural in the hand. And the inscriptions, those would be critical.
I fed vital energy into the furnace's base inscription. Flames erupted inside, splitting into three separate fires that hung suspended in the air. I dropped the Ironwood Ore into the leftmost flame, watching through my spiritual sense as the metal began to break down. The sensory inscription fed me constant information about temperature, viscosity, and impurity levels.
The Razorstone went into the center flame, requiring less heat but more careful monitoring. Too much and it would lose the very properties that made it valuable. The crystalline structure needed to soften without dissolving completely.
The Windsilver took the rightmost flame, spinning slowly as it melted. This one demanded the lowest temperature of the three, its natural affinity for movement making it unstable when overheated.
Black slag rose from the Ironwood Ore. I used my vital energy to skim it away, pulling the impurities up and out of the furnace entirely. The Razorstone shed flakes of worthless stone, revealing the pure cutting edge material beneath. The Windsilver simply brightened, its surface taking on a mirror polish as the refinement completed.
I combined them carefully, letting the Ironwood Ore form the bulk of the blade while threading Razorstone along what would become the cutting edge. The Windsilver I distributed throughout in tiny amounts, just enough to give the finished weapon a responsive quality that would make it feel alive in the wielder's hand.
The molten mixture poured out onto a flat stone I'd prepared. I shaped it with vital energy, drawing the metal into a blade form. The edge thinned to molecular sharpness where the Razorstone concentrated. The spine thickened for structural integrity.
While the metal cooled, I carved a simple but effective inscription along the blade's length. An edge preservation inscription that would keep the weapon sharp indefinitely, preventing the molecular bonds from degrading even under heavy use.
The dagger solidified, steam rising from its surface as the last heat dissipated.
I picked it up, testing the weight. Perfect balance. The blade caught the light and seemed to drink it in, the black Ironwood base making the Razorstone edge appear even sharper by contrast. I pressed my thumb against the flat of the blade and channeled a trickle of vital energy through it.
The inscription activated smoothly, a faint shimmer running along the edge.
As the day progressed, I continued to craft weapons like this, getting bigger and bigger as I gained more experience.
The second blade came easier than the first. A short sword this time, twice the length of the dagger with a fuller running down the center to reduce weight without sacrificing strength. I added a durability inscription alongside the edge preservation inscription, carving both into the cooling metal with steady hands. My vital energy flowed smoother now, the movements becoming familiar rather than foreign.
By the third weapon, I'd moved on to a proper longsword. The furnace accepted larger chunks of ore without complaint, the multiple flame inscription proving its worth as I refined four different materials simultaneously. I experimented with the ratios, increasing the Windsilver content to give the blade a whip-like flexibility that would absorb impact instead of shattering.
The fourth weapon stretched my capabilities. A two-handed greatsword, nearly five feet from pommel to tip, required more ore than I'd used for the previous three combined. The blade alone weighed close to eight pounds before I carved a weight reduction inscription into the flat. The inscription distributed mass across dimensional boundaries, making the sword feel like it weighed half as much without actually changing its physical properties.
I lost track of time completely, the rhythm of creation consuming my attention. Melt, refine, combine, shape, carve. Each cycle taught me something new. The way certain ores mixed better when heated to specific temperatures. How the angle of inscription lines affected energy flow. Which impurities could be left in small amounts to enhance certain properties rather than degrade them.
The furnace proved its value again and again. The temperature control let me work with increasingly volatile materials, ores that would have exploded if exposed to uncontrolled flame. The containment inscription trapped and recycled heat so efficiently that my vital energy expenditure dropped by half compared to the first dagger.
By the time I finally stopped, exhausted but satisfied, I'd created fifteen weapons of various sizes. They lay arranged on the palace floor in ascending order, from the small dagger to a massive war axe that stood taller than my waist. Each one gleamed with inscriptions, their edges sharp enough to split falling leaves.
I collapsed onto my back, staring up at the palace ceiling. My meridians ached from constant use, but it was a good ache, the kind that came from pushing boundaries and succeeding. The Heavenly Dao had supplemented my energy throughout, but the actual crafting had been all mine.