For the next two hours, Yoriichi failed.
Sometimes the metal became too brittle and cracked. Sometimes he failed to remove the sulfur pockets, leaving the blade pockmarked. The other apprentices, who had been glancing over, started to smirk.
"See? Just playing."
"He's wasting good ore."
Yoriichi ignored them. He wiped the soot from his eyes. His arms ached, not from fatigue, but from the precision required to restrain his own strength.
"If I could use my Flame..." Yoriichi sighed, looking at the dirty coal fire. "If I could channel the Sun Breathing directly into the metal, I could purge these impurities instantly. The coal fire is inconsistent. It fluctuates."
But he couldn't. He had to learn the way of the mortal smith first.
Beside him, Tie Shan was in a trance.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The rhythm was hypnotic. Tie Shan's hammer was singing.
Suddenly, the air in the hall grew heavy.
A low hum, like the vibration of a deep bass drum, emanated from Tie Shan's anvil. The Earth-attribute Dou Qi in the surroundings began to swirl, drawn into the glowing spearhead.
"NOW!" Tie Shan roared.
He plunged the spearhead into a barrel of oil.
HISSSSSS!
A massive cloud of white smoke erupted, smelling of burnt earth and steel.
The apprentices stopped working. Silence fell over the hall.
Tie Shan pulled the weapon out.
It was magnificent. The spear was seven feet long, dark as obsidian, with faint, glowing yellow veins running along the shaft. It pulsed with a heavy, oppressive aura.
"Tier 3..." Tie Shan whispered, his hands trembling. "A Tier 3 Earth Splitter Spear."
He raised it high.
"I DID IT!"
The hall erupted. The apprentices cheered, banging their hammers on their anvils. To craft a Tier 3 weapon was the mark of a Grandmaster. Tie Shan had officially ascended.
Yoriichi stopped his own work. He looked at the spear, then at the joy on Tie Shan's face.
"Congratulations, Senior," Yoriichi said, his voice cutting through the noise. "It is a solid foundation. The earth rejoices in it."
Tie Shan looked at Yoriichi, grinning like a madman.
"Hah! Thanks, kid! The rhythm... I kept the rhythm steady, just like we talked about with the breathing!"
The success of the teacher seemed to ignite something in the student.
Yoriichi turned back to his own pathetic, half-formed lump of Wind Iron.
"He did it with passion," Yoriichi thought. "He poured his soul into the rhythm."
Yoriichi closed his eyes.
"Selfless State."
He blocked out the cheering. He blocked out the heat. He blocked out the doubts.
He focused entirely on the metal in front of him. He listened to the vibration of the atoms.
He placed the metal back in the fire. He worked the bellows, timing each pump with his own heartbeat.
Whoosh. Thump. Whoosh. Thump.
The fire turned a brighter, cleaner orange.
He pulled the metal out.
Clang.
This time, the sound was clear. A bell-like ring.
"There."
Yoriichi found the rhythm.
He hammered. Folded. Hammered. Folded.
He didn't try to force the metal. He guided it. He let the Wind Iron dictate the shape. He stretched it out, thinning the edges, creating a central ridge for stability.
Hours passed. The sun set outside, and the hall grew dark, lit only by the glow of the furnaces. Most apprentices had left, but a few stayed, watching the "Young Master" who hadn't stopped for four hours.
Tie Shan stayed too. He leaned against a pillar, drinking water, watching Yoriichi work with a critical eye.
"His stance hasn't wavered," Tie Shan noted. "His hammer strikes are identical. Every single time. The consistency is... monstrous."
Finally.
Yoriichi pulled the blade from the fire one last time. It was glowing a pale cherry red.
He plunged it into the water trough.
Hiss...
The steam cleared.
Yoriichi pulled the sword out.
It was a simple, straight sword (Jian). It was about three feet long, slender and elegant. The metal was a pale gray, with faint, swirling patterns that looked like clouds—the natural grain of the Wind Iron.
It wasn't a masterpiece. It wasn't a Nichirin Blade.
But it hummed.
A faint breeze seemed to circle the blade, cutting the stagnant air of the smithy.
Tie Shan walked over. He took the sword from Yoriichi's hand. He inspected the edge, running his thumb lightly over the steel.
"Tier 1," Tie Shan announced. "High quality. Pure Wind Attribute."
He looked at Yoriichi.
"For a first attempt? It's a miracle. Most beginners make a metal stick. You made a weapon."
Yoriichi exhaled, wiping the soot from his face. A small, genuine smile touched his lips.
"It is light," Yoriichi said. "It cuts the air."
"It does," Tie Shan nodded, handing it back. "This metal came from the Windy Mountains. It remembers the gale."
He slapped Yoriichi on the back, nearly knocking the boy over.
"Good job, Ning! Truly! You have the hands for this. If you weren't a Young Master, I'd chain you to this anvil and make you my heir."
Yoriichi chuckled. "I am afraid my path lies elsewhere, Senior."
"Bah," Tie Shan waved his hand. "Listen. This sword... you don't use a straight sword, right? You want the curved one."
"Yes."
"Then sell this one," Tie Shan advised. "A High-Tier 1 Wind Sword? It will fetch at least 2000 gold coins in the market. Maybe more. Use that money to buy better materials for your Katana."
Yoriichi looked at the sword. Sell it?
It made sense. It was a prototype. A stepping stone.
"I will consider it," Yoriichi nodded.
He sheathed the blade in a rough leather scabbard Tie Shan provided.
"Go home," Tie Shan said, looking at his own Tier 3 spear with pride. "Today was a good day. The Heavens smiled on this hall."
"Indeed," Yoriichi agreed.
He bowed to the Grandmaster Smith and walked out of the hall.
The night air was cool and crisp. The stars shone brightly above Wu Tan City.
Yoriichi walked with the sword tucked into his belt. He felt the weight of it against his hip. It was a comforting weight, though not the one he truly desired.
"Tier 1," Yoriichi thought, touching the hilt. "It is a start. But the Katana... the Sun Blade... that will require more. More heat. More focus. More fire."
He was tired, his muscles aching from the hammering, but his spirit was soaring. He had taken the first step on the path of creation.
"Tomorrow," Yoriichi whispered to the moon. "Tomorrow, I train the wolves again. And soon... I will try to forge the sun."
He walked back to the infirmary, the rhythm of the hammer still echoing in his soul, ready for whatever the next day would bring.