**Year 374 of the Black Iron Calendar. The Smelting Zone never saw the light of day.**
Jin Wanzhao's knuckles were thick and deformed, covered in calluses and fresh wounds. The roar of the steam hammers was deafening, and the steel plate under his feet trembled every second, as if cursed. This sound pounded his eardrums day after day, as if trying to make him a part of the machine. The air was thick with the mixed smell of coal dust, rust, and cheap machine oil. Inhaling it felt hot and astringent in his lungs, like swallowing crushed coal. Numbly, he raised his arm and fed a red-hot iron ingot into the gaping mouth of the stamping press. His arm came down, the ingot was precisely flattened, sparks flying in all directions.
He had been working continuously for thirty-six hours, with only two brief pauses for rest. His eyelids felt like lead, each lift an immense effort. Sweat rolled down his forehead, blurring his vision and causing him to miss a small crack on the steam valve. He fed another ingot in. Under immense pressure, the steam valve let out an unbearable hiss. A blast of scalding steam, accompanied by a piercing shriek, shot out and hit the side of Jin Wanzhao's face.
Jin Wanzhao grunted, staggered, and the iron ingot in his hand slipped, rolling straight towards the edge of the operating furnace. Deep in the furnace, molten iron churned like magma. If the ingot fell in, it would likely trigger a chain reaction, causing a small-scale explosion. The entire Smelting Zone instantly fell into chaos.
"Jin Wanzhao! You useless piece of trash!" A furious curse drowned out the roar of the machines.
The foreman's bulky body squeezed through the crowd. In his hand, a discipline baton crackled with blue electric arcs, seeming ready to sear a person's bones at any moment. The foreman, known as Butcher, was a man thick as a bear, his face a mass of twitching flesh, his small eyes filled with nothing but malice.
The burn on Jin Wanzhao's cheek throbbed with fiery pain, but he ignored it, lunging towards the rolling ingot, trying to block it with his arm. But the ingot had too much momentum; he couldn't possibly stop it in time. At this critical moment, a thin figure darted out from the side. He hugged the ingot about to fall into the furnace but was pulled down by its weight, on the verge of tumbling into the boiling molten iron himself.
It was little A Xing, a child worker only about ten years old. His face was pale, his body filthy, but his eyes held a terror and despair beyond his years. He let out an instinctive scream, teetering on the edge of the furnace.
Jin Wanzhao's pupils contracted sharply. Without thinking, he lunged like a hungry tiger, grabbing little A Xing by his ragged collar and yanking him back from the brink of death. But due to his momentum, half his body was now leaning over the furnace edge, the wave of heat blasting his face as if trying to bake him dry.
"Jin Wanzhao! Are you asking for death?!" Butcher's roar shook the eardrums. The discipline baton, crackling with blue arcs, whipped viciously across Jin Wanzhao's back.
Jin Wanzhao's body stiffened as a searing pain exploded from his spine. Gritting his teeth, he flung A Xing to a safe area. Little A Xing was terrified, his face pale as ash, clinging to the iron ingot and trembling uncontrollably.
"Useless piece of garbage! Delaying my inspection! Get to the cooling pond!" Butcher pointed at A Xing, his eyes full of murderous intent.
The cooling pond was the Smelting Zone's cruelest punishment. It wasn't an ordinary pond; it was filled with freezing water at zero degrees. An ordinary person couldn't last half an hour inside without suffering permanent disability or even death. A child worker wouldn't last a minute.
Jin Wanzhao shielded A Xing behind him, panting heavily. His gaze, like that of a wounded beast, was fixed intently on Butcher.
"Leave him alone. It's my fault." Jin Wanzhao's voice was hoarse, carrying a hint of finality.
Butcher looked as if he'd heard the world's funniest joke. He grinned, revealing two rows of yellow teeth with a piece of vegetable leaf stuck between them.
"Your fault? Then you die for it! Who do you think you are, a mere handyman, talking back to me?!" Butcher raised his baton and swung it at Jin Wanzhao again.
Jin Wanzhao closed his eyes and took the blow. The searing pain made his body tremble, but he stubbornly refused to move an inch.
"I'll go to the cooling pond." Jin Wanzhao's voice was calm, as if he were talking about someone else.
"Who the hell do you think you are? A stinking handyman, trying to take the blame for someone else? You're tired of living!" Butcher, furious and exasperated, the baton's arcs intensifying, swung it viciously towards Jin Wanzhao's head.
Jin Wanzhao had no time to react. He only heard little A Xing's desperate scream.
At that moment, a deafening, world-shaking mechanical crash erupted from deep within the factory! The sound was like the wail of a dying steel beast, like the prelude to doomsday. It shook the entire plant, sending clouds of coal dust raining down from the high ceiling.
The colossal noise drew everyone's attention, including Butcher's, who was about to deliver the killing blow. His baton stopped mid-air, his eyes instinctively turning towards the source of the sound. It came from the location of the central steam hub, an area usually accessible only to senior technicians.
Inside the plant, even the usually numb workers stopped their tasks, staring fearfully towards the sound. That was the heart of the entire Smelting Zone; if it failed, the entire production line would grind to a halt.
"Idiots! What are you all standing around for?! Go see what happened!" Butcher snapped out of it, roaring at his underlings.
His face was ashen. This unexpected accident had clearly thrown him into a panic. He shot a venomous glare at Jin Wanzhao, grinding his teeth as he spat out a final threat: "You got lucky this time! Next time, you and that little brat can both feed the cooling pond together!"
With that, he hurried off towards the central steam hub with his men.
Jin Wanzhao slowly exhaled, his body still shaky from the impact. He looked down at the unremarkable, ancient gear pendant hanging around his neck, a family heirloom. When it had been close to the furnace's heat, it seemed to emit a faint, almost imperceptible glimmer. Or maybe it was just his imagination. He shook his head, figuring he was just exhausted and hallucinating.
Little A Xing was still huddled behind him, his small frame trembling uncontrollably.
"It's okay." Jin Wanzhao gently patted his head, his voice laced with fatigue. He felt utterly hollowed out, too weak to even stand steadily. Yet, even so, deep in his eyes, a faint spark seemed to ignite. It was like the dying embers in the deepest part of the Smelting Zone, struggling to rekindle in the darkest moment. He knew this wasn't the end. This was only the beginning.