The moonlight gently sprinkled its silvery tenderness onto the ground, and under this gaze, even the rugged and rocky terrain no longer seemed so angular. Ah-Sa leaned against a stone by the bonfire, gazing at the moon with eyes that refused to close.

  The moonlight is so beautiful and gentle that the exposed skin seems to feel the pouring touch. Such a moon color can never be seen in Carden. The clouds and smoke that cover the sky all year round make all the attempts to reach the sky desperate.

  It's been over a month since I left Carden. But as soon as I recall, the smell of iron and coal immediately revives in my nose, and the sound of the hammer striking the anvil seems to have just faded away less than a minute ago. The image of Father wielding the hammer on the eve of my departure is so deeply etched in my mind that it has almost replaced all the feelings I accumulated during my twenty years of living in Carden.

  His rugged, wooden face was like a shrine in the firelight. The muscles were like tree roots twisted around his arms, and the hammer struck again and again, each shock vibrating through the knife to Asa's hand, a shock from his father, a thrill that made him feel for the first time a connection with his father different from others.

  The shape of the knife gradually became clear, and Father took the knife from his hand and flipped it over. Asa lost this heartbeat that resonated with his father, and he understood that his connection with his father would also disappear with the casting of this knife. Along with this came a kind of excitement, this knife symbolizing the start of his brand new life, his true beginning in life. This expectation was also hammered into the knife along with the clanging sounds of each collision.

  This will be a good knife that even Father's store doesn't have, forged from the fine iron ore that Asa has secretly accumulated over the past five years.

  He was the most rebellious of the tens of thousands of children in the Karendo Basin. He wasn't mischievous as a child, nor did he indulge in youthful recklessness like others, so he wouldn't return to life with fatigue like others either. He didn't rebel against life, but from the start, he wanted to defy the entire life.

  The Karendon Basin has a history of metal casting and smelting that spans hundreds of years. The surrounding high mountains are rich in mineral deposits, seemingly inexhaustible, and the dwarves who live there have grown accustomed to interacting with humans, even venturing out to cohabitate with them. This has made the basin's metallurgy the best on the continent. People have also become accustomed to this tradition, generation after generation making a living from metal casting and smelting. Few people here ever leave, as if the basin has not only restricted their footsteps but also solidified their hearts within it. From a young age, they live in an environment of mining, refining, and forging, and when they grow up, they can only inherit this environment and become a part of it.

  Years of habit have made an unwritten rule in the basin, where men must inherit their father's craftsmanship at the age of twenty, whether it be a farmer, a merchant, or more often, a miner or blacksmith. This rule, whose origin is unknown, has been strictly followed and has become one of the few spiritual symbols in this culturally impoverished basin.

  Asa was no different from other children before the age of five, growing up amidst the sound of hammering and fire. At the age of five, he became fascinated with the stories told by an old adventurer behind the village about the world outside the basin. The giant flying dragon that could easily grab a cow and take it to the sky to eat, the beautiful mermaid who would lure sailors with her singing voice, the moving corpse, the mud man, various sub-humans, countries that worship natural elements, strange customs, and the endless blue sky with white clouds floating about, the mysterious and boundless ocean, and the vast grasslands that could not be reached even after riding a horse for three days and three nights.

  Unlike other children who were content to just listen and fantasize about these stories, Asa felt that this was the real life, the one that truly belonged to him. So he began to learn everything about the outside world from the old adventurer. How to survive in swamps and deserts, how to identify various plants, the habits of various subhuman species, how to fight, how to set traps. His footprints were all over the most desolate and uninhabited places in the basin, where he would stay for months at a time, imagining that this was the magical world outside, practicing his survival skills. To make himself strong enough to have combat power that wouldn't be inferior even in front of beastmen, he trained his body every day, fighting with people much bigger than him. By the time he was fourteen, all the thugs and robbers in the basin didn't dare to go to the village where he lived anymore. When he turned fifteen, he went to the iron mine, and whenever he found a good piece of ore, he would think of ways to secretly take it out.

  His father was taciturn and ran a small arms shop, his mother had long since passed away. In Asa's impression, home was just a place to rest, and his father was just an elder who lived with him. He has always been living in the expectation of his dreams, training every day, secretly accumulating minerals, indulging in the dream that is one step closer to reality.

  A week before his 20th birthday, he handed over all the secretly hidden minerals to his father, asking his father to forge a knife for him and telling his father that he wanted to leave.

  His father did not stop him, nor did he ask where he was going. Only after a long silence, helped him send the ore to the smelter, and forged the refined iron into a knife. Then, Asa took the knife and left with a merchant caravan from a foreign land.

  His fingers slid lightly over the blade, this knife was his everything for twenty years. With a flick of his finger, it let out a low hum, like a lament in some poem, yet also a eulogy.

  "Good knife." The sound was like two dull knives scraping against each other, a harsh hacking noise. The old soldier by the fire stirred awake, opening one eye to stare at Asa, the flames casting flickering shadows on his not-quite face.

  One half of the face was sunken, with muscles and shattered bones mixed together, forming a concave and uneven mass, which was the mark left by a hammer-like weapon. The other half of the face was connected by a deep and long scar from the forehead to the mouth, with several small shallow scars scattered around, and the facial features were all pulled out of place by the scars. This was a face that had been made very strange by injuries, but even stranger was that this person had suffered so many injuries and yet was still alive.

  Asha gave the old soldier a friendly smile. He was an old soldier who had been rolling on the battlefield for decades but never died, and it is said that he had more than 100 wounds all over his body. Because he couldn't die, many people in the army called him 'Old Immortal'.

  "Where did you serve before?" Looking at the knife that wasn't standard issue for regular troops, the old soldier assumed Asa was a lone mercenary.

  Asa shook his head, he had joined the mercenary troop after seeing a recruitment notice in Brakada. After leaving Kalindo, he found that living freely outside was not an easy thing to do either. Food and adventure items all required money. Just when he was about to consider joining mountain bandits or helping thugs fight, he saw a reconnaissance unit recruiting temporary soldiers and immediately signed up.

  This hundred-strong troop had half of its members recruited temporarily from around Brakada. There were farmers, vagrants, and seemingly a few escaped convicts mixed in, disorderly but lively. And yet the most peculiar-looking old soldier was actually a regular soldier.

  The old soldier couldn't sleep and struck up a conversation with Asa: "Young man, you seem to be quite skilled, what made you want to join the army?"

  "Because there's nothing else to do, I was actually thinking of becoming a bandit," Asa said honestly.

  The old soldier let out a laugh that sounded like a pot being smashed, and Asa noticed a scar on his throat, probably damaging his vocal cords as well. "Kid's got spirit. Sometimes being a bandit is better than being a soldier, at least there's no danger of getting killed in battle. Bandits can rob those they can beat, and run from those they can't. But when you're a soldier, even when you should be retreating, your superiors might still order you to charge."

  "Well, if you're not going to charge, then just run away."

  "Disobey military orders and your superior can have you beheaded."

  "Well, in that case, we'll just have to cut off the officer's head first and then make our escape." Asa replied matter-of-factly.

  The old soldier burst out laughing again: "What kind of soldier is this?"

  "How can there be such a person who knows they're going to die, yet is still being ordered around by others?" Asa felt puzzled. "Of course we have to think of ways to survive. If he wants me to go die, why doesn't he go die first and show me?"

  The old soldier shook his head, his only remaining eye showing a bewildered expression, his distorted face twitching into an incomprehensible grimace, muttering: "That's just how it is when you're a soldier."

  The sound of clanking metal came from outside, and Asa knew it was Captain Sanders, the only one who would still be wearing his steel armor on patrol at this hour.

  "What's wrong, still not sleeping? There is still a task tomorrow." Captain Sanders was still fully equipped. A full set of steel armor, a steel helmet on his head, a sword on his left waist and a shield on his right waist, these things seemed to be a part of him, never seen him take them off. The helmet and shield had an indentation of the Holy Cross, Arsa heard that it was the emblem of the Knights Templar, and the Knights Templar were also well-known in his hometown, which was the strongest unit in the Empire.

  "We are exchanging our experiences as soldiers." Asa still spoke frankly.

  "Captain, why aren't you sleeping yet? We're about to go to sleep." The old soldier was afraid of being scolded by Asa, and quickly took over the conversation.

  Sanders nodded, saying kindly, "I'll take a look around." His tone and expression were easygoing, even his appearance seemed somehow endearingly familiar. This young captain was highly respected among the regular soldiers, while those hired along with Asa were somewhat skeptical.

  The common people of the lower classes usually don't have a good impression of nobles, but it's proven that this young man is quite affable. However, Asa does have some respect for him, although he hasn't seen him take action, but can tell that this captain is much more capable than himself.

  Saunders looked at Asa and asked, "Are you the new recruit who knocked down four infantrymen during the recruitment?" During the recruitment of soldiers, they had to compete with several infantrymen to see if they had enough physical strength and combat effectiveness. Asa easily knocked down several soldiers who were much larger than him.

  "Yes." Asa replied. Saunders nodded his head and said in a tone of approval, "Your skills are quite good, do well and you'll definitely be fine."

  Although Asa had great doubts about being a soldier after talking to the old soldiers, he also nodded his head with great enthusiasm.

  It seems that not all nobles are arrogant and unpleasant. Hearing praise always makes people feel very happy, let alone Asa has forgotten when he was last praised.

  The sentry post outside the camp suddenly sounded, and the sharp tone tore the silence of the wilderness night in two.