In Yangzhou, Tang Prefecture, Lushan County, lay the Blacksmith Guild.
Beneath a fiery sky, the forge roared with blazing heat, filling the air with smoke and soot.
"Strike while the iron is hot—temper it a thousand times!"
"The heat must be precise! Only then can crude iron be forged into fine steel!"
"Pull firmly, strike steadily—light taps, heavy blows!"
"Do you lot even listen to me, or do you treat my words like hot air?!"
A muscular middle-aged man, his arms bulging with veins, barked orders in a sweat-soaked shirt, punctuating his lectures with the occasional kick to the apprentices.
"Yes, Master Chen!"
Seven or eight teenage boys, shirtless and glistening with sweat, swung hammers down on red-hot iron atop anvils, their faces taut with exertion.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
As the rhythmic strikes rang out, one boy muttered under his breath, "A whole month of this... I'm starving, I can't sleep, and every day it's back-breaking labor. Do they even know what muscle breakdown is?!"
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Su Zhe swung his six-pound hammer with precision, striking the curve of the iron perfectly.
Half an hour of hammering had left his arms feeling like lead—what began as an ache had devolved into complete numbness.
Su Zhe hadn’t originally belonged to this world. A month ago, an accident had transported his soul into the body of a 16-year-old apprentice who had worked himself to death.
Back in his own time, Su Zhe had been admiring an ancient bronze cauldron in a museum. The cauldron was both archaic and exquisitely crafted, drawing him closer like a moth to a flame. Without warning, a mysterious radiance erupted from the cauldron, enveloping him completely.
When he awoke, his modern life was gone. He was now a low-ranking apprentice in the Blacksmith Guild.
At first, Su Zhe thought it was some elaborate prank—like he'd been dropped into a twisted version of The Truman Show. But reality sank in when he took his first lashings.
Fortunately, his sudden shift in personality following the transmigration was dismissed as hysteria by those around him—a common enough affliction in a feudal society riddled with poverty and despair.
"Forge iron? I’d rather forge a new life!" Su Zhe cursed silently, though his hammer never faltered, each strike more diligent than the last.
Why the sudden enthusiasm? It stemmed from a pivotal discovery.
One evening, while planning an escape, he accidentally spied Master Chen in the courtyard practicing martial arts. With one hand, the burly man effortlessly hoisted a stone block weighing hundreds of pounds, tossed it high into the air, and caught it as though it were a toy.
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"That’s more badass than Jackie Chan!"
It was then that Su Zhe realized this world, though backward in technology, harbored the mystical path of martial cultivation. Warriors here wielded superhuman strength, capable of defeating dozens, even hundreds, single-handedly.
Legends spoke of masters who could traverse the skies, shatter mountains, and even command life and death.
From that day on, Su Zhe’s desire to pursue martial arts took root. He would become a warrior.
As the iron on the anvil shrank in size and took shape, Su Zhe switched his six-pound hammer for a one-pound one.
Clang! Clang!
Though lighter, each strike landed precisely on protruding imperfections, smoothing them into form.
Another half-hour passed, and the course, dark-gray iron was now a gleaming silver-gray, its surface polished and faintly luminous.
The Blacksmith Guild divided its apprentices into three classes:
- Lower-class apprentices chopped wood and stoked the furnace.
- Middle-class apprentices controlled the bellows to maintain precise temperatures.
- Upper-class apprentices forged iron with hammers.
Su Zhe’s predecessor had spent three grueling years in the lowest rank before earning the title of upper-class apprentice.
"Master Chen, three pieces of fine steel for your inspection," Su Zhe said respectfully, presenting a tray of polished iron.
Master Chen examined the steel, nodding with approval. "Crude iron tempered into fine steel—smooth surface, flawless texture, and a faint glow. Excellent craftsmanship. Looks like your hysteria cured itself and knocked some sense into you!"
"Your guidance is unmatched, Master Chen. Though I may be dull, even a stone can absorb the jade’s essence under a master’s tutelage," Su Zhe replied, his tone calm yet deferential.
Flattery never hurt anyone, especially when done well.
Master Chen chuckled, amused by Su Zhe’s eloquence. Unlike the bootlickers he’d encountered in his forty years, Su Zhe’s praise was intelligent and sincere, making it oddly endearing.
"See, this is what a good apprentice looks like! The rest of you, take notes! No initiative whatsoever!" he bellowed at the others, who could only grit their teeth and continue hammering.
Most upper-class apprentices managed to forge two pieces of fine steel by the end of the day. Su Zhe, however, had recently begun producing three.
"One gold nugget amidst dung makes the rest of the pile look even filthier," Su Zhe mused silently, smirking.
Later, Master Chen’s usual coughing fits interrupted his scolding. Years of working in smoke-filled forges had left his throat in poor condition.
"Master, your health concerns me deeply. I recently acquired some Grand Cave Fruits—they can be brewed into tea to soothe your throat."
Su Zhe produced a shabby cloth bundle, revealing half a pound of dried fruit, known to modern readers as malva nut.
Master Chen’s eyes twinkled with recognition. "Half a pound of this stuff? That’s worth ten coins. Generous of you, boy."
"Merely a small gesture to repay your kindness," Su Zhe replied earnestly.
Master Chen was no fool; he saw through Su Zhe’s intentions but appreciated his forthrightness. "Alright, spit it out. What do you want?"
"Master, I’d never dream of breaking the rules. I simply wish to borrow the eight-pound hammer in the corner—your old apprentice’s tool. It may help me build strength in my spare time."
Master Chen’s gaze softened, seeing shades of his younger self in Su Zhe. After a moment’s reflection, he relented. "Fine, but don’t overexert yourself. Blood loss is expensive to recover."
"Thank you, Master!"
For the first time in weeks, Su Zhe felt genuine gratitude. With the eight-pound hammer in hand, he left the guild, his heart pounding with excitement.
In a secluded grove, he examined the hammer closely. Memories of the ancient bronze cauldron surfaced, and an ethereal glow filled his mind.
[Item: Eight-Pound Apprentice’s Hammer (Damaged)]
- Quality: Subpar Weapon
- Traits: Boosts endurance, enhances forging skills
- Special Effect: Unlocks latent memories of Master Chen
As a peculiar slot appeared in the vision of his mind, Su Zhe whispered, "So this is how I’ll defy fate?"
The hammer began to shimmer as radiant light enveloped it, merging with Su Zhe’s destiny.