Forging Immortality: The Undying Blacksmith

Chapter 10: The Layman

True to his word, Guo Zhentong didn’t disturb Li Qing’s stance training when he arrived. He merely took small sips of strong liquor, his gaze distant and melancholic as he stared at Master Gu’s grave.

Li Qing had hoped for a bit of guidance, but by the time he finished his practice and turned around, the Thousand-Man Commander had already slipped away unnoticed.

The sky had darkened, and the howling gales of the frontier began to subside.

Li Qing added one last armful of soil to Master Gu’s burial mound before returning to the military camp.

Tonight, however, the training grounds were anything but peaceful. Soldiers had gathered in droves, a thunderous energy rippling through their ranks as they prepared to march.

Are they finally moving against the horse bandits?

That was Li Qing’s first thought. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze falling upon the Thousand-Man Commander at the head of the formation. It was Yuan Xiao.

After a rousing speech, the force of nearly two thousand men, led by Commander Yuan Xiao, surged mightily toward the northern frontier.

Seeing this, Li Qing quickly retreated to his tent, not daring to watch any longer. As an army blacksmith, he was required to remain stationed at the camp, not join the expedition.

“Whew… Looks like a real war is brewing. The only question is whether the Liang State is truly in league with the bandits.”

Back in his tent, Li Qing silently calculated the odds. If the two forces were colluding, this expedition was likely to end in a crushing defeat. The violence could easily spill over and engulf the very camp he was in.

“I wonder if the imperial court has sent reinforcements. The situation is a powder keg; a much larger conflict could erupt at any moment.”

Li Qing sighed. He was flying blind. Without reliable intelligence, even his sharp mind couldn’t piece together an accurate picture of the situation.

“I can’t worry about that now,” he muttered to himself. “The priority is clear: break through to the realm of Outer Force. Only then will I have a fighting chance.”

As he spoke, Li Qing subconsciously picked up two meal bowls, ready to head to the mess hall. He paused, then shook his head, setting down the bowl that had belonged to Master Gu. He took only his own.

The mess hall, usually a cacophony of boisterous voices each night, was unnervingly silent. The faces of the few soldiers who passed by were etched with grim resolve.

War was coming.

And war meant death. It seemed the men of the army were not as oblivious as they let on.

Fatty Wu was on duty again tonight. For once, even his plump face showed a rare trace of worry.

“I heard your master was ambushed by bandits while on a grain run,” Li Qing said, testing the waters. The incident was no longer a secret; Yuan Xiao had used it as the very pretext for the expedition.

Fatty Wu wordlessly filled Li Qing’s bowl to the brim, even pressing the food down to cram in two extra spoonfuls of cured meat.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “But the court is sending another grain transport soon. I just don’t know who’ll be on the escort detail this time. What if they pick me?” Sweat beaded on his tense face.

Another transport team?

This was valuable information. It meant the imperial court wasn’t completely in the dark about the frontier. More importantly, it meant grain supplies were sufficient and the supply line was stable.

Perhaps the situation wasn’t as dire as he’d imagined.

Li Qing casually picked up a steamed bun, stuffed it in his mouth, and said around the mouthful, “Don’t worry. This next run won’t be as dangerous. After what happened last time, they’ll definitely assign a heavy military escort.”

“How do you know?” Fatty Wu asked, his eyes full of suspicion.

Li Qing rolled his eyes, offered no further explanation, and carried his bowl back to his tent.

After eating, once the camp fell into a deep, hushed silence, he traversed once more to the Extreme Night World.

“By my calculations, it’s about time for the delivery. Yan San should be here today.”

Wrapped in a thick cotton coat, Li Qing assumed his stance and resumed his training.

He didn’t have to wait long. A knock soon sounded at the courtyard gate.

Thump, thump, thump!

“Is Master Li in?” Yan San’s voice called out.

Li Qing walked unhurriedly to the gate and let him in. Yan San wore the same fawning smile, practically oozing his desire to curry favor with the city’s newest Master blacksmith.

“I’ve finished all the cutting knives. Where are my things?” Li Qing asked, gesturing to a large pile of blades in the corner.

“Ah! Master Li is truly a man of his word! Rest assured, I brought what you asked for from the Yan family!”

Yan San produced a roll of beast hide and a set of green bamboo slips, handing them directly to Li Qing.

Li Qing accepted them. Both items felt ancient, clearly artifacts of considerable age and not forgeries.

He unfurled the beast hide scroll. It depicted a ferocious tiger pouncing on its prey. It was more than a drawing; it seethed with a primal, martial intent. The sheer power radiating from the hide stunned him for a moment.

Seeing his reaction, Yan San mistook it for confusion. “Young Master Li, the Yan family told me this was a fearsome beast from a bygone era. A martial arts Master created this technique after observing it hunt!” he explained eagerly. “You can’t find beasts like that anymore, but the martial art itself was passed down!”

Li Qing considered it for a moment before giving a curt reply. “Hm. Not bad.”

The other item, the ancient green bamboo slips, held an even greater prize. It was a manual for an internal martial art: the Turtle Breath Technique.

This time, Yan San offered no explanation. He could see the look of genuine satisfaction in Li Qing’s eyes.

“Master Li, shall I take the cutting knives now?” Yan San asked tentatively.

“Go ahead. They’re yours,” Li Qing nodded.

Bang!

Only after the courtyard gate slammed shut did a cold, mocking smile finally touch Li Qing’s lips.

“Heh. The Yan family… so clever they’ve outsmarted themselves.”

***

In the heart of Obsidian City, within an opulent, sprawling estate.

“You’re telling me that blacksmith accepted the two techniques you brought and looked satisfied?” a pampered young noble asked, a strange expression on his face. He was draped in silks, his skin having never seen a day of hard labor.

Standing beside him, his posture deeply deferential, Yan San nodded repeatedly. “Yes, Young Master Yan, absolutely! I swear it. Look, I brought back all the cutting knives as proof!”

“Hmph. Well done,” the young master waved a dismissive hand. “That blacksmith is clearly a man of no worldly experience. Pay him no further mind.”

Behind him, a burly, middle-aged man let out a sneer.

“This blacksmith is nothing but a layman, completely ignorant of the martial path.”

He elaborated, his voice dripping with condescension, “The first technique we sent, the Qingluo Leg Technique, is a style of pure finesse. A blacksmith’s brute strength is the very antithesis of its principles. At best, he’ll achieve minor proficiency. He’s no threat.”

“As for the Black Tiger Pounce,” he continued, “the martial intent on the scroll is potent, yes, but it’s impossible to master without observing a true tiger. In this day and age, where is he going to find such a beast?”

The young master, Yan Song, chuckled. “And the Turtle Breath Technique is the most time-consuming of all. He could practice for ten years and still fail to grasp the basics.”

“To think three useless items made him so happy,” Yan Song concluded with a final, smug smile. “It seems he is, after all, just a layman.”