Forging Immortality: The Undying Blacksmith

Chapter 14: Forging the Mountain-Splitting Axe

Time spent immersed in martial arts always flew by. Before he knew it, the moment came to return to the military camp.

“Hah!”

With his physique now significantly enhanced, the transition between worlds was no longer a debilitating shock. It was a minor exertion, leaving Li Qing with little more than a light sweat and a few deep, steadying breaths.

The sky outside was still a pale grey, not yet touched by the dawn, but Li Qing had already stoked the forge into a roaring blaze. The inferno painted his face in shifting shades of crimson.

“An axe weighing over two hundred pounds… this is a massive undertaking.”

Until now, the heaviest weapon he had ever forged was the hundred-pound refined iron halberd for Centurion Chen Meng. The heavier the weapon, the greater the difficulty, with the workload increasing exponentially. An axe of this magnitude couldn’t be finished in a day or two. The process of just melting and hammering the ingots would be a monumental task in itself.

Li Qing heaved the iron ingots from his tent onto the white-hot forge and began the smelting.

With each rhythmic, thunderous strike of his hammer, the ingots warped and began to liquefy, the process accelerating under the force of his blows. His gaze was locked on the glowing metal, his eyes unblinking. Though this weapon was not for him, he forged it with the meticulous care of an artist creating a masterpiece.

He had first learned blacksmithing out of necessity upon joining the army. Then, after discovering that forging weapons could extend his Lifespan, he had begun to treat the craft with sincere dedication. But somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, Li Qing had grown to genuinely love the fire and the steel. Not even the blistering heat of a summer forge could dampen his passion.

*CLANG!*

With one last powerful strike, the handle of the mountain-splitting axe began to take its final shape. The long, rod-like grip glowed a cherry red, etched with intricate patterns Li Qing had painstakingly carved. They were not merely for aesthetics; they would also provide a superior grip, increasing the friction against a user’s palms. A good blacksmith always puts himself in the warrior’s boots.

With the handle complete, he turned his attention to the axe head. This was the true challenge, a process that would consume the most time and effort. The vast majority of the weapon’s two-hundred-plus pounds would be concentrated here.

The mountain-splitting axe was single-bitted. Its face had to be massive to ensure the widest possible arc of destruction. Yet, the ratio between the cutting edge and the poll had to be perfectly balanced. An improper distribution of weight would make the weapon clumsy and exhausting to wield. Even for martial artists of astonishing strength, conserving energy in battle was paramount.

Li Qing, having forged axes before, was intimately familiar with the principles. He mapped out the proportions in his mind, then paused, his thoughts turning to the final component.

“The hardest part is still this Black Gold,” Li Qing muttered, his brow furrowed. “Can this thing even be melted?”

From the very beginning, he had set the fist-sized piece of Black Gold beside the forge. To his astonishment, its temperature had barely changed. While any normal metal would have become scalding hot, the ore was merely warm to the touch. It was as if it were a perfect insulator, refusing to conduct heat. How could he possibly hold and handle it so casually?

Li Qing sighed. Steeling himself, he took the strange ore and plunged it into the very heart of the forge, where the flames burned hottest.

Completely immersed in his work, Li Qing lost all track of time. He was only jolted back to reality by the loud, insistent growling of his own stomach.

“Damn it, I forgot to eat!”

He wiped a sleeve across his sweat-drenched forehead and threw open the tent flap, only to find the sky already bleeding into the deep hues of dusk. The setting sun painted the horizon in streaks of blood. Grabbing his meal bowl, Li Qing hurried toward the mess hall, praying that Fatty Wu was on duty.

Entering the hall, dizzy with hunger, he saw a familiar plump figure bustling over the stoves. A wave of relief washed over him.

“Quick, Fatty Wu! A couple of steamed buns, I’m starving! Haven’t eaten all day!” Li Qing yelled, sounding like a man possessed.

The busy Wu Chong spun around. Seeing Li Qing’s desperate state, he couldn’t help but smirk. “Look at you, begging for scraps with the arrogance of a general! Try a different tone.”

Li Qing’s expression shifted instantly. “Brother Wu, my mistake,” he said with a practiced, almost obsequious grin. “A man could die of starvation out there. A couple of buns, please? I haven’t eaten a thing.”

The round-faced Wu Chong broke into a wide, satisfied smile. “Heh,” he chuckled, lifting the lid from the top steamer basket and pulling out a tray of large, white buns. “There you go. I was wondering where you’d gotten to. You’re usually the first one in line for a meal!”

As he spoke, Wu Chong grabbed a bun for himself and took a huge, savory bite.

“Don’t ask. I’ve been chained to the forge. Nearly worked myself to death,” Li Qing said, waving his hand dismissively. He tore into a bun before asking, “By the way, I heard other battalions from the Wuli Army are being moved to the frontier. Any word on when they’ll arrive?”

Fatty Wu shook his head. “Don’t know the exact date, but it should be soon. Mobilizing the whole army takes time.”

Li Qing nodded, silently chewing his food, saying nothing more.

***

At that same moment, far out on the plains, the sand-choked gale finally subsided as the sky began to dim.

A goshawk sliced through the air, its speed so great it left a fleeting afterimage against the darkening sky.

On the distant Gobi, under the cover of the settling dust, a cavalry force of more than five thousand riders materialized on the northeastern horizon. The goshawk descended, landing unerringly on the outstretched arm of the man leading the host. His arm didn’t so much as twitch, as if the bird were weightless.

He was a brutish man, his face a mask of corded muscle and cruel intent, made all the more fearsome by a jagged scar that cut down from the corner of his eye. Clad in a beast-skin vest, he untied a strip of cloth from the hawk’s talon and scanned its contents.

“Chief Tuwa Ha’er,” another man, whose features suggested a sharp intellect, rode up beside him. “Any changes to the defenses at Wangyuan Fortress?”

A grin split Tuwa Ha’er’s face. “Yes,” he said, his voice thick with excitement. “The garrison is down by nearly half, and their reinforcements have yet to arrive!”

“A heaven-sent opportunity! We might be able to take Wangyuan City itself!”

But the sharp-faced man shook his head, his tone firm. “Taking the city is out of the question. It would provoke a furious counterattack from Feng Country, one the tribes cannot afford to weather. We let the Liang Kingdom blunt their spear first.”

Tuwa Ha’er grunted, retying the cloth to the goshawk’s leg before launching it back into the sky.

“Hmph. Feng Country’s armies may be weak, but their Martial Masters are a nuisance.” He looked out towards the darkening horizon. “We stick to the plan. We raid for grain, cloth, and iron. And that… Black Gold the Shangxian spoke of. We will seize that as well!”

His words hung in the air for a moment. Then, with a savage cry, the burly Tuwa Ha’er dug his heels into his mount’s flanks. The warhorse exploded forward.

Behind him, five thousand cavalrymen surged, their pace quickening into a thunderous charge across the desolate plains.