Forging Immortality: The Undying Blacksmith

Chapter 12: Embezzling Ingots

In the final days of calm before the storm, Li Qing poured every waking moment into his practice of the Fierce Tiger True Intent Diagram.

The army had no shortage of food, and with Fatty Wu slipping him extra portions, he ate until he was full every single day. Fatty Wu had even remarked that Li Qing must have been a starving ghost in a past life, as his appetite had recently grown to surpass even his own.

Li Qing could only offer a wry smile. He couldn’t exactly tell the man he was secretly training in martial arts. Besides, with the three-to-one time flow in the Extreme Night World, his body burned through energy at a terrifying rate. It was only natural that he was constantly hungry.

But a ravenous appetite meant rapid progress. His raw, physical strength had grown by leaps and bounds. He had now touched the threshold of the Tiger Form, and he knew a full breakthrough to the Novice stage was not far off.

But a storm was brewing on the horizon. On one scorching afternoon, as Li Qing finished a grueling session of tempering his body, sweat pouring from his skin, he caught the faint sound of movement outside his tent. Footsteps were approaching.

Instantly alert, Li Qing dropped his martial arts stance. He snatched the grimy rag he used for forging and draped it over his shoulder, instantly adopting the posture of a man who had just finished a hard day’s work. Framed by the shimmering waves of heat rolling off the furnace, his sweat-soaked appearance looked entirely genuine.

“Is Er Niu in?” a gruff, nasal voice called from outside.

Li Qing rarely interacted with the other soldiers, so the voice was unfamiliar. Still, he moved quickly, striding to the entrance and pulling back the tent flap.

A man in full armor stood outside, a small, twitching mustache perched on his upper lip. The man’s shifty demeanor was a poor match for the valiant armor he wore.

“You are… Captain Li Gui?” Li Qing asked, his face a perfect mask of humble recognition. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Li Gui was the captain in charge of the army’s granaries. Though they shared a surname, Li Qing had never had any dealings with him.

“That’s right,” Li Gui confirmed. “I want to know—that long halberd for Hundred-Man Commander Chen Meng, did you forge it yourself?”

Li Qing blinked, affecting a simple, honest expression. “I did, sir. Is there a problem with it?”

At his admission, Li Gui broke into a loud laugh. “Hahaha, excellent! It seems you truly inherited some of Master Gu’s skill!” Then, his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ve come to you because I need an axe forged. A mountain-cleaving axe. It needs to be heavy—at least two hundred pounds, maybe more.”

The request made Li Qing’s expression flicker. He chose his words carefully, feigning unease. “Captain Li, if I recall correctly, my master forged that suit of armor for you at the start of the year, didn’t he?”

In the Wuli Army, no one, not even a Hundred-Man or Thousand-Man Commander, could commission weapons without limit. Strict quotas were in place, dictated by the finite output of the iron mines. For a captain like Li Gui, who had already received a full suit of armor this year, requesting over two hundred pounds of iron for a custom weapon was a flagrant violation of the rules.

The Wuli Army was built on martial prowess. Unlike regular armies with standardized equipment, its officers were powerful martial artists who required specialized weapons. Blacksmiths like Li Qing existed to fulfill that very need.

Li Gui just chuckled and nodded. “True enough. But haven’t the mines just sent over a fresh batch of smelted ingots?” He leaned closer. “I’ve… acquired… about a hundred pounds of ingots. Your forge should have some surplus, right, Er Niu? Be a little flexible, help me make up the difference. We can just call it an advance on next year’s quota.”

His tone was disturbingly friendly, meant to create a sense of camaraderie.

But Li Qing was no simple-minded fool. A thin sheen of sweat, this time genuine, beaded on his forehead. In Feng Country, the private misuse of salt and iron was a capital offense. This captain was openly admitting to embezzling over a hundred pounds of iron and was now trying to rope him into forging a weapon weighing more than two hundred. If word of this got out, they would both lose their heads.

“Sir… I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

Li Gui’s smile never wavered. He clapped Li Qing on the shoulder. “Hahaha, Er Niu, you have to learn to be flexible! The world doesn’t reward rigid men.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping further. “It’s a shortfall of less than a hundred pounds. No one will ever notice. And if they do? Just blame it on your dead master. Who’s going to question him?”

As he spoke, Li Gui produced a small, heavy pouch from within his armor, revealing a handful of silver fragments—at least five or six liang.

“Take it,” he said smoothly. “You’ve worked hard out here on the border. When you get a chance, head into Wangyuan City and treat yourself.”

*Accepting a bribe would only add another charge to the list,* Li Qing thought, his mind cold and clear. He took the silver.

*Fine.* He sighed internally. *Let him dig his own grave.*

“Hahaha, good!” Seeing his compliance, Li Gui’s smile widened with satisfaction. “I’ll have the ingots sent over later.”

As he watched the captain stride away, the mask of the simple-minded blacksmith dissolved from Li Qing’s face, replaced by an expression of cool indifference.

He wasn’t worried about the missing iron. Such things were rarely audited in the border army, and even if a surprise inspection occurred, he could ensure his workshop was spotless. Obtaining a hundred pounds of iron ore was a trivial matter in the Extreme Night World. Over the years, he had skimmed off a considerable surplus just from forging farm tools for the Yan Family.

Besides, war was coming. He had already decided that, win or lose, he would use the chaos as cover to desert the Wuli Army for good. With silver in his pocket, life would be much easier.

Worst case, he would find a remote place to live in seclusion. Aided by the triple time-flow of the Extreme Night World, he could train until he was invincible. When he finally emerged, who in the world could possibly stop him?

Of course, that entire plan hinged on one thing: food. Since he began his training, the ravenous hunger that now plagued him was a constant, gnawing worry. He seriously wondered if he could even afford to feed himself after leaving the army.

“Speaking of which,” Li Qing muttered to himself, “I should forge a weapon of my own.”

The Gu Xuan Hammer Technique included methods for combat, but a smithing hammer wouldn’t do. He needed to forge a weapon specifically suited for battle.

“Ah, the quiet days are numbered,” he said, shaking his head.

The captain of the granary suddenly commissioning a weapon was no random act. The clever man had clearly read the signs of impending war and was preparing to improve his odds of survival.

What truly surprised Li Qing, however, was Li Gui’s martial cultivation. To wield an axe weighing over two hundred pounds… even many Hundred-Man Commanders used weapons lighter than that.

As the old saying went, the poor chase ink while the rich chase power. To advance on the martial path, one needed wealth and resources.

This captain had clearly been skimming more than his fair share from the granaries.

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