Forging Immortality: The Undying Blacksmith

Chapter 82: Qinghong Sword

Days blurred into one another at the forge. Li Qing hammered the sword blank, his rhythmic strikes smoothing and shaping the raw Black Gold until its form was unmistakable.

The prolonged ordeal in the searing heat had left the entire length of the blade glowing, bringing it to the perfect temperature for quenching. There were two methods for this critical step: the common water quench, or the rarer oil quench. Water cooled the metal faster but required repeated cycles of heating and plunging to achieve true rigidity. Given the immense difficulty of reheating Black Gold, Li Qing had opted for oil, which would allow him to temper the entire blade in a single, continuous process.

With a pair of heavy tongs, he lifted the incandescent sword from the furnace one last time and slowly lowered one edge into a trough of prepared cold oil.

*Tssss!*

The instant the metal touched the surface, the oil began to heat, sending a cascade of bubbles rolling to the surface. Unlike the violent hiss and billowing steam of a water quench, the oil only gurgled, a deep, simmering sound that spoke of a more gradual transformation.

After a moment, Li Qing lifted the blade and began the process anew with the opposite edge. Oil quenching was a test of patience; the cooling was slow, demanding that each surface of the blade be immersed again and again.

With each immersion, the blade cooled further, and as it did, a pattern of fine, concentric waves began to emerge on the steel. It was the unique signature of Black Gold cooled in oil, each delicate ripple a testament to a cycle of tempering. Li Qing worked with the profound patience of a mountain hunter, treating the sword not as a weapon, but as a work of art.

By now, both edges had cooled, but the spine of the sword remained scalding hot. This precise temperature differential was the secret to a blade of supreme quality, creating edges that were incredibly hard and sharp while the core retained its resilience.

Finally, he plunged the entire sword into the trough. As the oil completely submerged the blade, its overall temperature began to fall. He waited. A long time passed before the last of the boiling bubbles ceased to rise. Only then did Li Qing withdraw the sword.

*Drip. Drip.*

The blade’s surface was coated in a lustrous, oily sheen. Droplets fell from its tip, striking the oil below with a soft patter.

“This Qinghong Sword…” Li Qing murmured, his eyes burning with intensity as he admired his near-finished work. “Even among the peerless divine weapons of the martial world, this would rank among the very best.”

He grabbed a clean cloth and carefully wiped the oil from the blade. Beneath, the sword’s surface shone with a deep, black luster—the innate quality of the Black Gold itself.

*Vmmm!*

Out of habit, Li Qing flicked the flat of the blade with his finger. A clear, resonant hum filled the workshop.

A fine sword, indeed.

All that remained was to sharpen the edges and craft the hilt. Given that it was Black Gold, he knew grinding the blade would be an excruciatingly long process. He decided to make the hilt first; it would give him a proper grip for the arduous task of sharpening.

He didn’t need to agonize over the design. He simply replicated the original Qinghong Sword’s hilt, upgrading the materials to a combination of rosewood and brass. This would not only provide a comfortable grip but also ensure the hilt was exceptionally sturdy.

With intense focus, Li Qing carved a solid block of rosewood into the hilt’s final shape. He meticulously cut a groove where the tang would be seated, a space designed for the brass fitting that would fuse the blade and handle into one. His movements were flawless. When the Black Gold tang slid into the hilt, the fit was as perfect as a master’s mortise and tenon joint, seamless and without a single flaw.

The grip felt natural in his hand. Satisfied, he carved the familiar decorative patterns into the wood, identical to the original.

“Hah… now for the grinding and sharpening,” Li Qing breathed, a long sigh of relief escaping him. The Qinghong Sword was nearly complete.

As he had anticipated, the grinding was a monumental effort. It took him thirteen full days before the blade was finally honed to a razor’s edge.

*Vmmm!*

Li Qing held the sword in one hand, bringing it level with his eyes. The cold, lethal light of its edge flashed in his pupils.

[Successfully refined a high-quality mortal weapon: Qinghong Sword. Reward: Three years of lifespan!]

*Three years!*

Li Qing’s eyes shot to his status. The number for his remaining lifespan jumped from 146 to 149.

Factoring in the year he’d spent in the Extreme Night World, he was now nearly nineteen years old. Yet his lifespan wasn’t decreasing—it was growing. He still had almost one hundred and fifty years left to live.

*All thanks to my persistence in weapon refining,* he thought with a deep sense of satisfaction. *’Diligence changes one’s life.’ That’s no empty saying.*

A genuine smile spread across his face. If he did nothing else from this day forward, he could live to be nearly one hundred and seventy. Hell, even a pig that lived that long would probably become a demon.

Most feudal dynasties were considered successful if they lasted two or three hundred years. It was a treasonous thought, but he realized it was entirely possible he would live long enough to witness the decline and fall of the Feng Country.

Li Qing shook his head, pulling his thoughts back to the present. He stroked the finished blade, a new consideration forming in his mind. “It seems that weapons forged from special materials like this receive a much higher evaluation. It’s still a high-quality mortal weapon, but it granted three full years.”

His decision to use the meteoric iron had been the right one.

Holding the sword in one hand, he turned to a suit of iron armor standing in the corner of his shop and swung.

*Shing!*

The flash of the blade was so fast it was nearly invisible. Before the eye could even register the sword’s shadow, the armor had been split by a perfectly clean, smooth gash. It cut through iron as if it were silk.

“Unstoppable,” Li Qing whispered. “If this blade fell into the hands of a Grandmaster… they would truly be invincible.” The gulf in power a peerless weapon could create was laid bare by the sundered armor before him.

Several days later, a message finally reached Qian Hong of the Feng Guard.

After a full month of waiting, the sword she had commissioned was complete.

A wave of joy surged through her, so potent it was immediately followed by disbelief. She felt as if she were dreaming. A peerless divine weapon, forged just for her—it was the kind of fantasy she’d only ever entertained in her sleep.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she raced to Chiming Street.

When she saw the open doors of the blacksmith shop, her hurried steps slowed to a halt. Pressing her lips together, she entered with a light, almost reverent tread.

There it was. Resting in the open, a long, straight sword of gleaming, pitch-black metal.

The hilt was the same familiar style, right down to the intricate carvings. But the cold light refracting from its edge told a different story. Even without touching it, she knew. This was a divine weapon. A peerless divine weapon.

Logically, a martial artist who had reached the level of Inner Force should never suffer from trembling hands. Yet, as Qian Hong reached for the hilt, her fingers shook uncontrollably, a tremor born of equal parts excitement and awe.

Her hands seemed as if they were made to wield a sword—long, slender, and delicate. Her skin wasn’t pale, but carried the healthy, sun-kissed hue of a warrior.

The moment her fingers made contact with the hilt, her entire body went rigid, as if struck by a bolt of lightning.

After a long, breathless moment, she finally closed her slender fingers around the rosewood grip of the Qinghong Sword.

“A fine sword!”