Chapter 192: The Heavy Forge
The morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Fang Lin arrived at the Heavenly Forge Division's Logistics Hall. The previous day, this place had been filled with outer disciples shouting over meager monthly allowances. Today, it was practically empty.
Fang Lin stepped up to the front desk and placed the dark-red jade token on the counter.
The deacon, a balding man who had sneered at him half a year ago, glanced at the token. The blood drained from his face instantly. He didn't say a word. He just swallowed hard, bowed a full ninety degrees, and hurriedly retrieved a lacquered tray from the back room.
On the tray sat a high-capacity spatial ring and a neatly folded set of robes. They were deep crimson with thick black trim—the official colors of an Inner Sect disciple of the Heavenly Forge Division.
Fang Lin stored his outer disciple greys, donning the crimson robes. The fabric was interwoven with low-grade defensive arrays, providing a mild cooling effect and repelling dirt. It was a stark upgrade, but what truly mattered was the authority the colors represented.
Leaving the Logistics Hall, he didn't head straight to Ember Peak. Instead, he took a detour to the central Scripture Pavilion.
With his dark-red token, the restrictive spiritual barrier that previously barred him from the higher floors parted like water. Fang Lin ascended the spiral staircase, stepping onto the second floor for the first time.
The air here was heavily perfumed with preserving incense. Massive shelves made of Thousand-Year Spirit Wood held hundreds of jade slips, containing genuine Core Formation-level techniques.
Fang Lin walked past the cultivation arts and combat skills, heading directly to the 'Artifact Forging' section.
*What are you looking for?* the Dark Flame Spirit echoed in his mind, its voice dripping with habitual boredom. *Most of these human techniques are garbage. Delicate little array-weaves meant for weaklings who can't lift a real hammer.*
*I agree,* Fang Lin replied silently, his gaze scanning the titles. *That's why I'm looking for the opposite.*
He bypassed slips titled *Soft-Water Tempering*, *Thousand-Thread Qi Weave*, and *Ethereal Flame Carving*. Finally, in a dusty, neglected corner of the shelf, he found a thick, heavy jade slip that looked like it hadn't been touched in decades.
*The Nine-Fold Titan Strike.*
Fang Lin pressed the slip to his glabella. A rush of information flooded his mind.
It was a brute-force heavy-forging manual. It completely ignored the delicate carving of spiritual arrays. Instead, it relied entirely on kinetic compression, physical stamina, and a violent rhythm to literally beat the impurities out of high-grade metals. For a normal cultivator, even a Core Formation expert, using this technique would shred their arm muscles after three folds.
For Fang Lin's Asura Flesh, it was perfect.
He memorized the breathing cadence and the kinetic chains required for the nine strikes, placed the slip back on the shelf, and left the pavilion.
***
Ember Peak lived up to its name.
As Fang Lin ascended the winding stone path, the ambient temperature spiked drastically. The air grew thick with the smell of sulfur and melted iron. The peak wasn't just a mountain; it was a massive, open-air forge built directly over a subsidiary vein of the Sacred Flame Peak.
When he reached the central courtyard, he found Elder Huo already awake.
The massive man was shirtless, his scar-covered back glistening with sweat as he hammered a massive block of glowing metal. Every strike sent localized shockwaves rippling through the distortion in the hot air.
Elder Huo didn't stop hammering as Fang Lin approached. He didn't even look up. Instead, he kicked a massive, pitch-black hammer resting near his anvil. It slid across the stone floor, stopping at Fang Lin's feet.
"Deep-Earth Lead," Elder Huo rumbled, his voice cutting through the ringing of metal. "High-Quality Spirit Foundation material. Weighs three thousand pounds. Pick it up."
Fang Lin calmly reached down and lifted the hammer. He didn't use any Qi, relying entirely on the terrifying base strength of his Asura Flesh.
Elder Huo finally stopped hammering. He turned, leaning heavily on his own anvil, his hawk-like eyes locking onto Fang Lin.
"Other divisions," Elder Huo began, wiping sweat from his brow, "carve delicate, intricate arrays to make weak metal strong. They believe a thousand fragile cuts make a masterpiece. The Ironblood Faction believes differently."
Elder Huo grabbed a pair of massive iron tongs and pulled a raw, jagged chunk of metal from the roaring furnace. He threw it onto the secondary anvil in front of Fang Lin. The metal was dark grey, speckled with glowing silver veins.
"We don't carve. We compress," Elder Huo said, his voice deadly serious. "We forge with violence. That is a chunk of Heavenly Meteorite Iron. Core Formation Grade. It is notoriously stubborn. Compress it by half."
Fang Lin looked at the jagged metal.
Inside his Spiritual Sea, the Dark Flame Spirit sneered. *Heavenly Meteorite Iron? A decent metal, but filled with micro-fissures in the lower left quadrant. If you hit it dead center with that hammer, it will violently shatter like glass.*
*I see them,* Fang Lin noted, analyzing the elemental structure.
He raised the Deep-Earth Lead hammer. He engaged his Asura Flesh, but only partially. He remembered Ma Teng's awe and the danger of being *too* exceptional. If he compressed this flawlessly on his first try, Elder Huo wouldn't just be impressed; he would be suspicious. Fang Lin needed to look like a monstrous prodigy, not an impossibly perfect god.
He forced his pores open, allowing himself to sweat profusely, feigning the intense strain of suppressing his Qi.
*CLANG!*
The first strike of the *Nine-Fold Titan Strike* landed. The shockwave blew the dust off the courtyard floor. The Heavenly Meteorite Iron groaned, its top layer instantly flattening.
Fang Lin fell into the rhythm.
*CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!*
He chained the strikes, building kinetic momentum. Four folds. Five folds. Six folds. The muscles in his back coiled and snapped like steel cables. He deliberately misaligned his posture on the seventh strike, allowing a harsh recoil to jolt up his arm, forcing a sharp grunt of effort from his lips.
Elder Huo watched with unblinking eyes, his massive arms crossed.
*The eighth fold,* the Dark Flame Spirit warned. *It's at its stress limit. Hit it again with pure force and it becomes shrapnel.*
Fang Lin knew. As he swung the massive hammer for the ninth and final strike, he imperceptibly infused the tiniest micro-trace of Frost Qi into the hammer's face—just enough to rapidly cool the outer crust of the iron for a fraction of a millisecond.
*CLANG!*
The hammer struck. The massive kinetic force compressed the molten core, while the flash-frozen exterior held the structure together. The iron folded perfectly, though Fang Lin purposefully struck slightly off-center, leaving a tiny, superficial fissure on the edge.
Fang Lin let the hammer drop to the floor, panting heavily, wiping real sweat from his brow.
Elder Huo walked over in utter silence. He picked up the heavy tongs and rotated the compressed block of Heavenly Meteorite Iron. He inspected the density, the grain, and the tiny fissure on the edge.
"The ninth strike was slightly off-center," Elder Huo noted, his voice flat.
"My apologies, Senior," Fang Lin said between calculated breaths. "The recoil on the seventh fold disrupted my stance."
Elder Huo looked at the iron, then back to Fang Lin. Slowly, a massive, terrifying grin spread across his scarred face.
"Ninety-two percent purity," Elder Huo muttered, almost to himself. "On a Core Formation metal. With a manual you clearly just read this morning."
He dropped the iron back onto the anvil.
"You don't need basic training," Elder Huo declared, his eyes burning with a manic intensity. "Rest your arms, Mu Tie. Tomorrow, I am going to teach you how to forge a real weapon."
Fang Lin bowed respectfully, hiding the cold, calculating glint in his eyes. The heavy-forging path wasn't just a perfect cover; it was the ultimate method to temper his Asura Flesh in plain sight.
-