The deep, solemn strike of the ancient bronze bell reverberated across the three-league expanse of the Grand Exhibition Plaza. As the resonant echoes faded into the sulfurous mists of Sacred Flame Peak, the nine concentric appraisal formations encircling the central white-jade altar flared into brilliant life.
Shimmering amber light cascaded upward, creating a translucent, circular isolation barrier that separated the testing stage from the roaring stadium tiers. Within that warded circle, resting peacefully upon a heavy basalt pedestal, sat the *Volcanic Annihilation*. Its obsidian frame absorbed the morning sunlight, leaking faint, rhythmic pulses of crimson heat that distorted the surrounding air.
High upon the presiding pavilion, Elder Duan raised his sleeve, his voice amplified by his Domain Forging Realm cultivation base, to reach every ear in the caldera.
"The rules have been declared before the heavens," Elder Duan announced with the heavy gravity of a Grand Domain Smith. "Each shift shall consist of twenty-five registered Core Smiths. You shall have precisely two hours upon the platform. You may deploy spiritual appraisal tools, resonance needles, and regulated divine sense. At the conclusion of your shift, your written analytical treatises must be submitted to the Judgment Council."
Elder Duan gestured with his palm. "Let the first batch ascend."
From the waiting pavilions, the first group of twenty-five young cultivators strode onto the white-jade platform.
The opening shifts represented the vast, diverse expanse of the Demon Immortal Continent outside the major sects. There were sharp-eyed junior appraisers in embroidered silk robes from the Star River Merchant Alliance; rugged, soot-stained rogue smiths from the black markets of the thirty-four borderland counties; and elite prodigies representing prominent medium and minor forging sects, such as the Thousand Hammer Pavilion, the River-Crossing Clan, and the Iron Willow Valley.
Each carried an array of specialized tools: spirit-measuring calipers carved from cold jade, resonance tuning rods infused with elemental copper, and formation plates designed to detect microscopic Qi channels.
The moment their feet crossed the boundary barrier, the atmosphere on the platform tightened.
The *Volcanic Annihilation* did not openly attack, but the sheer, concentrated density of its compressed mineral matrix exerted a passive, suffocating spiritual gravity. Several minor sect crafters turned pale within the first ten breaths, their divine senses recoiling violently the moment they attempted to pierce the obsidian surface.
"It is like trying to drill into a solid mountain with a wooden needle," a young rogue smith muttered in horror, wiping cold sweat from his brow as his divine sense fractured against the weapon's outer grain.
Two hours passed in an intense flurry of activity. Tapping rods chimed against stone, thermal needles glowed with faint sparks, and jade slips were rapidly inscribed with dense characters.
When the bell struck and the first three batches had concluded, the submitted treatises were delivered to the Judgment Council—a panel composed of veteran Master Smiths from Black Tortoise Mountain, elder appraisers from the Star River Alliance, and guest grandmasters from the Pill Dawn Sect.
As the judges reviewed the early submissions, collective sighs and subtle headshakes rippled across the high balcony.
"Pedestrian," an elder appraiser from the Star River Alliance muttered, tossing a jade slip aside. "This junior from Iron Willow Valley claims the obsidian was compressed simply through a thirty-fold hydraulic earth-gravity press. He completely failed to notice that hydraulic compression at that level would have shattered the crystalline lattice into powder."
"This one is no better," an elder from Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect remarked dryly. "He claims the thermal heat within the mace was sealed using common ice-oil quenching. He treats a masterpiece that commands the Laws of Destruction as if it were a common kitchen cleaver."
The overwhelming majority of the early crafters had fallen into standard textbook traps. Their conclusions circled endlessly around four superficial mechanics:
First, *material compression*—which they attempted to explain through ordinary brute-force physical weight.
Second, *heat distribution*—which they misattributed to standard multi-stage oil or water quenching.
Third, *hammer rhythm*—which they dismissed as a simple forty-eight-strike rhythmic cadence.
Fourth, *domain embedding*—which they assumed was achieved through invisible, surface-level talisman arrays etched beneath a polish of spirit glaze.
Not a single rogue crafter or minor sect disciple had managed to grasp even a fraction of the weapon's true harmony.
***
By early afternoon, the tournament shifted into a far more intense gear as the disciples of the continent's Major Sects took the stage.
First came the junior weapon refiners of Heavenly Sword Lake, led by a sharp-featured youth named Bai Chen. Dressed in pristine white robes with sword talismans pinned to his chest, Bai Chen approached the mace with the pride of a premier sword sect. For two full hours, his group deployed silver sword-resonance needles, attempting to trace the weapon's internal kinetic pathways.
However, when their treatise was submitted, Grand Elder Duan merely offered a faint, pitying smile.
"Heavenly Sword Lake understands only the blade," Duan noted quietly to Sect Master Xuan Yuan. "They analyzed this crushing mace as if it were a rapier. They sought sharp, linear conduits of directional sword intent, completely failing to comprehend the radial, omnidirectional kinetic dispersion of a heavy blunt weapon. A flawed analysis from the very premise."
Next came the junior formation masters of the Hundred Formation Tower and the alchemical refiners of the Pill Dawn Sect. While their analytical techniques were far more sophisticated—utilizing complex mathematical array plates and thermal resonance cauldrons—they too stumbled.
The Hundred Formation Tower disciples searched fruitlessly for the geometric nodes of an inscribed core array, unable to accept that a domain could exist without rune lines. Meanwhile, the Pill Dawn disciples analyzed the mineral composition as if it were a medicinal pill, measuring the volatile fire essence while completely missing the structural load-bearing capacity of the earth matrix.
One after another, the elite disciples of the other major sects were eliminated by the Judgment Council. Their foundations were solid, but their sectarian biases blinded them to the weapon's true nature.
And then, as the late afternoon sun cast long, crimson shadows across the caldera, the two true crafting hegemons stepped onto the platform.
***
The fourth shift belonged to the disciples of the Scarlet Sun Palace.
Twelve young Core Smiths, led by a prominent youth named Yan Feng—a direct disciple of Grand Elder Yan Lie—ascended the white-jade stage. Unlike the previous participants, they did not bring cold-jade rulers or metal calipers. Instead, each disciple carried a miniature solar crucible that radiated pure, golden-red Nine Solar True Fire.
The moment Yan Feng stepped before the *Volcanic Annihilation*, he did not attempt to forcefully pierce its obsidian shell with brute divine sense. Instead, he ignited his solar crucible, sending a gentle, synchronized wave of pure True Fire resonance washing over the mace.
The mace reacted instantly. The faint crimson veins running through the obsidian pulsed with a deep, harmonious hum, recognizing the familiar warmth of supreme flame.
For two continuous hours, the Scarlet Sun disciples worked with breathtaking precision. They mapped the internal thermal currents, calculated the precise cooling thresholds of the volcanic core, and deciphered how the heat had been cycled through multi-layered thermal convection during the smelting process.
When their treatise was presented to the Judgment Council, Grand Elder Yan Lie sat back in his high chair, a proud, triumphant smile gracing his lips.
"A brilliant analysis of the thermal Dao," an elder judge from Hundred Formation Tower praised, visibly impressed. "They have accurately mapped eighty percent of the internal fire-circulation channels."
However, before the Scarlet Sun Palace could celebrate their apparent victory, the next shift was called: the young Core Smiths of Black Tortoise Mountain, led by Senior Brother Ma Teng.
Ma Teng and his fellow Ironblood disciples stepped onto the stage carrying heavy brass tuning mallets and earth-resonance bells. They did not touch the fire channels. Instead, they focused entirely on the weapon's physical and kinetic foundation.
Striking their tuning mallets in precise harmony, they coaxed out the seventy-two-strike micro-resonance embedded within the obsidian. With rigorous, generational familiarity, they mapped the exact compressive density of the volcanic rock, demonstrated how kinetic impact flowed through the hexagonal ridges, and proved that the mace's internal grain followed the ancient, unyielding principles of Black Tortoise heavy-forging.
When the Ironblood treatise was submitted, the arena erupted into roaring cheers from the host disciples.
On the high terrace, Sect Master Xuan Yuan and Grand Elder Yan Lie looked at the two top treatises lying side by side on the jade table.
Both submissions were masterpieces of junior scholarship. Yet, as the grandmasters examined them closely, an unspoken, profound truth settled over the elders.
*Neither sect understood the whole weapon.*
The Scarlet Sun Palace had deciphered the thermal component with absolute brilliance, explaining the volcanic flame convection in exhaustive detail. Yet their treatise was completely blind to the kinetic earth foundation; they could not explain why the extreme heat had not shattered the brittle stone from within, dismissing the structural density as mere 'ordinary basalt backing.'
Conversely, Black Tortoise Mountain had mapped the structural component with flawless precision, uncovering the compressive density and Ironblood kinetic balance. Yet their treatise was utterly silent on the thermal law integration; they could not explain how a heavy, dense earth weapon could harbor a raging, uncontained volcanic eruption domain without melting into sludge.
Scarlet Sun Palace saw only the Fire.
Black Tortoise Mountain saw only the Earth.
Each hegemon held a single half of the broken mirror, convinced their half was the complete truth. Neither possessed the profound, transcendent vision required to understand how Ashen Anvil had fused fire and earth, destruction and stability, into a single, indivisible vessel of creation.
***
Down in the lower eastern tiers, sitting quietly among the remaining waiting disciples, was "Mu Tie"—Fang Lin.
Fang Lin held his golden registration token between two fingers, resting his chin in his palm as he listened to the passionate debates echoing from the high balconies.
In his soul sea, the Dark Flame Spirit was clutching its stomach, laughing so violently that dark flame sparks were shooting out of its ears.
*Look at them! Hahahahaha!* the spirit mocked hysterically, rolling back and forth. *The fire birds think it's a torch, and the turtle boys think it's a brick! Ten thousand-year-old hegemons arguing over whether a dragon is made of scales or claws! If you walked up there right now and told them the fire is the bone and the earth is the flesh, half those old fossils on the balcony would collapse from a Dao heart rupture!*
Fang Lin let out a faint, quiet breath through his nose, keeping his external expression entirely placid.
*Let them argue,* Fang Lin thought back calmly. *The more they cling to their own sect's doctrines, the more impossible it becomes for them to see the whole.*
He glanced down at the registration token in his hand. His own turn on the platform would arrive in the next round. The real challenge for him was not analyzing the weapon—it was figuring out how to write a treatise that earned Elder Huo's approval without accidentally revealing that the entire continent had been outplayed by a *Core smith*.
With the sun dipping below the western caldera and the first round officially drawn to a close, the grand plaza hummed with fierce, unyielding anticipation for the final batches to come.
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