Lin Xia's consciousness let out a silent howl.
He wanted to rush forward, to use his own soul to block those flames, to awaken his teacher but in despair he realized that here, he was nothing more than a mass of "light" possessing self-awareness.
He could not move!
He could not speak!
He could not mobilize any power!
He could not even stir the slightest ripple in the flames filling this space!
That vast Phoenix will pinned him firmly in place, forcing him to remain an absolutely lucid spectator, watching helplessly as the teacher he respected most endured a soul-tempering and dissolution far more agonizing than death by a thousand cuts, right before his eyes!
This feeling of utter powerlessness was ten thousand times more painful to Lin Xia than having his own soul scorched by divine fire earlier!
Regret coiled around the core of his consciousness like venomous vines, tightening relentlessly.
It was him!
He was the one who had personally pushed his teacher into this inescapable hell!
"Why?!"
Lin Xia's consciousness roared soundlessly, questioning this realm, questioning the Phoenix will that observed everything from the unseen.
"This is a divine trial?! No guidance! No buffer! Right from the start, using divine flames powerful enough to incinerate a Titled Douluo's soul to temper a Soul Sage?! This isn't a trial! It's murder! It's slaughter!"
His fury was like a pebble cast into the sea of fire, without stirring even the faintest ripple.
Only the eternally burning flames answered his silent accusation with cold indifference.
Time had no meaning here. Perhaps a long while had passed, perhaps only an instant.
Lou Gao's soul silhouette had shrunk by nearly half. Its color had faded from pale gold to an almost transparent gray-white, as if it would disperse completely in the next second.
The violent waves of agony had weakened considerably, not because the pain had lessened, but because his soul origin had been burned so feeble that even the intent to "feel pain" had become difficult to manifest.
This was the omen of a soul on the verge of complete annihilation!
Lin Xia's consciousness trembled violently as despair flooded over him like icy tides.
At that moment, a sudden change occurred!
Deep within the gray-white soul core, wrapped in divine flames and about to collapse entirely, a faint glimmer, so weak it was nearly imperceptible, yet extraordinarily resilient, flickered to life like a spark in a raging storm!
That light was not the energy of the soul origin itself, but something purer, more restrained, like the manifestation of a will tempered through countless hammerings!
It bore a strange dark-golden hue, carrying the cold hardness of metal and the inner heat of a furnace faint, yet incomparably steadfast as it resisted the encroaching destructive divine flames.
The heart of a craftsman is like iron!
Only through a hundred refinements can steel be forged!
This will was precisely Lou Gao's lifelong pursuit of the pinnacle of forging, his companionship with flame, his countless hammerings and refinements, condensed into the Divine Craftsman's Heart embedded in the deepest part of his soul!
It was not soul power, yet it was more resilient than soul power.
It bore no aggression, yet within the flames of destruction it guarded the final trace of its true self.
At the same time, Lin Xia discovered in horror that as that dark-gold will flickered stubbornly, threadlike strands of golden-red energy fine as hair were slowly separating from the divine fire enveloping Lou Gao. Silently, they wound toward that point of dark-gold will, seeping into it.
Those strands were not destructive. Instead, they carried a strange warmth and inclusiveness, like the purest origin of flame, attempting a profound fusion with that unyielding craftsman's divine intent.
Lin Xia's heart leapt to his throat!
He did not know whether this was a final flash before annihilation or the true beginning of nirvanic rebirth.
Just as Lin Xia pondered this, the gray-white soul core that was on the verge of complete obliteration suddenly erupted!
A vast and irresistible obsession, pure to the extreme, burst forth like a volcano dormant for billions of years finally finding its outlet!
This power was not soul power, yet it was more condensed and tenacious than soul power.
It had no form, yet it possessed a tangible force capable of shaking the barriers of the soul.
It did not surge outward against the flames, but erupted from the deepest core of the soul, from within to without!
This terrifying torrent of spiritual force instantly pierced the invisible barrier constructed by the Phoenix's will between Lin Xia and Lou Gao, pouring without reservation and with brutal force into Lin Xia's consciousness!
"Buzz!"
Lin Xia's consciousness body stiffened abruptly, as though struck fiercely by an invisible sledgehammer.
Yet the anticipated pain of his consciousness being torn apart did not arrive. Instead, what replaced it was something vast and boundless, decades of accumulated understanding and pursuit!
The endless sea of churning flames vanished. His awareness was instantly dragged into a completely different "scene."
Lin Xia saw a frail boy in a crude blacksmith shop, awkwardly lifting a heavy hammer for the first time and striking a glowing red iron billet.
Sweat soaked his coarse cloth garments. Sparks scorched his tender skin. Yet in his eyes there was only obsession with the crisp "clang" of metal, only wonder at the way iron extended and transformed beneath the hammer's blows.
In his youth, Lou Gao stood sleepless through the night under the furnace's glow. He hammered, quenched, tempered, and polished repeatedly failing again and again, scrap iron piling like mountains.
With each failure, there was no dejection in his eyes—only deeper contemplation. An almost fanatical study of "heat control," "force," and the "grain of materials."
He sensed subtle changes in furnace temperature with his palms. He listened to the varying tones of metal under the hammer with his ears, as if conversing soul to soul with the cold steel.
In middle age, the Divine Craftsman faced a rare meteoric iron.
His gaze was terrifyingly focused; his hands steady as mountains.
Each hammer strike carried the rhythm of countless temperings and precision controlled to the finest margin. It was no longer mere striking. It was imprinting his will, soul power, profound understanding of metal, and ultimate yearning for a "perfect form" into the material, blow by blow!
What he pursued was no longer sharpness or durability, but the very "spirituality" of the artifact itself the mysterious transformation of "metal meeting fire to become a vessel," turning decay into wonder.
Countless days and nights, drenched in sweat, choked by smoke and flame.
Countless times collapsing from exhaustion after depleting his soul power. Countless times cut by exploding shards of metal.
Those calloused, scar-covered hands were medals earned in the exploration of the ultimate path of forging.
That pure love for the art of forging and that relentless pursuit beyond satisfaction had long surpassed fame and profit. It had become instinct fused into bone and blood, carved into the soul, his sole faith sustaining him through monotony, hardship, and danger.
A craftsman's heart as unyielding as iron, tempered a hundred times into steel!
This was no mere fragment of memory, but the crystallization of all Lou Gao's insights, obsessions, reflections, pain, and ecstasy concerning "artifacts" throughout the first half of his life.
It was his comprehension gained through countless hammer strikes, the breathing of metal, the rhythm of flame, the transmission of force, the profound mystery of balance.
This obsession was pure, resilient, and blazing, like the furnace fire that had burned unceasingly for years. It was the very core foundation of his soul's existence.
"This… this is Teacher's Dao… the very axis of his life…"