Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Chapter 1571. No digging, please

“The memories of the land,” Seth mumbled, having finally tracked the source of the energy that created the scene. The blacksmith was also a capable earth mage, even without most of his items. The apparition also felt very similar to his skill “ The Land Remembers”, once the initial surprise was gone.

“You could call it that, yes. Experts call it the Dao Imprint of the site, although it is unclear how this phenomenon came to be,” the guide agreed with him hesitantly. Seth wondered how the cultivator couldnʼt get it when it seemed so clear to him now.

Now that he knew what he had to focus on, he understood why the structure reminded him of the work of a dwarven blacksmith. The people who built this place must have had an incredible affinity with the earth element, maybe even its affection, just like dwarves.

The structure they built, unlike normal architecture, was integrated with the energy of the earth flowing in this land. The mana naturally flowed through the walls like they were naturally grown rock that had been here for eons.

Where other sects built on top of dense points in spirit veins, as they called dragon veins or ley lines, to benefit from the dense mana exuded by them, this whole structure was integrated with the mountains and their mana.

Spirit Temple, his foot, this was an Earth Temple, if anything. The apparition was created because the architecture left a lasting footprint in its pattern that would only fade after a very long time.

“You good?” Mina asked the blacksmith who had been blankly staring at the apparition.

“Oh? Yeah, itʼs just... You could say Iʼm profoundly touched by their craftsmanship,” the blacksmith answered with a smile. He would bet that Vathon Stonechiseler, their resident mason, would have loved to see this place.

The picture of the Spirit Temple soon faded as the night set in and the last rays of light were completely gone. Apparently, it was only visible during these few moments of dusk. While Seth was touched by the craftsmanship and magic to pull off such a phenomenon, the cultivators among the crowd clamored about learning techniques from the silhouettes, or how they were able to leave such an apparition.

“Many cultivators have come and tried to learn from the Spirit Temple, but even the sects that settled here after the incident were unable to glean anything from the dao imprints,” the guide explained, knowing that his words would not be enough to discourage them. There were always a couple that would stay to try their luck.

“On that note, please refrain from digging around in the pit. I can assure you there is nothing left to be gained here,” he added, but his tone made clear that he didnʼt believe everyone would follow his advice. There were always a couple that would dig to try their luck.

“For anyone interested, we will continue our tour inside the remaining building and lower floors of the Spirit Temple,” he added, his tone made clear that he didnʼt believe everyone would join the rest of the tour. There were always a couple that would sneak away to try exactly what he told them not to do.

The trio was obviously not interested in digging for ancient bones or trinkets in the corpse of a crushed mountain and obediently followed the tour through the remaining architecture. Although it was interesting from a historic viewpoint, there was nothing as captivating as the Spirit Temple, or even just the entrance to the megalithic mega-complex.

The interior and subterranean levels were mostly the works of occupants and not the initial architects. After 300 years of abandonment, there was not much left but slowly decaying beams, bleached pictures, and broken furniture.

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“Do we really have enough time to eat and see that show?” the blacksmith asked doubtfully, looking at the early night sky. Mina nodded, not a hint of worry on her face, looking over at Konan, the sprawling city filled with light, pushing back the night.

“The show is around Midnight, we have ample time for dinner,” Mina assured them. Fin had already recovered from the trauma of the Demon Noodles and was looking forward to their next destination.

They returned to Konan. The streets of the commercial districts were now brightly illuminated by lanterns and a couple of spirit lamps, simple artifacts running on ambient energy. Their target this time was not one of the big names among restaurants in Konan, but an insider tip by one of the disciples of the Soaring Falcon Sect.

Following their direction, they entered a couple of dark alleys off the illuminated streets of the richer districts. In this neighborhood, where the only light came from dim candles in the surrounding homes, they found a small noodle stall.

The name on the aged sign was hard to read and seemed to have changed a couple of times, but it seemed to say “The Lost Bowl”, quite fitting for a small stall, standing alone and lost in a dark alley.

“How can I help you?” the old man with a skin like dried bark asked them, neither polite nor rude, as they sat on the empty seats along his counter. He looked at them with a kind smile, while his whole body seemed to tremble in the cold night air.

“An acquaintance recommended the Konan Two-Step,” Mina answered with a kind smile. A sharp glint sparked in the old manʼs eyes, but it was gone so quickly that only Seth with Theiaʼs Vision was sure to have caught it.

“To think there were still friends out there knowing my specialty. Very well, a bowl for each of you, I assume?” he asked, pulling out a couple of very old but well-maintained-looking bowls from below the counter.

The watched him cut a couple of noodles and fill the bowls from a mysterious pot below the counter. The broth ladled into the bowls before them had an odor that cut through the night, Distinct, but hard to describe what it smelled like.

“Here you go, please enjoy.” After adding a couple more ingredients in the bowls, the noodles had soaked up much of the broth and the chef finally judged the meal ready for consumption. Seth was already swallowing his saliva for a while. He didnʼt know the smell, but it was mouthwatering.

Using the exotic spoon given with the bowl, the blacksmith finally got a taste of the mysterious dish. Greedily, he tried a full spoon of broth and sides from the soup, immediately regretting this decision.

The heat instantly spread like a wildfire across his tongue. It felt like he put his tongue into the smelter, except that that wouldnʼt hurt him at all! His even leveled up! How could such a clear broth be this spicy?!

The blacksmith started breathing heavily and sweating.

Suppressing the hiccup, he stared at the broth. It even raised his ? Normally, resisting a minor poisoning was far from enough to raise a basic resistance... It had to be the dish itself.

It was a buff food with a permanent effect, just like Mina had mentioned. What wasnʼt mentioned was the heat of the dish... He deliberated whether it was worth eating more. Looking to his side, he found even Fin silently thinking about it. Mina bravely continued eating, as if she had a higher tolerance for the spice.

Seeing her put up with the heat, Seth decided to trust the process and also continue.

A couple of spoons full later, he gained another percent, while braving the pain in his mouth, no amount of water or could alleviate. It came with an additional benefit.

Seeing his Poison Resistance go up again, Seth couldnʼt help but try to appraise the dish. Mina had said not to, but he was just too curious.

“So the place was actually called The Loose Bowels, not The Lost Bowl....” he thought to himself, eating another spoonful.

The skill he had forgotten he even had rapidly rose as Seth participated in this kind of self-harm, but it didnʼt seem to matter anymore as realization slowly dawned on him. He finally understood why Mina told him not to appraise it.