King of the Wilderness

Chapter 438: Chapter 243: Forging and Inheritance

The focus, the calmness, the ultimate pursuit of lines and light and shadow is something no language can teach; it’s a talent inscribed in the soul.

The final step is sharpening the blade.

Lin Yu’an replaced a brand new 1000-grit sanding belt, adjusting the angle of the sanding belt machine’s workbench, allowing him to polish the thick false edge he had previously reserved with greater precision.

He took a deep breath, concentrating all his attention on the area less than two millimeters wide at the blade edge.

His hands, steady as mechanical arms mounted on a precision machine, guided the blade blank so that the bevel of the blade passed smoothly over the fast-moving sanding belt at an angle of about 20 degrees.

”Sizzle—”

This time, there were fewer flying sparks and the sound was more delicate.

Silvery steel debris was gradually ground away from the edge, and a cold, sharp white line was visible to the naked eye, extending slowly from the root to the tip of the blade.

He carefully flipped the blade, polishing the other side with the same angle and force.

He repeated this process several times, grinding only a thin layer each time, ensuring that the blade surfaces on both sides were perfectly symmetrical and even.

When he completed the final grind and turned off the sanding belt machine, the workshop instantly returned to tranquility.

He raised the dagger in his hand. In the dim light of the workshop and the reflection of the furnace fire, the dagger seemed to come alive.

The blade displayed a refined, satin-like texture, with light flowing over it like water under moonlight. The freshly sharpened 15 cm blade shimmered with a cold gleam.

Its appearance was extremely simple, devoid of any superfluous embellishments, filled with the sharp style of a modern tactical dagger.

The teardrop-shaped blade tip ensured powerful piercing force, while the flat-ground edge offered a smooth cutting experience. The handle part remained a rough steel bar, awaiting further processing.

But with just this blade, it was already a perfect tool for slaughter and creation.

”Good.”

Old George uttered just one word, but his hoarse voice was filled with undisguised praise and satisfaction as he handed the dagger back to Lin Yu’an.

”From a scrap steel plate to a razor-sharp blade that can seal a throat,” Old George looked at Lin Yu’an, his eyes like those seeing his most cherished work, ”Kid, you did it in just two days. Now, it’s yours.”

Lin Yu’an took this piece created by his own hands; he had a deeper understanding of forging. The blade was its teeth, but he knew it wasn’t enough. A true weapon also needed a hand that could perfectly wield it.

”Uncle George, the handle...”

”Don’t rush, hahahaha,” Old George seemed to have seen through his thoughts.

He led Lin Yu’an to another corner of the workshop, opening an old wooden box marked by the passage of time. A blend of wood and tung oil rushed out, filling the air, and inside the box were neatly stacked blocks of wood of various colors and patterns.

Old George selected a gnarled block of olive wood with twisted grains, seemingly unremarkable, and tossed it to Lin Yu’an: ”Stabilized olive tree burl, retaining the most splendid patterns, infused with resin to have a steel-like bone structure. Perfect for your knife.”

Lin Yu’an received the block, finding it far heavier than it appeared.

He was taken to an old-fashioned pedestal drill, where Old George tapped the quenched steel bar of the knife handle with his rough fingers: ”Now it’s hard as hell; ordinary drill bits will hit a dead end. Remember, use carbide drill bits, slow the speed, add cutting oil, and don’t let it smoke.”

Lin Yu’an firmly fixed the knife handle and started the drill.

A piercing friction sound arose, like hard souls resisting each other. He carefully dripped cooling oil onto the drill bit, inhaling that unique aroma of motor oil evaporated by high heat, finally drilling two smooth and precise circular holes into the hardened Dragon Bone.

Subsequently, the olive wood block was divided into two equal-thickness ”patches” with a band saw.

Lin Yu’an tightly clamped them onto the steel handle, marking, drilling holes, precisely replicating each step with the utmost accuracy.

Old George handed him a set of two-tube epoxy resin glue, his voice deep: ”It’s not just for sticking it. More importantly, it will fill every unseen seam, permanently sealing out air and moisture. The knife shouldn’t start rusting from the heart.”

Lin Yu’an understood. He carefully mixed the resin and evenly spread it on the inside of the steel handle and wood patches, then cautiously aligned them together. Two specially made stainless steel screws passed through the wood and steel handle, like two solid bone nails, initially joining this Steel Body together.

Once the resin initially set, Lin Yu’an again approached the familiar sanding belt machine.

He started the machine, pressing the rough knife handle against the rotating sanding belt.

”Buzz—Zzzz—”

This time, the air was no longer filled with pure metal sparks but a smoke mixed with wood dust. The sharp metallic smell was replaced by the rich aroma similar to roasted nuts.

His movements were steady and fluid, as under his hands, the two abrupt wood patches along with the middle steel Dragon Bone, edge were all ground away together. The boundary between wood and steel gradually blurred and dissolved under the rapid grinding, ultimately forming a perfect curve.

He seemed like a sculptor, awakening a piece of uncut jade, transforming it from rough to delicate, from angular to smooth, shaping the knife handle into a curve that perfectly fits the palm, ensuring that every grip felt like an extension of power.

Finally, he turned off the machine, and the workshop returned to silence.

He replaced the machine with hand sandpaper and meticulously smoothed out all traces left by the sanding belt, from coarse to fine. When his fingertips could no longer feel any roughness, leaving only the delicate touch like warm jade, the shaping was complete.

”The final step,” Old George handed over a can of golden tung oil and a clean cloth, ”bring it to life.”

Lin Yu’an poured the viscous tung oil onto the cloth, gently wiping the now fully formed knife handle.

A miracle happened instantly.

As the tung oil seeped into the wood, the previously somewhat dull olive wood handle seemed to be infused with life!

The deep, twisted, web-like burl patterns emerged from within the wood, creating a stark visual impact against the golden base! Light flowed over it, like golden lava slowly moving through the ravines of its grain.

He coated it over and over, watching the wood greedily ”eat” the oil, with every wipe deepening the luster further.

When he tightened the two stainless steel screws, wrapping up the whole process, he was holding a complete dagger in his hands.

He grasped it in his hand.

The olive wood handle was warm and solid, perfectly filling his palm as if tailor-made for his hand.

The balance between the weight of the blade and the handle was impeccable, not a fraction more, not a fraction less. The blade, cold and shimmering with a satin-like gleam, paired with the wood handle boasting splendid patterns, constituted the ultimate harmony between strength and grace.

Old George’s hoarse voice sounded behind him, tinged with a smile: ”Now, it’s truly yours.”

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