Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation

Chapter 538: Second Blacksmithing Lesson (2)

The sound of the hammer striking the metal continued to echo throughout the forge like the beating of a massive drum.

‘CLANG!’

‘CLANG!’

‘CLANG!’

Each impact made the anvil vibrate, the shockwaves spreading through the metal and the air like ripples across a lake. The vibrations traveled through the stone floor, climbed up Kyrian’s legs, and reverberated in his chest, creating an almost hypnotic sensation that seemed to synchronize his heartbeat with the rhythm of the hammer blows.

He remained completely motionless.

His violet eyes followed every movement Sun Luguo made with absolute attention. Not only the large motions, the raising of the hammer, the strike against the metal, and the turning of the workpiece, but also the smallest details. The exact angle of the wrist, the pressure of the fingers, the breathing that accompanied every blow.

He wasn’t merely observing the technique.

He was observing the intent.

The way the old man distributed his strength, concentrating it on specific points of the metal. The precise moment when he reduced the force of each strike, transitioning from heavy blows to subtler taps. The way he slowly rotated the metal before the next strike, aligning it with surgical precision.

Everything had a purpose.

Every movement, every breath, every pause—it was all part of a millennia-old process, refined through generations of blacksmiths.

Kyrian could feel the accumulated wisdom within every gesture Sun Luguo made, the knowledge passed down through decades of practice.

After dozens of final strikes, Sun Luguo gave a slight nod to himself.

The massive axe was finally complete.

The surface of its blade gleamed with a flawless finish, without a single visible imperfection. The edge was straight and razor-sharp, and the weapon’s balance seemed perfect even before being tested. The runes engraved across its surface, though not yet activated, already promised considerable power.

Without wasting any time, Sun Luguo gripped the weapon with a large pair of tongs, his muscles tightening beneath the weight of the incandescent metal. Moving with the precision of someone who had performed the gesture thousands of times, he slowly submerged the axe into a massive barrel filled with thick, dark oil.

‘Shhhhhhh!’

A huge cloud of steam immediately rose, so dense that it partially obscured Kyrian’s vision.

The liquid boiled violently as the weapon cooled, the metal’s thermal energy being absorbed by the oil in a reaction that seemed almost alive. The sound resembled the hiss of a giant serpent, and the spreading mist carried the intense heat of the furnace with it.

A strong, acrid, metallic smell quickly spread throughout the workshop, blending with the scent of coal and sweat that already filled the air.

Only after the steam had completely disappeared did Sun Luguo remove the axe.

The blade shimmered beneath the furnace’s light, its surface now coated with a thin layer of oil that enhanced the metal’s luster. The quenching had been perfect. The steel was hard, yet not brittle; strong, yet flexible.

Satisfied, he placed the weapon on a stone workbench, the metal producing a deep sound as it touched the surface.

Then he turned toward Kyrian.

A faint smile appeared on his face, the first genuine sign of approval he had shown.

“You observed well.”

His eyes met those of his disciple, evaluating him with an intensity that went beyond words.

“Now let’s find out whether your mind is as good as your eyes.”

Kyrian inclined his head slightly in respect, a gesture that acknowledged his master’s authority without submission.

“I’m ready.”

Sun Luguo let out a soft laugh, a hoarse sound that seemed to come from deep within his chest.

“Hahaha.”

He pointed toward another section of the workshop, where a smaller workbench awaited.

There stood a more modest-sized anvil, though equally sturdy. Beside it lay several blocks of ordinary iron, low in quality and prepared specifically for training. The metal was coarse, full of impurities, exactly the kind of material a beginner should use to learn the fundamentals.

A small furnace burned beside it, its flames much gentler than those of the main furnace. The fire was controlled and steady, designed to heat the metal gradually without overheating it.

“Yesterday, you took your first step.”

The old man crossed his arms, his stance as firm as a mountain.

“But today, we’ll continue with the basics.”

His tone became serious, the lightness of the previous moment giving way to a gravity that demanded attention.

“Many talented young people make exactly the same mistake.”

He raised one finger, emphasizing every word.

“They want to skip straight to spiritual weapons. They want to learn runes. They want to infuse large amounts of Qi. They want to create extraordinary weapons before they’ve even mastered ordinary iron.”

He slowly shook his head, a gesture of disappointment that spoke of countless past experiences.

“And they all fail.”

His firm voice echoed through the forge, every word carrying unquestionable authority.

“Only when you can forge a perfect ordinary blade with your eyes closed will we begin studying spiritual weapons.”

Kyrian answered without the slightest hesitation, his voice as calm and steady as his master’s.

“I understand.”

Sun Luguo smiled faintly, a glimmer of approval appearing in his eyes.

“Exactly.”

“A perfectly ordinary sword…”

“…is worth far more than a flawed, low-grade spiritual weapon.”

He pointed toward a broken sword leaning in one corner of the workshop, its blade cracked and its surface corroded by poor quenching.

“A poorly made weapon can explode in its owner’s hands, severely injuring them at the most critical moment.”

His eyes met Kyrian’s once more.

“When you’ve mastered the fundamentals…”

“…everything else will come naturally.”

Without adding another word…

The training began.

…

Kyrian slowly heated the first block of iron.

He gripped the piece with the tongs, positioning it above the flames of the small furnace. The metal gradually changed color, shifting from dull gray to dark red, then to a vibrant orange.

He waited until the temperature reached the ideal point, the exact moment when the iron became malleable without losing its structural integrity. His special eyes monitored every change in the metal’s molecular structure, every vibration of the iron particles.

Only then did he remove the piece from the furnace.

He gripped the hammer.

He took a deep breath.