Becoming a god starting from blacksmithing

Chapter 10 Mo Chenzi's Test

Shen Chi used the bag of rice left by Mo Chenzi to cook a pot of porridge. Steam rose from the rough porcelain bowl as he carried it to the backyard.

Mo Huaizhou sat leaning against the wall, his complexion somewhat better. He took the bowl, but didn't drink it immediately, looking at Shen Chi.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything else?"

Shen Chi thought for a moment: "Let's talk about it after you've recovered."

Mo Huaizhou remained silent for a while, then lowered his head and drank his porridge.

A-Zhu followed beside him, staring at Mo Huaizhou for a long time. Her gaze was fixed on his hand holding the bowl, like a nail.

Your hands are shaking.

Mo Huaizhou paused for a moment. Shen Chi looked over—the hand holding the bowl was indeed trembling slightly, not much, but it didn't escape the blacksmith's eyes.

"I was injured," Mo Huaizhou said.

A-Zhu tilted her head: "No. The light on you... is also trembling."

Mo Huaizhou raised his head and glanced at Azhu. In that glance was surprise, but also a kind of wariness that came from being seen through.

Shen Chi remembered these words.

He didn't press further, but his mind raced. Ah Zhu rarely said the wrong thing. When she said "light," then there really was light.

------

Halfway through my porridge, someone called out from in front of the shop.

It was a clerk from the pharmacy, carrying a bag of medicine. He handed it to Shen Chijiu, saying, "An old man with one eye asked me to give this to you. He said you should go to the outskirts of town to find him alone."

Shen Chi took the medicine packet, opened it, and saw several herbs. He didn't recognize them all, but they smelled very strong.

"What else did he say?"

The waiter thought for a moment and said, "That's all. I just told you to go alone."

Shen Chi left A-Zhu in the shop to watch over things while he went out.

------

The mountains and forests outside the town.

The stream flowed gently, its water crystal clear. Shen Chi walked upstream along the stream; the stones at the bottom were covered with green moss, making them very slippery underfoot.

They arrived at the wooden cabin. Mo Chenzi sat at the door, still holding the same wine pot. He didn't get up when he saw Shen Chi arrive; he simply placed the wine pot on the table.

"You're here?"

"They're here."

Shen Chi entered the wooden house.

There were three things on the table: a piece of iron, an old hammer, and a bowl of water.

The iron was ordinary cast iron, about the size of a bowl, with some blackened edges. But Shen Chi noticed an inconspicuous dent on one corner of the iron, as if it had been struck by a blunt object.

He had seen this kind of dent before. The blacksmithing his father always left this mark in this spot—the place where the pincers had been used was always a fraction deeper than the rest.

Shen Chi didn't ask about the origin of the iron. He probably guessed it.

"Didn't you want to know how to use the Heart Seal?" Mo Chenzi spoke from behind him. "Then let me see if you're even qualified to know."

"What do you think?"

"Forge iron." Mo Chenzi pointed to the piece of iron on the table. "Use this hammer to forge this iron into the best thing you can. But you are not allowed to use your skills; you can only use that thing on your chest."

"How can you fight without skill?" Shen Chi frowned. "I don't know how."

"Then learn it," Mo Chenzi said. "Before you put it into the furnace, you have to say something to this piece of iron."

"What did you say?"

"What you say, it will become."

Shen Chi looked at the piece of iron on the table. He picked it up—it was cold and heavy, not much different from the kind he forged every day in the shop. But he knew it was different. This was the iron his father had handled.

------

"Where's the stove?" Shen Chi suddenly realized the problem.

"There's no furnace. Use that thing on your chest to burn it," Mo Chenzi said. "The fire fueled by the Heart Seal is called the Oath Fire."

Shen Chi looked at his chest. In the past, the heart imprint always appeared on its own; he had never tried to call it out on his own.

"I don't know how to do that either."

"You can. You just haven't tried."

Shen Chi stared at the iron in his hand. He closed his eyes.

He tried to recall that sentence—the sentence he wanted to say to Tie Yao. But thinking about it was useless, because he hadn't figured out what to say yet. He thought about how A Zhu squatted in the yard watching Mo Huaizhou, about the wary look Mo Huaizhou gave when he was seen through, and about the marks his father had made on the iron plate.

There was no reaction in the chest.

He tried again. He tried hard to think. He tried to think about the things that made his chest tighten.

Still no response.

He opened his eyes. Mo Chenzi looked at him, neither urging nor instructing him.

Shen Chi took a deep breath. He stopped trying to think. He held the piece of iron, just holding it, not thinking about anything.

In a state of blankness, a sentence suddenly surfaced from the depths of his memory. Long ago, on his first day learning to forge iron, his father placed a small hammer in his hand and said, "Forging iron isn't difficult. What's difficult is that every time you pick up the hammer, you must know why you're forging."

Shen Chi held the piece of iron in his hand.

He knew. That's why he hit him.

A sudden warmth spread through my chest, as if something was melting there and trickling down my arm. It was slow, like syrup in winter.

He lowered his head.

A faint, dark red light shone from the palm of his right hand, which was gripping the iron, like the light of burnt charcoal hidden beneath the ash.

The iron slowly turned red in that light.

Mo Chenzi's voice came from behind, very calm.

"That is the Oath of Fire."

------

Shen Chi placed the iron on the anvil made of a tree stump and raised the hammer.

He subconsciously used the finesse of his wrist—a habit honed from years of blacksmithing. The moment the hammer struck, a piece of the iron was warped, not at all what he wanted.

Mo Chenzi snorted from behind: "I told you not to use your skills."

Shen Chi gritted his teeth. He relaxed his wrist, no longer thinking about the angle, force, or timing. He only thought about that one sentence—what should that piece of iron become?

The second blow.

The flames of oath in his palm suddenly trembled, and the iron surface smoothed out.

But the flame of the oath is unstable. It flickers in the palm of your hand. When the iron is in the dark, it is hard, and when the hammer strikes it, the impact makes your hand numb; when it is in the light, it is too soft, and the hammer sinks in and cannot be pulled out.

Shen Chi had to keep the warmth in his chest as he hit the metal. Every hammer blow was a struggle against that unruly fire. Sweat dripped from his forehead, hissing as it hit the iron.

Shen Chi looked at the thin layer of light in his palm, watching the iron soften little by little within that light.

He didn't know how many hammer blows he had made. All he knew was that it was ten times more tiring than working in a blacksmith's furnace.

Mo Chenzi sat by the door, drinking wine and watching Shen Chi's retreating figure. In his single eye, the dark red light flickered on and off.

------

When Shen Chi stopped, the iron in his hand was no longer iron.

It turned into a small knife. The blade wasn't very sharp, the body wasn't perfectly smooth, and it was even a little crooked. But it had its own character—it wasn't something that could be made by craftsmanship; it was a shape that the flames themselves had grown.

Shen Chi was about to take a closer look when he suddenly froze.

Four large characters appeared on the blade—

"The heart cannot be locked."

The handwriting was very faint, as if it were seeping out from the iron.

It was my father's handwriting again.

Shen Chi gripped the knife, his hand trembling.

Mo Chenzi walked up behind him at some point and looked at the small knife.

"The fact that you can ignite the Oath Fire... means your material isn't completely rusted."

He paused.

"Come back here tomorrow. Then you'll know what 'difficult' really means."

Shen Chi was still immersed in those four words, his mind filled with questions.

"This piece of iron—"

"It was left by your father," Mo Chenzi said. "He forged it here back then. He forged it for three days and three nights, and forged a sword. Before he left, he left this piece of material with me."

Shen Chi turned around: "What did he say?"

Mo Chenzi remained silent for a moment.

He said, "My son will come one day. Can you watch him until he's done?"

When did he say that?

"Three years ago. The night before he left."

------

When Shen Chi walked out of the wooden house, he was holding the knife in his hand, his palms were sweaty.

The sunlight was blinding. He squinted and carefully tucked the knife away from his body.

On his way back, those four words kept replaying in his mind—"The heart cannot be locked." The iron his father left behind three years ago had forged these words three years later. It was as if he had been told that his coming would happen, that he would forge these four words.

Shen Chi didn't know what this meant. In a daze, he felt that what his father left behind was far more complex than it appeared.

As he emerged from the woods, he saw a black carriage approaching from the main road.

The car wasn't going fast. There were no markings on the car, and the curtains were made of thick black cloth, not a single gap was transparent.

Shen Chi stood by the roadside, watching the car approach from a distance. He didn't move aside.

The carriage curtains remained perfectly still as it passed by him. But he sensed a restlessness in the newly forged dagger.

He pressed his hand on the knife and looked back.

The carriage made a muffled sound as it rolled over the gravel road, like something was speaking through a muffled throat.

After the dust kicked up by the wheels settled, the car had already driven far away.

Direction—Qingxi Town.