Chapter 121: Chapter 121: War Staff
Li Wei stepped forward, the embers in the forge flaring briefly as if stirred by the inferno itself. Young Master Wei stood near the smelting oven with poise and swagger, this was an opportunity to make the most out of this mortal master.
"I need a piercing rod. Thin—no thicker than a crow’s quill, but it must be strong enough to punch through lacquered stone and tempered shell alike." His tone was quiet, yet the request rang with clarity, each word weighted by necessity rather than vanity. "This weapon must be durable enough to behave as both a javelin and pole vault..."
The blacksmith grunted. He picked up the tongs again, shifting the half-cooled iron to a water basin with a hiss. ~Ssshhh~ "You are asking me to make a fang fit for a dragon’s jaw," the old smith muttered, wiping his hands on a nearby rag. "You must understand what you ask for requires a rare metal alloy blessed by the mountain’s blood, not this pig iron I scrounge from trader’s carts."
Li Wei inclined his head. "Then it is fortunate I carry with me an ore that may just fit the description..." From the folds of his inner robe, he withdrew a small silk-wrapped parcel. Unfurling the layers revealed a shard of deep obsidian. The aged weapon-smith’s eyes lit up, when the Young master revealed the dark alloy.
The ore veined faintly with crimson streaks. The light from the forge caught the edges, refracting into glimmers like the eyes of sleeping beasts. It was truly a sight to behold, Evidently the blacksmith’s breath eased up . "By the River Father..." he whispered. "Spirit ore."
"It has not been refined," Li Wei added. "That task falls to you, it needs your fire, and your hands. If it’s to become more than what it is." The young man extended his arm towards his collaborator with a leisurely poise, causing the blacksmith to reach out slowly, delicately taking the shard between two callused fingers.
He carefully inspected the relic in his grasp constantly turning it over once, twice, before giving a single solemn nod. " This... this I can shape. But the fire must rise hotter than the sins of a thousand lifetimes. It must feel the destructive heat of brimstone and carbon to be truly purified."
The blacksmith glided through his workshop. "We’ll need solid bellows, darker coal, and solitude. You will have to work in tandem with me, am in condition to handle this alone." Li Wei smiled faintly. "I expected nothing less."
The smith moved at once, pulling open a set of cabinets built into the stone wall. "Bellows, behind the barrel. Bring the dark coal—it’s in the iron crate, marked with a white skull." Li Wei complied and went to work.
He found the tools with relative ease, despite the clutter of the space. As he lifted the coal, a strange pulse passed through his fingers—warm, electric, like the heartbeat of a creature too ancient to name. ’This is becoming peculiar...’ By the time he returned, the smith had cleared the forge’s tray and was resetting the clay mold.
The work-smith was clearly at the forefront of his field, he worked quickly but with reverent patience, as though preparing a sacred ritual rather than a craft. "Tell me, stranger," the smith said, voice low. "Why risk such a rare piece of spirit ore for a rod? Moreover, you sought the help of a mere mortal instead of a reputable smith"
"There’s a gate I must breach," Li Wei answered simply. "The details and location are rather sensitive, which is why I sought the aid of a person skilled enough to complete the task, but wise enough to maintain discretion. The site is well shut with brass locks, and rotational watchers. The records within are worth more than gold or silver."
The smith let out a dry chuckle. "A gate that is near impregnable and brass locks. Aye... I see the purpose of discretion. But make no mistake— a weapon like this will undoubtedly aid you, Misuse it, and it may turn on the hand that wields it."
"Let it try," Li Wei replied. "I’ve contended with viler forces."
~WHOOSH~ The furnace flared anew, the flames licking higher as Li Wei fed in the dark coal. The temperature soared, forcing sweat from his skin like rain from a stormcloud. The blacksmith placed the ore into a crucible and began chanting something under his breath—words old and crumbling under the sound of coal.
The heat distorted the air, warping the world into a wavering mirage. Time thinned. Outside, the town still bustled, but within these walls, it was as if only the fire and the forge existed.
"Pump the bellows," the smith barked. "Keep the breath of the mountain alive!"
Li Wei moved to the side, grasping the handles of the great leather bellows. With each downward push, a roar rose from the furnace, flames snapping and curling upward.
~WHUFF—WHUFF—WHUFF~
The metal within the crucible began to melt, the spirit ore groaning under the heat, veins of red pulsing like lightning trapped in stone. The blacksmith’s eyes never left it.
"We’re nearly there... gods above, it sings to the flame."
He pulled it free with the tongs, guiding it to the anvil with trembling reverence.
"Now, strike," he said, handing Li Wei the hammer. "Not with strength. With intention."
Li Wei took the hammer. His grip was firm, but not forceful. He raised it—and brought it down.
~CLANG~
The metal rang out like a temple bell. Not once, but again, and again, each strike echoing with purpose. The rod began to take shape—slender, wickedly sharp, glinting with an inner light.
The air was heavy with smoke and spirit. For a moment, Li Wei could swear he heard the low growl of something ancient coiling within the tool itself.
When at last the rod was quenched, the forge hissed in protest.
~Ssshhhhh~
The blacksmith leaned back, wiping his brow.
"It’s done," he murmured. "But be warned—tools like this draw attention. They were not meant to exist quietly."
Li Wei took the rod into his palm. It was cool now, but it thrummed with hidden fire.
"Neither was I," he said.