Chapter 44: Blacksmith Shop

The streets of Northern Moon buzzed with life as Jiang Feng stepped out into the chaotic sprawl. Merchants shouted over one another, hawking everything from exotic fruits to spirit artifacts, while cultivators moved purposefully through the crowd, their robes billowing behind them. The city was alive in a way he had never experienced before, each corner bursting with possibility and danger. Clutching the small leather-bound book Lin Moyi had given him, Jiang Feng paused for a moment to orient himself with the map before setting off toward the central market district.

The district was a sight to behold. Tall, ornate buildings flanked a massive square where stalls and shops stood packed together like a maze. The air carried a medley of scents: sizzling skewers of roasted meat, the sharp tang of medicinal herbs, and the faint metallic odor of freshly forged weapons. Jiang Feng's eyes scanned the bustling crowd, his mind racing with thoughts of where to begin. His blacksmithing skills were solid enough with the experience he had with his father, but finding a reputable workshop that would take on an outsider was another matter entirely.

As he made his way through the throng, Jiang Feng's attention was drawn to a commotion near a small herbalist stall. A burly cultivator loomed over a wiry merchant, his voice raised in anger. "This isn't worth half of what you're charging!" the man barked, slamming a bundle of herbs onto the counter. The merchant stammered, trying to explain, but the cultivator's patience was wearing thin. The scene reminded Jiang Feng of how quickly tempers flared in places like this. He decided to steer clear, keeping his focus on his goal.

The city was massive in such a way that he had be searching for an hour without any results, but the good thing was that he was broadening his world view. He saw shops selling wild beast to even demonic beast, there was even one store that sold even people, which came at a shock to Jiang Feng who hurried away. Soon after he came upon a street that smelt like ash and burning coal, that smell bringing back a lot of memories with his father in their old shop.

He soon passed by a row of blacksmith shops looking at their sign as he strolled along making sure to taken note of the kind of people entering and leaving. Jiang Feng then finally stopped in front of one that caught his eye. Its sign, simple but elegant, read "Iron Ember Forge." The clang of hammers striking metal echoed from within, accompanied by the rhythmic hiss of a bellows feeding a roaring fire.

Peering inside, he saw a young blacksmith hard at work shaping a glowing blade. "This looks promising," he thought, stepping through the threshold. It was time to put his skills and his determination to the test.

Stepping further inside, Jiang Feng took in the scene with a mix of curiosity and mild unease. The forge was in complete disarray. Discarded scraps of failed projects lay scattered across the floor, and bins overflowed with broken tools, warped ore, and jagged metal fragments. The air was thick with the acrid scent of burning coal and the tang of molten steel, while a low, steady heat radiated from the roaring forge at the back of the shop. Despite the clutter, there was an odd sense of fulfillment in the space, as if each discarded piece was a stepping stone toward perfection rather than mere failure.

The blacksmith at the center of it all worked with a precision that belied the chaos around him. Each swing of his hammer landed with a deliberate rhythm, sending sparks flying like tiny fireworks. The glow of the hot metal illuminated his face, a young man, maybe a few years older than Jiang Feng, with sweat streaking his soot-stained features. He was shaping what appeared to be a blade, the edges slowly taking form as he hammered away. The bellows pumped steadily, feeding the fire that bathed the forge in an orange glow. Though the space was noisy and cluttered, the man's focus was absolute, as if nothing in the world existed beyond the red-hot steel beneath his hammer.

Jiang Feng hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to interrupt. But as he watched the blacksmith dip the blade into a trough of water, releasing a loud hiss and a cloud of steam, he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said, his voice cutting through the din. The blacksmith glanced up, his intense expression softening slightly as he wiped his brow with the back of his arm.

"What do you want?" the man asked, his tone brusque but not unfriendly. Jiang Feng straightened his posture and met the blacksmith's gaze. "I'm looking for work," he replied. "I've trained as a blacksmith and can handle a hammer well enough. If you need an extra hand, I'm willing to prove myself." The blacksmith raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. "Prove yourself, huh? Let's see if you've got what it takes." He gestured toward a pile of unrefined ore. "Start by sorting those. If you can recognize quality ore from scrap, we'll talk."

Jiang Feng nodded, rolling up his sleeves. This was his first step in proving his worth, not just to the blacksmith but to himself.

—

Jiang Feng approached the pile of ore with a mixture of confidence. He crouched down and began to examine the chunks of rock. His father, a renowned blacksmith, had drilled the basics of ore recognition into him from a young age. "The heart of a weapon is in its material," his father used to say, his voice deep and steady. "Understand the ore, and you'll understand the weapon." Jiang Feng's hands instinctively brushed over the rough surfaces, feeling for the subtle weight, texture, and metallic sheen that separated high-quality ore from mere rock.

He worked methodically, pulling aside the better pieces and discarding the rest. Though it had been months since he last stood at his father's forge, the muscle memory began to return. He recalled the countless hours spent as a boy, sweating beside his father as they hammered out crude tools and simple blades. His father's gruff voice echoed in his mind. "Strike with intent. Every blow counts, Feng." At the time, he had seen it as a chore, but now, those lessons felt like a lifeline in this unfamiliar city.

The blacksmith watched from the side, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but there was a faint flicker of approval in his eyes as Jiang Feng worked. After what felt like an eternity, Jiang Feng straightened, wiping his hands on his robes. "Done," he said, gesturing toward the sorted pile. The blacksmith walked over and inspected the selection, picking up a few pieces and turning them over in his hands. After a moment, he gave a small grunt of approval.

"Not bad," the young blacksmith said, setting the ore back down. "You've got an eye for this, and that's more than I can say for most who come through here wasting my time. I might be young but this is what puts food on the table." He add with a sweat head of hair, his hands showing his hard work due to their blisters.

"But sorting out ore is just the beginning. You say you know your way around the forge, let's see if you can put it to the test kid." He pointed toward the forge. "Melt some of this down and shape a simple dagger. Show me what you've got."

Jiang Feng felt a flicker of excitement at the challenge. He had forged knifes, plats, doors and even minor weapons before, but never under the critical eye of a stranger. His father was the one who had always been shadowing him. Steeling himself, he grabbed the bellows and began stoking the flames until the forge roared to life. As the heat built, he selected a piece of ore and placed it into the crucible, watching as it began to glow and soften. Picking up the tongs, he carefully poured the molten metal into a prepared mold.