Translator: EndlessFantasy Translation Editor: EndlessFantasy Translation
Andera muttered to himself and then frowned, subconsciously tightening his grip around the Obsidian Sword.
“He just obtained a Grade-3 ore. How could he leave now?
“You must be lying to me!
“Out of my way! There’s something I have to ask Lin Feng!”
Brent was somewhat frustrated. He had told this man with the curly red hair that his master had left several times now, but the stranger just refused to believe him for some reason.
Exasperated, Brent shrugged.
“Why would I lie to you about this?”
That was not what Andera wanted to hear right now, though.
As a blacksmith, he already had a bit of a temper on him. Brent’s obstruction only made it flare up even worse.
“Lin Feng! I know you’re in there! If you won’t come out to meet me, I’ll go in there myself!”
As he said that, he reached out to push Brent away.
Brent was by nature a kind and friendly boy, but Andera’s utter lack of reason was enough to tick even him off. By now, Brent’s body had changed as a result of all those Strengthening Potions Lin Feng gave him, and although he was not completely at the level of a Grade-1 martial artist yet, his body was almost as strong by now.
Although Andera had shoved him, he quickly regained his balance.
“Stand right there!
“How could you trespass uninvited like that?!”
Brent used all of his strength to hold Andera back, but Andera was a Grade-3 blacksmith after all. All those years spent at the forge meant that he had exceptional strength.
Although Brent tried his very hardest, he just could not pull Andera back.
Andera pushed the door of the smithy open and strode inside. Before long, he was standing in front of Lin Feng’s usual forge.
“I told you that my master is out, but you just won’t believe me! Fine, now can you leave?”
Brent rubbed his sore muscles. All of a sudden, he understood why Lin Feng insisted that he train his body to the level of a Grade-1 martial artist before he actually learned forging techniques.
If anyone else tried to cause trouble here again, at least he would be strong enough to chase them away.
However, Andera did not look like he had any intention of retreating at all right now. He walked around the forging workshop and grabbed a longsword off the table, asking Brent about it.
Brent did not want to reply at first, but since the stranger just would not leave, he had no choice. He gave a curt nod.
“That’s right, my master made that one ‘on a whim’!”
He emphasized ‘on a whim’, as though making sure Andera knew that this well-made weapon was really just a normal day at work for Lin Feng.
Andera did not seem too bothered by his emphasis. He simply went through the room, picking up every Grade-1 weapon Lin Feng made and examining each one closely.
Every time he put a weapon down, though, the shock in his heart only deepened.
When he finally put the last sword Lin Feng made down, his mind was already in utter turmoil.
There were thirteen weapons in this workshop, but all of them were works of art!
How could that be?
Even a Grade-3 blacksmith like him could only make an extremely small handful of weapons with that quality every week when he fulfilled his orders.
Compared to Lin Feng’s weapons, even the best ones he made felt devastatingly inferior.
“Is he really a Grade-4 blacksmith?”
The question crept into Andera’s mind.
“Your master… Does he have any special habits when he’s forging weapons?”
Andera forced himself to calm down and took a deep breath before he asked Brent.
Brent did not answer right away, though.
Andera’s brash actions earlier had left an unspeakably terrible impression of him in the young boy’s mind.
After a moment’s thought, Brent suddenly said innocently,
“Oh, he does!
“Before he forges anything, my master cleans himself and murmurs a prayer!”
Andera frowned, pulling a chair up and taking a seat as he murmured to himself.
“Cleaning… Praying…
“Do they really work?”
Soon, though, he came up with his own answer.
“Oh, of course…
“A smith must always maintain a pure heart. He must clean himself so that his heart and body are equally clean when he forges anything.
“As for praying…
“He must really respect every item he creates…”
Brent watched Andera, somewhat stunned. He would never have expected Andera to make so much sense out of his casual nonsense.
Was this the intelligence of a professional blacksmith?
Brent’s young heart was quite shaken.
“Ignore me… I’ll wait here for your master Lin Feng to come back.”
Andera sighed softly and settled into his chair, closing his eyes and resting.
To Brent, that just meant Andera was stubbornly refusing to leave. The boy opened his mouth to try and say something, but Andera seemed to have made up his mind. Brent had clearly told Andera to leave, but the man just sat in his chair, refusing to budge.
There was nothing Brent could do except give up.
While all this was unfolding in Whitestar, Lin Feng was still in the ruins of Whitewing.
He held his breath, hiding on a path that led to the southern streets of Whitewing.
On the way here, he had already consecutively bumped into two groups of demonic beasts, but he had yet to see any Grade-2 cat demons amongst them.
With Lin Feng’s current strength, even if he could not blow these Grade-2 demons away easily, he could still handle them without much danger most of the time.
His muscles were as strong as a Grade-3 weapon, so he had an upper hand over these beasts.
Since his fighting skills were pretty terrible, the beasts always managed to approach him, but they could not deal any damage to him.
He looked for any signs of a cat demon while he proceeded, and soon Lin Feng realized that the cat demons he had seen on the outskirts of Whitewing had all retreated deeper into the city now.
The sun was already beginning to rise. Lin Feng gritted his teeth and took the risk, delving deeper into Whitewing in search of a cat demon.
Thankfully, his current strength meant that he was not in too much trouble even if he did bump into beasts, as long as there were not too many of them at once.
He had reinforced his bones for the fourth time now. Whenever he swung his fists to attack, he still occasionally felt a slight dissonance between his bones and muscles, but he would not cause himself grievous internal injuries every time he fought anymore.