At noon, three great suns hung high in the sky, their brilliance mirrored by the roaring flames of the sword forge.
Li Mo stood before the furnace, taking a deep breath. The temperature of the Black Ashen Wood Oil was just about right, but the Fallen Star Flame seemed even hotter than the Earth Vein Fire—and far more unpredictable.
Without hesitation, he tossed in the ore, stirring it vigorously in the flames as if stir-frying, then hammered away the impurities with practiced ease.
Everyone had expected the "Little Tyrant of the Divine Hammer" to have an unorthodox approach, but no one could have imagined it would be this wild.
"Are you a blacksmith or a chef?"
"But... the results seem surprisingly good?" Huo Bingzi observed the changes in the material, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"Fascinating. Well, well, this kid has proven me wrong." Du Wufeng grinned, thoroughly entertained, as if witnessing something delightfully novel.
"......"
The apprentices at the forge exchanged uneasy glances, a sense of foreboding creeping into their hearts.
Were they about to be forced to take up culinary studies for the next few years?"Reduce the flame and concentrate the essence!"
By now, Li Mo's raw material had shed all impurities, gleaming brilliantly. He folded the red-hot metal and raised his hammer.
Clang—
The first strike fell—imbued with his divine hammer technique and empowered by the Divine Refinement Art!
Before anyone could voice their admiration, nine more strikes followed in a single breath, each precise to the smallest degree, the force perfectly synchronized with his breathing. It was as if he were an unrelenting forging machine.
Ten strikes in one breath—Divine Refinement Art!
Hammer technique transcending mortal limits—forging weapons, tempering the self!
Even the Eight-Nine Mystical Art showed its first signs of progress, taking the first step toward indestructibility.
"Magnificent!"
"What hammerwork!"
If his unorthodox "stir-fry forging" had merely raised eyebrows before, this display of hammering a sword blank left everyone awestruck. Even Du Wufeng, the Divine Artisan, held his breath, his expression turning serious.
Clang!!
The hammer moved like a whirlwind, sparks erupting, shockwaves rippling outward.
Li Mo realized that striking ten times in a breath now felt easier than before. But instead of testing the limits of his physical form, he pushed the Divine Refinement Art further.
Twelve strikes in one breath!
He still employed the "Seven Strikes to Shape the Heavens" technique, and his sensitivity to weapon qi—honed by the Extreme Blade Body—allowed him to perfectly gauge the state of the blade blank.
"No wonder swordsmanship is just a hobby for him. No wonder he's called... the Little Tyrant of the Divine Hammer."
Xie Xuan had initially suspected Li Mo might wield a divine-grade hammer. But now, he realized—Li Mo's hammer technique alone justified the title "Divine Hammer."
"If I were to face him..."
Xie Xuan shook his head. His swordsmanship suddenly felt illusory.
The premise of the Swordplay Gambit was that the opponent had to engage in the duel, had to play the game. But how could one duel with a hammer? This was the essence of simplicity—overwhelming force crushing all techniques.
Four ounces redirecting a thousand pounds, or one force subduing ten skills—both were profound martial principles, neither superior nor inferior, merely different paths.
He realized that, short of summoning his ancestral wooden sword, he had no way to counter Li Mo.
"Did this kid learn forging straight out of the womb?"
Huo Bingzi felt a little crushed.
Li Mo already possessed the fundamentals of a master artisan—all he lacked was experience and accumulation.
"At least back in the Southern Border, Brother Li definitely didn’t know forging or weapon-crafting." Zhong Zhenyue stated with certainty.
"So... he’s only been learning for a few months?"
"Less than two."
Ying Bing watched the young man amidst the flames, hammering steel, the quiet depths of her eyes flickering with something unreadable.
In her past life, during the Hidden Dragon Tournament, she had wielded nothing but a mundane blade.
Now, someone was forging the weapon she would one day hold in her hands—striking the hammer again and again with all his might.
Clang—
Each strike was heavy yet crisp.
"That should do it."
Li Mo began slowing his rhythm.
He would have loved to continue tempering his Eight-Nine Mystical Art with the Divine Refinement Art, but while he could endure it, the material might not. After hundreds of layers of folding, the purple copper had reached its limit.
"Out of the furnace and onto the plate!"
"......"
Du Wufeng ignored the odd phrasing, raising a hand to summon the Fallen Star Flame, which carried the purple copper into his palm.
"The purple copper has been forged to near-perfection."
Apprentices often used purple copper for practice—not because it was easy, but because it contained numerous impurities. The degree of remaining impurities reflected one's skill.
But someone achieving this level after just two months of forging? Du Wufeng had never even heard of such a thing, let alone seen it.
This kid was born to forge!
"You truly can craft a fine sword for her. No wonder she’s been so insistent..."
The Divine Artisan looked regretful for a moment, then blinked.
"But your time in weapon-forging is still short. Are you absolutely confident in crafting a Named Artifact? Wouldn’t you rather consider..."
"Even a mundane blade would suffice."
Ying Bing met Li Mo’s gaze, the cool depths of her eyes softening like embers in a dying furnace—beautiful enough to mesmerize.
"A Named Artifact would be ideal, so..."
Li Mo coughed lightly, scratching his head sheepishly.
"Could I borrow your Fallen Star Flame for a couple of days?"
"?"
This brat actually dares to fleece me?
"I’ll teach you stir-fry forging."
"Two hours a day, no more."
Du Wufeng reluctantly agreed.
Then, upon returning to the inner forge, he confiscated Huo Bingzi’s copy of "The Domineering Empress Falls for Me" under the pretense of it being a frivolous distraction—deciding to give it a read himself.
The book seemed oddly effective.
Thus, over the next two days, every time Li Mo visited the forge, he’d find the old man engrossed in the illustrated novel, thoroughly entertained.
Fortunately, the Divine Artisan hadn’t completely lost himself. He still offered occasional guidance while Li Mo worked.
And so, Li Mo spent his days refining his forging skills, tempering his Eight-Nine Mystical Art—and, of course, getting beaten up in the miniature world.
Princess Little Jiang had no idea that her unfathomably wise "Celestial Venerable" teacher, after instructing her, would then get pummeled into the ground by a Great Sage’s projection.
Alas, the Eight-Nine Mystical Art showed no qualitative leaps in just two or three days.
Night after night, Li Mo was left questioning his life choices. He couldn’t win. Not even close.
After each thrashing, he’d slump into a state of demoralized exhaustion, his spirit weakened.
But that wasn’t a problem.
Every morning, Li Mo would sneak into the Ice Block’s room to give her a massage—his preferred method of post-beating stress relief.
The primary recipients of said relief were her snow-white feet and those long, slender, flawlessly sculpted legs.
"Ahhh, much better. Massages really are the best way to unwind."
Li Mo felt revitalized, brimming with energy once more.
"Have you considered that I’m the one being massaged here?"
Ying Bing crossed her legs, pulling the blanket up defensively, and shot him a quiet, inscrutable look.