What do you mean I'm a cultivator?-Chapter 54
Cheng’s forge was nothing elegant. Just stones arranged at the base of the great pit he'd dug.
The only difference, compared to a typical forge, was the fact that Cheng had used a series of array formed stones that would bring the temperature much higher than that of ordinary wood, making sure that mortal iron would not last more than seconds, before turning liquid.
Sure, Cheng could have just used his forging technique to mold each and every piece of iron and spirit iron without heat, but that would be an unnecessary time loss, for heat would make it faster to mold, the head assisting his Qi into changing the shape of the metal.
And Cheng was not the kind of man to waste time.
Days blurred into weeks. He melted down the pieces of scrap one by one, refining them with care. From twisted, broken blades and buckled armor came clean bars of Spirit Iron, stacked neatly in rows along the northern wall of the pit. He worked alone. Always alone.
Yiren always kept visiting, but Cheng would never say what he was doing. It only took a moment for word to spread, his plans taken for "studying".
And so, the forge burned on.
One evening, the sky overhead turning shades of ember and violet, Cheng found himself back in the workshop where he had first learned to wield a hammer. His master's space. Quiet. Worn. Honest.
He was tempering a spirit iron sword when his master grunted from across the room, reached under a pile of old cloth, and pulled out a heavy wooden box. With a grunt, he dropped it onto the floor beside Cheng, the thud echoing deep and low.
Cheng blinked. “What is this master?”
His master said nothing. Just pulled the lid off.
Inside was a dense, shimmering chunk of Spirit Iron. Raw, potent, and condensed so tightly that the very air around it bent with subtle waves of Qi. The box, lined with sealing arrays, groaned softly as it strained to keep the metal from expanding.
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No. Those were not sealing arrays. Different. But similar enough for CHeng to understand that part of the array.
This was something entirely new. Perhaps some kind of pressure array, keeping the chunk of metal smaller than its original size. Or even better. Some kind of space array.
But Cheng doubted if such an advanced array would be used for something in the Qi condensation realm.
Regardless, the weight of the box spoke volumes. This was not a casual gift. If it made a Foundation establishment Cultivator, even with an injured cultivation grunt, could he even lift this?
Cheng bowed low and spoke.
"Thank you, master. Disciple feels honored to receive such a gift."
Master Liu scoffed, flicking a hand. “Cut that ceremonial crap boy.”
Cheng straightened slowly, a rare smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.
They didn’t say much more. They never needed to.
When he returned that night, the fire from the forge back in the pit was still burning.
He had returned under the cover of night. There was no way he'd bring such a heavy box back in broad daylight. That was just asking for trouble.
Step by step, he walked back to his cabin, sweating. The box was much heavier than he expected. Without Qi, he couldn't even make it budge.
Cheng had to stop multiple times, leaving the box on the floor, as his arms got tired.
It was the heaviest thing he had ever lifted. Even when compared to that lightning struck tree he had lifted away from the well, years ago, the box was Much, much heavier.
Any more weight, and Cheng doubted he could even lift it in his arms.
He descended slowly, steps pressing on the hardened dirt steps, as the familiar warmth of the forge greeted him.
He placed the box down with a deep breath and started stretching his arms, feeling them sore.
Nonetheless, he would waste no time.
Cheng reached for one of the broken swords he had stacked to the side, its edge long since dulled, its handle missing. But the core? Spirit iron. Still useful.
He slid it into the center of the forge.
The flames moved around the blade, and the Qi within it began to stir as the metal heated up.
Cheng crouched low, fingers held over the sword, the flames licking his hands, enhanced with Qi.
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And so, he began to weave through the metal, loosening its integrity, breaking down the structure into small chunks.
Behind him, a pile of other broken weapons waited. Remnants of past battles and discarded treasures. Some were rusted. Others still carried traces of blood. But it didn’t matter. He would melt them all. Purify them all.
And once that was done. He’d open the box. Most likely, Cheng wouldn't have to do anything to it. The ore should have been pure enough, needing just a bit of heat and work, to turn into the thick walls he wanted.
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