Gengxin City
The morning sun spilled over Gengxin City, gilding the rooftops with a warm glow. Slowly, the clang of hammers striking molten metal echoed through the streets, blending with the chatter of merchants opening their stalls. This was the rhythm of the city of blacksmiths—steady, strong, and enduring.
Smiles appeared on the faces of civilians and craftsmen alike, though faint traces of unease lingered in their eyes. Months ago, the Spirit Hall branch here had been a source of dread. Bishop Meyers, had been like a tyrant, bleeding the city’s people with greed, cruelty, and the abuse of his authority.
But those dark days were over.
The new bishop, Bishop Robert, was unlike his predecessor. At first, the city had received him with suspicion. Another Spirit Hall envoy, another leech in fine robes. Yet Bishop Robert had acted differently. He offered food and medicine during shortages, and even mediated disputes among blacksmiths unpartially. Slowly, the distrust faded, replaced by cautious gratitude.
Still, the daily joys and worries of commoners had little to do with one man, the Divine Blacksmith himself, Lou Gao.
Lou Gao’s figure emerged from his foundry, his clothes stained with sweat and soot, his face streaked black from long hours at the forge. Yet despite his appearance, Lou Gao’s chest swelled with pride, his laughter booming through the corridors.
“Hahaha! Finally! I’ve succeeded… Spirit Forging! At last, I’ve stepped into the realm of true masters!”
His hands trembled slightly as he stared at the faint golden luster coating the weapon on his worktable. Months failure, and obsession had finally borne fruit.
Just as he revelled in his triumph, a calm, voice drifted through the office, cutting through his laughter like a knife.
“Well then, Master Lou Gao… congratulations.”
Lou Gao froze, his smile vanishing instantly. His office should have been empty. No one dared enter without his permission, let alone sneak in unnoticed.
His instincts roared. With a shout, his martial soul erupted—
The Sacred Moulding Pen materialized in his hand, a two-foot-long quill. Behind him, seven soul rings flared into view: two yellow, three purple, and two black. The colors radiated sharp pressure, proof of his status as a Soul Sage.
His eyes scanned the room, muscles tense. That was when he saw her.
A young girl sat casually in his chair, as though she had owned the office long before his arrival. She looked no more than nine years old. Her golden hair, long and lustrous, cascaded down her waist, framing a face too delicate, too flawless, like a porcelain doll crafted by the hands of gods.
But it was her eyes that struck him motionless. Purple irises, deep and brilliant like twin stars in the night sky, shimmered with a calmness far beyond her years.
A child? No. Lou Gao’s instincts screamed at him. This was no ordinary girl.
Lou Gao’s grip tightened on the Sacred Moulding Pen as his eyes narrowed at the girl before him. Beautiful, delicate, calm, yet something about her presence gnawed at the edge of his instincts. She was far from normal.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice low and wary.
Qian Renxue smiled faintly, her tone carrying a hint of playfulness. “I am the one you’ve been longing to meet these past months.”
Lou Gao’s brows knitted. “What?”
Her gaze drifted downward, settling on the book clenched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had gone white. “Even now, you’re clutching my words as though they were scripture.”
Lou Gao blinked, startled. He lowered his eyes. Indeed, the book—forging theories that had guided him into the threshold of Spirit Forging, was still in his grasp. His heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he raised his gaze to the girl again.
“Impossible…”
The word slipped from his mouth before he could stop it. His martial soul flickered uncertainly before vanishing.
“Why impossible?” Qian Renxue tilted her head, resting her cheeks in her palms, her purple eyes glimmering with amusement.
Lou Gao’s throat went dry. “You’re… just a child. How could these theories—so profound, so intricate—come from you?”
Her lips curved slightly, her voice soft but cutting. “Exactly. Because I am just a child, they remain only theories. If they were perfected truths, I wouldn’t need someone like you to prove them.”
The room fell into silence. Lou Gao’s heart thudded in his chest. He wanted to deny her words, to laugh at the absurdity. Yet… every subtle movement of hers carried calm certainty, as though she were merely stating facts, not asking for belief.
“…Let’s say,” he began slowly, forcing composure back into his tone, “that I accept you are the author of this book. What do you want from me?”
Qian Renxue smile deepened, and from within her sleeve, she produced a thin booklet bound in simple leather. She placed it on the table, letting the light catch on its surface.
“How about… the second part?”
Lou Gao’s pupils constricted. His breath hitched as he stared at the booklet like a starving man at a feast. His hand shot out instinctively, but just as his fingers brushed the edge, the girl’s delicate hand snatched it back with effortless speed.
The fire in Lou Gao’s eyes betrayed him. Desire, pure and unrestrained, burned across his face.
The girl leaned back, waving her hand lazily.
“Careful, Master Lou Gao, if anyone were to see that expression, your venerable reputation would tumble straight into the gutter.”
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