Chapter 1453 - 937: Trial of Steel

Chapter 1453: Chapter 937: Trial of Steel

Within the mine in the Spiritual World.

Mining continues.

As the ore at his feet piled up, nearly filling the cavernous space and making it difficult to find footing, the scene before him underwent another eerie and inconceivable change.

The mountain of ore mysteriously vanished by half, as if wiped away by an invisible giant hand.

In its place was a massive forge abruptly appearing at the center of the mine, its hearth ablaze with bright orange-red flames, exuding scorching heat waves.

The furnace fire danced wildly, its heat waves twisting the surrounding air, emitting a low and ominous roar.

Vane’s face showed no trace of surprise, as if this extraordinary transformation was a logical and inevitable step.

He silently bent over, picked up the cold and rough ores at his feet, piece after piece, with stable and powerful motions, and fed them into the voraciously open maw of the forge.

The intense flames instantly devoured the cold ores in the extreme heat of smelting.

The solid rocks painfully softened, twisted, and melted, finally turning into hot, radiant white metal molten liquid, like liquid stars rolling and boiling violently in the hearth.

Immediately afterward, the entire space seemed to be stretched, twisted, and reshaped by an invisible, immense force.

The deep mine scene disappeared like a faded curtain.

He found himself in a well-equipped blacksmith workshop, with a blazing red furnace and a lively atmosphere.

The large leather bellows rhythmically huffed and puffed heavily, the flames in the hearth burned wildly, producing crackling bangs, and a solid, heavy, black anvil stood firmly at the most conspicuous location in the workshop.

Vane’s gaze sharply swept across and finally landed on the ground next to the anvil—there, firmly inserted, was a massively heavy, black forging hammer, the head displaying an astonishingly cold weight.

He walked over with decisive steps, grasping the cold handle with a firm single hand, and pulled it out effortlessly, feeling the dense, reassuring, and powerful texture.

He skillfully used long-handled tongs to carefully extract a lump of pure, refined, pulsating red-hot metal from the blazing furnace, the metal’s edges subtly twisting the air due to the extreme heat.

He steadily placed it upon the cold, hard, black anvil.

"Clang—!"

The first hammer strike came with a wind-tearing sound, carrying explosive force from his entire body and crashing down fiercely!

Sparks radiated like a bursting golden star rain in all directions!

Illuminating Vane’s focused, determined, sweat-drenched face.

The hot and soft metal underwent rapid transformation and painful expansion under the thunderous hammer blows.

Vane’s mind was wholly and immersively engaged in the primal rhythm of forging filled with power and precision.

Though he had no memory of it, the process flowed as if he had forged countless times before. ℯℯ𝑙.

Each hammer strike landed flawlessly where it was needed, containing sharp, stone-cracking strength.

It was as if the experiences and wisdom of countless generations of great blacksmiths flowed through the smooth, oiled hammer handle into his arm, into his soul.

He "felt" every tiny impurity within the metal being expelled and crushed under the relentless force of the powerful strikes.

"Felt" its internal structure becoming unprecedentedly dense, uniform, resilient, and indomitable under the dual actions of high temperature softening and powerful shaping.

The previously vague "feeling" experienced within the furnace now became extraordinarily clear and profound, etched into every sensory cell.

He focused intensely, wielding the indelible fire of will and the shaping hammer of power to bestow an "immortal" soul form and resilient will onto the chaotic metal.

The powerful, rhythmic hammering resounded ceaselessly, like stirring battle drums on the battlefield.

The red-hot metal block on the anvil, through repeated folding, forging, and tempering, gradually took shape, elongated, and thinned, finally revealing the embryonic form of a sleek, straight-edged longsword with restrained cold brilliance and nascent sharpness.

Then came the hissing, intense, and ear-piercing shriek during quenching as the scalding metal collided with cold liquid, instantaneously producing steaming white mist.

And then the long grinding process, producing sharp and screeching sounds of sand and metal friction...

When the final meticulous process was completed, what Vane held in his hand was no longer a raw ore, but a truly fierce, sharp, smoothly hard-edged longsword, imbued with a spirit of resilience, indomitable will, and unyielding essence.

This longsword appeared so unpretentious and ordinary from the outside.

Yet, in Vane’s view, it was immensely important and profoundly significant, as if it carried the entirety of his current existence.

The sword’s touch was icy, yet seemingly silently retained the inexhaustible heat and immortal soul forged from the depths of the forge.

Holding the longsword he had personally mined, refined in the furnace, and forged into life atop the anvil, Vane slowly turned around.