108: Chapter 109 Nail Bones

Wu Fu's claws hovered half an inch above the dilapidated carriage frame, hesitating to descend.

It wasn't that she didn't want to, but the voice that suddenly emerged from within the carriage frame scraped past her ear bones like a rusty copper file—

"Retract your claws."

The voice was dry, raspy, and broken, carrying a sense of disdain that seemed to seep from the marrow of its bones: "You reek of grey shells and nest pulp, and your hands are covered in spore ash. If you touch the old axle with hands like those, the three teeth of the axle core will rot."

Wu Fu's expression darkened instantly: "I haven't even touched it yet!"

"You wanted to." A faint cough came from deep within the old carriage frame, sounding like copper filings stuck in a throat, "Even wanting to touch it counts as dirty."

Qiao Ye was stunned, then his mouth twitched: "That mouth… is even sharper than Instructor Han Tiecheng's."

Instructor Han Tiecheng's iron fire order flared outside the door, its fire patterns cold and sharp: "Don't put me in the same category as a piece of broken carriage frame."

"Broken carriage frame?" The voice immediately snapped back, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, "Of the thirty-seven axle repairs on the section of Lock Bridge you're standing on, twenty-nine relied on my 'broken carriage frame' to hoist materials. Half the life under your feet is hanging on my wheel groove, and now you're acting all high and mighty with your Military Court airs?"

Instructor Han Tiecheng fell silent for a breath.

Qiao Ye lowered his head, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, not daring to make a sound.

Lu Jin stepped forward, his palm pressing black fire against the edge of the workstation, the firelight seeping into the cracks of the broken axle: "Nail Bone?"

It was quiet inside the old carriage frame for half a breath.

Then, a speck of grey-copper fire ignited from deep within the broken axle. The flame was weak, as faint as a spark rubbed off the head of an old nail, but the moment it lit up, a dozen ledger boards beneath the well wall emitted a subtle sound. The name Nail Bone—the repairer, the axle inspector, the rejection notes, the old workstation—all traces converged toward that speck of grey-copper fire, like subjects bowing before a king.

The Black-Armored Recorder immediately raised his brush.

Instructor Han Tiecheng said in a low voice: "Record it."

The brush tip scratched across the paper, rustling: "The remnant soul of an old craftsman from the Ding Gu Workshop has awakened, attached to the broken axle of an old carriage frame. Capable of reading Royal Court engineering standards, Lock Bridge axle tracks, and old carriage frame regulations. Temporarily listed as a living archive of an old craftsman." He paused, looking at Instructor Han Tiecheng, "Shall I first mark it as a core level original-embryo craftsman?"

Nail Bone's spark jumped violently, as if its tail had been stepped on: "Who's grading me?"

Instructor Han Tiecheng sneered: "Military Court records."

"The Military Court? Does the Military Court understand axles?" Nail Bone's voice was even more disdainful, "Back when your Military Court came for supplementary marking, you managed to nail the fire boot sole plates on backward. If the lower workshop hadn't ground them back for you, you would've fallen into the well in three steps, and the whole army would have been wiped out."

Qiao Ye finally couldn't help it and snorted: "This old man insults everyone."

Wu Fu's face was cold as she slowly retracted her claws: "He called me dirty."

Grey Pupil watched the spark inside the broken axle, his cane leaning slightly forward: "He is severely damaged."

Nail Bone immediately turned toward him, as if sniffing out something off about his fire: "Don't press the Sacrificial Fire so straight. Your fire is suitable for suppressing sacrificial altars, corpse ash, and sealing samples. Axles need indirect fire; they need to be baked, circled, and allowed to let the old copper spit out the ash. You suppress it with rigid fire, and the old axle will suffocate. Once it suffocates, it's as good as dead."

Grey Pupil was silent for a breath, his cane shifting half an inch, and the Sacrificial Fire tilted accordingly.

The grey-copper fire inside the broken axle stabilized slightly, as if it had caught its breath.

Nail Bone huffed: "At least you can listen to reason."

Wu Fu immediately retorted: "Since when is he a person?"

Grey Pupil's eyelids twitched slightly.

Wu Fu gritted her teeth and added: "A rat."

"Even a rat is better at touching axles than you." Nail Bone sneered.

The tip of Wu Fu's tail bristled, and her claws nearly raked directly across the carriage frame.

Lu Jin spoke before she could start cursing. His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone dropped into boiling water, silencing everyone: "What do you want?"

Nail Bone fell silent.

The grey-copper fire in the broken axle slowly turned toward Lu Jin, as if sizing him up, or perhaps scrutinizing him: "Are you the god of this new nest?"

"Lu Jin."

"Surname Lu?" Nail Bone's spark shrank, as if scalded, "That kid Lu Zhaoheng..."

Lu Jin's gaze paused: "Who is Lu Zhaoheng?"

Nail Bone immediately shut up.

In the workstation on the well wall, only the whistling sound of the Grey Fire Well wind blowing through the bones remained, wailing and sobbing like someone crying from far away. After two breaths, he stiffly changed the subject: "Ask about the axle."

Lu Jin didn't press him; he knew it wasn't the time: "How do I repair the Lock Bridge axle core?"

"It can't be repaired." Nail Bone answered quickly.

Qiao Ye frowned: "Didn't you just insult us for not knowing how to repair it?"

"Your hands right now can't repair it." Nail Bone's voice was full of disdain, yet carried an impatient frustration, as if he were disappointed that they weren't living up to expectations, "There is a return axle under the seventh tooth of the bridge belly, and the return axle connects to the old tracks of the lower workshop. The broken groove is just an external injury, a surface wound. The real sickness is in the axle core, which has been gnawed crooked by the well wind by half a tooth. Those few strikes you just nailed only saved the skin; the bone inside is still crooked. As long as it's crooked, it can't carry people, can't carry carriages, and certainly can't carry war."

Wen Zhao immediately looked at the fire line box, his face turning slightly pale: "I only nailed to the edge of the broken groove."

"That's why you only saved the skin," Nail Bone said, "The skin is saved passably, but the bone inside is still crooked. If the well wind hits it twice more, you'll have to retreat again."

Qiao Ye slammed his shield against the bridge surface, kicking up a layer of dust: "Tell us the repair method. How do we do it?"

Nail Bone's fire flickered, as if glancing at him sideways: "What's the rush? Even when forging iron, you have to look at the material first. If the material is wrong, no matter how good the method is, it's just filling the well."

Lu Jin raised his hand, and several items floated up from the Frontline Fire Platform, suspended in mid-air.

Half a Ding Gu Workshop nameplate, its edges pitted and uneven. Three cracked old nails, their tails burnt brittle. A scorched fire-stealing sheet from a Night Wing, its wingtips charred black. Fragments of grey glue scraped from Qiao Ye's shield surface, still containing stone debris from the bridge cracks. Grey-copper industrial wire cut from a Worker Nest Egg Tray, its fire patterns dim. And that ledger board rubbing reading, "West Lower Layer Supplementary Marker Team, team leader surnamed Lu, fire boots repaired once."

These were all damaged. Some cracked, some charred, some only half-remnants. Yet, they were all things fought for, guarded, and discovered over these few chapters, carrying the scent of blood and fire.

Nail Bone's grey-copper fire inched closer, like an old beast sniffing a prey's wounds.

He looked at the nameplate first: "You dare to use half a plate as a key? Commendable courage, but bubbling over with stupidity."

Then he looked at the old nails: "The nail tails are burnt through. Who used these?"

Wen Zhao raised his hand: "Me."

"Hands are thin, timid, the nailing technique is passable, but the heat management is lacking," Nail Bone scolded mercilessly, "In the future, don't try to force a Line-Marking Nail to act as a bridge nail. If you're worried about the nails, write less nonsense and practice your grip strength more."

Wen Zhao's mouth twitched, as if he wanted to smile but held it back: "Noted."

Nail Bone then looked at the Night Wing fire-stealing sheet: "Wing bone fire is light; it's good for stealing seal patterns, but poor for hauling carriages. Don't stuff it into the axle; it's a waste of burning if you do."

Wu Fu said coldly: "I wasn't planning to stuff it."

"Your eyes looked like you wanted to."

"..."

A nearly imperceptible hint of a smile appeared in Grey Pupil's eyes.

Nail Bone finally looked at the grey-copper industrial wire, the firelight pausing for half a breath: "Who spun this wire?"

Wu Fu lifted her chin with a touch of arrogance: "From my Worker Nest Egg Tray."

"Coarse."

Wu Fu's expression darkened again.

Nail Bone continued: "But it's usable."

The breath Wu Fu had been holding was stuck in her throat, uncomfortable in every way; she wanted to curse but couldn't find the words.

Nail Bone ignored her and turned the grey-copper fire toward the Old Rat-folk workstations below the well wall: "Where are the Rat-folk?"

Beneath the Grey Stele Post, The Old Craftsman of the Old Rat-folk, along with several other craftsmen, was already kneeling by the fire net, their heads bowed low. Hearing this, The Old Craftsman raised his head, his cloudy eyes reflecting that speck of grey-copper fire: "Here."

"Show me your hands."

The Old Craftsman extended his hands into the light of the fire net. Those hands were thin, the knuckles grotesquely deformed, the claw tips covered in thick, old calluses, and the palms marked with black stains from long-term copper nail hammering, like two sections of old tree roots scorched by fire and polished repeatedly.

Nail Bone watched for a long time, the firelight flickering slightly: "Three generations haven't touched a proper axle."

The Old Craftsman lowered his head, his voice raspy: "It was broken."

"Who gave you permission to break it?" Nail Bone scolded softly; it didn't sound like an insult, but rather an interrogation.

The Old Craftsman's eyes reddened, and his claws trembled slightly: "There was no one left to teach us."

Nail Bone's spark sank, as if struck hard by something. After a long while, he said hoarsely: "Nonsense. If there's no one to teach you, practice on scrap axles. Break ten, and your hands should remember one. With the hands you have now, you haven't even touched a scrap axle a few times, have you?"

The Old Craftsman lowered his head even further: "Yes."

Lu Jin watched this scene without interrupting. Nail Bone's mouth was harsh, but after seeing The Old Craftsman's hands, his fire stopped jumping wildly, and the biting, aggressive sting in his scolding diminished. This workshop still existed, the ledger boards were still there, and though the old craft was severed, it hadn't died out completely; it was like a spark buried in the embers.

Nail Bone suddenly asked: "You want me to hand over the workshop?"

Lu Jin said: "Repair the bridge first."

Nail Bone snorted coldly: "Easy for you to say. When new gods get an old workshop, the first thing they say is 'repair the bridge first,' and the second thing they do is start dismantling materials. Once the materials are stripped, they push the craftsmen into the well wind—clean and efficient."

Wu Fu flicked her tail: "You have to look at the ledgers before dismantling materials."

Nail Bone immediately scolded her: "Nest mothers like you are the best at turning 'looking at the ledgers' into 'take it back to nurture it first,' only to end up nurturing everything into your own nest."

Wu Fu pressed a claw against the Worker Nest Egg Tray, her claws digging into the surface with a screech: "I want to dismantle you right now."

Grey Pupil's cane pressed in front of her claws: "He is still useful."

"I know!" Wu Fu's eyes were bright with anger, the tip of her tail taut as a straight line.

Lu Jin raised his hand, and black fire drew a line between everyone, suppressing all the agitation: "The workshop ledgers aren't for me to change. You inspect the axles, you record the materials, you write the repair methods. I will provide you with fire lines, Work Rats, old materials, and combat duty records. Repair one section of the bridge, and the ledgers for that section remain. You don't have to operate the workshop—but if the bridge collapses, your ledger boards, carriage frames, and old workstations will all fall into the well wind, and not even the ash will be left."

Nail Bone was silent.

Deep in the outer ring of the Grey Fire Well, a gust of well wind swept up along the bottom of the Lock Bridge, emitting a wailing scream. The break that had just stabilized trembled slightly again, like a dying person taking one final breath.

Wen Zhao looked at the old nails, the firelight at the nail tails swaying: "The bridge line is loosening."

Qiao Ye wedged his shield foot back into the bridge gap, white ash from his shoulder armor falling in a flurry: "I can still hold it."

Nail Bone cursed, his firelight suddenly exploding with brightness: "Hold what? The axle core is crooked! You could hold it until your shoulders shatter and your knees rot, and it would just be grinding the bridge for the well wind! In the end, the bridge collapses, people die, and even your bones will be filled into the broken groove as stepping stones!"

Qiao Ye held his breath in his chest, his face turning bright red: "Then you tell us! How do we do it!"

Nail Bone's firelight swept over everyone, like a ruler measuring each person, and then he cursed in one breath:

"The Old Craftsman, take three steady-handed ones and enter the lower workshop along the industrial wire!"

"Worker Nest Egg Tray, spit out the grey-copper industrial wire, half the thickness! Don't use your coarse thread to stuff my return axle; if you stuff it in and it jams, don't blame me for not warning you!"

"Sacrificial Fire, bake it at an angle, change position every three breaths, let the axle catch its breath, don't suffocate it!"

"Shield-bearer, press the seventh tooth of the bridge surface, don't kneel dead; leave half an inch to let the axle recover its breath. If you kneel dead, you become part of the bridge!"

"Line-marker, move the nail back one notch. Your nail pressure is too far forward; once the well wind bites, the axle core will tense up, and if it snaps, it's all over!"

He finished cursing in one breath, his firelight burning intensely, as if venting years of accumulated resentment.

Everyone moved.

The Old Craftsman of the Old Rat-folk led three craftsmen through the fire net and entered the lower workshop of the well wall along the industrial wire. The three craftsmen lay on the inverted workstations; one stabilized the lamp, one fed the wire, and one passed the nails. The Old Craftsman himself held an old, short hammer; the handle was already cracked, but when he gripped it, his hand did not tremble. His knuckles were white, but he was as steady as a rock.

Wu Fu gritted her teeth, compressing the middle layer of the Worker Nest Egg Tray. The original grey-copper industrial wire was as thick as a little finger, but she forced it down to half that size. As the wire thinned, fine cracks immediately appeared on the edge of the egg tray, like a mouth tearing open. Wu Fu's face turned blue: "This wire is going to snap!"

Nail Bone immediately said: "If it snaps, reconnect it; if it's coarse, it jams the axle. You choose."

Wu Fu glared at the fire inside the carriage frame, her claws clenched tightly: "I'm putting this on your tab!"

"Put it on the tab, write it big, preferably carve it onto your nest beam."

Grey Pupil's Sacrificial Fire also changed. Originally, the Sacrificial Fire pressed down from above, like covering a coffin lid, but now, as Nail Bone instructed, it baked diagonally along the bridge belly, like applying a warm poultice to a wound. Once the Sacrificial Fire was tilted, the black ash that had accumulated for many years in the broken groove at the bottom of the bridge began to spit out, in wisps and threads, carrying the scent of aged, fishy rust.

Nail Bone scolded: "See that? The axle is breathing. Just now, when you pressed down, it couldn't even spit out the ash, stifled inside, waiting to die."

Grey Pupil watched that layer of black ash and said calmly: "Understood."

"A priest willing to admit a mistake—rare." Nail Bone huffed.

Grey Pupil ignored him, his cane tilted slightly, the Sacrificial Fire maintaining that angle, like an umbrella that was tilted but perfectly positioned.

Wen Zhao moved the old nail back one notch. As soon as the old nail retreated, the bridge line loosened, and Qiao Ye's feet sank, nearly causing him to tumble forward.

Nail Bone roared: "Don't pull out the shield foot!"

Qiao Ye gritted his teeth and held it, the shield foot scraping a harsh, sharp sound against the bridge gap: "I didn't pull it out!"

"Lift your right knee half an inch!"

"Lifted!"

"Too much! Do you think your long legs are worth a fortune? Lifting half an inch is to let the axle catch its breath, not for you to jump into the well!"

The veins on Qiao Ye's temples throbbed, and he held his breath, pressing his right knee back down a little.

Half an inch.

The bridge surface suddenly stabilized.

Like a wild horse that had been kicking around, suddenly reined in.

The Old Craftsman of the Old Rat-folk also reached the return axle port. Nail Bone's voice lowered, as if afraid to startle something: "The third tooth, don't hit the front, hit the back. The front is skin, the back is bone. Striking the bone wakes the axle."

The Old Craftsman did as instructed.

Clang.

The sound was very light, like a pebble falling into a deep well.

But the entire Lock Bridge resonated in response, and a deep, low hum came from deep within the bridge belly, like something that had been sleeping for many years was knocked awake and let out a yawn.

The fine industrial wire Wu Fu fed in followed the echo and drilled into the axle core, Grey Pupil baked with the angled fire, Wen Zhao's old nail pressed down the bridge line from the rear, Qiao Ye's shield foot was wedged firmly into the seventh tooth, and Lu Jin sank the half-gate anchor down an inch. The black fire did not suppress the axle, but only held the return line between the workshop ledger board and the Lock Bridge.

He was not repairing it for Nail Bone. He was preserving the path between the workshop and the bridge for Nail Bone.

Just as the second hammer was about to fall, the well wind at the bottom of the bridge suddenly changed.

It changed from a shrill sound to a muffled one, like a beast having its mouth covered.

Nail Bone's firelight tightened: "Don't stop! Continue!"

The Old Craftsman's third hammer fell.

Clang!

In the broken axle, that speck of grey-copper fire suddenly flared up, blindingly bright. The wheel groove of the old carriage frame turned half a circle on its own, emitting a clicking sound of engagement, as if a dislocated joint had been forcibly reset. Above the break in the Lock Bridge, the crack that had been trembling all this time slowly closed by a segment the size of a fingernail.

Very small.

But this time, after it closed, it didn't crack open again.

Wen Zhao stared at the fire line box, his voice tight: "The bridge line... has vibrated back."

Qiao Ye's shoulders relaxed, and he nearly sat directly on the bridge surface, panting like a bellows: "Did it work?"

Nail Bone's firelight, however, suddenly dimmed, as if he had exhausted all his strength. His voice carried an indescribable exhaustion and irritability: "Worked my ass. The skin is closed, but the bone is still crooked. If the well wind hits again, you'll have to hold it back for me."

He paused, his firelight sweeping over everyone, finally stopping on Lu Jin's face.

"You with the surname Lu, this was only the first hammer."

"There are six more hammers to go. If you can't hold it, the bridge will still collapse."