6: Chapter 6 Talk at the Blacksmith's Forge

The footsteps were extremely light, blending into the wailing of the wind and snow, almost impossible to hear.

But Lu Zhao heard them.

He sat on the edge of the kang, lifting his gaze from the Formation Plate fragments glowing with a dark red, blood-like light, and looked toward the door. The flame of the oil lamp flickered slightly, casting swaying shadows on the wall.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

There was no knocking, no sound of breathing, only a silence that felt almost frozen.

Lu Zhao pressed his left hand lightly against the edge of the kang, while his right hand quietly reached under his pillow—there lay a prototype of a short blade that Zhong Tiegu had brought over that afternoon. It was unsharpened, but heavy and hard enough.

The person outside seemed to be hesitating.

Three breaths.

Five breaths.

Lu Zhao slowly stood up, the short blade gripped in his palm. Barefoot, he stepped onto the ground, moved silently to the side of the door, pressed his back against the earthen wall, and held his breath.

"Creak—"

The door was pushed open a crack. Cold wind rushed in, causing the oil lamp's flame to dip sharply, almost extinguishing.

A small, thin figure darted in.

Lu Zhao flipped his wrist, the short blade slashing horizontally, its edge stopping right at the intruder's throat. Yet, before it touched the skin, he stopped it abruptly.

It was a child.

A-Fei.

His small face was blue from the cold, his lips trembling, his eyes wide open, and his Adam's apple moved slightly under the blade's edge. In his hand, he still clutched half a coarse flour cake, dusted with snow.

"Sir... Sir," A-Fei's voice trembled. "It's me."

Lu Zhao withdrew the blade and took a step back. The oil lamp brightened again, illuminating A-Fei's shaken face.

"Why come at this hour?" Lu Zhao asked, his voice lowered.

A-Fei swallowed hard, tucked the cake into his tunic, and pulled out a roll of something from inside. It was a piece of tattered leather, crudely tanned, with rough edges.

"Master Wen asked me to bring this." A-Fei handed over the leather roll. "He said you might find the diagram on this useful."

Lu Zhao took it and unfolded it by the lamplight. A rough diagram was sketched on the leather with charcoal; the lines were messy, but one could make out the structure of some kind of mechanism—a bow body, string groove, trigger, and arrow track.

"This is..."

"A repeating crossbow," A-Fei whispered. "Master Wen said he saw a partial diagram in the county library when he was young and drew this from memory. It can fire three bolts at once and can pierce leather armor within thirty paces."

Lu Zhao studied the diagram carefully. The structure was crude, with many details missing, but the general framework was there. If there was a skilled craftsman, it might be worth a try.

"Master Wen also said," A-Fei added, "this crossbow can be made with ordinary iron; it doesn't waste Materials. But the string requires ox tendon, which we don't have in the village."

Lu Zhao nodded. Ox tendon was hard to come by; the bowstrings used by hunters were mostly oil-soaked hemp rope, which lacked the necessary strength.

"Understood." He rolled up the leather. "Go back and tell Master Wen that I've received the diagram. Tell him to get some rest; there's work to do tomorrow."

A-Fei acknowledged, but didn't move. He glanced at the fragments on the kang glowing with blood-red light, his eyes fearful.

"Sir, what is that?"

"Old things." Lu Zhao put the fragments away. "Go back now."

A-Fei murmured an 'oh,' turned to leave, then looked back.

"Sir."

"Hmm?"

"Will the Funiu Gang... really come?"

Lu Zhao was silent for a moment.

"They will."

A-Fei bit his lip. "Then can we beat them?"

"Even if we can't, we have to fight," Lu Zhao said. "Go back to sleep."

A-Fei lowered his head and silently pushed the door open to leave. The sound of wind and snow rushed in and then was cut off.

Lu Zhao sat down again and spread out the leather roll to study it. A repeating crossbow was indeed a Sharp Weapon. But making it would take time, and ox tendon was hard to find; distant water could not quench a near thirst.

His gaze returned to the fragments. The blood-red glow had faded, but the patterns remained clear under the lamplight. When A-Fei had burst in earlier, the strange activity of the fragments had stopped abruptly, as if they had a spirit of their own.

Old Mo said this was "something others don't have."

Perhaps it really was.

He put away the fragments and the leather roll, blew out the oil lamp, and lay down fully clothed. Outside the window, the wind howled mournfully, like the wailing of countless ghosts.

That night, no one in Yangjiao Ravine could sleep; it was a sleepless night.

Before dawn, the fire in the blacksmith's forge was already roaring.

Zhong Tiegu had not slept all night. His eye sockets were deep, and his eyes were bloodshot, but his hands never stopped moving. Three short blades lay on the anvil, sharpened and polished, their edges glinting with a cold, piercing light.

When Lu Zhao pushed the door open, he was wrapping the hilt of the last blade with ox-hide cord. The cord had been soaked in tung oil, making it tough and slip-resistant; he wrapped it tightly, coil by coil, and tucked the knot into the groove of the grip at the end.

"Done." Zhong Tiegu held up the short blade and inspected it against the forge light. "Three of them, fast and sharp enough."

Lu Zhao took one. The blade was one foot and two inches long, two fingers wide, with a spine three fen thick. The hilt was wrapped densely, providing a solid grip. He slashed through the air, the sound of the blade cutting the wind sharp.

"It will suffice," he said.

Zhong Tiegu shook his head. "Not enough. Liu Three-Knives' blade is a hundred-refined sword mixed with cold iron. These three are just folded ordinary iron; in a head-on clash, the edges will chip."

Lu Zhao certainly knew that. But for now, having something was better than nothing.

"What about the bow?" he asked.

Zhong Tiegu picked up a longbow from the corner. The bow body was made of mulberry wood, carved evenly, with ox horn plates embedded at both ends, and the string was oil-soaked hemp rope.

"For He Shan to use." Zhong Tiegu tested the string. "It can pierce leather armor within fifty paces. But there are only twelve arrows, all with iron arrowheads."

"That's enough." Lu Zhao put down the short blade. "Can you forge any more today?"

Zhong Tiegu smiled bitterly. "The charcoal is almost gone. The remaining charcoal is only enough to forge two more short blades, or we could switch to making spearheads."

"Spearheads?"

"Yes." Zhong Tiegu squatted down and drew a rough diagram on the ground with a piece of charcoal. "Spearheads are simple and use little material. We have wooden poles in the village; if we sharpen them and attach the spearheads, we can hold off horses within three zhang."

Lu Zhao looked at the diagram on the ground. The spearhead was willow-leaf shaped, with a blood groove and a socket at the tail to fit onto a wooden pole.

"Forge spearheads," he said. "How many can you make?"

"If there's enough material, seven or eight," Zhong Tiegu estimated. "But someone needs to carve the poles, attach them, and we need to train—people who haven't trained with spears easily hurt their own side."

"I will teach them," Lu Zhao said. "You just focus on forging the spearheads."

Zhong Tiegu nodded heavily and turned to add charcoal to the furnace.

Lu Zhao walked to the corner of the shop, where some scrap iron was piled—broken hoes, ruined sickles, and rusted pot shards. He picked out a few thick pieces and threw them into the furnace.

"These can be remelted," he said. "Although there are many Impurities, if we forge them hard enough, they can still be used."

Zhong Tiegu looked at the scrap iron, his eyes flickering.

"Little brother," he suddenly spoke up. "Have you forged iron before?"

"I haven't," Lu Zhao answered truthfully. "But I have seen it done."

"Where did you see it?"

Lu Zhao was silent. He couldn't very well say in books or in dreams.

"Far away," he said vaguely.

Zhong Tiegu didn't ask further. He stared intently at the furnace fire, waiting for the iron to turn red.

Both men stopped talking. The only sounds in the shop were the whooshing of the bellows, the crackling of the furnace fire, and the clanging of the hammer.

As the sky grew lighter, He Shan pushed the door open and entered. He was covered in cold air, the snow on his shoulders not yet melted.

"The cave in the back mountain is ready." He rubbed his hands to warm them by the fire. "Food, water, and bedding have all been moved in; it's enough to last five days."

"Is the entrance hidden?"

"Hidden," He Shan said. "The entrance is covered by vines, and there are many side paths inside; those unfamiliar with it will easily get lost. I asked Qin Wan to take a few women to stay there and look after things, and Tian Dali is guarding the entrance."

Lu Zhao nodded. "What about the villagers?"

"They've all been notified." He Shan's expression was grave. "But some people are unwilling to leave."

"Who?"

"Old Sun, Widow Li, and also..." He Shan paused. "Old Mo."

Lu Zhao frowned. Old Sun had trouble with his legs, Widow Li had a three-year-old child, and Old Mo was the oldest. Staying behind put these people in the greatest danger.

"I'll go talk to them." He put down the short blade and was about to head out.

He Shan stopped him. "It's no use. Old Sun says he'd rather die at home, Widow Li is afraid the child will freeze, and Old Mo wouldn't even open the door."

Lu Zhao was silent. In chaotic times, everyone has their own obsessions.

"Then prepare more traps." He said. "At the village entrance, in front and behind the houses, set them up wherever possible."

He Shan nodded. "Yan Meng is handling it; he knows this stuff. Tripwires, pits, bamboo spikes—everything we can think of is being prepared."

As they were talking, footsteps were heard outside the shop. Master Wen walked in, holding a few newly drawn diagrams.

"Mr. Lu." He handed over the drawings. "I thought about it again last night; the repeating crossbow could perhaps be simplified. Instead of ox tendon, we can use stacked bamboo strips for the bow body. Although it will be weaker, it should still be lethal within twenty paces."

Lu Zhao took them and studied them closely. The crossbow on the diagram was even cruder; the bow body used three bamboo strips stacked together, bound tight with hemp rope, and the trigger was whittled from hard wood.

"Can it be built?"

"Yes," Master Wen said. "But it takes time. One crossbow will take at least half a day."

"Build them," Lu Zhao said decisively. "Make as many as you can. What about arrows?"

"Arrows are easy to handle." Zhong Tiegu interjected. "Whittle bamboo into arrows and harden the tips by tempering them. Although not as good as iron arrowheads, they'll still hurt when they pierce someone."

"Then build them." Lu Zhao looked at Master Wen. "How many people do you need?"

"Two," Master Wen said. "One to carve the bamboo strips, one to bind and assemble. A-Fei is nimble-handed and can help."

"I'll leave A-Fei to you." Lu Zhao then looked at He Shan. "Brother He, take two men and go cut some bamboo. Use old bamboo; it's tough."

He Shan agreed and hurried off.

Master Wen also took the diagrams and went to find A-Fei.

Only Lu Zhao and Zhong Tiegu were left in the shop again.

The iron in the furnace had burned to a glowing red. Zhong Tiegu clamped it out, placed it on the anvil, and swung the hammer to begin forging.

Lu Zhao walked to his side, watching the iron piece deform, stretch, and gradually take shape under the hammer.

"Brother Zhong." He suddenly spoke up. "If... I mean if, there were a weapon that didn't require iron, didn't require a bow, could be obtained easily, yet had significant power, what do you think it would be?"

Zhong Tiegu stopped hammering and wiped off his sweat.

"A stone?" he guessed.

"A stone is too clumsy."

"A wooden club?"

"A wooden club is too brittle."

Zhong Tiegu thought for a moment. "Then a fishing net?"

Lu Zhao shook his head.

Zhong Tiegu put down the hammer and looked at him seriously. "Little brother, what exactly are you trying to say?"

Lu Zhao squatted down, picked up a piece of charcoal, and started drawing on the ground.

He drew a long strip, thick at one end and thin at the other. The thick end was forked like a swallow's tail. The thin end was sharp.

"What is this?" Zhong Tiegu leaned in to look.

"A Jian," Lu Zhao said. "Or rather, a Bian. Four-sided, without an edge, primarily used for smashing, sweeping, and thrusting. It relies on force rather than sharpness, specifically for breaking armor."

Zhong Tiegu stared at the diagram, his eyes gradually brightening.

"This can be forged with wrought iron, or even iron-wrapped hardwood would work!" He grew excited. "It doesn't need to be sharp, just heavy. It's easier for ordinary people to use than swords or sabers!"

"Exactly." Lu Zhao nodded. "And the Materials are easy to find. We have hardwood in the village, and for the iron sheets, we can remelt scrap iron, forge it into thin plates, and wrap them around the wooden core. It saves material and provides weight."

Zhong Tiegu slapped his thigh. "I'll try it right now!"

He turned to rummage for Materials. In the corner of the shop were a few old wagon axles, made of hard, miscellaneous wood; though old, they hadn't rotted. He also picked out a few thin iron sheets from the scrap pile and threw them into the furnace to heat.

Lu Zhao helped him cut the wagon axles into four-foot sections, shaved off the bark, and trimmed them into shape. The wooden rods were four-sided prisms, slightly thinner at the grip to make them easier to hold.

After the iron sheet was heated until red, Zhong Tiegu hammered it into a thin sheet, wrapped it around the front two-thirds of the wooden stick while it was still hot, and secured it with iron nails. Once cooled, the iron and wood were fused together, feeling heavy and substantial.

He gripped the staff to test it, and it whistled as he swung it through the air.

"Good!" Zhong Tiegu grinned. "This thing, if it hits someone in the head, it's guaranteed to crack it open!"

Lu Zhao also gave it a try. The staff weighed about seven or eight catties; it would be difficult for an ordinary person to swing, but for someone who had practiced martial arts, it was undeniably powerful.

"Make a few more," he said. "Mix the lengths. Use the long ones to keep enemies at bay, and the short ones for close combat."

Full of enthusiasm, Zhong Tiegu cut a few more wooden sticks and began wrapping them in iron.

Lu Zhao continued to ponder. Maces, whips, and staffs all belonged to the category of heavy weapons, suitable for those with strength. But there were the elderly, the weak, women, and children in the village; they needed lighter, safer weapons.

He recalled Wen Qian's repeating crossbow, and then thought of those Formation Plate fragments.

If he could integrate the power of a Formation into ordinary weapons...

He shook his head. There was no time or conditions for that right now.

He had to solve the immediate problem of survival first.

At noon, He Shan returned carrying a bundle of bamboo. It was old bamboo, the green skin turning yellow, and it was uniform in thickness.

Wen Qian and A-Fei were already waiting. The three of them started working in the open space outside the blacksmith shop, whittling bamboo strips, heating them to bend and set their shape, and then tying and assembling them.

A-Fei was indeed skillful with his hands. The bamboo strips he whittled were of uniform thickness with smooth edges, and the knots he tied during assembly were both fast and secure.

By evening, they had managed to make two simple bamboo crossbows.

The crossbow bodies were rough, but the structure was complete. Wen Qian test-fired an arrow; it flew out and nailed into a tree trunk twenty paces away, embedding itself half an inch deep.

"It's done." Wen Qian let out a sigh of relief.

He Shan also tried it and nodded. "It's good enough. Most of the Funiu Gang bandits wear leather armor, and these arrows will pierce through."

However, Lu Zhao noticed another problem.

"Arrow consumption," he said. "Bamboo arrows are easily damaged; after one battle, we might run out."

"So we must use them sparingly," He Shan said. "Wait until the enemies are close before firing, and ensure every arrow hits its mark."

Just as they were speaking, Yan Meng walked over from the direction of the village entrance. He was covered in mud and snow, his face showing fatigue, but his eyes were sharp.

"The traps are all set," he reported. "There are three tripwires at the village entrance, hung with copper bells. Behind the houses, we dug pits filled with bamboo spikes and covered them with loose soil. In the main paths of the village, we scattered caltrops—dismantled from old horseshoes; they are rusty, but they will still pierce feet."

"Good," Lu Zhao asked. "How is the evacuation going?"

"Most have already entered the cave," Yan Meng said. "Old Sun and Widow Li still refuse to leave. There is no movement in Old Mo's house, but the chimney is smoking, so he should still be there."

Lu Zhao pondered. A forced melon is not sweet; he could only let them be.

"Who is keeping watch tonight?"

"He Shan and I," Yan Meng said. "Zhong Tiegu needs to forge iron, Master Wen needs to make crossbows, and you need to rest and recharge."

Lu Zhao nodded. He indeed needed time to study those Formation Plate fragments and digest the first volume of the Nine Yang Divine Skill.

The sky gradually darkened.

The fire in the blacksmith shop had not gone out. Zhong Tiegu was still hammering spearheads and had already finished five. Wen Qian and A-Fei had made a third bamboo crossbow. He Shan and Yan Meng took turns eating, then went to the village entrance to stand guard.

Lu Zhao returned to his room, lit an oil lamp, and took out the fragments again.

This time, he did not rashly channel his True Qi into them. Instead, he pieced the fragments together on the kang according to his memory, arranging them into that incomplete circular shape.

Then, he closed his eyes, centering his heart and calming his Qi.

The purple Qi in his Dantian flowed slowly, circulating through the Ren and Du meridians. This was the basic cultivation method of the Nine Yang Divine Skill, which he had practiced to proficiency over these past few days.

After circulating his True Qi nine times, he opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on the fragments.

The patterns remained dim.

But when he focused his attention completely, the patterns seemed to twist slightly in his vision, as if he were looking at something through rippling water.

He extended his right index finger, hovering it one inch above the fragments. He concentrated his True Qi at his fingertip, holding it without releasing it.

Then, relying on his memory, he slowly traced the patterns in the void, following their trajectory.

The first stroke, the second stroke...

Although his fingertip did not touch the fragments, a trace of True Qi overflowed, seemingly creating a resonance with them. Extremely faint ripples spread through the air, like a spring breeze ruffling the surface of a pond.

When he traced the seventh stroke in the void, the fragments on the kang all vibrated in unison!

It was not a blood-red light, but a faint golden glow, seeping out from the depths of the patterns like the first light of dawn. The light was weak, but it was real and undeniable.

What shocked Lu Zhao even more was that as the light brightened, he felt the surrounding Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi beginning to slowly converge toward the fragments!

Although the speed was extremely slow and the amount was very small, it was undeniably converging.

Could this broken Formation Plate actually absorb Spiritual Qi automatically?

He held his breath and continued tracing in the void. The eighth stroke, the ninth stroke...

The light grew stronger. The gaps between the fragments seemed to be connected by invisible lines, forming an incomplete but functional energy circuit.

Just at this moment, rapid footsteps came from outside the door.

"Mr. Lu!"

It was Qin Wan's voice, filled with panic.

Lu Zhao immediately stopped. The light from the fragments vanished instantly, and they returned to their original state.

He got up and opened the door. Qin Wan was standing outside, her face pale, clutching a piece of cloth in her hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Over at the cave," Qin Wan panted, "Tian Dali discovered something inside."

"What kind of thing?"

"I don't know." Qin Wan shook her head. "He said there is wind deep in the cave and he can hear the sound of dripping water. But that has never happened before."

Lu Zhao frowned. The cave behind the mountain was the old place where the villagers hid from bandits; they should be familiar with the situation inside.

"I'll go take a look."

"Wait." Qin Wan handed him the cloth in her hand. "This was found at the cave entrance; it looks like it was torn from someone's clothing."

Lu Zhao took it. The cloth was coarse linen, greyish-black, with torn edges. It was stained with some dark brown spots that had already dried.

He brought it to his nose and sniffed.

The smell of blood.

It was very faint, but it was definitely there.

"Is there anything else?" he asked.

Qin Wan shook her head. "Just this. Tian Dali didn't dare to go in rashly, so he asked me to come and ask you."

Lu Zhao gripped the cloth tightly. The cave was their final retreat; if there was something amiss inside, the entire plan would have to be overturned.

"Take me there."

The two hurried toward the back of the mountain. It was already dark, and the snow reflected a faint light. The mountain road was difficult to traverse; Qin Wan carried a lantern, barely illuminating the path beneath their feet.

The entrance to the cave was under a cliff, draped with vines; it was indeed well-hidden. Tian Dali was guarding the entrance, holding a woodcutter's knife, his expression tense.

"Mr. Lu," he greeted him. "Listen."

Lu Zhao stood still and listened. The wind whistled through the mountain forest. But faintly, he could indeed hear a very light "drip-drop" sound coming from deep within the cave, like water droplets hitting stone.

"It wasn't like this before?"

"Absolutely not." Tian Dali was certain. "I've played in this cave since I was a child; the inside is dry, and even moss is rarely seen."

Lu Zhao took the lantern and bent down to enter the cave entrance. The passage was narrow, only allowing one person to pass at a time. After walking about ten zhang, the view suddenly opened up to reveal a natural stone chamber.

The stone chamber was about three zhang square, the ground level, with grain, water buckets, and bedding piled in the corner. Several women were sitting there, and when they saw Lu Zhao enter, they all stood up.

"Mr. Lu."

Lu Zhao nodded in acknowledgment and scanned his surroundings. The stone walls were rough, with stalactites hanging from the ceiling, but there were no water droplets to be seen.

"Where is the sound coming from?" he asked.

Tian Dali pointed toward the depths of the stone chamber. "There is a side passage over there, usually blocked with stones. When we were moving things today, we moved them aside, and the sound started coming from there."

Lu Zhao walked over. The entrance to the side passage was indeed piled with stones, which had already been half-removed. The passage inside was pitch black, bottomless.

He raised the lantern to shine inside. The cave walls were wet and slippery, with water marks. There was shallow standing water on the ground, reflecting the flickering firelight.

"I'm going in to take a look," he said.

"I'll go with you," Tian Dali followed.

Qin Wan also wanted to follow, but Lu Zhao stopped her. "You stay here and look after everyone."

The two squeezed into the side passage one after the other. The passage inside was even narrower, requiring them to walk sideways. The sound of water became clearer: drip-drop, drip-drop, with a steady rhythm.

After walking about twenty paces, a faint light appeared ahead.

It was not firelight, but some kind of eerie blue cold light seeping out from the cave walls.

Lu Zhao stopped. Tian Dali saw it too, his breathing tightening.

"What is that?"

Lu Zhao didn't answer. He approached cautiously and discovered that the light was shining through a crack in the stone wall. The crack was very thin, only wide enough for a finger to be inserted.

He reached out and touched the edge of the crack. The stone was icy cold and damp, feeling slippery, like some kind of Ore.

Could it be...

A thought occurred to him, and he took a Formation Plate fragment from his bosom and pressed it against the crack.

The fragment had no reaction.

It was not a Spirit Stone vein.

He withdrew the fragment and leaned close to the crack to look inside. The eerie blue light was weak, but he could vaguely see that there seemed to be a space inside, and also... a reflective water surface.

"It's empty behind this," he concluded.

Tian Dali also leaned over to look. "Could it be... another cave?"

"It's possible." Lu Zhao stepped back. "But let's ignore it for now. Block the side passage back up; don't let anyone go inside."

Tian Dali agreed. The two retreated to the stone chamber and worked together to pile the stones back at the entrance of the side passage, blocking it tightly.

Returning to the cave entrance, Lu Zhao instructed Qin Wan and Tian Dali. "Keep watch here tonight; no matter what noise you hear, do not enter the side passage. I will come back to check tomorrow at daybreak."

The two nodded solemnly.

Lu Zhao carried the lantern down the mountain. The snow was falling harder and harder, making the mountain road even more difficult to travel. He walked very slowly, his mind repeatedly thinking about that eerie blue cold light, and that piece of bloodstained cloth.

When he returned to the village, it was already late at night.

The fire in the blacksmith shop was still burning. Zhong Tiegu had fallen asleep on the anvil, still clutching a hammer in his hand. Beside him were six newly forged spearheads, gleaming with a cold, sharp light.

Lu Zhao did not wake him, quietly backed out, and returned to his own room.

The oil lamp was still lit. He sat on the edge of the kang and took out the Formation Plate fragments again.

This night was destined to be sleepless.

Outside the window, the wind and snow howled.

In the distant mountain forest, the howling of wolves could be vaguely heard.

Further away, in the direction of Black Mountain, three fast horses were galloping through the snow.

The three people on horseback were dressed in black, wearing swords, with fierce and vicious eyes.

The man leading them had a scar on his face that ran from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth.

He looked up at the sky and grinned.

"The Hour of the Rat is almost here."

"Yangjiao Ravine, leave no one alive."

Teaser: Just as Lu Zhao was about to study the Formation Plate fragments, a frantic ringing of copper bells suddenly came from the direction of the village entrance—that was the alarm triggered by the tripwire! Almost at the same time, the roar of Zhong Tiegu and the sound of metal clashing came from the direction of the blacksmith shop! The enemy had actually arrived early!