Chapter 1025 - 503: Someone Special

Chapter 1025: Chapter 503: Someone Special

Divine Artisan Ernest left behind various legends about treasures in Nebis. These stories are naturally woven by later generations, but there are indeed hiding places for Ernest’s creations.

The reason there are so many treasure troves is also because of the extraordinary skills of the Divine Artisan, as everything that passed through his hands essentially became treasures in the eyes of the world.

Since outsiders occasionally seek out his creations, his direct descendants, even after eight hundred years, can know a bit more about them.

Farlonio’s parents found a secret vault that is said to store Ernest’s treasures, which wasn’t particularly surprising, as the real attention-grabber would be what happens inside.

"Falo, we’re counting on you; this is the hope for the family’s revival."

In the cramped little house, a weather-beaten Haven Race middle-aged couple leaned their entire faces close to Falo.

I know that, after all, you’ve been saying this for a long time.

"Also, your master will participate in this treasure hunt; after all, he is a Master Blacksmith and also has the ability to appraise treasures."

Yes, I understand — that old guy’s shrewdness, otherwise, where would I have learned those methods of assessing and calculating wealth?

The narrow passage, the dark underground, all worldly matters are receding.

With the strides that the Haven Race can manage, the underground passage seems to have no end, and blood drips from her wrist drop by drop. She is uncertain how many steps she must take to fill the blood pact formation that opens the gate, perhaps offering up her life completely?

Yet the suffocating feeling gradually rising with the cold hasn’t stopped her steps, for she is already used to it.

No matter how she tries to respond to her parents’ expectations, there are always more silent pressures, as if she is constantly running, never stopping, in fierce breaths expelling the last breath from her chest, never able to breathe freely.

She is not a daughter, not a child, merely a medium for "restoring the family’s glory."

In the darkness, Falo remembers the moment she first began smithing.

From as far back as she can remember, her parents repeatedly expounded on "family revival" "reattainment of glory" "Divine Artisan" "entering the Weapon Race’s core" and such bloodline-related matters. She recalls how things at home often vanished suddenly, only for them to bring back variously colored iron blocks. Not long after, these things were consumed in hammering, and they repeated this cycle again.

In the end, they had to move house repeatedly, living in smaller and smaller spaces.

The food on the table became increasingly hard to swallow day by day.

For these matters, the couple quarreled repeatedly; their voices penetrated the thin walls, no matter how hard she blocked her ears.

She can’t remember when she learned to forge; perhaps this was her talent. The house had tools, demonstrations, and books. One day, she touched the hammer and her hands spontaneously started moving.

She quite enjoyed this activity.

Watching originally dull metal blocks being shaped into what she wanted in hammering repetitions helped her forget many things, needing only to infuse power into the things before her.

When the finished product emerged, no matter how coarse or ugly, it always looked so special.

Later, Falo came to understand this was a sense of achievement.

Soon, she created her first piece worthy of being called a "weapon." It was a short blade emitting a deep blue glow. Every aspect — its curve, weight, or color — touched her heart, making it leap with joy.

However, before she could give it the handle and sheath she’d long planned, that couple eagerly took it away to exchange for so-called money — those metallic disks with incomprehensible engravings.

Why?

I could clearly make more; why must they sell this one?

"...Clearly, I told myself, learning to forge meant you might not need to run out every day, clearly, I wished to make things for you, clearly, I pleaded with you, clearly I learned to use the hammer for you..."

Afterward, the couple’s attitude changed abruptly, but this came at the cost of her conforming to their expectations.

She must become an artisan, absolutely must become an artisan. They recited this mantra over and over, sending her to the master of the Bapnis Clan.

The allegedly very strict old man nodded after seeing her work; subsequently, he taught Falo earnestly. However, when she felt life and forging becoming joyful again, she was sent to the Alma Family after a conversation between her master and parents.

She needed to spy out some information as they asked. At first, she didn’t know what it meant and just followed along.

She met the young lady of this family; they were the only peers she could truly converse with. Sometimes, whatever one thought of, the other could immediately empathize.

Because of her, after Falo understood what she was really doing, she no longer wanted to carry on.

"Master, I don’t want to go to the Alma Family on the First Peak anymore."

"That means you haven’t matured."

"..."

"Without learning to calculate how much profit emotions can bring, how much value relationships can offer, you’ll always be a child at others’ whim."

Can everything be converted? Just mere market merchants’ appraisals and rhetoric. Actually, she never found it difficult, just never knew when to use it.

"Alright, Master, the trial period is over; if you want further insights about the First Peak, you should offer something in return, right? Oh, you wouldn’t want our activities to be known by the Alma Family, would you?"