Chapter 242: CH. 242 | Learn About Forging

The woman’s eyes narrowed at the disciple’s outburst, but before she could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

Ya Fei’s core disciple, the one who’d first questioned Lin Tian back at the gate, stepped forward from the crowd, her expression unreadable.

"Enough," she said, her voice sharp enough to silence the murmuring around them, "Elder Ya Fei personally invited him. Do you all intend to embarrass her by chasing off her guest before he’s even lifted a hammer?"

The disciple who’d spoken out first crossed his arms, clearly unwilling to back down easily, "I don’t care who invited him. He’s a mortal. What’s he going to teach us that we don’t already know?"

"That’s exactly the problem," she said, turning to face him fully now.

"None of you know it. Not really. You’ve been running this hall on half-finished techniques ever since Senior Sister An Yue left. Every blade coming out of here lately looks like it was hammered out by a child."

A few of the disciples exchanged uneasy glances at that, clearly stung by the truth of it.

One of them, a stocky young man with soot still smeared across his knuckles from that morning’s failed attempts, looked away entirely, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes.

"So here’s what we’ll do," she continued, crossing her arms.

"He teaches. If any of you still think you know better after a single session, you’re free to walk away and explain to Elder Ya Fei yourselves why you refused her guest."

That settled it, at least on the surface. No one wanted to be the one standing in front of Ya Fei explaining that decision.

The arrogant disciple scoffed, muttering something under his breath, but he didn’t argue further.

He simply turned on his heel and stalked toward the clearing, as if attending under protest rather than agreement.

Lin Tian watched the exchange quietly, saying nothing.

He’d expected some resistance, disciples like this one rarely welcomed a mortal stepping into their territory, especially one being handed authority over something they considered their own domain.

Pride ran deep in places like this, deeper than skill most of the time, and he’d long since stopped expecting otherwise.

Let them think what they want, he thought. It’ll make the lesson land harder once they see the results.

The core disciple turned back to Lin Tian and gestured toward a wide clearing near the edge of the mountain, where several forges sat cold and unused, along with stacks of raw ore waiting to be worked.

The forges themselves were old, their stone casings cracked in places from years of uneven heat, clearly neglected by disciples more interested in cultivation techniques than the slow, patient work of the hammer.

"This is where you’ll teach. I trust you know what you’re doing," she said, though there was a faint challenge in her tone, as if she too wanted proof before fully believing the rumors.

"I do," Lin Tian answered simply.

With that, the disciples gathered around, some out of genuine curiosity, others out of obligation, and a handful still radiating open skepticism.

Wei Hutong stood off to the side, looking a little overwhelmed by the number of cultivators surrounding him, but he kept close to Lin Tian, eager to learn, shifting his weight from foot to foot the way he always did when he was excited and trying not to show it.

Lin Tian walked to the first forge and lit it with a simple gesture, flames roaring to life without any visible spark or kindling.

A few of the disciples’ eyes widened slightly at that, though most tried to hide their surprise behind crossed arms and carefully neutral expressions.

"Forging isn’t about strength," Lin Tian began, picking up a raw chunk of ore and turning it over in his hand, feeling the weight and grain of it before he ever brought it near the flame.

"It’s about patience and understanding what the metal wants to become. Most of you have been treating it like an enemy to beat into submission. That’s why your blades crack under pressure."

A few disciples scoffed quietly, but most stayed silent, watching closely despite themselves, drawn in by the calm certainty in his voice even as their pride told them to resist it.

He demonstrated the first step, heating the ore evenly, showing them how to read the color of the metal to judge its temperature rather than guessing by feel alone.

Cherry red meant one thing, straw yellow another, and the difference between a blade that held its edge and one that shattered on first impact often came down to nothing more than a shade of color most of them had never learned to notice.

He explained the rhythm of the hammer strikes, not fast and aggressive as most of them had been taught, but steady, deliberate, each strike building on the last rather than fighting against it, the way water wears down stone rather than trying to break it in a single blow.

Wei Hutong stood closest of all, absorbing every word. Unlike the disciples, he had no pride to protect, no rank to defend.

He simply wanted to learn, and it showed. He asked questions when he didn’t understand something, adjusted his grip when Lin Tian corrected him, and by the second hour, his own attempt at a blade was already holding a straighter edge than three of the disciples working nearby, much to their quiet, simmering irritation.

"You’ve got a good eye for this," Lin Tian told him quietly at one point, watching him work. "Better than most people who’ve been doing it for years."

Wei Hutong flushed slightly at the praise, ducking his head. "I just do what you tell me, Brother Lin."

"That’s the first step to getting good at anything."

As the lesson wore on, the disciples’ initial resistance began to crack, piece by piece, blade by blade.

Even the loudest of the skeptics found himself grudgingly following Lin Tian’s instructions after his third attempt at a simple dagger came out warped and brittle, snapping clean in half the moment he tested its edge against a stone.

He stared at the broken pieces in his palm for a long moment, jaw working, before finally, silently, picking up another chunk of ore.

"Try again," Lin Tian said, not unkindly, "but this time, don’t rush the cooling. Let it rest before you strike it a second time."

The disciple glared at the broken blade in his hands, jaw tight, but he said nothing back.

He simply reached for another piece of ore and started over, and this time he watched the color of the metal the way Lin Tian had shown him instead of trusting his impatience.

By midafternoon, what had started as a handful of half-hearted attempts had turned into a genuine, if quiet, workshop.

The clang of hammers fell into an almost unified rhythm across the clearing, steady instead of frantic, and the difference in the finished blades was impossible to ignore.

They came out straighter, sharper, more balanced than anything the hall had produced in months.

Even the skeptics couldn’t deny the improvement, though most were too proud to say so out loud, settling instead for grudging nods or the occasional muttered acknowledgment when they thought no one else was listening.

It was faster progress than Lin Tian had expected, faster than even he’d planned for.

He’d assumed the lesson would stretch out over several days at minimum, but by the time the sun began sinking toward the horizon, painting the clearing in long streaks of orange and gold, most of the disciples had already grasped the fundamentals well enough to continue practicing on their own.

Should have expected as much, Lin Tian thought, watching them work. Even a resentful student learns quickly when the results speak for themselves.

As the group began packing up for the day, tools clattering into crates and half-finished blades set aside to cool, one of the disciples lingered behind, hanging back from the rest as they made their way toward the hall.

She was younger than most, likely still new to her inner disciple status, and she’d spent the entire afternoon watching Lin Tian more than she’d watched her own hands, her blade coming out uneven as a result, though she hadn’t seemed to mind.

She approached him carefully, glancing around first to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

Lin Tian turned to her, setting down the tool he’d been cleaning. "Go ahead."

"The way you move," she said slowly, choosing her words with visible care, "the way you handle the ore, the way you read the metal without even touching it half the time. I’ve never seen a mortal blacksmith work like that. Not even the best ones in the capital."

Lin Tian kept his expression calm, giving nothing away. "I’ve had a lot of practice."

"That’s not it," she pressed, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him.

"Practice doesn’t explain some of what you did today. There were moments your qi flickered, just barely, when you were shaping the blades. A normal mortal wouldn’t have any qi to flicker at all."

Wei Hutong, still nearby packing up his own tools, froze slightly at her words, glancing over at Lin Tian with a flicker of concern in his eyes.

Lin Tian met her gaze evenly, his expression giving away nothing beyond mild amusement.

"So," she asked, her voice quieter now, more direct. "Who are you, really?"