Chapter 473: Sun Luguo
Chapter 473: Sun Luguo
The sound of hammers continued echoing throughout the square.
’Clang!’
’Clang!’
’Clang!’
Hundreds of sparks flew with every strike, illuminating the faces of the curious onlookers gathered around the makeshift forges.
The heat was intense. Even from several meters away from the furnaces, Kyrian could feel the hot air constantly rising, mixed with the metallic scent of glowing iron and the distinctive aroma of burning spirit coal.
Sweat streamed down the blacksmiths’ faces, yet none of them slowed their pace. Every strike was delivered with the same strength and precision as the first.
His eyes followed every movement. Some blacksmiths forged long, curved swords, others worked on spears with gleaming tips, battle axes whose blades seemed capable of cutting through the air itself, full-body armor, and shields that could withstand spiritual attacks.
Each had a different style. Some relied on brute force, hammering with violence and precision, their muscles contracting with every impact, while others preferred dozens of rapid strikes, almost as if they were drumming against the metal in a hypnotic rhythm.
There were even those who practically danced as they hammered, their bodies moving to a rhythm of their own, as if the forge were a stage and the hammer its music.
Kyrian watched everything in silence, his violet eyes recording every detail as though they were pages from a precious book.
Just as had happened with alchemy and formations, his eyes captured every nuance. The position of the feet, how one’s stance affected the force transmitted to the hammer. The distribution of strength, how the entire body, not just the arms, contributed to each strike. The exact moment when the metal needed to return to the fire, one second too early or too late, could ruin the piece.
The amount of Qi used in each strike. Too little, and the metal would not be shaped. Too much, and it would become brittle. Even without knowing anything about blacksmithing, he was already beginning to perceive subtle patterns, the proper rhythm that transformed raw metal into a work of art.
Then... the movement around them changed. People began instinctively making way, as though an invisible tide were pushing them aside, creating an empty path through the crowd.
The sounds of conversation faded, replaced by murmurs of recognition and respect. Several blacksmiths paused their work for a moment, raising their eyes in silent greeting.
Kyrian turned his head.
A gigantic man was slowly walking down the street. He stood over two meters tall, with shoulders as broad as a doorway and arms like the trunks of ancient trees.
His muscles bulged even beneath his thick, dark leather clothing, every movement revealing the raw strength accumulated over decades.
He was completely bald, his head gleaming beneath the sunlight like polished stone, and an extraordinarily thick red beard covered much of his face, giving him the appearance of a bear.
Strapped across his back was an enormous black hammer, so massive it seemed to weigh more than an ordinary man, its surface engraved with runes that glowed faintly.
Fastened to his chest was a metallic emblem, a hammer with seven stars engraved directly beneath it, each one shining with its own light that seemed to come from within the metal itself.
Kyrian narrowed his eyes slightly. Around him, whispers of admiration began to spread.
"Master Sun..."
"Master Sun is here."
"It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him forge personally."
"We’re fortunate today."
"He rarely appears during public demonstrations."
Another man replied in a low voice.
"Of course. That’s Sun Luguo, the greatest blacksmith in the entire Caravan of the Sky. He’s the one who forged every weapon used by the Sky Family’s Celestial Guards."
"Even some of the Sky Family’s elders wield weapons forged by him, and they trust only the very best."
Kyrian continued watching. His interest immediately grew. Such a master blacksmith would likely be far more interesting than the previous ones, capable of revealing secrets that books could never teach, techniques that only years of practice could perfect.
Sun Luguo said absolutely nothing. He simply walked toward a forge much larger than all the others, a structure of black stone that seemed to have been carved directly from the mountain itself, with fire runes engraved across its surface. It pulsed with an inner light.
He slowly placed the enormous hammer beside the anvil, the impact producing a dull thud that echoed throughout the square. Then he opened a small metal chest and removed a single block of black metal.
The metal seemed to absorb light. It reflected absolutely nothing. It was like a small fragment of solidified night, a darkness that swallowed the surrounding sunlight, casting a small shadow wherever it was placed.
The people began whispering again, their voices filled with admiration.
"Abyssal Iron?"
"No, it’s Earth Black Metal."
"They say that ore only forms where lightning strikes mountains for hundreds of years. It’s one of the finest metals for crafting daggers and short swords, and it’s incredibly rare."
Kyrian silently stored that information away, filing it alongside everything else he had already learned about spiritual materials.
Sun Luguo placed the metal into the furnace. The spiritual flames immediately began changing color, shifting from red to orange, then yellow, until they finally became a bluish-white so intense that the closest spectators instinctively stepped back, feeling the heat against their faces.
A few minutes later, the man slowly removed the metal, its surface glowing with an almost unbearable heat, pulsing with an energy that Kyrian could sense even from a distance. Then he raised the hammer. And delivered the first strike.
’CLANG!’
The sound was completely different. It did not resemble mere metal striking metal. It sounded like distant thunder, like the roar of a beast.
An invisible shockwave spread across the square, making everyone’s chest vibrate, as though the very air itself had been struck.
Kyrian blinked. Something was different. The second strike came.
’CLANG!’
Then the third.
’CLANG!’
And the rhythm continued, every blow more precise than the last.
The other blacksmiths were hammering.
Sun Luguo looked as though he were fighting.
It was impossible to explain. Every strike seemed to be part of a technique, like a martial art, like a painting, like an incredibly heavy dance.