Chương 29: Forging the Sword

Rowan As for the focus of the sword, Master Luzon brought Rowan into another room entirely. The sheer number and variety of items was staggering. Venoms of highly dangerous serpent spirit beast, feathers of griffins, thunderbirds, and three-legged crows, the scale of a demon horse, an assortment of bone, coagulated blood, crystals, and more. The qi they emanated clashed wildly with each other, giving Rowan an uneasy feeling. Some were volatile, others were soothing; some exuded happiness, others - pain and anger.

Rowan was almost afraid to ask how much these materials were worth.

"Just some trinkets acquired over a long life," said Luzon, as if the blind forgemaster sensed his question.

"When I was a young man, I thought the way to immortality would be to create swords in the style of the forgemasters of old, where work after work would line my shop, and whoever was most suitable for them would eventually find the swords in their hand."

"But?"

"But none of those swords ever sold," said Luzon.

"So I melted them down and retrieved what I could of them." So this was Master Luzon's personal collection of focuses over decades of smithing.

"I don't recommend touching them directly," warned Master Luzon.

"But reach out with your qi - just a little bit - and see if any produce a favorable reaction. Let me know if any give you a good feeling." Good thing Rowan had been doing nothing else lately but practicing extending out his qi. The first material which caught his attention was a jar of blue water. When he stretched out his qi towards it, the water sloshed happily, reaching back out toward him like a puppy clambering for its owner. Master Luzon shook his head.

"Far too agreeable." Rowan didn't understand why that was a bad thing, but he decided to trust the master. The next item he felt a pull towards was a clear crystal with a large gold crack running down its face. It gave off a heroic and stalwart aura. A primal instinct in the back of his mind told him to leave the crystal alone. That it was more dangerous than it seemed. When he pulled back his qi, the crystal's friendliness vanished instantly. A violent killing intent suddenly roiled through the storage room.

A beat of sweat ran down Rowan's neck which had nothing to do with the heat of the room.

"What the hell is that?" asked Rowan.

"Bright Yang Gold Vein," said Master Luzon.

"The material isn't the crystal itself, but that gold crack running through it. The mutation can form on any stone which receives the sun's first ray of light after the night breaks." Most things Rowan knew of that were insidious and creepy were of Yin, not Yang. He knew Yang could produce things just as terrible as Yin but this was his first time running into one.

"You actually think someone might match with it?" Rowan asked, baffled.

"Males with affinities for Bright Yang or Supreme Yang would consider Bright Yang Gold Vein a treasure. However, few practice such things on this continent. Aside from Heavenly Skies Sect, of course." Rowan hummed in thought.

"I've heard of women being born with an Extreme Yin Body, but never a man with an Extreme Yang Body. Is Yang suppressed?"

"Astute observation," complimented Master Luzon.

"In a way, yes. Our geography makes it difficult for Yang to flourish." The man didn't elaborate. Even though Rowan suddenly had a thousand questions, he decided to focus on the subject at hand. Selecting a focus for his sword. The next item which called to him was a black feather which gleamed a shifting violet-green. The barbs gave off a distinct feeling of sharpness. Like his fingers would bleed if he even got in the vicinity of it.

Its qi gave off an aura of challenge, daring Rowan to come forth if he thought he was good enough. For some strange reason, an image of Blaise flashed through his mind.

"Hm. That feather isn't even supposed to be in here, I thought I told one of my bull-headed apprentices to take it. Hang on, I'll get it out of here–" Rowan wasn't paying attention to Master Luzon. He was focusing on the feather, on the dare it posed to him. Ignoring the man's warning, he stepped forward and reached out to the feather. Tiny cuts thinner than he could perceive lashed across his fingers, blood welling up in the lines. The cuts began to burn in agony, like needles were digging into his flesh.

Tears burned in Rowan's eyes. The feather seemed to be laughing at him. He gritted his teeth, refusing to relent. Even if you aren't the material for my sword, I won't let you win. With a final surge through the pain, he grasped the feather, clutching it tightly. The barbs dug into his palm like knives. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Rowan had expected Luzon to intervene. Maybe snatch the feather away from him and hit him over the head for being an idiot.

The man, instead, was watching the interaction with extreme interest, rubbing his chin. Gradually, the feather's sharp aura receded, almost begrudgingly. The skin on Rowan's palm stitched together, smoothing over back to flawlessness.

"Bold," said Master Luzon.

"That's a feather from the plumage of a Seven Winds Thunder Phoenix. A wild bird, never known to build a nest. They deliver their eggs in the sky, and the hatchlings must escape from their shells and take first flight before their egg smashes against the ground." He rubbed his chin some more.

"This is my oldest focus, passed down to me from my master, who received it from his master before him. I thought it would never submit to anyone…" The feather's aura flared.

"... Perhaps 'submit' is the wrong word," Master Luzon mumbled.

"Agree to work with?" The feather's aura calmed down slightly. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"A fine material, no doubt. But it is of Sharp qi. I'm concerned that it won't pair well with the Five Color Qi Metal we chose earlier. Generally speaking, I strive to produce a sword that highlights the strength of the metal in question, and this particular forging demands that no element or nature overpowers any other. Something will have to balance the nature of this feather. Perhaps it'll be done with the wood for the hilt."

As for the hilt, Master Luzon already had that covered - well, technically, it had been Rowan who covered it. The man produced the branch from the Long Life Fig tree that Rowan had bought with Senior Sister Nila at the auction house. It was thin, and about the length of his forearm. A very pleasant Yang wood, or so Master Luzon said.

"Is this really enough to craft a hilt from?"

"Absolutely. I've worked with even less." They left the storage room. Master Luzon, who normally seemed grumpy and world-weary, now sprung around the forge with excitement, picking up items and setting them down.

"Five Color Qi Metal. A Seven Winds Thunder Phoenix Feather. Long Life Fig Tree Branch. Who even knows if these materials are compatible? I haven't had a challenge like this in decades. This will be amongst the most difficult swords I've ever crafted." The man called a few of his apprentices over, and they all fired up the famous forge. A wave of sweltering heat passed over the room, visible waves shimmering in the air. The spiritual fire inside was so hot that it looked solid, barely moving in the forge.

Master Luzon grabbed an entire case full of Five Color Qi Metal ingots. His apprentices began to throw them into the fire.

"That's all I have need of you today," Master Luzon told Rowan.

"I must draw some sketches first so my disciples can help. I'll call you back in a few weeks to help me hammer the materials together. That's where your Forgegod Spirit Root will truly be of use."

"Do you think the sword will be ready in time for the tournament?" asked Rowan, unable to help himself.

"Should be, if everything goes perfectly." He let out a breath.

"Then I'll leave it in your hands, Master Luzon."

"Fine. Now, shoo. Five Color Qi Metal might sound well-behaved, but it's one of the most finicky metals to work with. I can't have my apprentices distracted." Rowan cupped his hands and bowed to both Master Luzon and the apprentices working on his sword and left the forge. It was early evening now. The dull summer heat nearly felt cold compared to the sweltering heat of the furnace. Now that the matter of his sword was taken care of, he decided to continue his investigation into the missing girls.

He went from house to house, shop to shop, especially taking his time in the poorer areas, to collect information. By the time the sun sank below the horizon, Rowan had a dozen portraits in his hands. A troubled expression creased his face. Some of the girls had vanished overnight, their families distraught. However, other incidents were more complicated. Apparently, many girls had left the city to marry into the smaller villages dotting the Main Road. The drought had caused many fires and exacerbated bandit raids.

These girls hadn't been heard from in a while. But they may not be 'missing', simply dead. And although he had only asked about girls, a few families couldn't help but draw portraits of local missing boys and older adults. The issue was much worse than Rowan initially assumed. He recalled the red tally mark in Ostra's book. Ten thousand. And that was just the one demonic cultivator. Who knew how many subordinates The Red Groom had helping him with his dirty work.

Next time he came to the city, he would come undercover. The people tonight hadn't been as free with their information, afraid to offend him. He could tell they were holding back. Maybe they thought that if he grew interested in their community, he would destroy everything in his search for evidence, turning the place upside down. He could also look in the Lower Library for tracking spells and investigative techniques. With new resolve, Rowan decided to head back to the sect.

He could cultivate a bit before going to sleep. Then he heard a familiar pair of voices from a nearby cafe.

"Enjoy your meal," Barrett Fross hissed.

"And don't embarrass me any further." Lavinia's plate sat in front of her, completely untouched.

"You'll be more obedient when you're a concubine of the Fross family," said Barrett.

"What?" Lavinia all but spat.

"You heard what I said. I was willing to make you my primary wife, but after you've humiliated me, all bets are off."

"You're delusional. What makes you think I'd agree to be your concubine if-" Lavinia looked at the food.

"Well I'm glad I haven't eaten anything. I would be drugged right now and in your chambers in minutes, wouldn't I?" Barrett looked apoplectic.

"As if I would ever resort to something so base and lowborn as drugging your food. Is that what you think of me, dear concub-""Don't call me that."

"I've had the most recent contracts written by your father investigated," he said.

"And would you know, we've found some irregularities."

"Irregularities?"

"Property transactions above a certain amount of spirit stones need to be guaranteed by one of the Founding Families." Lavinia frowned.

"Those were witnessed by the exchequer and-""It turns out that Matriarch Sutter doesn't remember guaranteeing any of these transactions. I wonder what will happen to all of your family's businesses." Lavinia glared.

"Now, you can make this problem go away. You just have to be a good little girl and-" Rowan couldn't take it anymore. He approached the table.

"I'm sure someone from a Founding Family," he said, pointing to himself, "will have no problem signing this off in guarantee considering that's a transaction witnessed by the exchequer."

"You!" Barrett shouted.

"Hello, Rowan," said Lavinia.

"I was just finishing up here. Would you like to escort me back to the sect?"

"You've created enough problems for me, Helsing!" screeched Barrett.

"I challenge you to a duel. An official duel, to be witnessed by the sect!" By now, the commotion had attracted a crowd.

"You have some nerve," said Lavinia.

"Challenging an outer disciple as his senior. What would the world think of you? What would the Fross family?" Rowan's blood ran hot at the prospect of a future duel. Barrett was in the fourth layer of Qi Condensation - but he was confident he could close the gap between them soon enough.

"My sword is currently being forged at the Stone Dragon Refinery," he said, reminding Barrett that he was banned.

"When it is done, I'll duel you." Barrett stormed off without another word. Several people stood up from their tables and followed him.

"Hey, is anyone going to pay for the food?" whined the cafe owner. Lavinia walked over to him.

"Everything here can be billed to the Fross family. If they refuse to pay it, it can be billed to the Bruschard family." As they continued back to the sect, Lavinia looked upset.

"I didn't want to drag you into this."

"My enmity with Fross has escalated beyond your relationship with him." Rowan sighed.

"Despite his uncle's best efforts, It's unresolvable." Lavinia bit her bottom lip.

"You do know that this is a duel to the death." Rowan shielded his eyes, looking out to the bloody red and orange tones of the sun setting behind Righteous Mountain.

"Of course."