Chapter 444 — Regrettably

CHAPTER 444

Regrettably

“Two ingots,” Jiao Rong said. “Two tries. Each candidate forges one blade of Golden Core-grade. If the first furnace is lost, you may use the second. If both are lost, you may go home.”

He lifted a hand towards the long row of anvils, and the crowd behind the line leaned forward.

The Qingyun City tower's Refiner's hall was bigger and hotter than its alchemy hall. Twelve forges stood in two rows, each with an anvil, a quenching trough and two grey ingots of spirit iron on a tray. The air smelled of coal and old water. A stout Pavilion smith waited beside a man-high black judging post. A heavy hammer hung above it on a chain.

“A blade passes if the hammer cannot mark it,” Jiao Rong said. “Begin at the bell.”

Gongsun Ce was at the next anvil. He had put on a clean leather apron, tied back his sleeves, and set his silver crane on the edge of his tray, where it stood with its head cocked.

“Watch my hammer strokes,” Gongsun Ce said confidently. “I shall make this look easy. It is brandishing an axe before Lu Ban's door, but I shall do it for your sake.”

“Thank you,” Shi Feng said.

The bell rang.

All along the row, the hall filled with the rhythm of hammers. Gongsun Ce worked fast and neatly, tapping the ingot into shape with small even strokes. His fire was low and clean. In a quarter of an hour he had a long, narrow blade with a ripple of silver along the spine, and he carefully lowered the heat to cool it.

Shi Feng laid his first ingot on the anvil. He thought about how much fire it needed.

A small amount, Shi Feng thought. The cracked furnace in the Tower had taught him that much. The Thousand Forge Flame Art steadied his fire, but reducing its power was harder. His enormous core fed too much qi into every flame. He needed control, not more heat.

He lit the forge anyway.

“Careful, Senior Brother Shi!” Zhu Liu squeaked from the line.

The ingot went from grey to orange to white in about two breaths.

Then it went the colour of the sun.

“Oh,” Shi Feng said.

BOOM.

The furnace burst apart. A ball of white fire rolled across the ceiling. The trough jumped a foot off the floor and landed on its side, and a dozen candidates dropped to the ground with their arms over their heads. The quenching water flashed to steam in a long hiss. In the spot where the anvil had been, there was a smoking hole.

For three breaths, nobody in the hall moved.

“Is he dead?” somebody whispered.

“It was the second name on the Register!”

“He blew up his furnace!”

“A 2 Mark can't even hold a hammer!” “Even a horse stumbles!”

Shi Feng stood up out of the smoke. His eyebrows were still there, which he thought was a good sign. He brushed ash off his sleeve and looked at the hole where the first ingot had been.

On the floor lay a heap of grey-black slag still giving off heat.

“That's one,” Shi Feng said.

Sima Lan's chalk sounded very loud in the quiet. “Furnace, anvil, trough and floor,” Sima Lan said. “The Pavilion will bill you.”

“Bill the Hall,” Shi Feng said.

“And the Hall will send the bill straight back to you,” Sima Lan warned.

“Then bill me,” Shi Feng said. “I'm used to it.”

Jiao Rong had not moved from his stool. He watched the smoke clear with an expression of patient delight.

“One try left, Candidate Shi Feng,” Jiao Rong said. “Do be careful.”

He set up a new forge. He laid the second ingot on the anvil and put his palm flat on the coals, and let the fire creep in from the very edge of his core, a thread at a time. This time the heat rose slowly. Shi Feng watched the iron, ready to stop feeding qi if it turned white.

It took him three times as long as Gongsun Ce.

At the next anvil, Gongsun Ce finished cooling his blade and carried it to the black stone with both hands. The smith swung the hammer. The blade rang like a bell, and the stone beneath it did not so much as quiver.

The smith checked the unmarked blade and announced a clean First Mark pass.

Gongsun Ce bowed, then stood proudly beside the line, enjoying everyone's attention.

Shi Feng was still hammering.

He had no idea what the blade looked like until it came out of the quench. The flat blade was badly misshapen. The edge wandered, and the spine had a bump in it the size of a plum. There were three faint lumps near the guard. At one end it was fat, and at the other end it was thin.

Zhu Liu shut his eyes.

“It's very strong-looking,” Zhu Liu said.

“It's ugly,” Sima Lan said.

“It'll hold,” Shi Feng said, checking the spine.

“It's ugly,” Sima Lan said again, “and I'd like it recorded.”

He carried it to the black stone and laid it flat. The Pavilion smith raised an eyebrow. Then he heaved up the hammer, as high as his shoulders, and brought it down.

CLANG.

The ringing went on for a long time. Dust drifted off the beams. The smith bent over the blade, wiped it with his sleeve and peered at the place the hammer had landed. He rubbed it with his thumb.

The smith announced that he had found a mark.

The hall gasped.

The smith held up his thumb and explained: it was only a hair-thin scratch, not a dent. The test required an unmarked blade. By any reasonable judgment, this blade passed.

Jiao Rong walked over slowly. He leaned over the blade and held a glass to the place. The hall waited. Gongsun Ce was holding his breath so hard that his ears had gone red.

Jiao Rong straightened.

“...” Jiao Rong had no argument left.

The smith asked for his final judgment.

“It is a Golden Core-grade refined artifact,” Jiao Rong admitted through clenched teeth. “Regrettably.”

The hall exploded again, this time with noise. Gongsun Ce let out a long breath and clutched his book. In the middle of the cheering, Sima Lan wrote a line on her slate and underlined it twice.

“First Mark Refiner,” Sima Lan said. “The ugliest ever certified.”

“Is that on the certificate?” Shi Feng asked.

“It will be in my records,” Sima Lan said.

Shi Feng picked up the blade. He went back to the wreck of the first forge, crouched, and scooped the warm slag into his sleeve. It was heavy and ugly and still glowed faintly at the heart.

“What are you doing?” Gongsun Ce asked.

“Taking it with me,” Shi Feng replied, gathering another piece.

“That is evidence of the explosion!” Gongsun Ce protested.

“It's iron,” Shi Feng said.

Sima Lan stopped writing. She looked at his sleeve for a long moment.

“No,” Sima Lan said.

“It's still good iron,” Shi Feng insisted.

“No. I know what you mean by good iron,” Sima Lan said firmly.

He put it in his ring. Sima Lan closed her slate with a snap and began to walk faster.