Chapter Eleven: Cleansing the Sand

"Hey, have you heard? Senior Brother Yuantong is locked in a fierce battle with the Eighteen Arhats. They say he's just one step away from success—just missing an eye..."

"What kind of eye?"

"Of course, the formation's core! What else could it be, you fool?"

"As expected, Senior Brother is amazing."

"By the way, why hasn't Xiao Yan come to challenge the gates lately? It's been a bit dull without him..."

"Weren't you just back from the Armory Pavilion? How's Xiao Yan doing? Don't tell me he actually carried eighteen weapons all at once! Hahaha..."

"No, from what I've heard, he dismissed Master Huiqi's weapons and wants to forge his own..."

"Forge his own? Is he mad? Every craft has its master. For an outsider to be so arrogant—if even Master Huiqi couldn't make it happen, who else could? Hahaha... What a joke!"

"Exactly... I'd like to see what sort of contraption they'd manage to create. Hahaha... Shall we go and have a look?"

A group of monks left, leaving Yuantong in the Hall of Arhats somewhat puzzled. In that moment of distraction, he was hit by the Eighteen Arhats' "Millennium Strike."

The pain was indescribable—

An attack dealt by all eighteen Arhats together.

Don't get it?

Put simply: "Millennium Strike" times eighteen!

Yuantong was in such agony he couldn't even cry out. After listening carefully to the departing monks' conversation, he gritted his teeth and cursed, "That damned Xiao Yan!"

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Xiao Yan led Zhuge Yixiu to the smithy. At that moment, a few burly monks were hard at work forging weapons, all stripped to the waist and sweating in the heat.

When Zhuge Yixiu entered, they didn't bother to greet him. Yet Xiao Yan could easily read their expressions—none of them took Zhuge Yixiu seriously.

And why would they? With inner strength at only the third level, no one would give him a second thought.

But that suited Xiao Yan just fine; he enjoyed the peace and quiet. Approaching the forge, he asked, "Old man, what now?"

"Well... to be honest, I once considered making such a weapon myself, even tried, but failed every time..." Fahai replied.

Of course, only Xiao Yan could hear Fahai's voice.

"Then why were you showing off earlier?"

"I can try again. Back then, I was close to succeeding. After years of pondering and reflection, I think I understand where things went wrong."

"So tell me what to do. I'll do the forging!" Xiao Yan said, picking up the hammer with an awkward grip, wasting no time.

"Heh... you fool, are you joking? Do you even know how to forge? Someone who's never even held a hammer, and you think you can just dive in?" Fahai mocked coldly.

"Then you're suggesting I find someone to help?" Xiao Yan's eyes flickered as he turned to look at the utterly bewildered Zhuge Yixiu.

???

Zhuge Yixiu was still wondering if Xiao Yan had lost his mind—why else would he be talking to himself?

But just then, Xiao Yan shivered, his eyes glazed over, and he spoke in an icy tone, "Fetch iron sand. Cleanse the sand!"

Cleansing the sand was the first step in weapon forging—a process of obtaining pure iron sand.

Zhuge Yixiu hadn't yet reacted before Xiao Yan rapped him on the head. Blinking, he said, "You don't want me to forge it, do you? If even the master couldn't do it, how could I..."

"Stop babbling!"

Xiao Yan's gaze sharpened, his eyes seeming to glow, his entire demeanor transformed—he looked frightening.

"Alright..." Zhuge Yixiu had no choice but to fetch the iron sand.

"Hey, Yixiu, are you making a hoe or a sickle this time?" one of the monks teased as he passed.

"Haha, you don't get it. Maybe he's making a sickle that looks like a hoe..." another monk laughed.

Their laughter filled the smithy.

"Hmph! You... you just wait! One day I'll—"

"One day you'll become a master smith! Hahaha... We've all heard it a thousand times... but a master smith who can't even forge a decent farm tool!" another monk jeered.

"Hmph!" Zhuge Yixiu's face flushed red, ready to retort.

But from the other side came Xiao Yan's chilling command: "Hurry up!"

Huh?

Only now did everyone notice this unfamiliar face—Xiao Yan—and their curiosity was piqued.

"Hey, look, another with inner strength at only the third level? Hahaha... birds of a feather, indeed..."

"Wait, that's Xiao Yan! Hahaha... the arrogant one who doesn't know his limits..."

"...."

"Silence!" Xiao Yan's voice was cold as steel.

It wasn't loud, but it pierced right through them like an icy arrow.

Despite the sweltering heat of the forge, everyone broke into a cold sweat, suddenly shivering.

By then, Zhuge Yixiu had returned with the iron sand, whispering to Xiao Yan, "Ignore them..."

"Cleansing the sand," Xiao Yan ordered frostily.

"Well, this really is my first time making a weapon," Zhuge Yixiu confessed.

In truth, cleansing the sand didn't literally mean washing it with water, but rather sifting impurities from the iron sand—a simple first step in forging, meant to remove some of the dross and yield pure iron sand.

Zhuge Yixiu worked diligently, filtering it five times before preparing for the next step.

"Wait! Keep cleansing!" Xiao Yan's icy voice came again, his eyes glinting with a sinister light.

"How many times do I need to do this?"

"Until there's not a speck of impurity left!"

"But... cleansing is just to extract the iron sand. There will be plenty of chances to remove impurities in later steps... there's no need to get everything out in one go..." Zhuge Yixiu protested, a little disheartened. Yet when he saw Xiao Yan's eyes, he could only lower his head and continue.

The next morning, after breakfast, the monks of the Armory Pavilion arrived at the smithy and found Zhuge Yixiu still cleansing the sand...

"Hey... Yixiu, you're in early! How many hoes have you made so far? Hahaha..."

With dark circles under his eyes and a face full of frustration, Zhuge Yixiu replied, "None. Still cleansing the sand..."

???

The monk was stunned for a good while before he managed to ask incredulously, "You haven't stopped since yesterday?"

Zhuge Yixiu didn't answer, only nodded wearily.

Xiao Yan stood nearby, staring intently at Zhuge Yixiu, as still as a wooden statue.

"You two are insane! Do you even know how to forge?" The monk shook his head, pointing at Xiao Yan. "You're actually listening to him? A complete novice? Have you gone mad too?"

Zhuge Yixiu didn't reply, focusing on his task.

The monk lost interest, turning towards the forge. But after just a few steps, Xiao Yan's cold voice called out, "That's enough! Next step, smelt the iron!"

"Hmph!" The monk sneered, yet curiosity got the better of him—he wanted to see just what had become of the iron sand after all that cleansing.

When he turned and saw the iron sand in Zhuge Yixiu's hands, he froze, brow furrowing. "Is that... is that really iron sand?"