The grade of weapons in One piece:
Supreme Grade Blades (Saijō Ō Wazamono) (12)
Great Grade Blades (Ō Wazamono) (21)
Skillful Grade Blades (Ryō Wazamono) (50)
Grade Blades (Wazamono) (unknown amount)
...
"Clinton, you must be aware that in Logue Town, your little blacksmith shop is nothing. That piece of deep cold iron you were lucky to acquire this time is a precious material for forging a weapon at the level of a graded blade. It's a shame to let your family's blacksmith shop have it!"
In the crowd, a middle-aged man in traditional Chinese attire, his left hand resting on his back, two iron balls in his right hand, grinned with squinted eyes. "Wasting such precious material is a shame. It would be better to sell it to us at a high price at the Iron Furnace. Perhaps we can even forge a skillful-grade sword. You'd get a share of the credit, wouldn't you?"
"What rubbish! Can your blacksmith shop even craft a weapon at the skillful grade? You must be dreaming!" Clinton, a tall and slender man, glared angrily at the man in Chinese attire across from him. "And what do you mean purchase at a high price? I spent half a million Baileys to purchase this material, and you only want to take it for 100,000 Baileys. Are you trying to rob me?"
"You old iron egg!" At that moment, Old John approached, wearing a grim expression as he gazed at the man in Chinese attire. He spoke in a deep voice, "Are you trying to bully us?"
"Well, well, if it isn't Old John," the middle-aged man in costume sneered. "You're still alive? With your skill, I doubt you can even create a decent sword with this precious material. You haven't even forged a weapon at the level of a graded blade in a couple of decades, and now it seems your skills have declined even further. why don't you admit it?"
"Ahem!" His words caused Old John's eyes to bulge, and a pang of sadness welled up within him. It was true—his family had indeed fallen from its former glory.
Once upon a time, his family's founding ancestors, over a hundred years ago, were able to craft powerful weapons like graded blades. However, they could no longer achieve that level of craftsmanship, and the entire Logue town had blacksmith shops capable of creating such weapons, but his family was no longer counted among them.
Seeing Old John's inability to respond, the man in Chinese attire continued in a leisurely tone, "So, to prevent the waste of this material, I suggest that Clinton give it to me. Any objections?"
"Dream on! Even if this material goes to waste, we will never give it to you!" Clinton shot a defiant look at the man in Chinese attire.
"That's right. Get lost, we won't be giving anything, you old iron egg!" Old John added, his face filled with anger.
"Hahahahaha!" Before the man in Chinese attire could reply, a burly middle-aged man behind him burst into laughter. He stroked his short black beard and said, "Old John, why don't we settle this with a blacksmithing competition? We'll wager the material you're holding. Are you up for the challenge?"
Clinton and Old John exchanged uneasy glances, their faces contorted in worry. The blacksmith from the Iron Furnace Weapon Shop was renowned for his ability to forge weapons at the level of a graded blade. His strength was formidable, and his decision to initiate a blacksmithing skill competition was clearly intended to harm their weapon shop's reputation. Losing in front of an audience would undoubtedly damage their business in Logue Town.
"Oh, are you afraid?" The blacksmith sneered. "Since you're afraid, why don't you just hand over the material and save yourselves from embarrassment?"
Old John was furious but hesitant. He wanted to refuse but realized that the odds of winning against the blacksmith were slim. Admitting defeat was the pragmatic choice.
"Father, we can't back down! We can't let them intimidate us!" Clinton urged his father, his eyes firm and determined.
"Quiet!" Old John silenced his son but sighed internally. He knew that it was nigh impossible to win this contest.
"Well, um... Ah, well..." Old John stammered, hesitated for a moment, and decided not to contest it further. He sighed and looked defeated, preparing to agree to transfer the materials to the Iron Furnace Weapon Shop.
At that moment, Ron, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. He looked at Old John and said, "Master John, why don't you let me your apprentice, handle this instead of agreeing to their terms? I can take on this blacksmith on your behalf."
"Ron!" Old John looked puzzled, unable to understand what Ron was suggesting. A novice apprentice was offering to represent the weapon shop against a skilled blacksmith. The situation perplexed him.
Even Clinton, Old John's son, was surprised by Ron's offer. He thought that Ron was overestimating his abilities. A novice apprentice challenging an experienced blacksmith was beyond audacious.
However, Clinton's father quickly explained that Ron was a new apprentice he had recently taken on. It was apparent that Ron was determined to defend the honor of the weapon shop. He was grateful for Ron's enthusiasm but concerned about the outcome.
"Apprentice? Did I hear that correctly?" The people from the Iron Furnace Weapon Shop couldn't contain their laughter. The man in Chinese attire laughed, "Do you mean to tell me that a little novice apprentice dares to challenge the Master blacksmith at our Iron Furnace Weapon Shop? This is the funniest thing I've heard all year!"
The blacksmith also joined in the laughter. He didn't feel insulted; he found the situation comical. "You, a novice apprentice, want to challenge Erwin? That's quite the joke!"
Ron remained serious and resolute, ignoring the mockery. He replied, "I'm not joking. Although I'm an apprentice under Master John, I have absorbed his remarkable blacksmithing skills. I am more than capable of facing you in blacksmithing. Are you up for the challenge?"
"Of course I am!" The blacksmith replied confidently, fully believing that Ron was making a grave mistake. In his opinion, Old John had been too reluctant to engage him in a blacksmithing competition, which was why he sent a mere apprentice. This would allow Old John to save face, and if Ron lost, it would only be the loss of some material, but it wouldn't damage the shop's reputation.
"Well, if you're up for it, then it's a deal!" The middle-aged man in the Chinese attire said, waving his hand dismissively. "We'll bet the precious material. If our Iron Furnace Weapon Shop loses, we'll pay you one million Baileys. If you lose, you'll transfer the material to us for free. It's settled!" Without allowing Old John to respond, the man ordered his men to bring over the forging furnace and transport the casting materials.