Thunder hovered overhead.
The north wind danced with snowflakes, which kept surging in the shining white light. The aurora crossed the horizon, with a narrow arc, dazzling and beautiful, like the drooping wings of a crystal angel.
Arthur huddled behind Ken.
His hands were throbbing painfully from the cold wind, and the roaring thunder overwhelmed everything, which reminded him of many things - Wachler sat in the faint candlelight, bending silver wire with a small flame, and talking seriously about the ancient furnace, the hundred-year grand scene, the gathering of war flags, and the vision that frightened the earth.
Arthur opened his eyes on the wolf's back, and the thunder just outlined the outline of the Duva tribe.
"That's probably it."
He thought.
At this time, all living beings were suppressed on the ground.
The resonance of the ancient furnace caused all the mountains to shake.
The Fei Wolf King rushed into the village gate.
Arthur turned his head and saw the night watchmen standing in place, heads sticking out of the windows on both sides of the street, travelers dodging everywhere, and craftsmen arguing with vendors.
"No orders tonight!"
"All weapons must be reloaded, there is no room for negotiation, the Duwa tribe can only produce one weapon tonight."
The strong blacksmiths stood in the snow with their hands on their hips.
The apprentices and laborers were busy together, throwing the semi-finished products hammered by the hammer, as well as the weapons that had just been polished and were waiting to be oiled and loaded...
all into the furnace!
The sky was covered with dark clouds, thunder and snow.
Every workshop in the Duwa tribe was busy, countless weapons were melted into molten iron, and sparks splashed from windowsills, chimneys, and various doorways.
"What are they doing?"
Ken asked.
Arthur suddenly remembered a cup of warm tea several winters ago, the crackling charcoal fire, and a strange old man with scary eyes...
A dull narration sounded in his mind:
"Perfect forging will produce strange phenomena, which will connect all the surrounding furnaces. If you encounter such a rare opportunity in the future, you must throw the work at hand into the fire. The more things there are, the more precious the forged work will be, and this amazing work will have your contribution."
The memories rushed, so clear.
Arthur opened his trembling lips and whispered silently. He even remembered that he asked at the time: "Why should I help? Other people's weapons, but I have to destroy my own work!"
The old man at the table took off his worn secret pattern glasses.
He twisted the table and chair to turn around, flicked his white beard, reached out and touched the three rings symbolizing skills, and then explained seriously: "This is an honor. Xienbio will remember all the efforts, and the old gods will bless your success rate in the future..."
The memories faded, and sobbing came from the wolf's back.
Arthur didn't know why he was crying, but he just couldn't control his tears. The few times that Wachler lectured him came to his mind and echoed in his ears for a long time:
"Arthur, forging is sacred, you must be pious."
......
The street was blocked by an overturned carriage.
Mercenaries and vendors surrounded the door of Marungu's workshop and shouted. The person in charge and the other party argued fiercely, and the two groups seemed to be about to fight.
Ken made a quick decision and jumped directly on the wolf onto the debris.
They moved between the cargo boxes and the cut ropes, turning into a residual image. When they jumped to a high place, it was easier to sense the thin magic power and the ripples similar to the "War Banner Evidence".
[The power of the old gods descended here. ]
Ken landed on the ground, and the fierce wolf howl briefly overwhelmed everything.
He saw that the people who were arguing and pulling each other looked over, and the mercenaries raised their round shields to watch. Someone called out his name in the wind and snow, and the situation seemed to be more complicated.
No one saw the process.
A corpse flew out of the workshop, bloody and fleshy, and was thrown on the ground like a disgusting paste.
The dark bricks trembled, there was a burnt smell in the air, and heavy breathing, volcanic restraint, tall and majestic, but everyone knew that it was full of power and anger.
Crack.
The giant hand pinched the support beam of the side door, and the top-grade shield wood left a clear crack.
Malengu walked out, he unfolded his burly and tall body again, and swept his eyes across the ants in front of him, as if waiting for the last straw to release the killing.
The workshop members stood in a human wall, and everyone showed the ring symbolizing their identity.
They were blacksmiths who valued craftsmanship first, and merchants second. In the face of ancient teachings and rare forging, any interests had to give way.
The merchants who instigated the riot were terrified.
He had never seen the furnace owner leave the forging valley. It should be said that no one had ever seen it except on the day of the divine forging.
At this time, it was no longer a matter of a single business...
Everyone retreated tactfully.
Ken smelled a faint smell of blood.
It did not come from the corpse, but some kind of pungent blood with powerful power.
He first thought of the bottle of [Dragon Blood]. Sure enough, in the turbid white eyes of Malengu, he saw a faint lightning - the overflow of magic that had not been completely digested.
The furnace owner looked down at everyone and naturally found him.
The apprentices removed the obstruction and made way for the passage. Needless to say, they were already urging the two to go in.
Arthur rushed out.
He knew that he was not qualified to enter the [Forge Valley]. He wiped his tears while running towards the cliff. His movements were reckless and he was scratched by scattered iron tools.
When Ken chased him in, the apprentices were still stuffing things into the furnace.
He crossed the valley. Both sides were empty. This place was being cleared. Everyone put down their work and retreated respectfully.
There were a few fragments scattered on the steps at the end.
[Item: Iron Oracle Ring]
[Decorations used by craftsmen to show their status and skills. ]
They were violently dismantled and discarded, announcing the original owner's determination and also foreshadowing some tragic results.
Ken rushed to the bottom and was burned by the heat wave and took a half step back.
Arthur screamed, the flames burned his hair, and his exposed arms were red and dark, and blisters appeared soon.
Ken was quick to drag the man out of the range of the round stone and hide in the corner. Invisible heat gushed out, and the impurities between the tiles were melted like butter.
"Let me in, teacher..."
Arthur pushed the other person away, and his arm scratched blood on the black armor.
The fatal heat wave was gathered, as if it was just brewing. The four most expensive blast furnaces in the Malungu workshop were all opened, and the flames gathered into a phantom.
He stood between thunder and dark clouds.
The three ancient furnaces of the Duwa tribe showed a cornering trend, surrounding the reflection of Xienbio in the middle.
"You are back?"
The shadow of the old god did not speak, but the person kneeling in the middle of the altar spoke.
Wachel, with disheveled hair and beard, turned his head.
His voice was tired, his language was clumsy, and he could see joy and relief.
Wachier looked at Arthur, opened his mouth, wanted to scold, wanted to teach, and finally just said in a deep voice: "I haven't forged in front of you for a long time. Don't worry, this time it's your favorite weapon.
Ah, sorry, my good child, your teacher is a spiritual craftsman...
For so many years, I couldn't teach you well, and let you bear the depression and difficulty of learning skills alone."
Arthur roared.
He shook his head in pain, but he couldn't get through the wavy air.
The indescribable high temperature stood between the two.
Wachier stood in the "sacrifice position" in the prayer ceremony, but the twisted heat wave did not hurt him. Instead, it kept passing through his hands, melting, purifying, and promoting the materials, and resonating with the divine revelation.
"I thought about it for a long time."
Wachier showed an ugly smile.
"The last thing I can do for you is just a little thing. Remember every detail, which will be of great help to your forging."
The father who is not good at speaking is giving the most important lesson in life to his child who is about to travel far away.
Arthur knelt on the ground.
His roar of regret was heart-wrenching, his tears evaporated, and the temperature around him continued to rise.