Chapter 289: Bronze Fragments |
Stone Hut Number Seven.
Chen Chuan had been standing at the doorway for an hour.
Snow and wind had settled on his thin gray robe, but he stood like a statue, motionless.
Until the stone door opened and Su Ming stepped out, exhaustion written all over his face, handing the sword over.
"Try it," Su Ming said softly.
Chen Chuan took the sword.
The first sensation in his hand was weight. It was three tenths heavier than before.
He frowned and drew the blade from its scabbard.
Clang—
He did not use spiritual energy, merely flicking his wrist to perform a flourish.
The blade sliced the air without emitting its usual sharp scream; instead it gave a dull humming. The tip left a trailing afterimage in the air that lingered rather than dissipated.
"This…"
Chen Chuan's pupils contracted abruptly.
A veteran swordsman with over a decade of experience, he knew the value of a weapon’s feel better than most.
The blade was no longer a stiff, lifeless object. Spiritual energy infused within it gave a smoothness as if it obeyed his arm. What shocked him more was that when he tried to bend the blade with force, the sword behaved almost like it had life — it flexed slightly and snapped back instantly, sending a recoil force through the hilt into his palm.
Rigid yet flexible, strength blended with suppleness.
Chen Chuan looked up sharply and stared at Su Ming, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently.
He was a coarse man, unfamiliar with forging jargon, but he understood that this kind of craftsmanship— even the prideful official artificers in the Vessel Hall might not pull off.
"I added something inside the spine," Su Ming said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a low-grade spirit stone to restore his spiritual energy, his tone casual. "I used Earth Gold Dust. Next time you face a hard nut like an Iron-Feathered Eagle, you don’t have to clash directly. Use their force against them."
Chen Chuan traced the dark-gold pattern along the sword’s spine, his fingertip trembling.
This was not mere sword repair; it was a remaking of a life-and-death tool.
"How many spirit stones?" Chen Chuan inhaled sharply, his voice tight. "I only have eighteen left right now, the rest—"
"No spirit stones," Su Ming interrupted.
He stepped forward and tapped the very end of the hilt with his finger. There was a faint, droplet-like indentation.
"I left a small formation inside the sword," Su Ming said, looking into Chen Chuan’s eyes, lowering his voice, "If I detect danger within a hundred zhang, the hilt will heat up."
Chen Chuan froze, then his expression turned extremely complex.
He was no fool and instantly grasped Su Ming’s meaning.
This sword was more than a weapon; it was a signal receiver. Su Ming had put him inside his defensive circle — made him, in effect, someone who could watch each other’s back.
In Iron Wall Pass, where life was cheap, this trust was worth more than spirit stones.
"Brother Su."
Chen Chuan stepped back half a pace, holding the sword with both hands, and performed a solemn swordsman’s salute.
He didn’t spout grand promises about braving fire and water. He simply raised his head, and on that wind-weathered, wrinkle-carved face his expression was grave as if taking an oath.
"I, Chen, have noted this debt."
......
The abandoned warehouse at Iron Wall Pass’s disposal yard sat in the far north corner of the supply camp, adjacent to the pool used for dissolving demon beast corpses.
Sunlight never reached here. The air mixed with the smell of old rust, mildew, and an indescribable acidic rot.
That odor came from magical implement formation plates damaged to the point of losing their spiritual essence and the materials decomposing.
Su Ming tightened his facecloth and, wearing thick beast-skin gloves, bent over a mound of scrap copper and broken iron the size of a small hill, picking through it.
"Is this Steward Wu’s idea of a ‘favor’?" Lin Yu's voice drifted through the Consciousness Sea with some mockery. "You just earned merit and instead of spirit stones or promotion, they exile you here to pick trash. That old man’s heart is smaller than a needle."
Su Ming kept working without reply. He tossed a shield of red copper split in two into the left "re-melt basket" and threw several completely ruined formation flags into the right "destroy basket."
"Master, you don’t get it," Su Ming straightened and pounded his somewhat sore back, his eyes bright and fierce under the dim crystal lamp. "Steward Wu is trying to 'beat me into shape' — to make me recognize that formation work means dirty, hard labor. But I see it differently. This is like throwing a rat into a rice bin."
He pointed at the mountains of junk stretching dozens of zhang at his feet.
"This heap contains every formation plate scrapped by Iron Wall Pass over the last century. To outsiders it’s garbage, but to us — to you and me — it’s an unguarded treasure trove. I’ll give the bugs below ground something to eat; we’re short on materials for refining. There’s plenty here."
"Fine, get rich quietly," Lin Yu yawned. "But don’t take it too far. Don’t really turn into a scavenger. We’re technicians."
Su Ming smiled and continued rummaging.
Time passed slowly, the only sound in the warehouse the clang of metal colliding.
Suddenly, Su Ming’s hand halted.
His fingertips brushed a bronze fragment trapped beneath two gigantic tower shields.
The shard was only palm-sized, its surface covered in thick verdigris and grime, indistinguishable from the surrounding broken heart-protecting mirror pieces.
But the instant his finger touched it, the ghost-blue spiritual liquid in his dantian quivered without warning.
Not a violent alarm like when danger approaches, but a faint ripple as if a breeze had skimmed the surface of water.
"Hmm?"
Su Ming paused. He did not immediately take it out. Instead he kept his posture of searching, using his body to block the view of the guard at the warehouse door.
By the dim light, he gently wiped the grime from the surface.
The fragment revealed itself.
The dark greenish material was neither metal nor jade. Several lines, seemingly casually scratched, were carved onto it. The strokes were archaic and rough, with no visible flow of spiritual energy — like a child’s doodle in mud.
"What is this…" Su Ming narrowed his eyes, trying to make it out.
"Minor Heavenly Cycle Star Array," Lin Yu’s voice turned serious. "To be precise, it’s a corner piece from an ancient original. Modern arrays emphasize closed spiritual energy circuits, but this thing emphasizes 'momentum.' Look at those patterns, don’t they make your eyes feel dizzy?"
Su Ming stared for a moment and did indeed feel the lines slowly shifting, producing a nauseating suction.
"How could this be here?" Su Ming whispered.
"Old battlefields like Iron Wall Pass have all sorts buried beneath them. Probably dug up during a foundation repair and, not recognized for what it was, tossed in with scrap metal," Lin Yu clicked his tongue in astonishment. "You’ve got some incredible luck, disciple. Although the fragment’s spiritual essence is almost gone, the residual Star Attraction Lines etched on it deal with space folding and gravity — high-end stuff. If you can fathom even a sliver of it, your formation path could advance a lot."
Su Ming’s heart thumped twice wildly.
He quickly scanned left and right to ensure no one was watching, then flipped his wrist. The bronze fragment slipped into his sleeve and slid to the deepest part of his storage pouch.
Afterwards, as if nothing had happened, he grabbed a nearby scrap of rusted iron and muttered, "This piece is decent; I can extract some refined iron powder from it."
P.S. This chapter was missed earlier......