Chapter 234: Iron Ox Returns to Tianyunfeng!

Linzhou, the great city, eastern district.

An old man clad in plain gray robes stepped slowly into the Forging Hall.

It was Jiang Ye.

A muscular attendant hurried forward to greet him, but halfway through his question, Jiang Ye cut him off calmly:

“Is Master Huang Gang here? I’m here to collect my weapon.”

The attendant nodded rapidly: “Master Huang is here. I’ll go call him for you right away.”

Saying this, he ran off toward the back hall.

Moments later, a loud, hearty laugh echoed from behind the hall:

“Hahaha, Old Man, you’re here early!”

Huang Gang strode over to Jiang Ye’s side, his face, permanently reddened by furnace heat, beaming with confidence: “Your weapon is done. Come with me and take a look.”

Jiang Ye nodded slightly and followed Huang Gang through the front hall into a dedicated weapon-forging workshop behind.

The furnace still held residual heat; the air carried the sharp, charred scent of quenched iron.

Huang Gang stopped before the third wooden rack and pointed: “Old Man, do you find this weapon satisfactory?”

Jiang Ye followed Huang Gang’s finger and his eyes instantly brightened.

There, resting on the rack, was a dark-black staff, over eight feet long and roughly a fist in thickness.

The staff’s surface gleamed with a deep, subdued luster under the furnace light—like abyssal tungsten iron: unobtrusive, yet radiating an undeniable, extraordinary presence.

He stepped forward and ran his hand along the shaft. A fine, intricate pattern was engraved along its center, providing grip without digging into the palm or slipping.

At both ends, dark-gold metal rings encircled the staff, adding further lethal sharpness to its already heavy, grounded momentum.

Huang Gang explained beside him:

“Old Man, the pattern along the shaft ensures a firmer grip; the end rings enhance impact force.”

“Don’t underestimate these rings—when you strike with this staff, the power...”

Jiang Ye nodded silently.

Huang Gang was indeed the master smith Zheng Feng recommended—his craftsmanship was superb, and every detail was thought through.

To be honest, he was satisfied.

Huang Gang studied Jiang Ye’s impassive old face and internally fretted.

Why doesn’t this old man show any expression?

Is he satisfied or not? At least give some reaction.

He cleared his throat: “Old Man, is this weapon to your liking...?”

Though confident in his skill, he knew exceptions existed.

If Jiang Ye was dissatisfied, he could still reforge it now.

Jiang Ye replied coolly: “It looks acceptable.”

Huang Gang exhaled inwardly: “Then try it out—see if it feels right in your hand.”

Jiang Ye gripped the staff, his fingers sinking into the grooves of the grip pattern—perfectly balanced, neither too thick nor too thin.

He lifted it sharply—the eight-foot tungsten iron staff rose from the rack.

He swung it casually.

Shhhhh—!!!

A sharp, piercing whistle tore through the air, as if the very atmosphere had been shattered by the blow.

“Good.”

Jiang Ye smiled faintly, a hint of satisfaction glinting in his eyes.

Using a staff felt entirely different from using a blade.

Perhaps because he had cultivated the Blood Moon Blade Art, his previous black longsword always felt too heavy, unwieldy.

Now, reforged into this tungsten iron staff, the weight remained unchanged, yet it no longer felt burdensome—instead, he Yinyin felt it might be better if it were even heavier.

“Old Man is pleased!”

Seeing Jiang Ye effortlessly swing the heavy tungsten iron staff with one hand, Huang Gang’s eyes widened in surprise, then he burst into laughter.

He knew better than anyone how heavy this staff was—ordinary Golden Core cultivators struggled to lift it.

Yet this old man wielded it as if it were straw—clearly no ordinary man.

Jiang Ye hefted the tungsten iron staff in his hand, then tilted his head slightly: “Master Huang, can this iron staff be made heavier?”

“Heavier?!”

Huang Gang blinked in surprise.

This staff’s weight was already terrifying.

If it were made heavier...

Is this old man planning to use an iron staff to crush people?!

He retained his professional restraint and did not voice his shock outright, instead speaking gravely: “Old Man, if we could add more tungsten iron, the staff’s weight could increase further. But with the materials you provided, this is already the maximum I could forge.”

“Tungsten iron...”

Jiang Ye paused, then looked up: “Do you have any here? I’ll pay for it.”

Huang Gang spread his hands helplessly:

“Old Man, tungsten iron is a celestial material. Even our Forging Hall doesn’t get much—let alone the entire Linzhou City, which may see only a few ounces a year. Any small stock that appears is snatched up immediately by powerful clans. No one holds onto it.”

“Only the upper sect’s treasure vault might have some.”

“The upper sect’s treasure vault...” Jiang Ye’s eyes darkened slightly, then he nodded: “I’ll come back when I have tungsten iron.”

Huang Gang laughed heartily: “Good!”

For him, crafting an excellent weapon was already a joy.

This tungsten iron staff already held the potential—add more tungsten iron, and it might become a true legendary weapon.

Jiang Ye paid fifty thousand taels in labor fees, rewrapped the tungsten iron staff in cloth, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to leave the Forging Hall.

Meanwhile.

Tianyunfeng, East Peak.

A waterfall cascaded from the cliff’s edge, mist swirling and refracting a faint rainbow in the afternoon sun.

This had been Liu Qingyu’s favorite place for solitary cultivation lately—now disturbed by an unwelcome visitor.

Zhang Kun’s massive, ox-like frame stood planted on the green rock beside the waterfall, blocking the entire view.

His dark face wore a self-satisfied, overly tender expression; his copper-bell eyes blazed with unhidden ardor:

“Xiao Yu, you know my heart better than anyone.”

“If you’ll be with me, I’ll get you anything you want!”

“What you need most right now is primordial qi...”

“I’ll get it for you!”

Liu Qingyu felt nausea rise from her stomach; her exquisite face hardened into frost:

“Brother Zhang, I’ll find primordial qi myself. No need for your help.”

“I must cultivate. If you have nothing else, please leave.”

This was not the first time she had dismissed him—yet each time, he returned like stubborn glue.

Seeing Liu Qingyu once again dismiss him so coldly, Zhang Kun’s face, once plastered with false affection, slowly turned icy.