Chapter 787

Chen Yan walked up to Old Man Song and lowered his head to look at the horse-slaying long saber being held up by two trembling hands.

The dark blue surface of the blade reflected his stern face, and the light slightly refracted from the edge looked like a thin snake flicking its tongue.

He extended his right hand, his five fingers gripping the hilt like iron pincers.

The moment his palm closed around it, the weight of over thirty jin settled steadily into his arm strength, without the slightest feeling of it dragging his hand down.

He lifted the long saber from Old Man Song's hands and held it level with one arm, the blade tracing a dark blue arc under the light of the fire basin.

The balance was perfect.

The length of the hilt was just enough to accommodate a two-handed grip, and the iron ring at the end emitted a very short hum when swung; the center of gravity of the entire blade fell three inches behind the edge section, so the inertia during a hack would naturally concentrate the force into the most lethal front part of the blade.

Chen Yan held the saber and slowly turned his wrist in a circle, feeling that incredibly smooth control.

The cruel murderous intent he had suppressed for so long in his body surged out at this moment, forcing Hongye's right hand to instinctively grip the short blade at her waist.

Hongye's lips were pressed into a straight line; she stared at the hand Chen Yan used to hold the saber, the veins on the back of his hand like coiled thin snakes, every single one of them stretched taut.

"Bring the armor."

Chen Yan's voice was very light, so light it was as if he were talking to himself.

But everyone present heard it.

Hongye turned around and gestured to the Beiwei Death Guards outside; in less than half a cup of tea's time, three death guards worked together to carry three sets of thickened composite armor stripped from the elite grassland soldiers who had died in battle into the forge room.

Those three sets of armor were forged from double-layered hard cowhide and outer iron plates; they were the most proud protective equipment of the grassland heavy cavalry, and ordinary bows and crossbows could not shoot through them from thirty paces away.

The three sets of heavy armor were tightly stacked, layered, and tied onto a solid hardwood stake as thick as a rice bowl, one layer pressing on another, and the gaps between the iron plates were pulled tight by cowhide tendon ropes.

The stake was inserted into the stone base in the center of the forge room used to fix iron blanks, steady as a rock.

Old Man Song climbed up from the ground, his hands covered in blood blisters gripping the hem of his apron tightly, his knuckles turning white from nervousness.

His lips were moving, but no sound came out.

The old blacksmith from the Western Regions knelt where he was and did not get up; he tilted his neck to look at the fully armed stake, his Adam's apple rolling up and down twice.

The whole place was silent.

Hundreds of shirtless blacksmiths, plus the patrolling and shift-changing Beiwei Death Guards, everyone's gaze was nailed to the distance of less than five paces between Chen Yan and the stake.

Chen Yan carried the horse-slaying long saber to the front of the stake.

His feet were slightly apart, the soles of his boots grinding against the iron filings and standing water on the ground, making a slight rustling sound, his body's center of gravity slowly sinking.

His breathing became extremely long and steady.

Inhale.

The entire muscle group covering his back under his martial garment suddenly tightened, like dragons waking up, twisting and climbing upward from both sides of his spine.

Power took root from the soles of his feet, poured into his waist and hips along his legs, then penetrated section by section from his waist and hips to his shoulders and back, and finally gathered in that right arm holding the saber.

Exhale.

The long saber left his side.

Driven by Chen Yan's arm strength, the thirty-plus jin of steel traced a dark blue afterimage in mid-air at a speed too fast for pupils to contract; the air was violently torn open along the trajectory of the blade, emitting a sonic boom so sharp it pierced the eardrums.

Boom!

No.

It wasn't a boom.

It was a crack.

A sound of metal shattering and wood exploding that made one's teeth ache was amplified several times in the enclosed stone space of the forge room, like a heavenly hammer smashing onto everyone's crown.

No resistance.

No stuttering.

No feedback of vibration that should have occurred when the blade hit a hard object.

The three layers of thickened composite heavy armor, along with the solid hardwood stake as thick as a rice bowl, were cut in two from the middle extremely smoothly in the face of the extreme hardness and sharpness of the horse-slaying long saber.

The cut was as smooth as a mirror.

The upper half of the stake, carrying fragments of the three sets of heavy armor, tilted to the right and crashed onto the stone floor, kicking up a sky full of dust and iron filings.

There was no sound in the forge room.

Old Man Song's mouth was wide open, his muddy old eyes widened to the limit, his eyeballs almost falling out of their sockets.

The old blacksmith from the Western Regions lay on the ground, his whole body frozen, even his breathing seemed to have been cut off by someone.

The eldest apprentice who had always been by Old Man Song's side felt his legs go soft and sat directly on the ground, crushing a pile of iron slag under his buttocks, but he was completely unaware.

Hongye's fingers loosened from the hilt of the short blade.

She stared at the edge of the horse-slaying long saber; there wasn't a single white mark on it, not a single chip visible to the naked eye, clean as if the saber had only cut through a mass of air just now.

The silence lasted for a full five breaths.

Then, the whole place exploded.

A young craftsman squatting in the corner was the first to squeeze a roar from the depths of his soul.

"Good heavens, what kind of monster is this!"

Immediately followed by a second, a third, a tenth.

Hundreds of craftsmen seemed to have been ignited by the same fuse; crazy cheers and roars collided back and forth between the stone walls of the forge room like a flood breaking a dam, shaking the dust-covered beams overhead until they trembled slightly.

Old Man Song threw himself onto the ground, his two fists beating the stone slabs desperately, howling and crying.

"It's done, it's done, good heavens, it's done!"

The old blacksmith from the Western Regions was also howling; he cried while laughing, laughing until his face was covered in tears and snot, black-gray mud flowing down his cheeks and dripping onto the hot stone slabs with a slight sizzling sound.

Chen Yan carried the horse-slaying long saber, the tip hanging at his side; the dark blue long saber, perfect from edge to spine, emitted a daunting cold light under the reflection of the fire basin.

He turned around and faced the whole room.

"You've all seen it clearly."

His voice was not loud, but every word clearly crushed those roars and howls.

"This saber is what this Duke wants."

The sound in the room dropped instantly.

Chen Yan laid the horse-slaying long saber horizontally on the stone platform in front of him, the blade colliding with the stone surface and emitting a dull metallic hum.

He extended a finger and pointed at the old blacksmith leader from the Western Regions who was kneeling on the ground crying uncontrollably.

"The steel-pouring method was offered by you, and the saber was forged by you and Old Man Song together."

His finger paused in mid-air.

"This Duke keeps his word."

He turned his head to look at Hongye standing at the door of the forge room.

"Pass the order to the Governor's Office to draft the document immediately."

Hongye cupped her hands, waiting for the rest.

Chen Yan's voice smashed out word by word in this hot air.

"Abolish this person's slave status, grant him the official rank of Great Zhou Zheng-Seventh Rank Weaponry Bureau Assistant, reward him with one thousand taels of gold, and allocate a residence within Tongwan City."

The translation hidden agent relayed this order to the old blacksmith from the Western Regions who was still lying on the ground at the fastest speed.

The old blacksmith's body first went completely stiff.

Then he lifted his head.

On that dark face that had been roasted by the furnace fire for half a lifetime, tears and snot flowed, and his lips could not close at all because of the violent trembling.

He used to be a blacksmith slave of a grassland alien race, without even a name, only a number used to call him to work.

He had never been treated as a human being by anyone.

The old blacksmith's forehead hit the hot stone slab, making a dull sound.

In his mouth, he repeated the same sentence over and over again in that broken, off-key Han language.

"Thank you, Zhuguo... Thank you, Zhuguo..."

Chen Yan did not look at him again.

His gaze swept over all the fanatical craftsmen in the room; many people's eyes were red, and their breathing was fast and heavy.

The desire for class advancement ignited by the heaven-defying reward witnessed with their own eyes was like a mass of hot molten iron poured into their hearts that had already dried up.

They were no longer ants.

They were no longer lowly slave-status people who could be killed at will.

They saw an old craftsman who had fled from the Qi State Weaponry Bureau get an official status, and saw a Western Regions blacksmith slave who didn't even have a name get one thousand taels of gold.

If they could also forge weapons that satisfied the Zhuguo, then what about them?

Chen Yan supported his hands on both sides of the horse-slaying long saber lying horizontally on the stone platform, his upper body leaning forward slightly; the things churning in those dark, bottomless eyes made the few craftsmen closest to him shiver.

"From today on, this workshop has only one indicator."

He tapped the back of the blade twice with his knuckles, and the dark blue blade emitted two clear hums.

"Mass production."

He bit that word very heavily.

"Before spring arrives, this Duke wants to see every blast furnace and every forging platform in this valley spitting out this kind of saber for this Duke."

He straightened up, the hem of his cloak rolled up and fell down by the heat wave.

"One thousand is the bottom line; for every one hundred over the quota, this Duke will add a reward of five hundred taels of silver, to be divided equally among all craftsmen participating in the forging."

The moment this sentence landed, a crazy roar that made the bottom of the valley tremble erupted from the whole room.

"Long live the Zhuguo!"

A young craftsman picked up the iron hammer beside him and held it high above his head, roaring at the top of his lungs.

"Forge sabers, forge sabers for our Zhuguo!"

Followed by a second iron hammer, a third, a tenth.

Hundreds of craftsmen held their tools, red flames burning in their eyes, like a pack of hungry wolves crawling out of hell smelling blood; the roars they emitted shook the dark red sky overhead until it trembled slightly.

Chen Yan picked up the horse-slaying long saber and handed it to Hongye beside him.

Hongye took the long saber with both hands, her fingers stroking the blade, and a rare trace of heartfelt admiration flashed across her usually bland face.

Chen Yan had already turned and walked toward the iron door of the forge room; his boot soles stepped over the broken iron and standing water all over the floor, and he paused for a step when he reached the door.

He did not look back.

"Old Man Song."

Old Man Song sprang up from the ground, his knees knocking with a dull pain, his throat as hoarse as a broken gong.

"This old man is here!"

Chen Yan's back stood in the door frame, the cold wind from outside the forge room pouring in from his shoulders, colliding with the scorching air in the room and stirring up a thin layer of white mist.

"This Duke will not withdraw your official status as the Seventh Rank Weaponry Bureau Assistant for the time being."

Old Man Song's body swayed.

"But whether you can wear that official robe steadily depends on the number you hand in over the next half month."

Old Man Song bit his lip, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the coal ash on his face and flowing into his stubble.

He straightened his back and punched his chest hard with those hands full of blood blisters, the dull sound unique to a blacksmith echoing between the stone walls.

"Zhuguo, rest assured, this old man's life is welded to this forging platform; if I can't forge enough sabers, I will twist my own head off and use it as a night pot for the Zhuguo!"

Chen Yan did not reply.

He stepped out of the iron door, the cold wind pouring into the gaps of his cloak and blowing the hem of his clothes backward.

Hongye held the dark blue horse-slaying long saber and followed silently behind him; the two figures were soon swallowed by the thick fog surging from the valley entrance.

In the forge room, that crazy roar had not yet dissipated.

The bellows were pulled again, the sound of blowing air like the first breath of an ancient dragon waking up, pouring into the furnace of the blast furnace.

The roar of iron hammers hitting anvils traveled from the depths of the valley to the opposite side of the mountain ridge, shaking the accumulated snow off the pine branches until it fell with a rustle.

Hundreds of blast furnaces began to swallow a new batch of ore at the same time.

Production capacity, on this crazy night, began to skyrocket at a terrifying speed that was completely unreasonable.