Chapter 1207

What happened afterward, we'll talk about later.

On the other side, Lin Cheng also arrived at the Zaoshigong Society by carriage.

Shicheng Fortress isn't like Heishicheng, where you can open any shop you want.

To open a blacksmith shop in Shicheng Fortress, you must first register at the city hall—he did that yesterday as an afterthought—and then go to the Zaoshigong Society to apply for his blacksmith certification, and finally return to city hall for his business license.

For someone unfamiliar with the process, this whole routine could wear out their legs.

Standing at the entrance of the Zaoshigong Society, Lin Cheng looked up—the plaque above the door simply read "Zaoshigong Society," and the building itself had no distinguishing features; he'd expected a place full of blacksmiths to be grander.

Ha, he'd overthought it.

Anyone in Shicheng Fortress wishing to work in the weapons and equipment industry must obtain certification here.

By the way, Shicheng Fortress has all kinds of professional guilds—Alchemy Guild, Yongbinggong Society, and even guilds for meditation, fishing, carving, cuisine, and beauty.

Lin Cheng couldn't help but marvel: no wonder it's a big city—people here really know how to enjoy themselves, and they don't mind the hassle.

In fact, the people of Shicheng Fortress didn't find the guilds burdensome at all; they took pride in joining them.

"Hello, I'm here to apply for my blacksmith certification."

Inside the Zaoshigong Society, it was eerily quiet—perhaps because it was too early—Lin Cheng searched around before spotting a staff member emerging from the back room, holding a thermos and sitting behind the counter.

The staff member was a middle-aged man yawning; he didn't look up, saying, "Inspection fee: ten gold coins."

In Shicheng Fortress, blacksmiths have clear rank classifications.

From first to ninth rank, the highest-ranked blacksmiths in the empire are said to be only three—two imperial blacksmiths and one who is the president of the Zaoshigong Society.

A ninth-rank blacksmith simply doesn't exist today.

In theory, blacksmiths from ancient times could have reached ninth rank.

Lin Cheng paid the ten-gold-coin inspection fee without hesitation—rules in big cities are strict: you must have blacksmith certification.

Besides, Lin Cheng wanted to know his own rank; after paying, he grew impatient, eager for the test.

The staff member accepted the coins and duly recorded Lin Cheng's name, age, and cultivation level—all orderly.

But then he finally noticed what level Lin Cheng's identification was, widened his eyes, scrutinized the ID again, then quickly looked at Lin Cheng himself—as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Y-You're Mr. Lin Cheng Tute?"

"What's wrong?" Lin Cheng asked.

Only after speaking did he suddenly recall that the city hall staff had mentioned that the empire grants special privileges to exceptional talents in their fields.

"Wait, Mr. Tute, your status is too valuable—I'll go call the president to evaluate you personally."

"Uh, can't you evaluate me?" Lin Cheng really meant: No need to go through so much trouble.

But before him, the staff member had already dashed toward the upper floors on the left, face pale with shock, as if something sinister chased him.

While waiting, a middle-aged blacksmith in a white robe, wearing a fourth-rank badge on his chest, walked in with an air of arrogance.

Not seeing the front desk staff member Lao Wang, the man's haughty gaze fell on Lin Cheng.

He asked, with faint pride: "Young man, do you know where Lao Wang at the front desk went?"

"Second floor—he seems to have gone to find the president," Lin Cheng answered honestly.

The man thought: Lao Wang must have had something urgent to bring to the president—but what could be so urgent it required the president's personal attention?

Seeing that the young man before him wore no blacksmith certification, the man puffed out his chest, smug.

"Young man, certified blacksmith?"

"Yes."

"Ah, when I was your age, I was already a two-star blacksmith," the man pretended to reminisce, actually showing off; he sighed dramatically and patted Lin Cheng's shoulder as if imparting wisdom: "Even if you fail today, no matter—it's all part of the journey! One day, you'll be as excellent as I am—even more so than I am!"

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed down the second-floor stairs; both men turned instinctively and saw the previous staff member, Lao Wang, rushing down with an elderly man with a long beard, wearing an eighth-rank badge.

The middle-aged man's eyes lit up—he changed his demeanor instantly, plastering on flattery, and hurried forward, bowing deeply: "President, what urgent matter brought you down personally?"

The man's broad frame blocked the president's path; the president seemed anxious, glancing urgently past him—but the middle-aged man, eager to impress, ensured the president's gaze remained fixed solely on him.