Chapter 1209

"Can you move aside?"

"President, do you still remember me? I'm Zhao Afu, the son of your distant grand-aunt's third-uncle's nephew's neighbor!"

The president didn't recognize the fellow in front of him at all. He'd originally hoped the man would have the sense to step out of the way—who knew he'd be so clueless. As if he could claim kinship with the president—did he really take the president for a doddering old fool?

What did the neighbor's son have to do with him?

"Get out of my way, you're blocking me from meeting someone."

In his fury, the president—nearly eighty yet still hale and hearty—leapt straight up and delivered a kick that sent the middle-aged man sprawling on the ground, then trampled over him without a shred of mercy.

He went to greet Lin Cheng, who was still standing near the front desk, seized both his hands, and put on a smile that was awkward yet perfectly courteous.

"You must be Lin Cheng Tute, yes? You've had a hard journey. The genius the Empire has been waiting for has finally arrived."

Speaking of which, it was a tearful story. Years ago, President Huoerde had applied to the Empire for talent, and now, just before his retirement, hope had finally arrived.

"Yes, I'm Lin Cheng Tute. You must be the president of the Zaoshigong Society, right? This is a bit over the top!"

It did look somewhat exaggerated—an eighth-rank Forgemaster being this respectful to a mere blacksmith who hadn't even been certified with a Forgemaster rank yet, and seeming almost eager for his arrival.

This made no sense at all!

"Not over the top at all. You don't understand the pressure I'm under—we'll talk about that later. Let's certify your Forgemaster rank first. Come, this way—mind the step."

"Alright."

Speaking of certifying Forgemaster rank, the middle-aged man lying on the ground playing dead instantly came back to life at full health—he hadn't forgotten that he, too, had come to recertify his Forgemaster rank.

But the kid he'd looked down on earlier had now become a big shot that even the president had to flatter. Who on earth was he?

"Hey, Old Wang, what's that kid's background?"

A staff member happened to pass by, and the middle-aged man grabbed him to ask.

"Don't say anything—please tell me you haven't offended him. He's one of this year's important Empire talent members. The only important talent in the Forgemaster profession in nearly ten years. You think the president would take him seriously or not?" Old Wang whispered into the middle-aged man's ear.

"That tracks." The middle-aged man hadn't expected the other to have such a hefty background.

It was no wonder the president valued him so highly.

In recent years, the Empire had developed on all fronts—reforming the big cities and pulling surrounding cities up to prosper together, which indirectly spurred economic growth across every trade. Yet the forging industry alone kept declining throughout the Empire.

It wasn't that the Forgemaster profession was finished; it was simply that fewer and fewer young people had the patience to choose it.

When innovative young minds don't become Forgemasters, the industry naturally shows a picture of declining vitality year after year.

The old Forgemasters kept retiring, and middle-aged Forgemasters of a certain age could only prop up the Empire's backbone—the future still belonged to the young.

Still, he had to say it—even if Old Wang denied him, even if the president denied him, even if the entire Society spat on him, he still had to say it!

"I don't think much of that young man, because he's far too young!"

"What's wrong with him? Even if there is, it's none of our business. What did you come here for, Zhao Afu?"

"I had a sudden inspiration recently and thought I might come try to break through to fifth-rank Forgemaster."

"Pull the other one. You come once a week—you've been saying that for half a year now, and you're still a fourth-rank Forgemaster."

"What rank do you think that genius will start at?"

"Fourth rank—he's the only Forgemaster prodigy in nearly ten years."

"Bullshit. I spent ten years of hard work to become a fourth-rank Forgemaster—what's he got? If he can start at fourth-rank Forgemaster, I'll eat shit right at the Society's front door."

"Those are your words."

"They're mine!"

No matter how the two behind him were betting, Lin Cheng followed President Huoerde to the first testing room.

The first test was lighting the furnace—the most basic skill of a Forgemaster. As long as you could light the furnace within one minute, you passed.

Originally, the first test wasn't such a simple basic skill, but given the bleak outlook for the Forgemaster industry across the Empire, the Zaoshigong Society had lowered the threshold for becoming a Forgemaster.

After learning the rules, Lin Cheng tilted his head, feeling this was somewhat insulting.

This counts as a test?

"Get started, I believe in you, Lin Cheng." The test began, and President Huoerde, seeing Lin Cheng still hadn't moved, couldn't help but grow a little nervous.

He was very eager to see Lin Cheng's performance—please don't fail even the first round.

"Alright, I think this is a bit too half-hearted."

A ball of spell-fire ignited directly in his hand, and he tossed it straight into the furnace—one second!

A raging blaze immediately rose inside the furnace, the iron glowing red-hot. The heat was so intense that even Old Wang and the middle-aged man standing at the doorway retreated, feeling an unbearable wave of heat rush at their faces.

President Huoerde hadn't expected Lin Cheng to also be a fire-element mage, and couldn't help but praise him aloud.