Chapter 156: The Year

"Less than a year into the sect, and at nineteen he forged a top-grade named weapon-grade inner armor—this, this talent..."

Inside the tent, Long Cheng could not hide his astonishment.

His Long family, one of the six great clans of the provincial capital, possessed immense wealth; as the current true disciple, he was close friends with the Young Master of the Valley.

Yet even now, he possessed only a single top-grade named weapon, and not even his most skilled weapon—the staff—but a sword.

Inner armor is rarer and far harder to forge than a staff.

"Could it be that after seven hundred years, our Divine Weapon Valley will produce another Divine Artisan?"

Long Cheng's heart trembled, then he turned to Shi Hong, a flicker of understanding dawning in him.

No wonder he treated this news as more important than the Three Yuan Warren army's mobilization—it's a Divine Artisan...

"I once heard he silently hammered iron, and I lamented, thinking he wasted his superb innate talent."

Shi Hong tossed the message slip into the firepit, watching the ashes drift: "Who knew there'd be a 'surprise.'"

"I assumed his obsession with forging had hindered his cultivation, leaving him nowhere near mastery—yet he possesses such talent after all."

Long Cheng was deeply shaken.

This news was no trivial matter—it could sway the attitudes of his family, the Elders, even the Valley Master.

A Divine Artisan, even in Huilong Palace or Longhu Temple, would be honored as a guest of honor, pursued by countless powerful experts.

"If he becomes a Divine Artisan, our Divine Weapon Valley might even replace Huilong Palace!"

The more Long Cheng thought about it, the more plausible it seemed—he remembered that even the Divine Artisan ancestors seven hundred years ago hadn't all possessed such talent.

"His talent... is simply too good. Too good."

Shi Hong murmured to himself, his fingers turning white as he clenched the helmet.

All his months of travel, his kills of the two true disciples of Qianjun Cave, his countless brushes with death—none of it likely outweighed Li Yuan's forging of this top-grade named weapon.

More importantly...

"Without transforming qi into true essence, one cannot become a Divine Artisan."

Shi Hong lowered his eyelids, staring at the burning candle, his heart unable to settle.

The Divine Weapon Valley has declined for years; the only complete supreme technique left is the 'Five Weapons, Five Colors Spiritual Void Qi'...

"Brother, you?"

Long Cheng turned back, sensing Shi Hong's lack of enthusiasm—had he misunderstood?

Yet if the sect could produce a Divine Artisan, surely that was the greatest of blessings...

"It's nothing."

Shi Hong waved him off, dismissed him, and lay back against the firepit:

"I'm tired."

"Brother, rest well."

Long Cheng's heart tightened; he bowed and left.

"A Divine Artisan's potential... such a person."

Snowflakes danced in the night wind, tents stretching in a line; Long Cheng pondered Shi Hong's thoughts, unable to comprehend.

But...

"A Divine Artisan."

Long Cheng's eyes gleamed; after slowly leaving, he quickened his pace, turned, and headed toward the tent of the Commander of the Jia Battalion, 'Long Yin.'

The three Divine Guard battalions—the Jia Battalion was the most elite—and that commander was his uncle...

Whoosh~

Amid the howling night wind, Shi Hong stood outside the tent, watching Long Cheng's retreating back, feeling the night unusually cold, making him shiver:

"Divine Artisan... Divine Artisan..."

Boom!

Boom!

Fireworks exploded across the night sky.

Ten days before the New Year, the Dragon Crouching Provincial Capital was already bustling; at night, fireworks lit up the sky in dazzling succession.

"The city is still wonderful."

On the third floor of Linjiang Pavilion, Li Yuan sat by the window, gnawing on a braised chicken leg, surrounded by voices and the scent of wine and meat.

Though only months had passed, he felt as if years had slipped away.

"Of course the city is wonderful—just one fireworks display, and you'd never see such a thing in Gao Liu County in your whole life."

Wang Peiyao leaned on the railing, eyes fixed on the fireworks, clapping and gasping with delight each time one burst.

She had hidden for a long time; had it not been for the sect's summons, she'd still be hiding.

Both watched the fireworks, but Liu Zheng had no such mood—he held his wine cup, lost in thought.

After a long while, he couldn't hold back: "Brother Li, my hundred-plus catties are in your hands now!"

Hearing him, Wang Peiyao remembered their purpose: "And my hundred catties too, Young Master Li, please look after me."

After the news of the Three Yuan Warren army's mobilization spread, every inner and outer sect disciple, even the laborers, received the summons.

Anyone who had cultivated internal qi, regardless of age or weakness, must join the Divine Guard; those without internal qi must be drafted into the city guard to patrol the walls.

Li Yuan nodded and clinked cups with the two:

"Put the forging shop on hold—when Brother Yue and Brother Wu arrive, come up the mountain with me. I'll need many hands for a large batch of weapons to forge."

During this time, as Duanmu Sheng issued the sect summons, countless inner and outer disciples had come to him, willing to serve as maids rather than join the Divine Guard.

Li Yuan was overwhelmed, so he used the excuse of traveling with Jing Shuhu to buy supplies and slipped away, also to pick up Liu Zheng and Wang Peiyao.

"Thank you, Brother Li!"

Wang Peiyao and the others raised their cups, relief washing over them.

Though they'd trained in martial arts for years, they'd barely fought in real battles; the idea of a sect-wide war nearly terrified them to death.

"If we grow rich, don't forget each other!"

Li Yuan smiled; since he needed people anyway, he naturally wouldn't avoid kin—it was within sect rules.

How could someone who neglected even family and friends have true loyalty to the sect?

Because of this rule, the Divine Weapon Valley now teemed with tangled factions, so dense no one could untangle them.

As cups clashed and laughter rose, the awkwardness between them faded, the atmosphere growing lively.

During the meal, Liu Zheng reported the forging shop's accounts over the past year, and Li Yuan's income from his shops, fields, and mines.

The Divine Weapon Valley granted its true disciples excellent treatment—simply sitting idle, one earned at least a thousand taels of silver annually,

and with proper management, tripling that was no problem.

Liu Zheng had worked diligently; after expenses, Li Yuan netted two thousand four hundred taels of silver.

Wang Peiyao produced the intelligence she'd secretly gathered—mainly events within the city and all matters concerning the outer sect.

"By the way, recently, there's been some murmuring within the sect about you moving to Chirong Cave."

Wang Peiyao's phrasing was delicate; Liu Zheng's expression turned odd.

Murmuring?

During that time, inner and outer disciples were being assassinated one after another, yet Li Yuan had bodyguards and hid himself in the Forge Valley.

The news spread, causing uproar among inner and outer disciples—many mocked and condemned him as unworthy of being a true disciple.

"A disgrace to the true disciples?"

Li Yuan set down his cup—he'd heard it too.

"Ahem, Brother Li, don't mind it—when you forged that top-grade named weapon, it caused a sensation too."

Liu Zheng spoke, as if still in a dream.

That was a top-grade named weapon.

No such thing had ever appeared in Gao Liu County's history!

How long has it been?

"Now, many in the valley and city believe you have the potential of a Divine Artisan—some even say you should be the Young Master."

Seriously?

Li Yuan was taken aback—had Old Lei played this so bluntly?

"By the way, the first to gossip about you was a disciple under Elder Sun of the Divine Weapon Pavilion."

Wang Peiyao lowered her voice.

"Elder Sun?"

Recalling the bounty notice on Sun Zan he'd seen at the Star-Picking Tower outpost, Li Yuan narrowed his eyes:

"Where did you hear that?"

"I... heard it from a laborer disciple, supposedly by accident."

Wang Peiyao replied.

"Is that so?"

Li Yuan nodded, didn't press further, and turned toward the door—soon, Yue Yunjin and Wu Ming hurried in.

Li Yuan had already eaten one meal; he didn't mind eating another.

After entertaining them, he instructed them to return to the mountain by carriage, while he waited for Jing Shuhu under the protection of Yu Jin and others.

He waited until late at night, then looked at the darkened city and toward the brightest lights within it:

"Could that old man have gone to Hundred Flowers Pavilion?"

……

……

At night, Hundred Flowers Pavilion was brightly lit; before the New Year, business was far better than usual, with nearly every level fully occupied.

The thick scent of cosmetics could be smelled across the street, and the sounds of lute and flute never ceased.

"Hmph! Decadent music!"

On the sixth floor of Hundred Flowers Pavilion, Jing Shuhu glanced at several graceful girls dancing behind the gauze curtains and sneered.

He had never taken a mistress in his life and remained pure yang to this day.

"Enough, leave."

Jing Shuhu waved his hand, causing the serving women beside him to pause in surprise, then bow respectfully and withdraw.

"Are you so certain I'd come tonight?"

At one moment, a slow, leisurely voice came from the window; Wan Chuan appeared instantly and sat across from him.

"If you don't come, it's just a few silver coins wasted—what's the big deal?"

Jing Shuhu slammed his cup down, his expression dark: "You pretend to leave but secretly stay behind—this is your usual trick!"

"Heh."

Wan Chuan smiled without warmth, uninterested in arguing, and pulled out a letter from his sleeve:

"The information you requested."

"So fast?"

Jing Shuhu was slightly startled, took the letter but did not open it immediately.

"Do you think you can imagine the reach of my connections? Feng Mantian, the head of Yunshu Pavilion, has tried repeatedly to meet me and failed."

Wan Chuan took pride in this; in his youth, when he came with his master, his forging skills were inferior to Jing Shuhu's.

"Divine Artisan."

Jing Shuhu fell silent, feeling a pang of melancholy.

Seeing his demeanor, Wan Chuan subdued his pride: "By the way, what is your Valley Master relying on to provoke a sect war?"

"Three major sects watch with hungry eyes, and the Cult of the Evil God lurks in the shadows—this isn't provocation, it's desperation."

Jing Shuhu sighed.

"You forgot the Martial Order."

Wan Chuan added: "According to my sources, Meng Zhan, the Lord of the Coiled Dragon Martial Order, seems to have deliberately let Su Wanxiong go…"

"The imperial court?"

Jing Shuhu frowned, recalling the newly appointed Prefect, Wang Zhao.

"Enough. I've returned what I owed."

Wan Chuan drank only one cup of wine, didn't even move his hand, and vanished from the private room.

"Divine Artisan…"

Jing Shuhu suppressed his envy, opened the letter, and cross-checked its contents with what he already knew.

"Martial Order and Cult of the Evil God…"

Jing Shuhu muttered to himself, then reached into his robe and pulled out an iron mask painted with a cat's face.