"Are you sure about this? With the Tower's presence, it will take us long enough as it is," the gruff-voiced questioned.

  "Focus on digging deeper, especially into those fallen noble families," Ji Wuye replied, dismissing the speaker with a curt wave of his hand.

  His white martial robe, adorned with intricate dark blue stripes, fluttered behind him as he strode out of the loosely stacked tents resembling an ant nest.

  'Now, all that remains are the weapons,' he thought inwardly, his intense crimson pupils scanning the bustling camp with a penetrating gaze.

  The golden sunlight poured over his chiseled features, highlighting the strands of his long white hair that danced gently in the warm breeze as he moved forward.

  ...

  A few breaths later, Ji Wuye found himself inside one of the open tents, the sturdy canvas rippling softly in the wind. It was supported by thick wooden poles and secured with taut ropes, with its sides left open to the air, allowing the scents of coal smoke and molten metal to waft freely.

  CLANK!

  CLANK!

  The rhythmic sound of a hammer striking hot steel echoed from a nearby forge built of clay and fueled by glowing embers.

  The fire within glowed a brilliant orange-red, occasionally spitting angry sparks into the air that danced briefly before winking out.

  Around the forge, weapon racks displayed an impressive assortment of arms—sleek spears with razor-sharp points, heavy maces adorned with wicked flanges, and elegantly curved jians, all neatly arranged and awaiting their chance to taste battle.

  Ji Wuye lowered himself onto a simple wooden chair, his crimson eyes never wavering as he waited patiently for the blacksmith—a middle-aged man in his late forties with a weathered face that bore a deep scar across his jaw.

  The craftsman wore a sleeveless dark brown linen tunic over a loose-fitting white inner garment, his muscular arms glistening with sweat from his labor.

  "Huff..." The blacksmith let out a heavy exhale as he halted his rhythmic hammering, a faint burst of bluish Qi radiating outward like a ripple on a still pond, immediately caught by the sharp gaze of Ji Wuye's discerning crimson pupils.

  The blacksmith turned toward him, a finely crafted jian gripped confidently in his callused hand. The steel blade gleamed dangerously in the flickering forge light, its razor-sharp edge undeniable.

  But what truly caught Ji Wuye's keen eye were the elegant Hanzi characters imprinted along the blade's flat surface.

  "All the jians I've forged are resistant to fire and nearly unbreakable," the middle-aged blacksmith declared, his voice carrying a gruff pride as beads of sweat trickled down his soot-stained face.

  Then, as if to demonstrate, his bare palms—untouched by gloves throughout the grueling hammering process—suddenly began to enlarge, the skin reddening and growing visibly thicker and more calloused.

  CLANK!

  With his now massive, glowing hands pulsing with an inner heat, the blacksmith lifted the newly forged jian with surprising ease, the steel blade glinting dangerously in the forge's flickering light. In a fluid motion, he swung the sword with a loud whoosh, the blade arcing through the air toward the nearby anvil.

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  The result was astonishing. The jian, widely known for its delicate nature and fragility, was able to withstand the tremendous force of the vicious slash without so much as a waver in its deadly edge.

  Without reinforcement using Qi or a Sword Aura, such a seemingly frail jian would surely have shattered into pieces.

  "Not only that," he continued, his gravelly voice steady despite the physical exertion, "thanks to the Tower's presence, I've brought many of those called 'Skills' and managed to discover a new method to further enhance the traditional jian."

  With a calloused finger, he gestured toward the unique Hanzi characters etched along the blade's razor-sharp edge in a flowing script.

  As if imbued with life, the elegant characters began to glow with an inner luminance, and in the next instant, the entire blade emitted a brilliant shimmering silver light, the air around it seeming to crackle with barely restrained power.

  CUT!

  Like a heated knife effortlessly slicing through soft tofu, the anvil was cleaved cleanly in two by the enhanced jian, the halves clattering loudly to the hard-packed earth.

  "This addresses the traditional jian's weaknesses. Now you can even treat it like a dao," the blacksmith explained, his words carrying both undisguised pride and an unshakable confidence as he stood there in his blackened, heavily worn apron.

  The leather apron, extending from his broad chest down to his knees, bore sturdy reinforced seams, its surface darkened and textured. The fabric was stained in a myriad of colors—soot, ash, and even spatters of molten metal that had cooled into intricate patterns.

  "Impressive," Ji Wuye said, his crimson pupils deliberately dilating as he nodded and clapped his hands in feigned admiration. Of course, he was thoroughly familiar with this new age of blacksmithing from his previous timeline, having witnessed far greater marvels.

  'Back then, those jians were even better than this,' he thought inwardly, already comparing this enhanced blade to the superior creations he had seen before.

  But how could he show such a dull reaction when the blacksmith was so eager to display his achievement?

  "To be able to improve the jian like this...you truly live up to your reputation, Uncle Iron Fang," Ji Wuye added.

  "Oh, please, Master Ji," the burly blacksmith replied, his chest puffing out as he cupped his calloused hands together in a polite gesture.

  A wide, gap-toothed smile creased his soot-stained face, betraying his barely contained excitement at being praised by such a prominent and renowned figure. "This humble one goes by Hong Lie."

  "Also, please accept my apologies for the long wait, Master Ji," Hong Lie continued, carefully lifting the newly tested jian with reverent hands and placing it atop a thick leather sheet already carrying countless other elegantly curved blades, stacked atop one another in rigid rows. "Usually, my disciples would help me with this crucial task, but..."

  His words trailed off as his bushy brows furrowed, the deep creases in his weathered forehead seeming to etch themselves deeper into his skin.

  While deftly tying the leather pouch containing the entire collection of jians—an order specifically commissioned for Ji Wuye. Hong Lie's expression betrayed a hint of worry that caused the smile to fade from his lips.

  "It's understandable, Uncle. I only hope they return safely," Ji Wuye replied with a reassuring nod. He reached into the folds of his pristine white robe and retrieved a heavy pouch that clinked softly with the unmistakable sound of Qián, preparing to pay the blacksmith.

  "Forgive me if this appears disrespectful, but may I ask why you need so many jians, Master Ji?" Hong Lie inquired, his deep voice tinged with genuine curiosity as he glanced down at the leather pouch containing over twenty of the elegantly curved blades—enough to arm a small squad of skilled warriors.

  After all, even a figure like Ji Wuye—a martial artist capable of slaying countless strange monsters on his own—would have little need for such an arsenal, no matter how powerful he was.

  Though he hadn’t personally witnessed Ji Wuye’s battles, he was certain that martial artists of his caliber usually required only one or two jians, based on what he had observed so far.

  "Well..." Ji Wuye began, his words trailing off as he took hold of the leather bag filled with jians, the material straining slightly under the combined weight of the deadly blades.

  He glanced back briefly before responding, the hint of an enigmatic smile playing across his lips. "It's just that most conventional weapons are unable to withstand the full extent of my strength. I'm counting on your newly enhanced jians, Uncle Hong, to finally handle it without shattering."

  ...

  Morning had not yet fully transitioned into day, and the sun still lingered coyly behind the jagged cliffs on the distant horizon, its warm golden light spilling across the landscape in soft, ethereal rays that signaled the imminent arrival of a new dawn.

  This gentle illumination bathed Ji Wuye in a radiant glow as he sat astride a stallion, his fingers pulling slowly at the reins as he guided the beast forward at a steady pace through the maze of countless tents and bustling activity that comprised the Ruoshi camp.

  The leather bag containing the blacksmith's newly enhanced jians was securely tied beside him, the deadly blades clinking softly with each rhythmic step of the horse's hooves.

  The camp's residents paused their work as he passed, cupping their hands together in a gesture of deep respect to bid him farewell on the next leg of his journey.

  Ji Wuye then steadily continued on his path, offering a small, appreciative smile to those who expressed their gratitude so openly.

  Then his keen gaze fell upon the solitary figure of Lan Yexin, who was waiting patiently at the main gate of the Ruoshui camp.

  "So, you've finally decided to leave," she said, her melodious voice steady though her head neither turned to look at him nor tilted upward, her eyes remaining fixed on the winding road ahead—the path Ji Wuye would soon take.

  Her long ebony ponytail swayed gently in the cool morning breeze, the silken strands caressing her porcelain cheeks as the wind brushed lightly against her delicate features, wiping away the solitary tear that had slipped unbidden from the corner of her eye to trail a glistening path down her flawless skin.

  Only then did she lift her head, her lips trembling ever so slightly as she struggled to form a smile - a fragile facade meant to mask the swell of turbulent emotions roiling just beneath the surface. Yet the smile came across as forced, a transparent veil that could fool no one.

  "Have a safe journey, Young Master,"