“The origin of the Art of False Smelting is a technique invented by a disgraced, down-and-out, vulgar blacksmith’s apprentice,” Lucas declared, his chin held high with pride. “He was an apprentice who could never truly become a blacksmith. To make a living, he specialized in a technique that produced refined iron that looked incredibly high-grade, but which proved utterly unreliable when forged into actual weapons or armor. Many great warriors met their deaths on the battlefield because they mistakenly relied on such gear.”

Xiao Changlei’s eyebrows twitched several times, and a new layer of suspicion settled over the Tier Five refined iron in Lucas’s hand. If an older, seasoned blacksmith had produced this metal, he would have had no doubt; but seeing it wrought by a student from the Oakhaven Academy of Magic and War made the claim truly difficult to swallow.

The other members of the adventuring party almost universally displayed some degree of distrust. This wasn't due to foolishness; it was because Qian Jin’s youth was his greatest liability. If he were a disciple of a true Forging Master, he should be learning at that Master’s side. He certainly wouldn’t be attending a place of Oakhaven Academy’s modest standing even if he desired further education.

From his age to the nature of his academy, the conclusion about his status was easily drawn. A glint of victory shone in Lucas’s eyes. Qian Jin might possess high forging talent, but he surely lacked guidance from a true master; otherwise, he would never be studying at the Oakhaven Academy of Magic and War.

“Blacksmiths who study the Art of False Smelting are the dregs of our trade!” Lucas snarled, a look of genuine disgust crossing his face. Today, he was determined to twist the truth until black became white. Whether he ended up hiring someone to eliminate Qian Jin later or simply driving him out, the young man could not be allowed to remain in Oakhaven. The leadership of the blacksmith trade here had to belong to Lucas’s Forge.

“This kind of False Smelting usually doesn't even reach Tier One refined iron. Yet, judging by its appearance, it mimics Tier Three or even Tier Nine metal,” Lucas mused, weighing the Tier Five piece in his hand. “Like this piece of Tier One iron, only a master blacksmith can discern its fraudulence. But some Tier One smiths can barely produce true Tier One iron themselves; do you honestly believe they could distinguish genuine higher-grade metal?”

Franklin angrily clenched his fists, his entire body trembling with rage. Facing a Tier Two blacksmith, his assertions as a mere Tier One smith carried little weight.

Qian Jin watched Lucas’s performance with amusement. Little men like this—whether in the glorious heights of the Qian family or within Oakhaven’s blacksmith industry—seemed to crop up everywhere he went! Did Lucas truly believe he was exhausted and incapable of quickly producing enough refined essence in a short time to forge a battle saber? If so, Qian Jin would produce a batch of refined iron, let Franklin forge a battle saber, and shatter Lucas’s Tier Two weapon, serving him a resounding slap across the face.

In any profession, strength is authority! Lucas’s eyes flickered with the triumph of victory. “I almost fell for this refined iron myself just now—I truly thought it was Tier Five…”

“Tier Five refined iron? Let me see…”

A low voice suddenly cut through the air, emanating from the doorway connecting the smithy floor to the front hall. Lucas’s golden mustache twitched upward at the sound. Who dared interrupt the city’s foremost blacksmith…?

Lucas froze as he saw the middle-aged man standing at the entrance. The pride and joy vanished instantly from his face, and the hand clutching the refined iron gave an involuntary tremor.

Qian Jin squinted curiously at the newcomer. This warrior, dressed in a light cyan robe, sporting short, deep-blue hair, whose facial contours were exceptionally sharp, and possessing blue eyes—who exactly was this man? Why had his mere appearance elicited such a strong reaction from Lucas? It seemed Qian Jin’s planned counter-attack might be unnecessary now.

“Fa… Fa…” Franklin stammered, looking up at the man stepping in from the entryway. “Fabridis…”

Upon seeing the middle-aged man named Fabridis, everyone in the forge's backyard—except for Franklin and Lucas—wore expressions of bewilderment. Few seemed to recognize the name.

“Sir… why have you come?” Franklin greeted him with a forced smile, quickly stepping forward. He cast a look of schadenfreude back at Lucas, whose face had darkened like scorched charcoal, radiating an overwhelming sense of dejection, even despair.

Qian Jin and the others didn’t know Fabridis, but Lucas and Franklin clearly understood that this man was Oakhaven City’s true apex powerhouse.

Within Oakhaven, only the truly high-ranking individuals in every field were likely qualified to know of Fabridis’s existence.

Both Lucas and Franklin, given their standing in Oakhaven, were technically unqualified to know Fabridis’s name. However, because the city’s foremost warrior had some connection to weapons and equipment, they had been introduced to this man—rumored to possess both formidable battle aura and the rank of a Tier Four Blacksmith—by the City Lord.

“This…” Lucas held the refined iron, shifting uncertainly like a shy maiden who had never stepped outside her door. He hesitated to move forward, yet under Fabridis’s gaze, he had no choice but to advance, offering the metal forward with an almost pleading expression.

Lucas was helpless. Blacksmiths usually retained significant status even before powerful warriors. Generally, warriors avoided offending smiths, even Tier One smiths, because every registered blacksmith was backed by a massive power: the Blacksmiths’ Guild!

It was an enormous union encompassing nearly every smith on the continent. It handled rank assessments and numerous other matters, one of which was fierce protectionism. If a guild member was wronged, the Guild would champion their cause. A powerful warrior could ignore a Tier One or Tier Two smith, but they could not ignore the massive Guild standing behind that smith, unless that warrior intended never to fight again.

No matter how fine the weapon or armor, combat meant wear and tear or outright destruction, necessitating repairs by high-level smiths. The higher the quality of the equipment, the higher the level of smith required for servicing. Thus, even the mightiest warrior would not lightly antagonize a blacksmith.

“But this man…” Lucas felt a deep headache coming on. The City Lord had warned him that this individual cared nothing for offending the Blacksmiths’ Guild and, in fact, harbored significant antagonism toward them. He warned Lucas never to rely on his status as a smith to provoke him, as a lethal response was entirely possible.

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