Chen Feng's right hand ceaselessly wielded the massive hammer, the black iron in his left hand slowly deforming under the repeated strikes. His eyes were slightly closed, as if seeing nothing, yet the exact landing spot of every hammer blow was precisely measured, aligning perfectly with the previous one, without the slightest deviation.

Moreover, anyone paying close attention would notice that the interval between each strike was precisely identical; the height of every swing and the force of every impact were exactly the same, showing no variation whatsoever!

If Old John could perceive these details, he would surely exclaim over Chen Feng’s genius. To control one’s strength with such perfection was absolutely the highest realm every blacksmith dreamt of achieving, and this young man, named Ba Shen, had accomplished it in less than a week!

Even without grasping those subtleties, Old John was already astonished almost to disbelief. A person's physical strength always had its limits. Take himself, for instance; he started smithing at fifteen and had been working continuously for over forty years, building up a strength far surpassing the average person. Yet, even at his peak condition, swinging the 56-jin hammer a hundred times required a brief rest. But this red-haired youth, Ba Shen, showed no sign of fatigue, behaving like a machine. More bizarrely, despite this non-stop hammering, not a single drop of sweat had fallen from his body!

The absence of sweat proved that this level of exertion was nowhere near his limit!

Swinging the 56-jin hammer thousands of times without tiring...

Was this... truly a child?

John repeatedly rubbed his eyes, forcing himself to believe what he saw, but the shock in his heart was indescribable.

After much contemplation, he surmised the likely truth: perhaps this boy was a Warrior! Warriors possessed immense strength and could wield Battle Qi. Although John was a simple blacksmith, years spent around weaponry had given him some understanding of martial ranks and power levels. However, he knew that when Battle Qi was deployed, it should be visible coating the body, yet what he saw on Ba Shen was purely the strength of raw flesh!

"It seems this child’s origins must be extraordinary!" Old John sighed, stepping out of the forge.

The sky outside remained cold and grim, with snowflakes occasionally dancing in the biting wind.

"Clop, clop..."

The sound of hooves drifted from the distance.

Horses and Horned Horses were commonly used for transport, though Horned Horses were better suited for long-distance travel and were mostly favored by the nobility.

Old John glanced over and saw a band of mercenaries, about twenty men, all broad and rugged, seemingly heading toward the direction of the Frostbound Demon Garden.

"Where can we find lodging around here?" A tall knight from the mercenary band called out to John.

John smiled faintly. "You've reached the very entrance to the Frostbound Demon Garden. The Empire's Third Legion defense line is three li further on. To find a place to stay, you've already passed it. The town five li back has plenty of inns specifically prepared for mercenary groups like yours!"

The tall knight grunted an "Oh," brushing the snow from his armor, and looked back at his companions. "Damn it, I told you lot not to argue, and now we have to turn back. In this biting cold, if we don't get a hot drink to warm up, we'll freeze solid out here!"

The group burst into laughter. A lean Warrior stepped forward from the crowd toward the tall knight. "Captain, I say we just stay here. It may not be much, but there aren't too many of us; we can make do. We’ll enter the Frostbound Demon Garden tomorrow. I’m exhausted and my mount is spent; I can’t walk another step!"

The rest of the men murmured their agreement.

The tall knight paused in thought, then turned to John. "If we walk all the way back in this ice and snow, who knows when we’ll arrive. It’s getting late. How about we set up camp right here in front of your house?"

Mercenaries requesting shelter was not uncommon, so John readily agreed with a laugh. "Certainly!" He led the way back to his dwelling.

There was a large open area in front of the house, where the mercenaries promptly set up their portable tents. The tent was quite large; twenty-odd men could sleep inside comfortably.

The tall knight followed John inside the house and inquired, "Do you have any wine? And some firewood, so the lads can warm themselves up. I assure you, I will pay you fairly!"

John knew these mercenaries were hearty folk and replied, "I have a few jars of wine. The firewood is in the forge; I’ll fetch it for you!"

The tall knight chuckled. "No need to trouble yourself, old man. I’ll send two men to haul it over!"

Saying this, he turned back and called two burly men toward the forge.

...

Chen Feng was immersed in a peculiar state of focus.

During his previous cultivation, he had only focused on increasing his raw power, never specifically on controlling its magnitude. Unexpectedly, through these few days of smithing, he gained a new understanding of strength: power isn't inherently better the greater it is; suitability is what truly matters. The adage that excess is as detrimental as deficiency referred precisely to this principle!

It was this realization that had kept him engrossed in his smithing these past few days.

With every hammer blow, he consciously controlled the exact force required. If the power was too great, the iron core would shatter; if too little, it naturally wouldn't achieve the optimal result. He spent a full seven days experimenting before finally calibrating the perfect force!

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached from outside.

Chen Feng instantly broke out of his meditative state and watched the two figures approaching.

They were two knights clad in heavy armor.

"Big Brother, it’s a passing mercenary group!" Yas's voice sounded.

Though young, Yas had seen such situations often enough during their stay here and was unconcerned.

Chen Feng nodded, ignoring the two men.

"Boy, where do you keep your firewood? We need to build a fire to warm up!" one knight stated loudly, with an air of arrogance.

Chen Feng frowned briefly, but his expression smoothed quickly. He pointed toward a corner inside the forge. "Over there!"

He spoke without looking up, continuing to swing his hammer and work the metal!

"Huh! This kid has quite the strength!" the other knight finally noticed Chen Feng’s unusual activity and exclaimed in surprise.

The first knight spared Chen Feng a condescending glance. "He’s fifteen or sixteen and hasn't even managed to become a Warrior. What’s so strange about that? Besides, what use is great strength? A horse is immensely strong, yet it’s still ridden by men."

The Dark Chaos Vortex energy within Chen Feng had recovered to the level of a Second-Tier Warrior a week prior. However, he had been so absorbed in controlling his strength these last few days that his cultivation hadn't advanced. At this moment, he had reshaped the iron shovel into chest armor (having realized his defenses were still too weak during the fight with Qilin, prompting the change), thereby concealing his true cultivation. In the eyes of the knights, his power level appeared far below even a First-Tier Warrior!

To be fifteen or sixteen and not yet a First-Tier Warrior—while not strictly indicating abysmal talent, it certainly suggested a bleak future, even if he did eventually become a Warrior.

Hearing their rudeness, Chen Feng’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a sharp glint flashed in them.