The main headquarters of the Artisan Sect was situated right in the heart of Dancheng—a massive, castle-like edifice that dominated the landscape. No matter where one stood in the city, a glance upward would reveal that towering, majestic, and awe-inspiring structure, much like the iconic Pig Cave Bell Tower of Tucheng.

Following the central thoroughfare, we led our horses to the great gates of the castle.

“Halt! Who goes there?” Before we had even fully stopped, several guards armed with blades quickly surrounded us. Their steady footfalls, deep breaths, and grim expressions immediately betrayed them as powerful warriors of the Scarlet Moon level. Though their swords remained sheathed, I could sense that any slight move from our party would draw their most ferocious attack instantly. In the distance, near the main gate, several mages, Daoists, and archers also watched us with predatory intensity.

“It’s me, Big Brother Qiu!” Dongguan slipped out from behind me.

“It’s Dongguan!” The lead guard chuckled. “What brings you to visit Uncle Lu today?” It seemed this Big Brother Qiu and Dongguan were quite familiar with each other.

“Something like that,” Dongguan replied, pulling me forward. “But the reason I’m here today is that I’ve brought the person Uncle Lu most wishes to see.”

“The person he most wishes to see?” Big Brother Qiu looked at me with confusion, then turned back to Dongguan. “Does Uncle Lu know?”

“He doesn’t,” Dongguan said with a light laugh. “But all you need to tell Uncle Lu is that Dongguan has found the person he’s been waiting for for over a year.”

“You rascal,” Big Brother Qiu said, a smile playing on his lips, yet his vigilance never slackened. He swept a brief glance over me, though his eyes were markedly softer than before. “Please forgive any earlier offense.”

I returned a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment, but Long Xin, Long Zhan, and Long Qi all wore expressions of clear displeasure. It was obvious they did not get along with this ‘Big Brother Qiu.’

“Wait here, I’ll go announce you!” Big Brother Qiu turned and strode quickly into the castle. The remaining five warriors, though their sharp demeanor had softened slightly, still watched us with unwavering alertness.

This made my companions and me quite uncomfortable.

“Don’t blame them!” Dongguan apologized sincerely. “You don’t understand. In this world, many people want to assassinate Uncle Lu. Because of this, they treat everyone entering or leaving the headquarters this way. Even I am not allowed to carry any weapons here.”

I understood then. Thinking it over, it wasn't strange at all. Lu Tong, as the current Master of the Artisan Sect, held an extraordinary position. In modern terms, he would be comparable to someone like Bill Gates. This level of security was nothing in comparison.

I dismissed the issue, nodding slightly to show my comprehension.

Soon, Big Brother Qiu emerged from the castle in haste.

“Uncle Lu invites you inside,” Big Brother Qiu said, his gaze fixed on me with a hint of intense curiosity regarding my origins. Feeling uneasy under his scrutiny, I could only offer a subtle nod.

Dongguan casually handed his Crescent Blade and spatial satchel to a warrior nearby. Long Xin and the others followed suit, surrendering their weapons and packs to the guards assigned to them.

From the outside, the structure appeared to be a magnificent, imposing, and colossal ancient fortress, exuding an overwhelming aura—like a giant beast perched on high, looking down upon the common world. Inside, however, the architectural style was simple, clear, and utterly devoid of ostentation. There were no overly lavish or complex reliefs; the floor was paved only with thick, solid square stone slabs, giving the impression that even a train running over them would leave no trace. Beyond the wall connected to the great iron gate behind us, I could see no other walls, for the space was astoundingly vast, akin to being in a dense forest. At the end of the wide clearing within the trees stood a towering structure. Ahead of us was a massive statue shaped like a dragon's head, and set right in the dragon's mouth was a great door forged from refined iron, looking like the steel fangs of a colossal dragon, possessing an incomparable, intimidating majesty.

The iron gates were already wide open, and Big Brother Qiu led us further inside. We soon passed through this passage, about thirty meters long, winding through the dragon’s maw. Only then did we catch sight of the main body of the castle hidden behind the dragon’s mouth. Although we knew it was astonishingly large from the outside, seeing its main structure firsthand utterly stunned me, a transmigrator from a modern metropolis. It was hard to believe such advanced architectural skill existed in this world. The entire castle was incredibly vast; its height alone matched a modern twelve-story building. As for the volume of the main structure, I couldn't tell, as I couldn't see the whole profile at that moment. It was starkly different from the grandeur and immensity perceived from the exterior. Once inside the main castle, I found the interior decoration could be described as exquisite and magnificent. This style was completely unlike the architecture found elsewhere on the Fama Continent. We proceeded along a pathway laid with a red carpet running down the center of a grand hall. The surrounding walls were adorned with vibrant, colorful murals. Though I possess little artistic sense, my intuition told me that every single one of these must be an invaluable masterpiece by a master artist. Supporting the vast hall were four golden stone pillars, each as thick as a man, carved on their surfaces with intertwined, ferocious-looking golden dragons, bearing a resemblance to the coiled dragon carvings in Beijing's Forbidden City. Suspended from the hall's ceiling was a celestial map constructed from countless precious gems. Looking up, it mirrored the constellations in the night sky—a breathtaking sight. Good heavens, how many gems must it have taken to assemble such a thing? It was clear just how astonishing Lu Tong’s wealth must be.

Passing through the main hall, we entered a smaller side hall. Calling it small was only relative to the preceding hall's splendor; in reality, it was still very large.

Unlike the main hall, this area lacked opulent decoration. In the very center of the room was a large area marked out by a conspicuous, thick gold line into a huge square. Along the corners near the walls stood rows upon rows of weapons: spears, sabers, staffs, and various implements. Though I didn't examine them closely, I could tell by feel that the weapons on those racks were certainly rare and superior creations. On the weapon racks lining the opposite wall, however, there were only four weapons displayed. To my surprise, one of them was identical to my Hundred Battles Saber. By mere appearance, I recognized the other three—they must have been the Dragon Slaying Blade, the Blade of the Hegemon, and the Rage Cleaver from Legend.

On the weapon rack near the west wall, there were only two slender swords. One, entirely crimson and of ancient design, shared the exact appearance of the Crimson Demon Sword from Legend. The other filled me with even greater shock: it was my own fencing foil. It was evident that this area served as some sort of training or armory room.

“The Crimson Demon Sword!” I exclaimed, unable to stop myself from instinctively moving toward that corner.

Hearing my gasp, Long Xin and Long Qi also displayed looks of disbelief. “Hasn’t the Crimson Demon Sword been missing?” Long Qi murmured.

“Long, slender blade, entirely crimson,” Jin Hong whispered to himself. “It certainly resembles the legendary Crimson Demon Sword.”

“But it feels like something is missing,” I said instinctively.

“It lacks spirit,” a deep, resonant male voice suddenly spoke.

“Exactly, this sword has no life fluctuation; it’s just an empty shell. The real Crimson Demon Sword shouldn't look like this.” I replied automatically, before quickly realizing who the voice belonged to.

Turning around, I saw that a tall, older man with an ancient bearing and a calm expression now stood behind me. What was shocking was that the man’s hair was entirely silver. If not for the fact that his face suggested he was no older than fifty, I wouldn't have been certain of his age. Yet, even so, the occasional flash of sorrow and decline in his brown eyes made me feel adrift. This man seemed to possess far more experience than his apparent years suggested.

I had never seen eyes that could hold such a rich tapestry of emotion and thought. They were eyes that had witnessed profound hardship, understood life and death, yet held an ineffable firmness and stubborn resolve—two contradictory sentiments perfectly merged. I couldn't fathom the experiences this man had endured, but I was certain he was no ordinary person. Instantly, four words sprang to mind: Divine Artisan Lu Tong. Standing beside Lu Tong was another younger warrior, dressed in the standard attire of a Scarlet Moon fighter, appearing to be around thirty. It took only one glance to recognize that this young warrior possessed extraordinary skill, undoubtedly surpassing Chi Jiao in strength.

As I scrutinized the man before me, two pairs of strange eyes were also studying me. The silver-haired middle-aged man, in particular, regarded me with an intensely probing look.

“Senior Lu Tong,” the moment I realized who he was, I immediately bowed deeply in respect. Long Xin and the others did the same. The silver hair instantly brought to mind the legend Dongguan had recounted about the Crimson Demon Sword—the story of the contemporary Divine Artisan who turned white overnight after the death of his two older brothers.

“Uncle Lu!” Only Dongguan looked genuinely cheerful.

“A very fine young man,” Lu Tong smiled at me. “You are Xingchen, aren't you?”

The young warrior beside him offered a slight nod in greeting, and I returned a shallow bow.

“Yes,” I confirmed. Unlike my expectations, Lu Tong did not exude an oppressive aura of dominance or grandness; instead, he felt approachable and easygoing. At least, I wasn't feeling particularly tense right now.

“To recognize immediately that this sword is not the true Crimson Demon Sword shows you are a connoisseur of blades,” Lu Tong said, drawing out the crimson longsword. “In truth, this sword merely mimics the external form of the Crimson Demon Sword. However, even so, the materials used are precisely the same.” Lu Tong then looked at me. “Yet, why is a sword forged from identical material so vastly different?”

............ I didn't know what to say! I simply stood frozen on the spot.

Long Qi, Long Xin, and the others wisely retreated a considerable distance. They understood clearly that Lu Tong wanted to speak with me, and with their limited knowledge, they couldn't possibly answer Lu Tong’s question. Furthermore, even if they had an inkling of insight, they dared not speak carelessly, knowing Lu Tong's notorious obsession with swordsmithing. Who could predict the consequence of a poorly chosen word? The safest course was to remain quietly silent.

“Senior overpraises me,” I replied, knowing this was no time for daydreaming. I quickly marshaled my thoughts to formulate a suitable response. “That was merely intuition. I believe anyone who has heard the legend of the Crimson Demon Sword would find it hard to mistake the object before them for the legendary blade.”

“Hahahaha!” Lu Tong laughed softly, handing the sword to me. “What you say may hold some truth.” I reached out and accepted the crimson longsword, instinctively sensing the energy contained within it.

Undeniably, this was the finest sword I had ever seen. The moment I channeled a mere wisp of Battle Qi into it, it seemed to activate the sword’s entire reservoir of energy. The blade immediately shone with a strange, fluid light, like a burning fire sword. This peculiar energy seemed to merge with the Battle Qi within me, intimately connected with my pulse in every breath.

“But even so, this is still a rare and excellent sword,” I blurted out.

“Indeed. In terms of crafting technique and materials, this sword can be called the finest of the age,” Lu Tong sighed. “But ultimately, it is merely an inanimate object.”

“Yes,” I agreed wholeheartedly with Lu Tong’s sentiment.

“But how,” Lu Tong looked at me with eager expectation, as if I held the answer to his lifelong query, “can one imbue it with life?”

.......... I was speechless. How could I possibly answer that? From beginning to end, I was nothing more than an ordinary youth. If a Divine Artisan like Lu Tong could not resolve this matter, how could I possibly know the solution?

“But, wasn't the Crimson Demon Sword imbued with life?” I didn't know how to respond, but an idea, perhaps born of desperation, forced the words out before I could stop myself. Since you don't know how to do it now, why not follow the method of your predecessor and forge another? But I immediately realized my words might be inappropriate.

The Crimson Demon Sword was forged by Lu Zhi, a prodigy of the Artisan Sect, who sacrificed his own life in the process. Lu Tong could not possibly be unaware of this principle, yet he had not forged an identical sword using the same method. To outsiders, it might appear that Lu Tong simply lacked the courage to commit to such an ultimate sacrifice. But I firmly believed Lu Tong was not someone who feared death. My words, however, could easily be misconstrued: they implied that Lu Tong couldn't surpass the Crimson Demon Sword because he feared death. Given Lu Tong's obsessive nature, he might fly into a rage and kill me on the spot.

Indeed, the moment my words left my lips, Long Qi’s face changed drastically. Soon, Long Xin, Long Zhan, and Jin Hong and Dongguan all realized I had said something I shouldn't have, their faces draining of color. The young warrior beside Lu Tong looked even more distressed, his expression suggesting he wished he could strike me down immediately.

“Very good,” Lu Tong remained calm. “Many people know that method, but no one has dared mention it to me before.”

“This junior misspoke,” I forced down the terror rising in my chest, my mind racing. Though his expression was placid, who knew what he was truly thinking? Perhaps he was already plotting how to kill me. In my past life, I’d seen terrifying villains in dramas who smiled while concealing murderous intent. I had to say something immediately to dispel any such notion, otherwise, I might die at any moment. Without hesitation, I continued, “Because that method simply doesn't work, Senior, which is why you abandoned that idea, isn't that right?”

“Oh?” Lu Tong seemed genuinely surprised, looking at me with curiosity, awaiting a reasonable explanation.

“Indeed, using the same method might forge another demon sword, but the chances are infinitesimal. Even if one succeeded by sheer luck, it would only result in the world having another terrifying existence like the Crimson Demon Sword.”

“Hahahaha!” Lu Tong laughed, and I could feel it was a hearty, relieved laugh, the sound of someone understood and acknowledged. “Precisely. That’s why I never considered trying to forge an identical sword using that method.”

Everyone else let out expressions of profound relief, and the tension gripping my heart finally eased. My hasty attempt to remedy the situation, I hoped, had quelled any murderous intent he might have harbored, though I couldn't be sure if he had harbored such thoughts at all. The young warrior beside Lu Tong stared at me with undisguised astonishment.

“In the path of swordsmithing, self-immolation is an extreme method! The success rate is minuscule, and even if successful, the nature of the sword is extremely difficult to predict. My predecessor, Lu Zhi, was forced into that final act only because he was pushed to the brink, and it all stemmed from his fanatical pursuit of the sword path—a deep-seated obsession that imbued the Crimson Demon Sword with an extreme, unwavering character. But because of this, the sword serves neither good nor evil; any person driven by obsession can wield its power. However, whoever holds this sword ultimately cannot escape the fate of self-immolation; this is the destiny imprinted upon the Crimson Demon Sword by Master Lu Zhi. Having only one such sword in existence is enough to stir untold bloodshed, and one can hardly imagine the consequences if there were another. Moreover, forging a sword the same way is not guaranteed to succeed.”

“So, Senior wishes to find another way to forge a sword of utmost sincerity, righteousness, and loyalty?”

“Precisely. I aim to create a loyal and upright sword that can be controlled by human will and spirit—not a demonic blade that controls the human spirit. This is what I, Lu Tong, have pursued my entire life.” Lu Tong’s words immediately inspired reverence in everyone present. A sword of true loyalty—if such a thing could be created, perhaps it could indeed defeat the Crimson Demon Sword.

Saying this, Lu Tong walked over to another weapon rack and picked up my Hundred Battles Saber. “I have dedicated my life to the way of the blade, and I consider my knowledge vast. Yet, I have never encountered a weapon with such distinct characteristics. With just one glance, I recognized its extraordinary nature.” Lu Tong then swung the Hundred Battles Saber a few times.

Swish! Swish! Several sharp glints appeared. With these casual waves, Battle Qi spontaneously manifested, showing just how incredible Lu Tong’s own Battle Qi reserves were. The moment he held the saber, I felt Lu Tong himself transform. He was no longer just an artisan obsessed with the ultimate path of forging; he was a peerless expert, a seasoned veteran of countless battles. “This is a supremely rare sharp instrument. It is clear that the person who designed it must possess astonishing insight into weaponry,” Lu Tong said, handing the Hundred Battles Saber back to me.

I respectfully accepted the saber.

“In the records of all ancient divine weapons, the Dragon Slaying Blade, with its sheer mass and imposing presence, is considered the greatest of all time. It cannot be used by anyone lacking immense physical strength and gravity; even those who fortunately acquire it often fail to utilize its unique techniques. In thousands of years, only a handful of individuals have truly mastered the blade’s power,” Lu Tong continued, his gaze drifting toward the Rage Cleaver.

“The Rage Cleaver’s peculiar double-scythe design dictates that this type of weapon must rely on trickery, unpredictability, swiftness, and agility as its core techniques. This, too, is the most difficult martial technique to master. An individual capable of wielding the Rage Cleaver appears perhaps once in a century.”

Lu Tong then picked up the Blade of the Hegemon. “The Blade of the Hegemon lacks the extreme solidity of the Dragon Slaying Blade, nor does it possess the extreme trickiness of the Rage Cleaver. However, it possesses the balanced integrity and peace that those two weapons lack. It is a weapon that combines rigidity and softness, stable yet swift, substantial yet agile. This is my personal favorite among them, but regrettably, this blade is kept in the Imperial Palace, inaccessible to ordinary people.” A flicker of melancholy and loss crossed Lu Tong’s face. “Whether it is the Dragon Slaying Blade, the Rage Cleaver, or the Blade of the Hegemon, they are all peerless divine weapons, infinitely superior to these empty shells displayed on the racks. And the secret arts used to forge them are nowhere to be found in any record. Legend says they were each endowed with a complete life and soul by their respective creators, allowing the power they manifest to far surpass that of ordinary weapons.”

It dawned on me then why I felt something was missing when I first saw those weapons—they were merely imitations.