Blake raised his nearly slumbering eyelids to look at Qian Jin. “The books inside, no one is fighting you for them. In the future, you will have plenty of time to read. Now, you should become a Blacksmith. Take all this Hundred-Year Ice Iron Ore and refine it into metal essence, then forge according to the Diagram of Sabre Forging you studied.”

Qian Jin grabbed a piece of Hundred-Year Ice Iron Ore and tossed it into the fire, only to realize a problem soon after—this truly lived up to its name. Even the intense flames couldn't make it even warm.

Without the proper charcoal blends and with a scarcity of different charcoal types in the yard, Qian Jin’s only recourse was to work the bellows as if his life depended on it.

The whoosh-crack of the bellows echoed incessantly in the courtyard. After expending all the fighting energy of a Ninth-Rank Warrior, Qian Jin finally managed to heat the Hundred-Year Ice Iron Ore—the very mineral capable of freezing a man to death—until it glowed red.

While using tongs to retrieve the ore, Qian Jin sighed inwardly. No wonder countless warrior apprentices became stuck at the Ninth-Rank for their entire lives without making any further progress.

Based on the rigorous training of the past few days, he should have already broken through to become a Tenth-Rank Warrior. Yet, no matter how much his Ninth-Rank fighting energy grew, it felt like it was pouring into a bottomless pit, showing no sign of a breakthrough. It was no wonder the Ninth-Rank was dubbed the ‘dividing line between the Warrior’s Heaven and the Warrior’s Hell!’

Countless Ninth-Rank Warriors died still stuck as Ninth-Rank Warriors! Qian Jin had seen the bitterness and indignation of such warriors before death in more than one book; nearly every one of them regretted that they had spent their entire lives striving without ever reaching the Tenth Rank.

“What if I could break through into the Tenth Rank?”

Qian Jin’s hammer struck the red-hot iron with a jarring metallic clang, and the powerful recoil jolted him back to sobriety.

The glowing Hundred-Year Ice Iron Ore had, at some unknown moment, already returned to its icy cold state. That last strike had been completely wasted.

Blake slowly puffed on his pipe and drawled, “Hundred-Year Ice Iron reverts to its original state five seconds after leaving the heat if it isn't struck.”

“You didn’t say so sooner…” Qian Jin felt a familiar headache from Blake’s habit of deliberately letting him blunder before stepping in to correct him. He buried his head back into stoking the fire and working the bellows. There was still plenty of time today; even if he couldn't forge a Battle Weapon here, he could at least get in a few practice strikes.

The monotonous sound of hammering soon resumed in the Blacksmith’s Yard, one strike following another without pause. Old Blake continued to squat in the corner of the yard, smoking his pipe. Whenever Qian Jin looked at the old man’s eyes, he sensed that Blake harbored more secrets than he did.

“Player Qian Jin, please be advised, your daily game time is about to expire. Please prepare to log off.”

The System Sprite’s voice sounded again. Qian Jin simply closed his eyes, refusing to look at the distorted scenery, lest he be overcome by the sensation that the world itself was collapsing.

It was another morning. Qian Jin stretched and tied his cap back under the bed board. He nudged the still-sleeping Rollin. “Hurry up and get up, we need to run drills…”

“Let me sleep a little longer…” Rollin mumbled from beneath his covers, pulling the blanket over his head. “I was just dreaming I was in bed with the campus beauty…”

“Oh, really?” Qian Jin curled his lip at Rollin’s lazy demeanor. He felt a profound sense of psychological imbalance: he was being tortured by Blake’s training late into the night, while his companion slept soundly and dreamt lewd dreams.

“Listen here…” Qian Jin leaned close to Rollin’s ear, his voice laced with suggestive guidance. “The campus beauty took off her top, revealing skin as white as snow… and she’s taking off more… Oh, those pristine twin peaks…”

A gulping sound, a visible bob in Rollin’s throat, came from under the covers—he sounded wildly excited in his sleep.

“Who is that? Holding a long whip? Oh! That’s Teacher Rodriguez! He’s going to whip you, you lazy slob…”

“Ah!” Rollin shrieked, leaping high out of the bed. Qian Jin looked at his vertical jump and deeply suspected that this fat boy might actually possess the potential to become a great warrior—how else could he jump so high?

Rollin stared at Qian Jin with a deathly pale face, his eyes brimming with grievance. If he hadn't been outmatched by Qian Jin, he would have surely pounced and given Qian Jin a taste of his current two-hundred-pound frame.

“Classmate, deliberately inducing nightmares in others can easily lead to emotional instability,” Rollin muttered hurriedly while dressing. “It was so close, so close to pushing the campus beauty down…”

Qian Jin leaned against the doorframe. “That woman, I suggest you pick another one.”

“What’s wrong with her? She has the figure, and she has the looks.” Rollin spat a gob of saliva out the window with force. “When the holiday comes, I’ll ask the Old Man to go to her family and propose! I’m marrying her before this break is over! And then I’ll pin her down…”

“How old are you…”

“I’m not young,” Rollin swung his hefty bulk, walking alongside Qian Jin. “My father already had me when he was my age.”

Qian Jin shrugged, unable to argue. Whether in the True Policy Dynasty or the previous dynasties or among the Demon Race, it wasn't strange for males fifteen or sixteen years old to marry and have children. If the initial awakening of his Elven King bloodline had manifested earlier, perhaps he too would already be married, maybe even close to becoming a father.

A father? Qian Jin’s body trembled slightly. That exquisitely beautiful face, framed by those stubbornly determined eyes, flashed through his mind again.

In the Academy of Magic and Warriors, the powerful were always worshipped. In books, they revered the great generals whose names were etched into history; in reality, they naturally idolized the strong figures around them.

Qian Jin had made a name for himself a few days ago in front of nearly the entire academy! He had instantly become the focus of almost every warrior apprentice. Even the Second-Year warrior apprentices hadn't dared to challenge him after witnessing him beat up the seniors that night.

Nearly all the students recognized Qian Jin as the undisputed number one in the First-Year Warrior track. Many even believed he was the true strongest fighter in the entire Warrior Department of the academy! They figured even the Third-Year warrior students couldn't defeat him.

“Qian Jin…”

“Look, it’s Qian Jin.”

“The school’s top fighter, and the only future hope for making other academies reconsider how they view ours.”

For the past few days, Qian Jin had grown accustomed to the hushed whispers surrounding him during the morning drills. He let his gaze sweep over these people and look toward a spot behind the crowd.

Having survived the treacherous environment of the West Mountain Forest for days on end, Qian Jin’s body had become incredibly sensitive to any hostile gaze. Even just unusual attention from a stranger could trigger immediate alertness within a certain radius.

.C