A few warrior apprentices lingering in the library glanced at Qian Jin as he muttered to himself, secretly wondering which simple-minded cadet he was. Those Beliya Demons, with their curved ram horns and yellow hair, though generally the laziest among the Demon race, were still one of the seven major Demon tribes! Among the fierce and terrifying Demon race, which of the seven major tribes wasn't a powerful one? And yet, here they were looking down on the Beliya Demons? Who did he think he was? A Demon-Slaying Warrior?

"Beliya Demons, Beliya Demons." A subtle excitement stirred within Qian Jin as he rose from his seat. He had only encountered the Beliya Demons in books before, and had experienced life-and-death battles, but he had never truly fought a Demon. Now, he finally had the chance to see a living one!

Demons! The ultimate enemy of the warriors of the Zhence Dynasty! A warrior who hadn't fought the Demons, in the eyes of many, wasn't qualified to be called a true warrior!

After two years away from the Oakland Academy of Magic and Warriors, Qian Jin now felt like an invisible man. There were no teachers to manage him, nor did anyone approach to inquire. He walked out of the academy gates during class hours, and even the gatekeeper didn't stop him, letting him walk all the way to the Franlin Blacksmith Shop. "Hello, welcome. What can I get for you?"

The slightly shabby entrance of the blacksmith shop from two years ago had now been renovated to look quite impressive, and even the staff had changed into neat, matching uniforms, standing politely at the entrance to greet visitors.

So much had changed in two years. Previously, someone would have recognized him immediately upon arrival. Qian Jin smiled, about to speak, when a rough roar like thunder erupted from inside the shop: "Welcome my foot! Kid, do you know who this is? When you see Master Qian, you should be calling him Boss! You're here?"

Master? The curiosity of both the employees and the customers in the room focused on Qian Jin. How could such a young person be a Master?

If anyone else had shouted that, people would have assumed it was a joke, but it was Franlin who shouted it. Franlin was now the foremost blacksmith in Oakland City, usually addressed as Master himself. Yet today, he was calling this young man a Master?

"You've finally arrived," Franlin grabbed Qian Jin's hand and spun him around the shop, shouting to all the staff: "See clearly? This is Master Qian! From now on, you must show him even more respect than you show me, understand?"

Qian Jin felt his cheeks flush under the astonished gazes of the staff. He quickly pulled Franlin toward the forging hearth in the back courtyard.

"Kid, you're here quite early today. Don't you have class?"

"I need to prepare some things. I'll be heading out in a few days."

"Out again? You aren't going to disappear for two years this time, are you? I should just hire a squad of adventurers to be your bodyguards."

"That... perhaps not necessary. After all, I am a warrior..."

The people listening to the conversation between the two heading to the back courtyard exchanged bewildered glances. Hiring a squad of adventurers? That was no small expense! Even the shop owner didn't protect himself with such measures. Why would he spend so much to protect this young man? Could he be the descendant of some major power? "Yo! Qian Jin is back." "Ha! It really is Qian Jin!" "You've grown quite a bit in the two years you were gone."

The smiths in the back courtyard were the same ones from two years ago. They all stopped what they were doing and greeted Qian Jin with warm hugs, as if the passage of two years hadn't diminished their bond at all. "Where have you been these past two years?" "Kid, do you know how worried we were when you vanished for two years?"

Qian Jin looked at the smiths surrounding him, each speaking over the other, and felt a warm current surge through his chest. These people had no power, no great wealth, yet their affection was a hundred, a thousand times more genuine than those high-society figures from Lordin's house yesterday.

"What are you all crowding around Qian Jin for?" Franlin pushed the group: "Get back to work! Work faster! He's going out in a few days, don't crowd here and hinder his preparations."

When the smiths heard that Qian Jin was preparing for an outing, they immediately dispersed, clearing the best forging station for him. Piles of iron billets were pushed up to him on small carts, and all the smiths stepped back, watching expectantly as Qian Jin stood before the forge.

The smiths still vividly remembered how Qian Jin had consumed a large number of the blacksmith shop's iron billets two years ago to forge a Zhanmadao (horse-cleaving blade), and they still marveled at the sharpness and hardness of the kitchen knives he had made. The unique sound of metal striking metal, absent from the blacksmith shop for two years, rang out once more.

Franlin stared blankly at Qian Jin while he worked the bellows. He had thought that after two years of diligently practicing his own smithing skills, he might have narrowed the gap between them, but he now realized that after two years, Qian Jin's skill had ascended to an entirely different realm.

In the span of one morning, the massive greatsword that Shui Lian Ying'er required was resting quietly on the weapon rack, radiating a dazzling, icy gleam.

Franlin gently tapped the flat of the greatsword, listening to the crisp, ringing hum of the metal, clicking his tongue in admiration. Forging such a huge blade, from raw billet to completion and then to the edge, had taken less than half a day—a sword of Ninth Grade quality.

Next, Qian Jin forged only smaller items: rows of palm-sized throwing knives, and those sparkling arrowheads.

Once the arrowheads were forged, Qian Jin didn't rush to fit them onto shafts. Based on the records of the specialized weapons from the Blacksmith Shop, Qian Jin had gained a deeper understanding of arrow typology.

Generally speaking, arrows were divided into several categories, also known as the Eight Arrows, and further subdivided into ninety-eight different types: bodkin points, broadheads, bodkin points without nocks, featherless arrows, and so on...

Seeing Qian Jin carefully extinguish the furnace fire, Franlin chuckled and asked, "Finished? Why not make the bows and arrows before you leave?"

Qian Jin shook his head. The materials here were insufficient; he still needed to ask Fabredys for help. "I have other things to take care of. I'll come back another time."

Franlin didn't press Qian Jin to stay. Being overly insistent now would only make things awkward; they were family, and family didn't need to detain each other.

"Kid, go quickly, and come back soon."

"Mmm, got it." Qian Jin stepped out of the courtyard, suddenly stopping and turning back to say: "Oh, right, that greatsword. If a woman named Shui Lian Ying'er comes looking for it, remember to give it to her."

"I remember!" Qian Jin waved back, then headed straight toward Fabredys's home.

At the end of the long street, a young man wearing the uniform of the Oakland Academy of Magic and Warriors, carrying a flexible wooden staff, blocked Qian Jin's path.

"You are Qian Jin?"

Qian Jin paused and nodded, looking at the warrior apprentice blocking his way. He had a second-year badge, his body was reasonably sturdy, but his brow was heavy with unconcealed dissatisfaction. "On what grounds?" The young warrior apprentice scrutinized Qian Jin from head to toe: "On what grounds? That you can represent the Academy District in the Qualification Examination? That spot should have been mine!"

Qian Jin understood instantly and gave a knowing smile. It seemed that Rodriguez had posted the list for the examination, causing this overly confident warrior apprentice to be deeply displeased.

"What are you smiling at? I worked toward this day for two years!" The young warrior tapped a section of his staff against the ground with his toe, gripping the long staff firmly with both hands, causing it to tremble slightly and rapidly. "I heard you even took two years to finish your trial. How dare you take my spot? Give the spot back!"

"If it were before, I wouldn't mind giving it to you," Qian Jin clicked his tongue twice. "But the problem now is that Teacher Rodriguez bet his entire fortune on this examination. I can't let you go and ruin everything he has. So, little friend, my apologies." "Little friend?" The young warrior's eyebrows shot up, his dissatisfaction turning to rage: "You won't yield? Today I'll beat you until you do!"

Seventh Grade Fighting Strength! Qian Jin was slightly surprised. No wonder the kid dared to confront him; having this level of power at this age was certainly something to be proud of.

The young warrior raised his staff, his waist and legs moving his body in a slight up-and-down motion, resembling a cavalry soldier mounted on a warhorse on the battlefield. He flicked his arm, and the leading hand holding the staff became the focal point for power generation. The entire staff shot out like a venomous snake rushing from its hole, aiming sharply for Qian Jin's lower abdomen.

Riding the momentum of the charge, the staff instantly reached Qian Jin's waist. The young man could almost hear the dull thud of wood striking flesh in advance.

Qian Jin gave another "tsk" sound in mid-air. Staff combat prioritizes the power generated by the leading hand; this young man’s basic fundamentals were quite solid. If he had faced this opponent two years ago, it might have taken a little effort to deal with him. But now?

As the staff struck toward Qian Jin's waist, the warrior suddenly applied a second burst of force with his leading hand—the tip of the staff abruptly snapped forward! The staff shifted sideways, and the length within about a foot of the tip suddenly thwacked toward Qian Jin's waist!

Focal Point! Qian Jin felt a bit more surprise. The most powerful striking areas on a staff are the tip and the section about a foot in from the tip. The impact force from this section is greater than that from other parts. Therefore, any point within this section—from the tip to a foot back—is considered a focal point. In combat between opponents, both sides aim to strike the other with this section of the staff.

Bang! The staff struck Qian Jin's waist, but the painful cry the warrior predicted never came. Instead, the staff that hit Qian Jin emitted a brittle crack and exploded in mid-air, sending splinters drifting through the air. A burst of force exploded in his palm through the remaining half of the staff, tearing open his hand grip and drawing specks of scarlet.

This? How is this possible? The young warrior felt a tingling numbness spread through both shoulders, staring blankly as Qian Jin walked toward him. Whether it was due to the setting sun or the aftershock of the exploding staff, the figure that was merely tall before now appeared extraordinarily colossal, like a giant Demon from legend!