Cha Ming grasped the softly glowing spear when it finished absorbing the powder. He walked further back into the room, where a barrel of liquified elemental essence lay. He poured five vials into it, one for each elemental evanescence. There was more water evanescence compared to the other types. This was to better reflect the properties of the demon blood in the spear. Then he plunged the spear headfirst into the barrel. As the metal quenched, the liquified elemental essence hissed. The runic patterns on the spear lit up with a bloody, malevolent light. This continued for some time before the glow faded, leaving a red spear in Cha Ming’s hands.
“Run along now,” Cha Ming said to the apprentice. “I’m done smithing for the day.”
The man nodded and moved to leave but hesitated on his way out.
“What grade is it?” the man asked. Though Cha Ming thought of him as an apprentice, he was a master smith in his own right.
“Late core grade,” Cha Ming grunted. “I lucked out.”
The man nodded and left. Only Cha Ming knew how long he’d spent in the Clear Sky World, training his smithing skills to achieve this result. His smithing skills were subpar for his professed middle grandmaster certification, but he more than made up for it with clever runework.
Now to sell it to a man who doesn’t deserve it, Cha Ming thought. The weapon, one of the three main focuses required for Sun Wukong’s deception array, was to be gifted to the abbot of the Blood Master Monastery in Ashes. The next two weapons would go to the head of the Spirit Temple, and to this city’s duke. Each of them was a despicable individual with a terrible history. Unfortunately, he had little choice in the matter if he was going to create an artificial reputation for himself.
“Why are you so grumpy about it?” Sun Wukong asked. “You and I both know what sort of trap you left inside the weapon’s runic array.”
Cha Ming grinned. “I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’m just worried about short-term damage.”
“You won’t feel bad and chicken out, will you?” Sun Wukong asked mockingly.
Cha Ming shook his head. “Not in the slightest. These men are far from innocent. My debt isn’t to them but to the good people in this city.”
“And how will you make it up to them?” Sun Wukong asked.
“I don’t know how much good it’ll do,” Cha Ming said, “but once my work in Bastion is done, I won’t need them to believe my ruse. What’s the point in laying a trap if you don’t intend to set it off?”
“See? I knew you’d come around,” Sun Wukong said.
“Come around?” Cha Ming asked. “You’ve seen the Blood Master Monastery. You’ve seen the city lord’s information.” He shook his head. “I’ve never needed an excuse to kill evil men. The method doesn’t matter.”
“You’re no fun at all,” Sun Wukong said. “Why don’t you at least pretend to succumb to corruption? Just this once.”
“Why pretend?” Cha Ming asked. “Letting you try again and again without making any headway is satisfying in its own right.” He walked out of the workshop and into the reception area where Mo Ling worked. It was past closing time, but the poor girl was at her desk, apparently taking a nap. As quietly as he could, he tiptoed out of the building. He suppressed the sadness in his heart as he heard her mumble the names of the family she’d abandoned and the friends she’d left behind.
As he walked down the crowded streets toward the Blood Master Monastery, he ignored the gawking guardsmen and shivering people that made way for him. Instead, he focused on a very real but pressing problem: Mo Ling had come with him to Ashes, but she could hardly keep following him. He might be able to shield her from the inevitable backlash that ensued when the three most important people in the city died cruel, tragic deaths, but bringing her to Bastion was just asking for trouble. It was only a matter of time before he had to leave her behind.
Chapter 13: Offer
It was a busy day in Pai Xiao’s forge. All of Cha Ming’s smiths, whether young or old, were busy toiling away to fill the day’s orders. The sheer number of weapons and armor requested had increased significantly over the past few days, so no one dared slack off. Anyone forging too slowly would get brow-beaten by their coworkers until they caught up. Mo Ling also worked double-time, frantically pushing papers, paying invoices, and submitting work orders to supply the busy smiths.
Unlike Mo Ling and those men in the forge, however, Cha Ming wasn’t particularly busy. He spent most of his free time in the Clear Sky World, perfecting his spiritual blacksmithing as much as he could in as short a time as possible. He didn’t need to be the best—that would undermine everything he was hoping to achieve in this city. But he did need to be a miracle worker, a smith who, against all odds, forged his way through sheer genius.
The three weapons he’d crafted—a spear for the Blood Master Monastery’s abbot, a crook for the Spirit Temple’s shepherd, and a saber for the duke of Ashes—were flukes. They were completely different than anything else he’d crafted. His other works were simple, imperfect creations, though in each mid-grade treasure he forged, he left an inconsistency that hinted at what it could be with a little more tweaking.
Since Cha Ming needed to eventually make good on that potential, he studied as much as possible. Pai Xiao was not only a genius smith, but a man of academic talent. He spent most of his time upstairs theorizing, working hard to combine hints of inspiration as the smiths worked the forge’s day-to-day operations. Every once in a while, he had an epiphany. When he
