I attained sainthood through alchemy on the cliff.

Chapter 19 The Silent Anvil

The dilapidated shed in the backyard of the blacksmith's shop, piled with rusty scraps and firewood, became Yang Jin's, or rather "Stone's," place of refuge for the foreseeable future.

Chen Shan led him here and then left him alone, only giving him a packet of wound medicine with a faint herbal smell, a set of rough but clean gray cloth clothes, two hard grain cakes, and half a sack of water.

Do it yourself.

After saying this, Chen Shan hunched over and turned back to the shop in front of him.

The shed was dimly lit, and the air was filled with a mixture of smells of rust, dust, and rotting wood.

Yang Jin silently observed the scene through the faint light filtering through the crack in the door.

The space was cramped, barely enough for one person to lie down. Thick layers of dry grass covered the ground, and some unidentified tool fragments were scattered in the corner.

Instead of treating the wound immediately, he first cautiously inspected the small space.

Only after confirming that it was safe did they summon Atu, who had been lurking underground, and have it stand guard in the shadows by the door.

Unbuttoning his tattered clothes, soaked with blood and river water, he revealed the wound on his chest.

The area where Zhao Kun's punch grazed was bruised and swollen, with a dull ache inside; his ribs might be fractured.

The abrasions and scrapes from the fall into the water covered his entire body.

The most serious injury was the internal shock caused by forcibly stimulating the blood and qi and triggering the collapse; every breath caused excruciating pain in the lungs.

He opened the medicine packet Chen Shan had given him; inside were some coarsely ground black powder and a few dry, hardened plasters.

Mix the powder with water to form a paste, and carefully apply it to the most severe bruises and abrasions.

The paste is cool and slightly spicy. Upon contact with the skin, it produces a slight numbing sensation that relieves pain and promotes blood circulation, clearly indicating that it is not an ordinary product.

He then applied the plaster to the most painful spot on his chest.

After doing all this, he was so exhausted that he was almost collapsing.

He changed into a clean gray cloth outfit; although it was rough and worn, it was still better than the blood-stained clothes.

He finished eating a hard biscuit, drank some water, and then lay down on the haystack.

His body was utterly exhausted; his injuries, the tension, the fighting, and the grief of the past few days overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

Almost the instant his head touched the hay, his consciousness sank into boundless darkness.

Only the regular rise and fall of his chest and the occasional furrowing of his brow due to pain indicated that he was not completely at peace.

A-Tu coiled in the shadows inside the door, his mouth slightly open, sensing the slightest vibrations inside and outside the shed, faithfully fulfilling his duty of guarding.

……

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

The rhythmic, heavy, and prolonged sound of hammering jerky jolted Yang Jin awake from his deep sleep.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his body tensed instantly, and his hand instinctively reached for his waist, only to find it empty; the axe was gone.

The memory of last night's bloody battle and carrying the stone statue up the cliff flooded his mind like a cold tide, instantly sharpening his eyes like knives.

But then he took in his surroundings: the dilapidated shed, the dry grass beneath him, the dog Ah Tu lurking at the door, the clean gray cloth he was wearing, and the cool medicinal sensation emanating from his chest.

Blacksmith shop... Stone... Chen Shan...

The sluggishness of switching identities made him feel disoriented for a moment.

"Clang! Clang!"

The sound of hammering continued, steady and powerful, as if carrying some peculiar rhythm, penetrating the thin walls of the shed and striking his eardrums and heart.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his turbulent emotions and the dull pain in his chest, and slowly sat up.

I moved my limbs a bit. Although I was still in pain and weak, after a night's rest and the effects of the medication, I felt much better than yesterday. At least I had the strength to move around.

He pushed open the creaking, broken wooden door, and the blinding morning light made him squint slightly.

In the front yard, the stove fire was blazing, casting a red glow on Chen Shan's old face, which was covered in soot.

He was bare-chested, his lean upper body revealing his clearly defined ribs and his equally thin but well-defined arms, which possessed a strange resilience.

At this moment, he was swinging a large hammer that was quite disproportionate to his size, repeatedly forging a red-hot iron blank on the anvil.

The hammer's rise and fall, seemingly simple, carries an indescribable precision and coordination.

Each hammer blow landed precisely where it was needed, and amidst the flying sparks, the shape of the iron billet changed at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Chen Shan's breathing was perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of his hammering, long and deep. Although his blood and qi were not overwhelming, they were condensed and flowed subtly with his movements.

Yang Jin was somewhat lost in thought.

Blacksmithing... seems to be a skill in itself?

Seemingly sensing his gaze, Chen Shan did not pause with the hammer in his hand. He simply turned his head, his cloudy yet sharp eyes sweeping over, his brows furrowing slightly. Then, he shook his head very slightly in Yang Jin's direction, his eyes carrying a clear warning and reminder.

Yang Jin felt a chill run down his spine and immediately realized his mistake. He was now "Stone," a mute apprentice, and he shouldn't be staring at his master like that, much less showing any expression that was inconsistent with that of an "ordinary apprentice."

He quickly lowered his head, feigning timidity and fear, and slowly moved to a corner near the stove but not in the way of Chen Shan's work. He stood with his hands at his sides, looking down at his nose and inward.

Chen Shan then turned his gaze back to the iron ingot in his hand.

He didn't stop until he had hammered the iron blank into the rough shape of a woodcutter's knife, quenched it, and cooled it. He wiped his sweat with a rag and went to the water vat next to him to scoop up some water to drink.

"Awake?" Chen Shan asked, his back to Yang Jin, his voice hoarse and flat. "How are your injuries?"

Yang Jin opened his mouth, then remembered his "mute" identity and quickly closed it. He just nodded vigorously, pointed to his chest, and gestured that he felt "much better".

Chen Shan turned around, glanced at him a few times, and grunted, "As long as you don't die. Remember your identity, 'Stone,' an escapee from the Black Mountain Mine, born mute, not very bright, here to learn blacksmithing to make a living. Look less, listen less, be less curious, and work more. Especially in front of outsiders."

He pointed to Yang Jin's face: "That layer of skin, every night before bed, wet the edges with water, carefully peel it off, and then apply it back with water in the morning. Make sure it fits well and doesn't leave any gaps. It will be effective in five days at most, then I'll give you a new one."

Yang Jin nodded again.

"You're injured and can't do heavy work. Go and sort through that pile of scrap metal over there by size and thickness. Throw the heavily rusted pieces into that basket, and move the usable ones over here." Chen Shan pointed to a pile of messy iron fragments and scraps in the corner. "Be careful, don't be clumsy."

This job isn't physically demanding, but it's tedious and requires patience.

Without saying a word, Yang Jin immediately went over and began sorting.

The cold, rusty, and dusty iron block felt heavy in his hands. His movements were slow but steady and careful.

Chen Shan ignored him, sat back down on the small stool by the stove, picked up the wood-chopping knife that had just been forged into its rough shape, and began to finely trim and sharpen it with a smaller hammer and file. The clanging sound rang out again, intertwining with the soft sounds of Yang Jin sorting iron materials.

The sunlight gradually rose higher, filling the small courtyard.

The furnace blazes, the anvil clangs, an old man and a young man, one forging iron and the other sorting it—it seems like the most ordinary daily life in a blacksmith's shop.

However, under the seemingly peaceful dawn, the atmosphere at the Sun family mansion on the other side of Black Mountain Pass was quite the opposite.

……

The main hall of the Sun family mansion.

Sun Mancang, who usually wore a half-smiling smile, was now ashen-faced and paced anxiously in the hall with his hands behind his back.

Sun Yaozu stood to the side, his face pale, his eyes still filled with fear, no longer the domineering man he once was.

"Useless! A bunch of useless trash!" Sun Mancang abruptly stopped, slamming his hand on the mahogany table, making the teacups clang. "Ma Liu is dead! Five grown men, and you couldn't even guard his body! They were all silently slaughtered! Even that old devil Shi Jian's corpse was stolen! What are you all good for?!"

Several of the Sun family's head guards stood silently in the hall.

"Father, could it be... that Yang Jin's corpse has returned for revenge?" Sun Yaozu's voice trembled. He had personally witnessed the gruesome deaths of Ma Liu and the others, especially Ma Liu, who was almost cleaved in two. "And Instructor Zhao... it's been a whole day and night, and there's still no news from him down in the mine..."

"shut up!"

Sun Mancang interrupted his son sternly, but a deep sense of unease and suspicion also flashed in his eyes.

Zhao Kun went down into the mine to search for Yang Jin, but he hasn't returned for almost two days!

A martial arts instructor at the Body Refining Realm should have been able to easily defeat a teenager, so why has he disappeared without a trace?

What lies beneath the mine? Is there something strange about Yang Jin? Or... is there some other danger in the mine?

Either possibility sent a chill down Sun Mancang's spine.

If Zhao Kun really gets into trouble, the Sun family will be in big trouble!

Iron Bone Martial Arts School will never let this go!

"Increase guards at the mine entrance! No one is to go down without my order!" Sun Mancang ordered urgently. "Also, immediately send men at top speed to the Iron Bone Martial Arts School in town! Report the situation here, especially the fact that Instructor Zhao Kun went into the mine to search and hasn't returned yet, in detail! Request that the martial arts school send more experts to investigate and handle the situation!"

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down: "Also, have the village search every single household again! Especially check if any unfamiliar faces have appeared recently! Shi Jian's body was stolen; someone must have been there to help! Ma Liu and the others died suspiciously; the perpetrators were ruthless, and it couldn't have been done by Yang Jin alone! Dig three feet into the ground, and find these people!"

"yes!"

The head of the guards immediately responded.

"Father, then... then Yang Jin..."

Sun Yaozu was still worried.

"I want to see him alive or dead!" Sun Mancang's eyes flashed with a fierce light. "The matter of Instructor Zhao must be thoroughly investigated! As for Yang Jin... whether he's a man or a ghost, this time, I want him to disappear completely! Once the martial arts school's people arrive, we'll find him even if we have to turn Black Mountain upside down!"

He looked out the window at the gloomy sky, a thick shadow falling over his heart.

I thought it was just about dealing with an insignificant young hunter and taking the opportunity to show off my skills to the martial arts school, but I never expected it to escalate to such a troublesome point.

Zhao Kun's disappearance, Shi Jian's body being stolen, Ma Liu's violent death... This series of events gave him a vague sense of impending doom.

The water in Heishan'ao was deeper and muddier than he had expected.

Meanwhile, in the backyard of the blacksmith's shop, Yang Jin had just moved a pile of sorted iron materials to the designated location.

He straightened up, wiped the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, and although his chest still ached slightly, the feeling of exhaustion had lessened.

He looked at the focused figure hammering by the fire, then at his own hands, covered in rust and dust, yet remarkably steady.

A new identity, a new beginning.

The blood feud remains unresolved, and the future is uncertain.

But at least, he's still alive, he can still clench his fist, and he can still... hear that monotonous yet powerful sound of hammering iron, a sound that represents rebirth and forging.

"clang!"

Chen Shan brought down the final hammer blow, and the machete began to show its sharpness, its cold light flashing slightly.

He raised his head and glanced at Yang Jin, who was drinking water, seemingly casually. His gaze lingered for a moment on Yang Jin's steady stance and breathing rhythm, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.