Jack Young suddenly understood—so that's what this is all about. The Southern Wasteland, that name's come up so many times you'd think it was a bad penny. Seems like everything is somehow tied to the Southern Wasteland. Dangerous place, tough life, and an ancient dynasty long gone, which means there must be descendants left behind. Us folks from the same tribe just can't help but stick together, right? So if Ouyezi is a Southern Wasteland descendant, seeing another Southern Wasteland guy with this kind of talent, of course he'd want to pass on his skills. Makes perfect sense, like a family recipe for trouble.
But—
"Senior Qin, thanks for thinking so highly of me." Ouyezi's legacy is super tempting, but Jack Young doesn't want to score a freebie off a beautiful misunderstanding. He decides to come clean: "But honestly, I'm not from the Southern Wasteland. My hometown is somewhere far, far away."
Ouyezi didn't look surprised at all. Instead, he shot back, "You say you're not from the Southern Wasteland, so answer me this: When you picked up that thousand-pound hammer, was it your internal energy or pure muscle?"
"It was pure muscle, but..." Jack Young tried to explain, but Ouyezi waved his hand, cutting him off. "No need for words. Us Southern Wasteland folks, also called the Hua Tribe, are born sturdy. The pure-blooded ones are strong enough to wrestle an ox or punch through a wall. A hundred years ago, our homeland was destroyed, and our people scattered. After all this time, maybe we've forgotten our roots. Can't blame you for that. But no matter where you're from, if you can lift a thousand pounds, you're definitely Hua Tribe. It's in the blood!"
"Hua Tribe..." Jack Young couldn't help but laugh. "I can't deny that, since my family does talk about being 'Hua Tribe,' but I bet your Hua Tribe and mine aren't exactly the same flavor."
"No need to say more." Ouyezi seemed dead set on his theory, and nothing Jack Young said could shake him. Seeing that, Jack Young just went with the flow—might as well accept it gracefully. "Alright, then I'll ask you to teach me the Way of Weapon Forging, senior. When Miss Qin Han gets a bit older, I'll pass everything down to her, just as you taught me."
"Good, good." Ouyezi nodded slowly and deeply, like a big weight had finally lifted off his chest. He even cracked a smile. "Since that's settled, no time to waste—let's get started."
Ouyezi is so straightforward, it almost made Jack Young laugh. They'd barely met, hardly exchanged a few words, and he's already teaching his top-secret skills. Maybe that's just how geniuses roll—they do things normal folks wouldn't even dream of, and that's what makes them so unique and unbelievable.
Ouyezi wasn't much for words. That Hundred Arms Pool had already been hauled back into the courtyard. He just fished out a random weapon, said a couple sentences, and tossed it to Jack Young to figure out for himself. Jack Young couldn't help but laugh—this teaching style is, honestly, even more ridiculous than Dr. Thomas Tang's. At least Dr. Tang pointed you in the right direction, sprinkled a few thumbtacks on the road, and whipped you forward. Ouyezi? He doesn't even bother drawing a map. Just throws you into the woods and says, 'Good luck!'
But Ouyezi’s teaching style? No thumbtacks, no whips, and he doesn’t even point out the road. Every time he pulled out a weapon, he’d just say a couple things about its pros and cons—and that was it. It’s basically a bunch of random notes, like he’s riffing on each weapon, but there’s no real system to it.
Well, maybe saying there’s no system isn’t quite right. His method is hands-on—the eighty-one hammer strikes on the iron billet were probably the framework. But connecting the dots and actually mastering it? Man, that’s harder than teaching a cat to do taxes! Only the rarest of geniuses could learn this way. Forget forging divine weapons, most folks wouldn’t even end up with a halfway decent kitchen knife.
But Jack Young just happens to be one of those rare, qualified geniuses.
When he tries to remember something on purpose, Jack Young’s brain is basically photographic. That boosts his intelligence big time. Intelligence, after all, isn’t just memory—it’s also understanding, reasoning, and making connections. He used to suck at foreign languages because his memory was bad, but his reasoning and association skills were always top-notch. Now, that weak spot is patched up.
With his Insight Technique in overdrive, Jack Young’s mind carves out a whole new ‘weapon forging zone.’ Time flies without him noticing, and the zone starts filling up. Ideas and questions keep popping up, bouncing around and colliding. It’s like he’s back in that magical state from when he was breaking down his breathing technique.
"Wait, I’ve got a question." Jack Young suddenly interrupted Ouyezi. Ouyezi’s crew are legendary craftsmen, and Qin Han is always talking about forging divine weapons, but the more Jack Young listens, the more confused he gets. There’s this weird question stuck in his head: "What exactly is a divine weapon?"
"Good question. Han’er’s been learning from me for over ten years and never asked that." Ouyezi nodded and pointed at a weapon floating in the Hundred Arms Pool. "For most folks in the martial world, a divine weapon is one that floats in the pool instead of sinking. But to us, so-called 'divine weapons' and 'great divine weapons' are really just half-baked or failed products. There’s only one real divine weapon—the Xuan Divine Weapon."
"Xuan Divine Weapon..." Jack Young had heard that term a lot, so he was curious. "So what exactly is a Xuan Divine Weapon?"
"Xuan means mysterious, spiritual, and also black—meaning unfathomable. A Xuan Divine Weapon must be extraordinary, spiritual, and full of wonder." Ouyezi stood up and pulled out a thick, scroll-like object. "This is the Heavenly Weapon Atlas, passed down at Sword Casting Cliff for generations. It contains every Xuan Divine Weapon forged in the last thousand years."
"Oh?" Jack Young perked up. The material of the scroll wasn’t silk or paper, but it felt great to the touch—soft yet tough, with a mysterious vibe that made Jack Young raise his eyebrows in surprise. "Don’t tell me this Heavenly Weapon Atlas is also..."
Ouyezi nodded. "Jack Young, you really have an eye for this. Just one touch and you knew. That’s right—the Heavenly Weapon Atlas itself is also a Xuan Divine Weapon. It just isn’t meant for killing people, that’s all."
"Awesome!" No wonder he’s a manufacturing legend—most people would kill to see even one Xuan Divine Weapon, and here he’s showing off two. Okay, so neither of them are actual weapons, but the value’s still sky-high. Jack Young unrolled the scroll, and the first thing he saw was a piece of emerald-green bamboo, about three feet long, with a sharp tip and vivid color. There was a note next to it, written in bold calligraphy: Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei), weight three taels and one fen, forged fifty-five years before the founding of the Xia Dynasty.
"Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei)?" Jack Young was shocked. "A piece of bamboo is actually a Xuan Divine Weapon?"
"That’s right. The Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei) was the personal weapon of Yu the Great, and also the sacred weapon he used to control the floods." Ouyezi pointed to the note. "The 'fifty-five years before the founding' means fifty-five years before the Xia Dynasty was established. A thousand years ago, central China was devastated by floods. Yu the Great traveled everywhere, searching for ways to govern the land. Moved by his virtue, the first generation Ouyezi took a bamboo stalk and one hundred and eight catties of refined metal, forging them together to make the Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei) and gave it to Yu the Great. Inspired by the bamboo’s straightness, Yu invented the method of diversion and drainage, finally ending the floods."
Stories about ancient heroes from a thousand years ago always make people daydream. Jack Young couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild, then griped internally: In my family’s legends, the Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei) and Yu the Great are a generation apart—Emerald Bamboo Spear (Xiangfei) was Emperor Shun’s wife! But here, she’s paired up with Yu the Great. Guess that’s one way to ship it. History is just fanfiction with extra steps. After roasting the historical rewrite, he asked the question that really bugged him: "Leaving aside how a bamboo stalk becomes a divine weapon, how did one hundred and eight catties of metal end up as just three taels and one fen?"
"That’s the magic of Xuan Divine Weapons. Xuan means spiritual. When forging a Xuan Divine Weapon, only the purest essence of the materials remains, and by the end, the weight, hardness, and even the size can change at will." Ouyezi pointed at his own hammer. "When I forged my Hundredfold Hammer, I started with thirty thousand catties of various ores, but the finished weapon weighed only five thousand catties. The mysteries are endless."
"Fascinating, really fascinating!" This kind of physics-defying stuff got Jack Young grinning like a kid in a candy store. "So how do you actually forge a Xuan Divine Weapon?"
"First, the forging fire must have spirit. The materials for Xuan Divine Weapons are mostly rare treasures, and even a century of ordinary fire probably couldn’t melt them. Second, you need a master craftsman to forge the core."
"Forge the core?"
"That’s right. Swords have forging cores, knives have forging cores. Ninety-nine percent of the difference between a Xuan Divine Weapon and a normal weapon comes down to forging the core. Once the core is done, even an ordinary blacksmith can finish the rest." Ouyezi spread the scroll wide, and a parade of divine weapons flashed before Jack Young’s eyes, finally stopping on a short sword. It was a one-foot-seven-inch blade, dark green all over, nothing special at first glance. But the longer you stared, the more it gave off an eerie, ominous vibe—kind of like seeing a shadow over a mirror in a horror movie.
"This sword is called Jade-Blood Stains the Canvas, the life’s work of the third-generation Ouyezi. To forge it, his wife, children, and disciples all sacrificed themselves for the sword, and in the end, he threw himself into the furnace too, just to complete the forging core." Qin Han pointed at the sword. "To make a divine weapon, you need spiritual fire. If that’s not enough, you have to sacrifice yourself to make up for it."
Staring at Jade-Blood Stains the Canvas, Jack Young fell silent. For such a small weapon to come into existence, so many lives had to be sacrificed. After a moment, Jack Young asked, "Is it really worth sacrificing your family and friends for a weapon? Or maybe that's just something you wonder when you're not the one swinging the hammer."
Ouyezi was silent for a moment, then said in a heavy voice, "If I were the one forging the sword, I’d never be so cowardly. Killing your wife and daughter doesn’t make you a hero. But as for sacrificing yourself for your craft—" He looked at Jack Young, his gaze heavy as a mountain. "It’s worth it."
Jack Young met Ouyezi’s gaze. In that look, he suddenly understood. Whether you’re a blacksmith or a martial artist, it’s all the same. Martial artists spend their lives chasing that one ultimate battle, willing to risk it all. Blacksmiths spend their lives chasing that one perfect weapon, pouring their dreams into it, even if it means dying for their art. Even a scholar who can’t fight might bleed their soul dry for a masterpiece, putting life and death aside.
What the heart loves, that’s where the true path lies. A blacksmith dying for his sword is just his way of seeking the truth.
It’s foolish—but if you think it’s worth it, then it is.