Flames roared as Eugene Smithson began adding ore, preparing to forge the first sword of his life. Every step was second nature—he had dreamed of forging a sword for so long. Eugene stripped off his shirt, baring his chest, and began to work the forge.
He worked through the night, so exhausted he fell asleep right on the ground. When he woke, it was already noon. Since William Zhou would return in two days, Eugene still had time. He resolved to forge a fine sword before William came back, so William would believe in his skill.
Eugene started hammering again. After eating, he worked late into the night. The sword had begun to take shape, but still needed constant refining. After seeing the bustling sword market in Forge City, Eugene was more excited than ever.
From nobles to commoners, everyone traveled with a sword at their side. This was a far cry from the rural counties they came from. Even nobles from neighboring countries would visit this city of swordsmiths.
Forge City had always been surrounded by rich natural mineral deposits, gradually becoming a renowned place for sword forging. Every famous swordsmith of the Yue Kingdom had come from here.
Eugene also hoped to reach the pinnacle of sword forging and become famous throughout the land. He worked even harder. Once the sword was forged, he began sharpening and polishing it, again and again.
For two days straight, Eugene didn't open the shop; he stayed in the backyard forging swords. On the third day, William Zhou returned with his daughter. He found the shop closed and smelled burning. Furious, he went straight to the backyard.
As soon as he entered, he saw Eugene lying on the ground asleep, filthy and disheveled. William was about to confront him and fire him, when suddenly a blinding light caught his eye—a sword, over a meter long, lay on the anvil. Sunlight refracted off its blade, casting a cold gleam. The edge looked incredibly sharp.
William was stunned. He walked over, picked up the sword, and examined it from every angle. At last, he couldn't help but praise it. The sword looked plain, but its balance and sharpness were excellent. Looking at Eugene still asleep on the ground, William couldn't help but exclaim.
"So much promise at such a young age."
When Eugene woke up, William was overjoyed. He kept praising Eugene and was completely taken with the sword he had forged. That very day, he finished the coloring, and the next morning, when the shop opened, he placed the sword at the entrance.
"By the way, Eugene, since you've forged this sword, you should give it a name."
As William spoke, Eugene saw that the sword was already attracting the attention of passersby, so he replied.
"Let's call it Chuju."
"Good, that's a fine name—simple and unpretentious."
Sure enough, that very day, Eugene's sword was sold at a good price—equivalent to three months of William's income. Suddenly, William's shop was flooded with customers hoping to have a fine sword forged. William began to negotiate prices.
And so, Eugene began forging swords day after day, selling more than twenty in total. Nearly half a year had passed, and William's once quiet shop was now bustling with business.
The swords Eugene forged were different from ordinary ones—they looked extremely sharp and were beautiful in appearance, quickly becoming sought-after items.
William Zhou's daughter, Crystal Zhou, had a much better impression of Eugene now and treated him well. Gradually, Eugene developed feelings for Crystal and became even more dedicated. One day, a customer in his forties came to the shop. He had a rosy complexion, dark green hair, and piercing tiger-like eyes.
Since William was out discussing business, Eugene was watching the shop alone. When he saw this customer, he felt a strange sense of familiarity.
"Would you like to look at some swords, sir?"
The man with tiger eyes nodded silently.
"I want the sharpest sword in your shop. Do you have one?"
With full confidence, Eugene Smithson walked over, looked around, and selected a sword he had just forged a few days earlier. He called it Throatcutter and handed it over.
With a swish, the man drew Fenghou, immediately sensing a chilling aura emanating from it. He swung it a few times, and it whistled through the air.
"Good sword—indeed, incredibly sharp, but flashy rather than practical."
Hearing this, Eugene was a bit displeased. He felt the man was just looking for faults. The sword was priced high, and many wanted it but couldn't afford it, so it hadn't sold yet.
"I'll buy it. How much?"
The man spoke, immediately pulling out his money pouch. After Eugene named the price, the man paid without bargaining and left. As he departed, he said only one thing.
"Young man, temper your craft a thousand times—never be blinded by quick success."
This incident didn’t stir anything in Eugene’s heart. Half a month later, he happily told William Zhou about his hopes for Crystal Zhou, but William rejected him—Crystal had already been betrothed since childhood to the son of his closest friend.
Feeling downcast, Eugene couldn’t focus on his smithing for several days. By now, he had sold over thirty swords and was becoming somewhat well-known in the city.
But unexpectedly, one noon, a group of sword-bearing attendants—servants of a high-ranking noble—stormed into the shop. A man around fifty, fuming, entered. Zhou Wu hurried to greet him, but was met with a cold sword pressed to his neck.
But unexpectedly, one noon, a group of sword-bearing attendants—servants of a high-ranking noble—stormed into the shop. A man around fifty, fuming, entered. William Zhou hurried to greet him, but was met with a cold sword pressed to his neck.
With a bang, the angry man threw the broken sword to the ground, frightening Zhou Wu into spilling everything.
With a bang, the angry man threw the broken sword to the ground, frightening William Zhou into spilling everything.
It turned out that the man’s son had bought a sword from William Zhou’s shop two months earlier. Just a few days ago, he got into a fight with another noble’s son in the street. His sword broke, and the other’s blade killed him.
Disaster struck, and William Zhou fainted on the spot. Eugene, meanwhile, had left Forge City to buy ore. When he returned, full of joy, he heard the rumor that William Zhou’s shop had been destroyed.
When he got back, Eugene saw the shop had indeed been smashed, and William Zhou’s family was nowhere to be found. Just then, some attendants arrived and bound Eugene.
He was taken to a noble’s house and was deeply shocked to learn that someone had died in a duel because of a sword he had forged. In that moment, it felt as if he’d been cast down from heaven. The noble wanted to hold him accountable and planned to throw him into the forge as punishment.
With more than a month until the sacrificial ceremony, Eugene Smithson looked at his battered body, utterly exhausted. He remembered what his aunt had once told him—if he couldn’t forge farm tools that lasted ten years, he wasn’t allowed to make swords. He also thought of the man who had suddenly come to the shop, bought his sword, and left those words behind.
Temper your craft a thousand times—never be blinded by quick success.
At this moment, Eugene truly understood. His skills were not mature; the swords he forged broke in duels because of flaws in the process. Though they were sharp, as that man had said, they were flashy but lacked substance.
Just then, someone came to see Eugene, bringing food and wine.
"How are you, young man?"
The man with piercing tiger-like eyes had bribed the jailer and entered with food and wine. Eugene weakly opened his eyes and was shocked to see him. He tried to get up but couldn’t. The man helped him to the wall and smiled.
"May I ask, sir..."
"Drink up, young man. These may be your last meals."
For the first time, Eugene ate and drank while shedding tears. He was filled with regret for his impatience and rashness in forging swords.
"I’ll come again tomorrow, young man."
The man with piercing tiger-like eyes smiled and left.
After the man left, the jailer's attitude toward Eugene improved greatly. He even brought a doctor to treat his injuries.
For three days in a row, the man brought food and drink, never revealing his name, barely speaking to Eugene, and always leaving quietly.
On the fourth day, the man with piercing tiger-like eyes finally spoke.
"Young man, why do you want to forge swords? Why do you want to be a blacksmith?"
At that moment, Eugene noticed the man was also a blacksmith—his hands were covered in thick calluses.
"Because I love it. I want to forge peerless swords and reach the pinnacle of my craft."
Eugene spoke his mind without reservation. The man nodded and smiled.
"Do you understand the meaning of 'tempering your craft a thousand times'?"
Eugene nodded. The man then stood up.
"This may be the last time I’ll visit you, young man."
"Thank you, sir. If there’s a next life, Eugene Smithson will be a blacksmith again—and reach the peak once more."
"Thank you, sir. If there’s a next life, I’ll be a blacksmith again—and reach the peak once more."
The man with piercing tiger-like eyes shook his head.
"Young man, do you think our work as blacksmiths is simply about forging the things placed on the anvil? It’s not. Every strike, every grind, tempers our souls and refines our character, young man."
After the man with piercing tiger-like eyes left, Eugene Smithson thought for a long time. He finally understood why his aunt had spoken those words, and what the tiger-eyed man had wanted to teach him.