Eugene Smithson looked a bit upset. He felt that all the effort he'd put into forging the iron tools was dismissed by his aunt, Mrs. Owens.
"That shouldn't be the case, Aunt. I really did exactly as you said and worked so hard on it," Eugene protested.
Mrs. Owens seemed to notice that the young Eugene Smithson was proud and stubborn. She said nothing more, simply telling Eugene to go ahead and use it.
Full of ambition, Eugene Smithson attached a wooden handle to the hoe and gave it to a family. The next day, he continued forging, while Mrs. Owens stopped coming by—her eyes seemed preoccupied with something else.
Eugene Smithson practically lived in the smithy, eating all his meals there and rarely going home. He was completely absorbed in forging, and over several days, he made a number of farming tools for people in the small county. Everyone praised him as a promising young man.
Eugene was overjoyed, and from time to time, he would go up the mountain himself to carry back some ore.
I could tell that the young Eugene Smithson was feeling extremely proud inside. He started forging swords, but several times, the blades broke during hammering. Eugene was discouraged, but kept trying again and again.
Just then, something happened in the small county. The farming tools Eugene had given to the women working in the fields started to crack and became unusable. They all brought them back, and Eugene panicked. He thought of his aunt, but he’d talked back to her before and hadn’t gone home in half a month.
With complicated feelings, Eugene Smithson started shutting himself away, tinkering endlessly. He didn’t leave the house, constantly reading and experimenting. Gradually, he seemed to figure out where the problem lay, but couldn’t find a solution. Frustrated and at his wit’s end, Eugene finally went home.
"Aunt, I know I was wrong. I hope you’ll be even stricter with me from now on," Eugene said.
Back at the smithy, Mrs. Owens picked up a broken sword, held it in her hand, and sighed.
"Eugene, what is this?"
"A sword, Aunt," Eugene replied.
Mrs. Owens shook her head and tossed aside the unfinished sword.
"This isn't a sword, Eugene. Swords and farming tools are completely different. From now on, you are not allowed to forge swords on your own. Listen carefully: until you can make farming tools that last ten years without breaking, you are not to forge swords."
Mrs. Owens patiently explained the forging process to Eugene Smithson. Day after day, year after year, Eugene overcame many obstacles, but he was always thinking about making swords.
That year, Eugene Smithson turned fifteen. The war ended, and in the end, the Yue Kingdom bowed to the superior strength of the Chu Kingdom, becoming its vassal.
Eugene's uncle, Quentin Owens, returned home. He was surprised to see that in just two years, Eugene had grown stronger and darker-skinned, looking more like a young man in his twenties. What shocked Quentin most was that Eugene was forging iron instead of studying.
It wasn't until Mrs. Owens showed Quentin Owens the farming tools Eugene had made that Quentin finally sighed.
"This child Eugene is truly talented. At his age, to be able to forge such excellent iron tools—there’s no way I could compare."
Eventually, there was another figure in Quentin Owens's smithy—Eugene Smithson officially became a blacksmith. But now that the war was over, business for blacksmiths had started to slow down.
Quentin Owens personally taught Eugene the techniques and methods of forging. But even now, Eugene always dreamed of making a fine sword, one that could slay enemies on the battlefield. As his skills improved, this desire grew even stronger.
One night, while Eugene and his uncle were drinking and eating meat, he asked a question.
"Uncle, when can I start forging swords?"
"Anytime you want, Eugene. Your skills are already quite good. You're still young, so you don't have enough strength yet, but once you're older and stronger, you'll surpass your uncle for sure."
Eugene was delighted and drank several rounds with his uncle. But then he remembered what his aunt had said: if he couldn’t forge farming tools that lasted ten years, he wasn’t allowed to make swords. A shadow fell over Eugene’s heart.
"What’s wrong, Eugene? Something on your mind?"
"Aunt said that if I can’t forge farming tools that last ten years, I’m not allowed to make swords," Eugene replied.
"Bah, what does a woman know? I’ll talk to her about it. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to make molds and sharpen blades."
Quentin went home a little angry. He thought Mrs. Owens’s requirement for farming tools to last ten years was unreasonable. After all, tools were used daily and would naturally wear out—three years was probably the most they could last, let alone ten.
Faced with her husband's questioning, Mrs. Owens simply sighed and spoke.
"Husband, what do you think of Eugene?"
"He’s excellent. At his age, to be able to forge such good farming tools—I couldn’t have done that when I was his age. But why would you use such a joke of a condition to restrict Eugene?"
"Husband, I may be a woman, but I understand the principle of 'tempered a thousand times.' Eugene is still young and impulsive, too hasty in his work. He has a long road ahead. Do farming tools that last ten years really exist? Probably not. The real lesson is in the tempering—didn’t you teach me that yourself?"
Mrs. Owens’s words left Quentin Owens speechless. He felt helpless—once, he too had pursued the dream of making better weapons and tools, working tirelessly. But everything has its limits. In the Yue Kingdom, he was already a renowned blacksmith, at the peak of his craft, and no longer had the strength to chase after such things.
Suddenly, Quentin nodded.
"Since Eugene is so talented, I’ll teach him even more seriously and strictly. Maybe one day, he’ll become an extraordinary blacksmith."
This chapter isn’t finished yet~.~ Click the next page to keep reading!
Gradually, the matter was dropped. Eugene was a bit disappointed, and his uncle fully supported Mrs. Owens: Eugene had to forge farming tools that lasted ten years, or he couldn’t make swords.
In ancient times, swords were not only symbols of killing but also of status. Many nobles and royalty would carry fine swords, all forged by famous blacksmiths. Quentin Owens had made swords for some of the Yue Kingdom’s nobles himself.
Eugene Smithson gradually became dissatisfied. He noticed that lately, his uncle was especially dedicated and meticulous when forging swords.
By the time Eugene turned eighteen, he still hadn’t managed to make farming tools that lasted ten years. He felt deeply troubled. Meanwhile, his uncle’s sword-making skills kept improving, and many nobles came seeking Quentin Owens to forge swords.
Eugene believed that he could forge swords even better than his uncle. He suspected his uncle was afraid Eugene would outshine him and take away his livelihood.
Hot-blooded and impulsive, Eugene left a letter one night and departed. He planned to go straight to the nearby city of Yecheng, home to many blacksmiths and wealth, and famous for producing legendary swords.
Even now, swords were in high demand. Many blacksmiths received great rewards for the swords they forged.
When Quentin Owens and Mrs. Owens saw Eugene's farewell letter, they were heartbroken.
"I’ll go bring Eugene back," Quentin said.
Quentin began to pack up to search for Eugene, but Mrs. Owens stopped him.
"Husband, the lesson of tempering a thousand times isn’t just about iron—it’s about the blacksmith’s heart. Eugene needs to understand this. It’s good for him to venture out. Yecheng isn’t far; once he arrives, you can ask around for news about him, and from time to time, we can go check on him ourselves."
Quentin nodded.
With excitement in his heart, Eugene Smithson arrived in Forge City. He was amazed by the bustling city, and saw that most people on the streets wore swords. He knew he’d come to the right place.
Eugene wandered around the city for days, visiting many smithies, but none of the owners would hire him; he looked too young, and they doubted he could make anything good.
With no other options and his money nearly gone, Eugene started to think about giving up.
"How could I do that? If I go back now, I’ll be a laughingstock!"
Determined, Eugene kept searching for opportunities in the sword shops, going without food or drink for more than two days. His willpower was nearly spent.
Just then, a shop with little business took him in. The owner, William Zhou, was an elderly blacksmith, about fifty years old.
William Zhou made a deal with Eugene: no wages, just meals, and Eugene had to help clean and do other chores.
William Zhou had a daughter, Emily, who was very beautiful and just seventeen—a year younger than Eugene. Once Eugene started working, he was diligent and took care of everything. William liked him and thought he was a good young man.
But Eugene noticed that the sword furnace was very old, and much of the equipment was rusty. He soon learned that William Zhou suffered from rheumatism and could no longer wield a hammer, and the swords he made weren’t very good or easy to sell.
Business was slow—selling even one sword every ten or fifteen days was considered good. Many of the swords in the shop were old and worn.
Eugene couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted to forge a sword, but William Zhou shook his head. He thought Eugene wasn’t ready and that forging swords would just waste materials.
Finally, one night when William Zhou and his daughter went to visit relatives, Eugene fired up the forge that hadn’t been used in months.