Chapter Fifty-Three: Forging the Blade

Feng Yuan had not anticipated that, after returning from the city and finally escaping the entanglement of monsters, he would encounter another disturbance caused by evil spirits in the village. It seemed he could never find any respite.

After a short while, Feng Yuan arrived home. Hu Xiao was inside, busy with cleaning. When she saw Feng Yuan return, she quickly set aside her cloth and poured him some water.

"Young master, please drink. Why do you look so anxious?" she asked, watching him closely.

Feng Yuan took a sip and gazed at Hu Xiao. "Xiao Xiao, sit down for a moment. I have something important to discuss with you."

"Yes, young master," she replied, nodding, and sat beside him.

Feng Yuan then recounted everything that had happened recently, including the events of the previous night.

Hu Xiao listened in astonishment. She had not expected that Feng Changshun and Feng Hanyun were both deceased. The night before, she hadn’t paid much attention to them, since they were the village’s teacher and Feng Yuan’s friend, and it would have been inappropriate for her to watch them closely. So naturally, she hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

"Xiao Xiao, I intend to deal with this evil spirit, but I sense it’s quite powerful. If we confront it, do you have any confidence?" Feng Yuan asked.

Hu Xiao shook her head. "I dare not say. I do not know what this evil is, nor how strong it may be. We would have to meet it in person to know."

"Very well, tonight we’ll go to the Sage’s Temple. The evil spirit will surely be there again, likely teaching as before. We’ll act according to circumstance," Feng Yuan said, nodding.

He guessed the strength of this monster was no less than the wolf demon from that night. He had no wish to relive that dreadful experience, barely escaping death’s door, so preparations were necessary.

With this in mind, Feng Yuan began searching his house. He had just learned the sword technique, but had no sword to use. Perhaps a dagger could serve as a substitute.

Daggers were small and nimble, easy to conceal within clothing and perfect for a surprise attack.

Yet after searching everywhere, he found no dagger. The only metal blades in the house were three: an old kitchen knife, a sickle, and the hoe used yesterday for testing.

The kitchen knife was out of the question—he needed it for cooking. If he used it to kill, how could he cut vegetables afterward? So that was dismissed.

The sickle was too long and unwieldy. As for the hoe, even worse—carrying a hoe up the mountain would be a clear provocation, not fit for combat. Besides, using sword technique on a hoe felt rather shameful.

"No dagger—what now? This isn’t the city, where I could simply buy one," Feng Yuan muttered, propping his chin in his palm and frowning at his three substitute weapons.

Feng Yuan suddenly slapped his forehead as an idea struck him. He looked at the three "weapons," grabbed the sickle, and called out to Hu Xiao, "I’ll be out for a bit!"

With that, he left, rushing toward the village entrance.

There was a blacksmith's shop at the village entrance—not for making swords or knives, but for crafting farm tools, like the sickle he now carried.

The blacksmith, surnamed Wang, was known as Blacksmith Wang—the only outsider in the village. He had wandered here years ago, married into the village, and opened the shop to make a living.

Soon, Feng Yuan arrived at the shop, where Blacksmith Wang, a man in his sixties, was shirtless and swinging a heavy hammer to forge a hoe. Despite his age, his strength was impressive. When he saw Feng Yuan approach, he stopped and greeted him with a smile. "Well now, Scholar! What brings you here today? Anything you need from this old man?"

Feng Yuan handed over the sickle. "Uncle Wang, I’d like to have this sickle made into a dagger. Is that possible?"

"A dagger? What do you need that for? A scholar wanting weapons?" Blacksmith Wang chuckled, taking the sickle and examining it. "Ah, I made this one myself!"

"Yes, I bought it from you. I don’t farm, so the sickle’s useless to me now. Might as well turn it into a dagger—good for cutting fruit," Feng Yuan replied with a smile.

Blacksmith Wang nodded. "Alright, come pick it up tomorrow. Five coins."

"That won’t do, Uncle Wang. I need it today. Can you rush it for me? I’ll pay extra." Feng Yuan produced twenty coins and placed them on the counter.

Blacksmith Wang was stunned; he hadn’t expected Feng Yuan to bring out such a sum. Feng Yuan’s family had always been poor, but now he seemed quite prosperous. His complexion was rosy, his bearing refined—clearly well-fed and wealthy.

Blacksmith Wang grinned, swiftly pocketing the coins. "Scholar, you’ve struck it rich! Alright, half an hour—it’ll be ready. A dagger’s easy. Not to brag, but I once ran a blacksmith shop in the capital, made weapons for the court, earned the emperor’s praise. He wanted me as his personal smith, but I declined—I prefer a free and easy life!"

The old man’s boasting spared no exaggeration.

"Thank you, Uncle Wang," Feng Yuan replied, not exposing the bluff. He sat nearby, watching the blacksmith at work, chatting idly as he had nothing else to do.

"So, Scholar, where did you make your fortune?" Blacksmith Wang asked with a smile.

"You flatter me, Uncle Wang. No fortune here—I just found a job in the city, enough to get by," Feng Yuan answered.

Hearing this, Blacksmith Wang’s eyes lit up. Feng Yuan’s generosity suggested he held a good position in a wealthy household—quite a lucrative post.

As he thought this, Blacksmith Wang leaned in, enthusiastic. "Scholar, you’re no longer young. Your parents passed early, and you haven’t arranged a marriage yet. I have a daughter—you know her—her name’s Feng Gangdan. She’s quite beautiful. If you don’t mind, I’d be happy to marry her to you. What do you say?"

Feng Yuan was startled. He knew Blacksmith Wang’s daughter well; her looks could be described as catastrophic—a female version of Guo Degang, heavier than a water barrel. Who would dare accept?

He’d just given the old man a generous sum, and now this was his reward. Was the old man trying to repay kindness with hostility? Feng Yuan hurriedly waved his hands. "No need, Uncle Wang. I’m still young, my ambition is to travel the world. I have no plans to marry yet, lest I neglect my wife."

"Nonsense! You go your way, your wife waits at home, and when you return you’ll find a healthy son. Isn’t that wonderful?" Blacksmith Wang insisted.

Feng Yuan nearly spat out blood. Truly, the Wang family spoke without restraint—already planning to cuckold him before marriage. Ruthless indeed.

"Scholar, don’t be shy. Men should marry, women should wed. Let me tell you, my daughter’s hips are as big as a barrel—guaranteed to bear sons. You’d profit! Many have asked to marry her, but I refuse!"

Blacksmith Wang continued.

"No, no, Uncle Wang, please just forge the dagger," Feng Yuan replied, nearly frightened to death, thinking, Thank goodness you haven’t given her to someone else, who knows what disaster she’d cause.

"Ah, Scholar, don’t be modest! My daughter not only bears sons, she’s strong too. Last time, my ox misbehaved—she knocked it out with one punch and plowed three acres herself. You wouldn’t even need to buy an ox!"

Feng Yuan: "..."

"Uncle Wang, I just remembered I have urgent business at home. Farewell..."

"Hey, Scholar, don’t go, I haven’t finished—Scholar... Don’t be shy!"

Shy? Your sister!