The highest levels of the Star River Merchant Hall were in a state of unprecedented chaos.
For the first time in three hundred years, the supreme isolation vault beneath the central auction house had been forcibly opened. Three Spirit Manifestation Realm array masters were currently sweating profusely, their hands moving in rapid, complex seals as they frantically inscribed cooling arrays into a pedestal made of ten-thousand-year frost jade.
Resting atop that pedestal was a massive, ten-foot-long pitch-black mace.
It wasn't doing anything. It just sat there. Yet, the latent heat radiating from its internal Volcanic Eruption domain was so utterly oppressive that the frost jade was constantly on the verge of melting.
"Double the spirit stone output on the tertiary frost-lock array!" Senior Appraiser Yun barked, pacing nervously outside the vault's energy barrier. His silver eyes were wide, still haunted by the memory of the terrifying psychological pressure that hunchbacked old monster had crushed his soul with. "If that domain leaks, it will scorch the entire exhibition floor! This is a Peak Domain Forging treasure. Treat it with the reverence it demands!"
"Senior Yun," a nervous attendant bowed deeply, offering a tray piled high with glowing jade slips. "The invitations are ready. Who... who do we send them to?"
Yun looked at the mace, his breathing shallow. "Everyone. Send the Golden Jade Slips to the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect, the Demon Suppression Temple, the Heavenly Sword Lake, and every major power on the Demon Immortal Continent. Send the Silver Jade Slips to the top-tier sects directly beneath them. Tell them all that the grand finale of this decade's auction will feature a Peak-grade Domain Forging weapon with an embedded domain."
The attendant swallowed hard. "And... the creator?"
"State it clearly," Yun thought for a while and ordered, his voice echoing with absolute certainty. "Forged by the hidden Grand Domain Smith... Ashen Anvil."
***
Within hours, the news swept across the Demon Immortal Continent like a hurricane.
It was a continent-shaking revelation. A Peak Domain Forging weapon was not something that could be bought with mere spirit stones; it was a supreme artifact capable of anchoring the legacy of an entire sect. The sudden appearance of an unknown Grand Domain Forger sent the entire cultivation world into an absolute frenzy.
In the bustling trade hubs of the Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect, merchants and rogue cultivators crowded the streets, eyes wide with disbelief as they read the public announcements. In the serene, solemn halls of the Demon Suppression Temple, silent monks abruptly broke their meditation, their powerful gazes turning toward the southern territories.
Every teahouse, every auction house, and every sect courtyard buzzed with the same name.
*Ashen Anvil.*
Nowhere was the uproar more violent than within the Black Tortoise Sect. As the undisputed hegemon of forging, the sudden appearance of a Grand Domain Smith in their own backyard was both a supreme honor and a terrifying political crisis.
An emergency summit was immediately convened in the Central Patriarch's Hall.
"A Peak Domain weapon! With a perfectly embedded Volcanic Domain!" an elder roared, his beard practically bristling with shock and outrage. "And it appeared in Black Tortoise City? How did our intelligence network miss the arrival of a Grand Domain Smith?!"
"Could it be one of our Ancestors who awoke from secluded meditation?" another elder suggested, his voice trembling with hope.
The Sect Master, a terrifying figure whose very aura caused the air to smell of molten iron, sat at the head of the long obsidian table. His expression was incredibly grave.
"I have already checked the soul slips of the Ancestors. None have awakened," the Sect Master said heavily. "This 'Ashen Anvil' is an unknown entity. A hidden monster who might be residing in our territory."
Silence fell over the hall. The implications were staggering.
"We must find him," the Sect Master ordered, his eyes burning with intense fire. "A Grand Domain Smith who casually sells a masterpiece to the merchant alliance... his wealth and foundation are unfathomable. We cannot afford to offend him, and we absolutely cannot allow a rival sect to recruit him. Mobilize the shadow guards. And prepare the sect's treasury. We *will* win that mace at the auction. We must bring it back to study its internal laws."
"Yes, Sect Master!"
***
While the highest echelons of the Demon Immortal Continent were descending into a frenzy over the legendary Ashen Anvil, the creator of the legend was sitting at a crude wooden table, drinking a cup of cheap tea.
Fang Lin had quietly returned to Peak Seventy-Four hours ago. The hunchbacked disguise had been shed. The terrifying aura of Peak Mortal Will was perfectly retracted back into his Spiritual Sea. He was once again Mu Tie—the talented, but otherwise ordinary junior Core Smith of the outer sect.
He took a slow sip of his tea, enjoying the mundane silence of his courtyard. Five years in the Ashen Crucible had been physically and mentally grueling. The quiet breeze of the mountain felt incredibly refreshing.
"Brother Mu! Brother Mu!"
The silence was abruptly shattered by a familiar, boisterous shout.
The heavy courtyard doors flew open. Ma Teng burst into the yard, panting heavily, his eyes wide and practically sparkling with zealous fanaticism. He looked as if he had just witnessed a deity descend from the heavens.
"Ma Teng," Fang Lin said calmly, setting his teacup down. "It has been more than five years. You still haven't learned how to knock."
"Forget knocking! Have you heard?!" Ma Teng rushed to the table, slamming his hands down. He was vibrating with excitement. "The entire continent is going insane! The outer sect, the inner sect, the core disciples—everyone is talking about it!"
Fang Lin raised a single eyebrow. "Talking about what?"
"A god, Brother Mu! A literal forging god has appeared in Black Tortoise City!" Ma Teng gasped, pulling out a communication talisman that was flashing wildly with updates. "The Star River Merchant Hall just announced an emergency grand auction! Someone brought them a Peak Domain Forging grade mace. They say it's ten feet long, pitch black, and contains a Volcanic Eruption domain so powerful that the merchant hall had to hire three array masters just to stop it from melting their floor!"
Fang Lin picked up his teacup and took another slow sip. "Is that so?"
"Yes! But that's not even the craziest part!" Ma Teng leaned in, dropping his voice to an awed whisper. "They say the man who dropped it off was an ancient, terrifying monster. When the Senior Appraiser tried to probe him, the old man just looked at him and nearly crushed his soul! The weapon has a signature on it. *Ashen Anvil.* The whole sect is turning upside down trying to figure out who he is!"
"Ashen Anvil," Fang Lin repeated softly. He swirled the tea in his cup, his expression perfectly neutral. "A fitting name for an old monster, I suppose."
"Right?! I can't even imagine what kind of realm you have to be in to casually forge a Peak Domain weapon and just sell it like it's a piece of scrap!" Ma Teng sighed dreamily, gazing up at the sky. "One day... if I could just sweep the floors of a senior like Ashen Anvil, my life would be complete."
Fang Lin looked at Ma Teng over the rim of his teacup. The irony was so thick it was practically suffocating.
"I'm sure the senior has better things to do than watch you sweep," Fang Lin said dryly.
Ma Teng snapped out of his reverie, shaking his head. "Ah, right. Speaking of forging. Brother Mu, your five-year seclusion really messed up the market here. Since you closed your doors, we've had dozens of inner disciples and even a few deacons coming to Peak Seventy-Four looking for you. They all want you to forge Core Formation weapons for them."
Ma Teng looked exhausted just thinking about it. "I've been turning them away, telling them you were in deep seclusion. But now that your doors are open, they're going to swarm this place."
Fang Lin set his cup down. His eyes grew cold and businesslike. He could not afford to waste his precious cultivation time acting as a common blacksmith for the sect, but outright refusing everyone would draw too much suspicion to the "Mu Tie" identity.
"Listen closely, Ma Teng," Fang Lin said, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority that made Ma Teng instantly straighten his posture. "I will not be treated like a public forge. My cultivation and my personal forging comprehension take absolute priority."
"Then... what do I tell them?"
"Tell them the rules have changed," Fang Lin stated. "From now on, I will only accept exactly twelve orders a year. Not one more. Anyone who wants a weapon must place their order and provide their own raw materials immediately."
Ma Teng blinked. "Twelve a year? But Brother Mu, they'll complain about the wait times!"
"They will wait a full year," Fang Lin continued smoothly. "I will take all twelve orders at once, but I will only deliver the finished artifacts at the very end of the year. If they cannot wait, they can take their materials to another Core Smith. I do not care."
Ma Teng swallowed hard, intimidated by the sheer confidence in Fang Lin's voice. It was an incredibly arrogant for a junior Core Smith to set the rules. But considering Mu Tie's flawless track record before his seclusion, Ma Teng knew the disciples would begrudgingly accept it.
"Understood, Brother Mu. I'll spread the word immediately." Ma Teng bowed slightly, his respect for his friend deepening. "Twelve orders. Delivered at the end of the year."
Fang Lin nodded, waving a hand in dismissal.
As Ma Teng hurried out of the courtyard to manage the incoming swarm of clients, Fang Lin turned his gaze toward the horizon, in the direction of Black Tortoise City.
His cover was perfectly set. His schedule was strictly controlled. All that was left was to wait for the auction to begin.
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