The opening thunderbolt startled some of the little blacksmiths.
The two hundred newcomers, having experienced very little, had just entered the game and now appeared ashen-faced, as if they had stepped into a horror cinema.
White Flower was surprised: They were actually scared?
Really?
He had just seen them killing fish as if they had been doing it for hundreds of years, their hearts long since cold as the fish-killing knife.
Yet now they were afraid of some little stories.
White Flower then looked at another group of veteran blacksmiths; this group, however, was not afraid.
But what is that excitement about?!
And it was not an ordinary excitement, but rather an eager-to-try expression, full of a strong aura of sharing the honor.
Heads held high, exuding pride.
Why did each of them act like it was something significant to them personally?
Like hearing family rumors, they focused with intensity.
