"Senior, it's me, Xiao Ning," Yoriichi replied, his voice calm and respectful, projecting clearly through the thick timber. "I have come for what you promised a few days ago."
There was silence for a few seconds. The birds chirped in the pine trees overhead, indifferent to the tension at the gate.
Then, heavy footsteps approached.
Thud. Thud.
Clack.
The heavy ironwood slid back. The gate groaned as it swung inward.
Standing there was the burly figure of Tie Shan. The Master Smith looked just as imposing as he had at the Smithing Hall—bare-chested, covered in a leather apron, his skin the color of tanned bronze. But unlike the skepticism he had shown before, his eyes lit up when he recognized the red-robed youth.
His rugged face broke into a rare, welcoming smile.
"Hah! It's young master," Tie Shan laughed, his voice booming. He stepped aside and motioned with a massive, calloused hand. "Come in, come in. You actually came."
Yoriichi stepped across the threshold. The courtyard was a chaotic museum of metal—stacks of ingots, broken swords, and discarded shields lay in piles, yet there was an order to the chaos that only a craftsman could understand.
"Dear!" Tie Shan bellowed towards the house, his voice softening slightly. "A guest came! Please bring tea for us!"
"Coming!" a gentle, melodic voice answered from the kitchen.
Tie Shan led Yoriichi to a small wooden table set under a sprawling peach tree in the corner of the yard. It was a peaceful spot, shielded from the heat of the forge but close enough to smell the charcoal.
They sat opposite each other. The wooden chairs creaked under Tie Shan's weight, but Yoriichi sat with his usual upright, disciplined posture.
"Senior," Yoriichi started the conversation, glancing at the small anvil sitting on a nearby stump. "It looks like you do smithing at your home as well. It is admirable. A true master never leaves his craft."
Tie Shan rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a hearty laugh.
"Hah! You have a sweet mouth, young master," Tie Shan grinned. "But yes. I work here on private projects. Lately... I can feel it. The barrier to Tier 3 Smithing is thinning. I just need a little more insight, a little more heat."
He leaned forward, his expression turning serious and grateful.
"Thanks to you, kid. That day at the hall, when you pointed out the pitch of the Cold Iron... it made me rethink my tempering process. I realized I was hammering too early. Looks like I can reach Tier 3 before I die after all."
Yoriichi nodded politely. "Then, congratulations in advance, Senior. It is your own effort."
Just then, the wooden door of the house opened.
A middle-aged woman walked out carrying a tray. She was dressed simply in blue robes, her hair pinned back with a wooden comb. She wasn't a cultivator of high rank, but she possessed a graceful, serene beauty that seemed to soften the harsh edges of the courtyard.
This was Xiao Bing, Tie Shan's wife.
She walked over and placed the tray on the table. The scent of jasmine tea and freshly baked rice cakes wafted up.
"Oh?" She looked at Yoriichi with kind, crinkling eyes as she poured the steaming amber liquid. "So you are the 'Little Monster' my husband has been talking about all week? It is good to meet you. I am Xiao Bing."
"Dear!" Tie Shan coughed, embarrassed. "He is a Young Master of the Main House. Call him that."
Yoriichi stood up slightly and bowed his head.
"It is nice to meet you, Madam," Yoriichi said warmly. "Please, you can call me Xiao Ning, or anything you wish. Titles are not necessary here."
Mrs. Xiao Bing giggled, covering her mouth with her sleeve.
"Oh, so polite," she teased, glancing at her husband. "Unlike someone I know who yells at iron all day. Very well, Young Master Ning."
She arranged the snacks and patted Tie Shan's shoulder affectionately.
"I will leave you two men to your 'iron talk'. Don't let the tea get cold."
Yoriichi watched them.
He saw the way Tie Shan's rough eyes softened when he looked at his wife. He saw the gentle touch of her hand on his scarred shoulder. It was a small, intimate moment of pure domestic happiness.
For a split second, the world around Yoriichi blurred.
... A small hut in the mountains. A gentle voice calling his name. Uta holding up a piece of fabric she had stitched...
The memory hit him with the force of a physical blow. The phantom pain of a life stolen, of a happiness that was cut short by demons, tightened his chest.
"We were happy," Yoriichi thought, a shadow passing over his crimson eyes. "We were each other's world."
He blinked, shaking his head slightly to clear the fog of the past. He forced the memory back into the box in his heart.
Tie Shan, noticing the momentary lapse, chuckled, misunderstanding the silence.
"Oh!," Tie Shan grinned, picking up his cup. "I know you are bored seeing this old couple being lovey-dovey. Gross, right?"
Yoriichi looked up, his expression sincere and soft.
"No," Yoriichi said quietly. "It is really good. It is... beautiful that you both are happy and doing fine. Cherish it, Senior."
Tie Shan paused, surprised by the maturity in the boy's voice. He cleared his throat, sensing a depth he didn't expect.
"Ahem. Yes. Well," Tie Shan nodded to his wife. "Okay, dear. Let us talk alone."
Xiao Bing smiled, bowed, and retreated into the house, leaving the two smiths—one old, one young—under the peach tree.
Tie Shan took a long sip of tea, his demeanor shifting from husband to craftsman.
"Okay," Tie Shan said, setting the cup down with a clack. "Let's get to business. Tomorrow, we forge. But today, I need to know what is in your head. Tell me, how much do you know about metals and ores?"
"It is the foundation," Tie Shan lectured, tapping the table. "If you don't know the melting point of Star Iron versus Black Steel, you will just make slag. How much do you know about smithing techniques?"
Yoriichi sat straight. He accessed the vast library of information he had absorbed over the last few days.