Location: Iron Blood Sect – The Smithy
Lin Fan stared at the shattered remains of a Type-1 Musket barrel. It had exploded during the test fire, taking three fingers off the servant who pulled the trigger. (The servant was currently being fitted with a crude hook prosthesis; productivity could not stop for minor amputations).
"Tensile strength is insufficient," Lin Fan muttered, his eyes glowing blue with Seal 2.
[Analysis: Failed Barrel]
Material: Low-Grade Spirit Iron.
Failure Point: Micro-fractures caused by Qi rapid expansion.
Conclusion: Spirit Iron conducts Qi too well. It gets soft when hot.
"It's too pure," Lin Fan realized. "The cultivation world is obsessed with purity. Pure Qi, pure bloodlines, pure metal. But steel needs impurity. It needs carbon."
He grabbed a shovel and scooped up a pile of black dust from the corner—slag and coal dust, usually thrown away as trash. He dumped it into the crucible with the molten Spirit Iron.
"What are you doing?" The First Elder (currently chained to the bellows) gasped, sweat dripping from his beard. "You are polluting the spiritual metal! It will become brittle!"
"I am making High-Carbon Spirit Steel," Lin Fan corrected. "Keep pumping, old man. If the temperature drops below 1,500 degrees, I'll feed you to the fire."
Suddenly, a red warning rune flashed on Lin Fan's workbench.
[Perimeter Alert: Sector 4] [Signature Detected: Foundation Establishment – Mid Stage] [Affiliation: Azure Sword Qi]
Lin Fan wiped the soot from his face. "Right on schedule. A rat has come to sniff the cheese."
He didn't reach for his Desert Eagle. He reached for a small, flat metal box he had just prototyped. He turned to the First Elder.
"Keep stirring. If this batch ruins, you die."
Location: The Perimeter Woods
Liang Chen, a scout from the Azure Sword Sect, moved through the trees like a ghost. He was balanced on a thin flying sword, hovering inches above the grass to avoid leaving footprints.
Something is wrong, Liang thought. The Iron Blood Sect is usually noisy. I should hear chanting, sparring, the ringing of bells. But all I hear is… thumping?
Thump. Hiss. Thump. Hiss. (The sound of steam pistons).
He approached the outer wall. Usually, there were guards here. Today, there was nothing but a strange wire strung between two trees at ankle height.
"Amateur tripwire?" Liang scoffed. He was a cultivator. He didn't walk; he flew. He urged his sword upward to glide over the wire.
He didn't touch the wire. But his flying sword's Qi signature disrupted the magnetic field the wire was generating.
CLICK.
The ground beneath him exploded.
It wasn't a fire talisman. It was a Directional Fragmentation Mine (Claymore Pattern) filled with rusted scrap metal and unstable Fire Crystals.
BOOM!
The blast didn't burn him; it shredded him. Hundreds of shrapnel shards tore through his protective Qi barrier like paper. Liang Chen screamed as he was knocked out of the air, his body riddled with metal.
He hit the ground, coughing blood. He tried to reach for a healing pill, but a boot pinned his hand to the dirt.
Lin Fan looked down at the mangled scout. He held a notebook.
"Spread pattern is effective at five meters," Lin Fan noted, writing it down. "But the shrapnel didn't penetrate the bone. Needs more velocity."
"You..." Liang wheezed, recognizing the infamous face from the Wanted posters. "Lin... Fan... The Alliance... will..."
"Shh," Lin Fan pressed a finger to his lips. He tapped the flat metal box (the detonator) in his hand. "You are data. And data doesn't speak."
Lin Fan pulled his Desert Eagle and finished the job with a single, silenced shot.
[Experience Gained: +2,500] [Loot: Azure Sword Token, Flying Sword (Damaged)]
"Scrap metal," Lin Fan noted, kicking the flying sword. "Throw it in the carbon mix. Let's see if Azure Steel hardens the alloy."
Location: Blackwater City – The Merchant Guild Hall
While Lin Fan was turning a scout into statistics, Fatty Wu was sweating through his best silk robes.
The Guild Hall was loud, filled with merchants bidding on monster cores and herbs. But the noise died down when Wu walked in, flanked by Su Mei.
Su Mei wore a long cloak, hiding her combat suit, but her aura was sharp enough to cut glass. Wu clutched a briefcase to his chest.
"Well, well," a mocking voice cut through the silence. "If it isn't the pig who thought he could fly."
Wu Long, the Second Young Master of the Wu Clan, stepped forward. He was tall, handsome, and surrounded by four bodyguards in heavy plate armor.
"I heard you were begging for scraps in the Sovereign's Tower," Wu Long sneered. "Did you come back to beg for rice?"
Fatty Wu's hands shook. Old habits died hard. But then he remembered the weight of the gun in his waistband. He remembered Lin Fan's cold eyes. I am a Premium Asset.
"I am here to buy iron," Wu said, his voice cracking slightly before steadying. "All of it. The entire city's stock of Black Iron and Spirit Ore."
The hall erupted in laughter.
"With what money?" Wu Long laughed. "Did you win a few coins gambling?"
Wu placed the briefcase on a table and opened it. It was filled with Monster Cores from the Tower—Floor 6 and 7 beasts. High quality. Worth a fortune.
The laughter stopped. Greed filled the room.
"You stole this," Wu Long hissed. "Guards! Seize this traitor and confiscate the family assets!"
The four armored bodyguards drew their broadswords and lunged.
"Su Mei," Wu squeaked, diving behind the table.
Su Mei didn't draw a dagger. She drew two Type-1 Spirit Muskets from under her cloak.
CRACK-CRACK!
Two shots. Two guards dropped, holes punched clean through their chest plates.
The room froze. The smell of ozone and burnt meat filled the air. The other two guards skidded to a halt, looking at their fallen comrades in horror. There was no Qi buildup. No chanting. Just death.
Su Mei spun the pistols in her hands, smoke trailing from the barrels. She aimed one at Wu Long's forehead.
"The negotiation is open," Su Mei said, her voice bored.
Wu Long turned pale. He looked at the strange metal tubes, then at the holes in the steel plate armor.
Fatty Wu stood up. He adjusted his robes. The fear was gone, replaced by the adrenaline of a gambler who just hit the jackpot.
"I am paying market price," Wu said, looking his brother in the eye. "Not because I have to. But because I'm generous."
He slammed a stack of Spirit Notes on the table.
"Load the wagons. If a single ingot is missing... my associate here will turn your head into a canoe."
Location: Iron Blood Sect – Night
Lin Fan held the new prototype barrel. It was dark, matte grey—the High-Carbon Spirit Steel mixed with the melted remains of the Azure Sword scout's weapon.
He slotted it into the receiver.
[System Notification] [Item Created: Type-2 Assault Musket (prototype)] [Grade: Mortal - Peak] [Durability: High] [Special Trait: Armor Piercing]
Lin Fan smiled. The alloy held.
At the same moment, a carrier pigeon (mechanical, built by Lin Fan) arrived with a note from Blackwater City.
"Iron secured. Supply chain established. We are returning with ten wagons. - Wu."
Lin Fan looked out over the darkened sect. The furnaces were roaring. The disciples were working. The scout was dead. The metal was ready.
"Let them come," Lin Fan whispered, racking the slide of his new rifle. "I have enough bullets for everyone."