On a beautiful, spiritually charged mountaintop within the Confucian Temple.
CLANG! CLANG!
A middle-aged blacksmith with a thick beard and streaks of white in his hair held a hammer, striking a red-hot Treasure Sword with a resounding CLANG. The wall beside him was lined with all manner of weapons.
The blacksmith's expression was serious, his gaze sharp. He had the build of a tiger and the back of a bear, and his beard was like black steel bristles. His brawny shoulders were covered in knotted muscles, glistening with sweat.
With every strike, the Spiritual Power radiating from his body flared. He then plunged the forged, incandescent Treasure Sword into hundred-year-old Profound Water to cool.
SIZZLE!
A massive cloud of steam billowed out, obscuring all vision.
In an instant, a sharp Treasure Sword was forged.
Suddenly, the middle-aged blacksmith stared at his masterpiece, blanking out for a second.
