My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 451: Getting Reputation

"Old man, let's promote this blade. Head out and gather some villagers, telling them a true masterpiece has been forged. Invite them to come take a look," Ethan instructed.

Harold was the old man's name.

He paused in silence, stroking his chin as though pondering a grave matter.

"This could stir up plenty of problems, young one. Are you prepared for such chaos?" Harold questioned, his eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"No need to fret over it. Simply go fetch the people."

With a deep sigh, Harold stepped outside. Having lived his whole life in this settlement, he was known to all. Rounding up a handful of intrigued locals wouldn't pose much challenge.

Ethan lingered in the shadowy workshop, his fingertips gently tracing the knife's edge. His thoughts raced far into the future.

Starting now, he'd need to gain power and followers. Lots of them. Without relying on Qi, cultivation, or any mystical powers. Just pure bodily might and sharp intellect.

Traversing the vast world on foot, sans instant travel, would prove a hassle.

So be it.

He'd transform into a force like Saitama.

In due time, deities themselves would shatter like minced flesh under one blow from his fist.

Thirty minutes passed before Ethan caught the sound of approaching steps and mingled chatter from beyond the door.

"Harold, you've surely lost your wits. Do you honestly believe anyone in your forge could craft blades that slice through iron bars as if they were soft cheese?" a robust fellow bellowed.

"Indeed, old timer. Time to shut down that place and step away. Enjoy a quiet life rather than spinning tall tales," a youthful voice chimed in, laced more with sympathy than scorn.

Their words dripped with doubt, but intrigue drew them forward regardless.

The timber door groaned as it swung wide.

Within the grimy interior loomed a strikingly attractive youth, clutching an exquisite blade in one grip like it was everyday fare.

"Is he the fellow you meant?" the sturdy man inquired.

"That's him," Harold affirmed, a subtle yet assured grin on his face.

The burly figure advanced. "Lad, is there truth to Harold's claims?"

"Why not test it for yourself? Grab an iron bar. Or pick something tougher still. I'll prove if the elder speaks false," Ethan responded steadily, a subtle smirk playing on his mouth.

The man squinted. "You seem awfully sure. But words mean little to me. Show me."

He approached the stack of metal rods in the corner, choosing the bulkiest. For certainty, he struck it with several standard blades from the store, confirming its integrity and lack of tricks.

"Very well. Slice this one. Succeed, and I'll spread the word across the whole town. You have my word," he proclaimed.

The younger fellow observed intently, his arms crossed tightly.

Ethan moved ahead.

He lifted the knife high and swung it down in a deliberate, measured stroke.

The rod parted without resistance.

Both sections tumbled to the floor with a resounding thud.

Quietness enveloped the room.

The pair gaped as though beholding the unbelievable.

Harold waited nearby, beaming like a doting elder.

"May I examine it?" the youth requested, his tone urgent.

Ethan agreed and passed the knife over.

Clutching it firmly, the young one strode to a severed piece and struck once more.

The metal divided neatly again.

He gulped noticeably.

"What's the cost?" he inquired.

"1000 gold."

"O-one thousand gold?" he stuttered, almost letting the blade slip before setting it down with care.

"Kindly spread the news. Should the knife sell, you'll each get 20 gold," Ethan offered, his smile warm and inviting.

Their gazes expanded in shock.

"You mean it? I'm off at once," the robust man declared. Twenty gold coins equaled a fortune for folks of their standing.

The duo hurried away.

Ethan faced Harold. "Display this prominently. I'll craft additional arms, prepared for demand."

He resumed his labor.

Once he'd shaped a blade, a curved sword, a lance, and armored fists, the metal reserves were depleted. Every piece bore the identical fearsome qualities.

Emerging outdoors, Ethan found a throng of hundreds clustered before the storefront.

"Old Harold, can it really be?" a voice called out.

Overwhelmed by the masses, Harold replied, "It's real enough. Though I doubt many here can pay the price. Costs a fortune."

Ethan proceeded and performed the feat anew, cleaving iron as effortlessly as bean curd.

Whispers rippled outward.

Now, he was certain the tale would reach those with deep pockets.

In the assembly lurked a youth from Henry's forge. En route to his duties, he'd caught wind of the buzz and chosen to witness it firsthand.

At present, he dashed frantically.

He bolted straight to Henry's establishment, gasping as he recounted the events.

Henry's scowl deepened. "You're out of your mind. No such prodigy shows up in our backwater spot. If I arrive and this is a hoax, you're dismissed on the spot. No wages for the month."

"Master, please come verify it yourself," the apprentice urged.

Accompanied by a group of smiths, Henry trailed him back.

They shoved through the gathering and slipped inside.

"That the gimmick you raved about?" Henry demanded, gesturing toward the proudly exhibited knife.

The apprentice nodded affirmatively.

Henry drew near. "Elder, hand over that trinket for inspection."

"It's no trinket, Henry. A pinnacle achievement beyond your wildest efforts, even at the cost of your soul," Harold retorted sharply.

Henry's face grew stormy. "Oh? Then wager on it. I'll fetch my top blade and pit it against yours. If it prevails, I'll purchase it. Fail, and it's mine. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Ethan accepted promptly.

Thrilling buzz filled the space. The town's premier smith confronted an unknown rival.

At Henry's cue, an aide dashed off to retrieve his premier creation.

After a quarter-hour, the helper arrived bearing a dark case.

Henry unveiled it with care.

Nestled within was a gilded dagger, buffed to a shine that caught the glow.

Grasping it, he eyed Harold. "Final warning. Retract your boasts."

"Prior to your attempt, know my blade fetches 1000 gold. Got the funds? Lay them down first. Else, spare us the trial," Ethan stated coolly.

"1000 gold? Are you insane? None would pay that for a plain edge," Henry barked.

"Lacking coin? Then depart," Ethan dismissed with a casual flick of his wrist.

Henry's teeth clenched.

"Alright. I lack the full sum here. I'll sign a note. Payment in two days if it holds."

"Hand over 100 gold upfront, and commit 900 to paper," Ethan bargained.

Following a strained silence, Henry consented.

He deposited a pouch of coins on the counter and drafted the bond.

Gripping each weapon securely, he struck them together.

No ringing clash of steel echoed.

Briefly, all appeared unchanged.

Then the golden dagger fractured smoothly in twain.

Shocked intakes of breath filled the air.

Henry gawked at the ruined fragments in his grasp, dread etching his features.

"Youngster," he uttered deliberately, regaining poise, "I'll claim this blade. Your payment arrives in two days. Join my forge. We'll partner in business."

"Unnecessary," Ethan answered evenly. "Merely deliver the gold."