Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 539: Second Blacksmithing Lesson (3)

’CLANG!’

The first hammer strike echoed, the metallic sound filling the workshop.

Then another.

Another.

His movements were steadier than they had been the day before. His body was already beginning to memorize part of the technique, the correct angles, the distribution of weight, the proper rhythm.

Even so...

There were still minor imperfections.

The blade’s thickness varied slightly in certain areas, with one side ending up a little thinner than the other. The heat did not remain completely uniform throughout the process, creating subtle differences in the metal’s structure. During the cooling phase, one side lost temperature slightly faster, resulting in a slightly uneven temper.

When he finished, the sword he had forged was functional, but far from perfect.

Sun Luguo picked up the sword.

He examined it carefully, his experienced eyes traveling across every inch of the blade. He ran a finger along its surface, feeling the nearly imperceptible ripples. He analyzed its balance, testing its weight at different points.

Then he handed it back.

"Better than yesterday."

Kyrian waited for the rest, knowing the compliment was only an introduction.

"But it’s still not perfect."

The old man pointed once again at the iron blocks, a gesture that had already become familiar.

"Another."

Kyrian simply nodded.

There was no frustration in his expression or posture. On the contrary, there was a quiet determination, the certainty that every mistake was a step toward mastery.

Every mistake became a lesson. His eyes clearly recorded the subtle differences between that sword and the ideal image he was slowly constructing in his mind. He saw microscopic cracks invisible to the naked eye, tiny discontinuities within the metal’s crystalline structure. He noticed areas where the compression had not been uniform, where the iron layers were not perfectly aligned.

Everything was stored in his memory with absolute precision.

...

The second sword began shortly afterward.

This time...

Every movement felt more natural.

The temperature remained stable throughout almost the entire process, Kyrian adjusting the position of the metal over the furnace with the precision of someone who already understood the behavior of fire. His hammer strikes distributed the metal more evenly, each blow landing exactly where it should.

The blade’s balance became vastly superior, its center of gravity positioned precisely where a well-crafted sword should have it. Its thickness was uniform, and its surface was beginning to show signs of professional craftsmanship.

When he plunged the sword into the special oil...

The steam rose much more evenly, forming a consistent mist that indicated a perfectly balanced temper.

Sun Luguo picked up the weapon.

He examined it carefully, his eyes traveling across its surface with the attention of a jeweler appraising a rare gemstone.

Then he slowly ran his calloused fingers over the surface, feeling textures invisible to ordinary senses.

A quiet grunt of satisfaction escaped his throat.

"Hm."

He looked at Kyrian again, a spark of genuine admiration shining in his eyes.

"You really do learn quickly."

He remained silent for a few seconds, as though processing what he had just witnessed.

"Most people take weeks..."

"...some even months..."

"...to reach this level."

His piercing, evaluating eyes met Kyrian’s once again.

"Those eyes..."

"...they help, don’t they?"

Kyrian smiled faintly, silently acknowledging the truth.

There was no hiding it from a master as experienced as Sun Luguo. The old blacksmith had spent decades watching apprentices, and his powers of observation were every bit as refined as his hammer.

"They help a lot."

The old man merely nodded, as though he had expected that answer all along.

...

When they began the third sword...

Kyrian’s body was already showing clear signs of exhaustion.

His muscles burned, his joints ached, and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Hours of hammering were finally beginning to demand their price.

Even so...

His concentration remained as sharp as a freshly tempered blade.

He heated the iron once more, his eyes monitoring every change in color and texture. He waited patiently, without rushing, until the metal reached the perfect temperature.

He removed the piece from the furnace.

He raised the hammer.

’CLANG!’

The first strike landed, precise and powerful.

Then another.

Another.

The rhythm became steady.

Almost musical.

It was as though the metal itself was following that rhythm, responding to every strike with a vibration that guided the next movement.

Kyrian began to feel something different.

Something he had never experienced before.

It no longer felt as though he were imposing his will upon the iron. He was no longer trying to dominate the metal, forcing it to bend to his desires. Instead, it felt as though he were listening to it.

Every vibration traveling through the metal told him where to strike. Every shift in temperature showed him when to stop, when to change the angle of the hammer, and when to apply more or less force.

It was like a silent conversation.

A form of communication between the blacksmith and his material.

Sun Luguo remained completely silent.

He did not interrupt even once.

He simply watched, his narrowed eyes evaluating every detail, his posture as motionless as a statue.

Kyrian slowly rotated the piece, adjusting it for the next strike. He changed the hammer’s angle, exploring different approaches to the same problem. He adjusted the strength of each blow, sometimes powerful and deep, other times light and precise. He cooled the metal at exactly the right moment, without hesitation.

Little by little...

The sword took shape.

It was no longer just a piece of shaped metal. It was a weapon, with personality and purpose. Every curve, every angle, every detail had been carefully crafted.

When he began the final polishing...

Even Sun Luguo narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

The blade gleamed beneath the furnace’s light, reflecting the flames like a mirror. Its shape was elegant, its lines flowing with a harmony that seemed completely natural. Its balance appeared flawless, the weight distributed so perfectly that the sword moved like an extension of the arm.

After finishing...

Kyrian handed the sword to his master.

Sun Luguo carefully took the piece, his fingers wrapping around the hilt with the respect one gives to a work of art.

He ran his fingers along the edge, feeling the sharpness of the blade. He tested its balance point, balancing the sword on a single finger. Then he lightly struck another metal bar against the blade.

’Ting...’

The crystal-clear sound echoed throughout the workshop, pure and lingering.

The old man remained completely motionless for several seconds, his eyes fixed on the blade.

Finally...

He nodded slowly.

"Almost perfect."