Mystic Eyes: My Eyes Steal the Laws of Cultivation Chapter 613: Spiritual Forge

The sound of the hammer echoed rhythmically inside Sun Luguo’s workshop, a constant heartbeat that seemed to be the very heart of the place. Each strike was a note in a symphony of metal and fire, a music that Kyrian was learning to appreciate with every visit.

’Clang!’

A shower of tiny sparks leaped from the surface of the incandescent metal, scattering through the air like golden fireflies before extinguishing themselves on the stone floor.

’Clang!’

The next strike hit exactly the same spot, with the same surgical precision, creating a small deformation in the metal that spread like ripples across a lake.

’Clang!’

Again, the hammer descended with the same force, the same angle, and the same intention.

No movement was wasted. Every strike had a purpose, and every adjustment, a calculated consequence.

Kyrian remained standing a few steps from the anvil, his arms relaxed at his sides and his violet eyes completely focused on the old blacksmith’s hands.

Since entering the workshop that afternoon, he had said almost nothing, not because he was bored or distracted, but because his mind was far too occupied processing every detail.

With every strike of Sun Luguo’s hammer, Kyrian noticed something new. The sound, the pressure, the temperature, the way the metal deformed under the impact, the amount of Qi that penetrated the material with each strike, and the way the old man slightly altered the position of the bar between each blow. Everything seemed to have a reason, an internal logic that revealed itself only to those with the patience to observe.

Nothing was done out of empty habit. Sun Luguo was not simply striking a piece of metal, he was talking to it, learning its language, and understanding its nature. And Kyrian was beginning to understand why.

The workshop was much hotter than when he had first arrived, the heat of the furnace filling every corner of the space. The enormous furnace occupied almost an entire wall, its spiritual flames burning in different hues depending on the material placed inside it.

Some were red and intense, like the heart of a dying star. Others displayed bluish or greenish colors, indicating different temperatures and spiritual properties, each flame a different tool for a different purpose.

Shelves covered the walls, each one filled with materials that would make any ordinary blacksmith salivate with desire. There were ores of all kinds, some small, barely larger than a fingernail, others the size of human heads.

There were crystals that glowed with their own light, beast bones that still vibrated with the energy of their former owners, spiritual wood so old that it seemed to have absorbed centuries of Qi, liquid metals stored in special containers that floated within their own fields of energy, and even some materials that Kyrian could not identify, whose natures remained a mystery.

After the experience he had over the past few days, Kyrian realized that the workshop concealed an absurd amount of wealth.

Most of those materials were probably worth more than small fortunes, some individual pieces could feed a family of cultivators for generations. But Sun Luguo seemed to treat them as ordinary tools, objects of work rather than treasures to be revered.

The old man removed a dark-blue metal bar from the furnace, his movements precise and confident. The red glow of the high temperature quickly disappeared from its surface, replaced by a deep blue radiance that seemed to emanate from within the material.

He held the material with a pair of tongs and walked to the anvil, his steps firm despite the weight of the bar.

"Observe carefully."

Kyrian slightly straightened his posture, his attention intensifying.

Sun Luguo placed the bar on the stone, adjusting its position with a precision that came from decades of practice.

"When you were learning to forge ordinary weapons, your main concern was controlling the shape, temperature, and physical structure of the metal. The goal was to create something functional, something that could cut, pierce, or protect."

He raised the hammer, his fingers wrapping around the handle with the familiarity of someone who had held it for an entire lifetime.

"But that changes when we enter the field of spiritual weapons."

’Clang!’

The strike hit the metal, and a vibration traveled through the entire bar, as if the material itself were responding to the touch.

Kyrian’s eyes narrowed, capturing every nuance of that interaction.

Sun Luguo continued, his voice maintaining the rhythm of the strikes.

"For a spiritual weapon, the material is even more important than in ordinary forging. Every ore possesses its own nature, a spiritual identity that precedes any human craftsmanship."

"Every metal possesses a different structure, a way of organizing its internal energy. Every beast bone carries specific characteristics, echoes of the life that once was."

’Clang!’

"Your job is not simply to transform this..." He touched the metal with the hammer, a light tap that produced a higher-pitched sound.

"...into this."

Another strike, stronger, deeper.

"Your job is to discover what exists within the material. It is to learn its language, understand its nature, and then help it express itself in the best way possible."

Kyrian remained silent, his words echoing in his mind.

Sun Luguo gave him a quick glance, assessing his understanding.

"Understand?"

"I think so."

"Don’t say you think." The old man smiled, a smile that carried years of wisdom.

"Observe first. Understand afterward. Only then try to do it."

Kyrian nodded, recognizing the wisdom in those words.

Sun Luguo returned to work, the rhythm of the strikes subtly changing. Before, they had been strong and heavy, each blow a deep impact. Now they were shorter, more precise, as if the old man were adjusting something invisible.

’Clang! Clang! Clang-clang!! Clang!’

Kyrian immediately noticed that Sun Luguo’s Qi was entering the metal along with each strike. But not in a crude manner, not as an imposition of will. It was almost as if the old man were using the hammer to push his Qi into the structure of the material, guiding it rather than forcing it.

The energy penetrated, encountered resistance, changed direction, went around obstacles, and then spread like water, finding its level. It was a dance between blacksmith and material, a conversation that Kyrian was only beginning to understand.