Kent King sat on the stone bench of the Fan Family’s inner forge, sweat glistening on his forehead.
Before him, a magnificent King-Rank sabre lay resting on the anvil—its blade shimmering with golden runes, a tangible testament to his skill and effort.
He spent more than seven days to make this perfect sabre. This was also his final effort as his patience thinning out on other end.
Even Fan Hao, the patriarch of the Fan Family, had been rendered speechless.
“For a newbie blacksmith… this is nothing short of a miracle,” Fan Hao muttered.
Kent wiped his brow and stretched lazily. “It wasn’t that hard… Just need some patience.”
A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, the sheer effort of refining, molding, and engraving the King-Rank weapon draining his strength. His entire body felt sore from standing for hours at the forge, manipulating high-temperature spiritual flames.
“I need sleep,” Kent thought.
Without another word, he left the forge, ignoring the whispers of awe trailing behind him.
As he reached his guest chamber in the Fan Family residence, Kent collapsed onto his bed, letting out a deep sigh.
“Just a few hours…” he mumbled, closing his eyes.
But fate had other plans.
Sometime past midnight, a shadow slithered into the room.
The figure moved silently, barely disturbing the air as it slipped through the open balcony.
A faint moonlight glimmered on the pagoda-like triangle insignia on the figure’s sleeve—the unmistakable mark of the Purple Cloud Alchemy Association.
Kent lay still, his breathing deep and rhythmic, as if in a deep slumber.
The intruder carefully produced a small glass vial filled with a translucent blue liquid.
“A potion…” Kent thought, his mind razor-sharp despite his body remaining motionless.
The intruder uncorked the vial, releasing a faint scent—a powerful mind-numbing agent used by high-level alchemists.
With steady hands, the intruder waved the liquid near Kent’s nose, allowing the fragrance to enter his system.
Normally, this would be enough to knock out even powerful cultivators.
But unfortunately for the intruder… Kent had no ordinary body.
Thanks to his intense physical training and golden dragon constitution, his body instinctively neutralized the drug before it could take full effect.
“So… they’re not here to kill me. They’re here for something else,” Kent analyzed, his mind racing.
The intruder then placed two fingers on Kent’s forehead.
“A soul-searching technique!” Kent instantly realized.
This was an incredibly vile method, used to forcefully extract memories from an unconscious person’s soul.
Even the strongest cultivators would be helpless if caught off guard.
But this intruder had made one fatal mistake—
They assumed Kent was unconscious.
The moment the intruder initiated the soul-search, Kent struck like a thunderbolt.
“DIE.”
His hand shot up and gripped the intruder’s wrist—CRACK!
The sickening sound of bones shattering filled the air.
“AARGH!” The intruder screamed, pain erupting through their body.
Before they could react, Kent twisted their arm at an unnatural angle—SNAP!
The intruder collapsed in agony, their body convulsing as Kent leapt off the bed.
“You dared to invade my room? Use soul-search on me? You must have a death wish.”
The intruder struggled to summon their strength, but Kent didn’t give them the chance.
BANG!
A brutal kick to the knee shattered the intruder’s leg, making them collapse like a puppet with its strings cut.
“ACK! YOU—!!”
“Shh.” Kent grabbed them by the throat, lifting them off the ground.
The intruder’s eyes widened in horror.
This wasn’t just a cultivator.
Kent’s physical power was monstrous.
His grip tightened—and the intruder could feel their bones creaking under the pressure.
“Who sent you?” Kent’s voice was calm, yet chilling.
The intruder refused to answer, eyes darting around for an escape.
Kent scoffed.
“No? Fine. Let’s make an example out of you.”
Kent dragged the intruder out of his chamber, their body limp and broken.
The commotion alerted the entire Fan Family estate.
Doors burst open, and within moments, dozens of Fan Family members, blacksmiths, and guards had gathered.
Fan Hao himself arrived, his face dark with anger.
“What is happening?!”
Kent ignored the stares and threw the intruder onto the ground like a sack of garbage.
Then, with a flick of his hand, he produced a binding rope made of celestial silk and suspended the intruder upside down at the entrance archway of Fan family.
Gasps filled the air as everyone stared at the hanging figure.
“Look at his sleeve,” one of the blacksmiths whispered.
“That’s the Purple Cloud Alchemy Association’s insignia!”
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
Fan Hao’s expression darkened further. “Those bastards… They sent a spy into my residence?”
Kent crossed his arms and turned to address the crowd.
His voice boomed with authority:
“You hide in the shadows like rats. You send people to drug me in my sleep. You attempt to rip my memories from my soul.”
He pointed at the hanging figure.
“THIS is what happens to those who think they can mess with Kent King!”
The crowd erupted with whispers.
Some were amused. Others were terrified.
But everyone understood one thing—Kent King was not a man to be trifled with.
Kent then turned to the hanging spy.
“Tell your master this—”
He leaned closer, his golden eyes gleaming with menace.
“Three months ago, I refused your pathetic offer. And now, you send assassins?”
The intruder trembled but still refused to speak.
Kent grinned savagely.
“If you dare send another, I won’t stop at hanging them. Next time, I’ll send their head back in a box.”
With that, he tore off the intruder’s mask, exposing a pale, terrified face.
The Fan Family members gasped.
It wasn’t just a random assassin.
It was a Purple Cloud Sect Elder’s personal disciple.
Fan Hao let out a low growl. “So, they really are treating you as an enemy now.”
Kent chuckled darkly. “They should’ve done that from the start.”
As the intruder dangled helplessly, the people of the Fan Family whispered among themselves, realizing something terrifying.
Kent King wasn’t just making enemies.
He was declaring war.
–
Another three months had passed, and Kent King was growing increasingly frustrated.
Despite his efforts in blacksmithing, despite attaining the King Rank Blacksmith Badge, and despite crafting exceptional weapons, his progress in cultivation had stalled.
He was still stuck at the mid-level of Earth Wizard, with only minor improvements.
“Damn it, this isn’t working.” Kent sighed as he sat in his personal chamber, staring at a pile of unsold high-tier weapons.
Red Silk Country simply could not afford them.
People marveled at his craftsmanship, but no one had the wealth to purchase his King Rank weapons.
“I don’t have the time to travel and sell these elsewhere either,” Kent muttered in irritation. “If this keeps up, I’ll be stuck in this rank for centuries.”
His frustration boiled over as he clenched his fist.
“There has to be a better way.”
That morning, Kent was summoned by Fan Hao, the Patriarch of the Fan Family.