"Alright, just for what you, this young man, said—if after quenching, this shovel can chop bricks without the edge rolling, I'll buy all the farm tools on this stall!" The leading farmer from earlier used a bit of reverse psychology. In his heart, he also felt that Henry Carter's words were a bit exaggerated, but at this moment, if he backed up Henry Carter, he could force those three young men into a corner. Of course, he was more than happy to see this happen.

"You said it yourself? Fine, buddy, you tell us—how do we do the quenching?" The fat guy's blood was stirred by the farmer, and he suddenly had a wish: he hoped Henry Carter could really treat these farm tools so that they could chop bricks without the edge rolling. That way, he could use the farmer's words to force him to buy all the remaining farm tools. This wasn't just about how much money he could make—it was about regaining the face he had just lost.

Henry Carter looked at both sides, shook his head helplessly, and then said to the three young men, "To do quenching, first you need a furnace... You all work at a factory, right? Are we going back to your factory, or should we find a blacksmith shop? What do you think?"

"Let's find a blacksmith shop," the short guy said. Selling farm tools for extra cash was their side hustle, so it was best not to involve the factory.

"There's a blacksmith shop not far from here—it's Mr. Bolton's place. I know him well, I can take you there," the leading farmer pointed in a direction and said.

"Alright then." Henry Carter nodded, then said to the young men, "There's one more thing—you need to go find it. I need to prepare some quenching solution, which requires a few chemicals. These chemicals might only be found in a high school lab. Does anyone have connections?"

"I do..." The short guy raised his hand and answered, "My uncle works at the county high school..."

"Good, the chemicals I need are sodium chloride, nitrite, and potassium nitrate. I'll write down the names and quantities for you. Go find your uncle right away, get these chemicals, and bring them to Mr. Bolton's blacksmith shop." Henry Carter took out paper and pen from his satchel, wrote down a few names, and handed them to the short guy.

At this point, the young men could only follow orders. They also hoped Henry Carter could create a miracle for them and turn the situation around. The short guy took the note from Henry Carter, stretched his short legs, and ran off toward the county high school.

After sending the short guy off, Henry Carter called out, and the rest of the group carried the farm tools from the stall. Led by the head farmer, they arrived at a blacksmith shop among a cluster of single-story houses. Outside the shop hung a sign that really had the words "Mr. Bolton" written on it.

"Old Three, sorry to bother you," the leading farmer called out.

"Butch, here to buy something again? ...Huh, why so many people?" Mr. Bolton came out to greet them, surprised to see so many people at the door, each holding some farm tools.

The farmer called Butch stepped forward and briefly explained what had happened. Mr. Bolton took the rolled-edged shovel from Butch, looked at the blade, and said, "Hmm, it's indeed good steel, what a pity... But even if you quench it again, saying it can chop bricks is just bragging."

"Master Bolton, is it bragging or not—can I try it first? With such good steel, if the quenching is done well, chopping ordinary red bricks shouldn't be a problem," Henry Carter stepped forward and said.

Mr. Bolton looked Henry Carter up and down and said, "You're the young man who knows about quenching? Where did you learn it?"

Henry Carter replied, "I graduated from the provincial agricultural machinery technical school. I learned a bit about quenching there."

"Haha," Mr. Bolton laughed, "Learned it at school, huh? Good, good. The young are fearless. I've got a furnace, anvil, and water all ready here. Show me what you've got, let this old blacksmith see something new."

His words were full of disdain, but his attitude was still fairly friendly. Quenching isn't exactly hard, but it's not easy either. The easy part is that it's nothing more than heating and then plunging into water. The hard part is that the heating temperature has its tricks, and the quality of the quenching depends on the operator's judgment of the heat.

In Mr. Bolton's view, Henry Carter was probably an overconfident student who had learned a little bit at school and wanted to show off. He believed Henry Carter could definitely do quenching, but compared to him, an old blacksmith, the results would be far inferior. Even he himself couldn't treat these farm tools to the point where they could chop bricks, so for Henry Carter to achieve that would just be a joke.

Henry Carter knew his age was a disadvantage. If he wanted others to respect him, he could only prove himself with solid results. He thanked Mr. Bolton, then took the removed shovel head and walked into the blacksmith shop.

Chapter Three: A Wild Punch Beats the Master

Inside the blacksmith shop was a coal furnace, the fire burning strong. Clearly, Mr. Bolton had just been working on some iron, and had only come out when he heard their voices.