The blacksmith shop was rather quiet, lacking the scene Gavin Brooks had imagined—no sparks flying or roaring flames. The elderly blacksmith was leaning against the anvil, puffing on his pipe, occasionally breaking into a cough or two. The sound was like the bellows in the shop, carrying a hint of raspiness that made Gavin Brooks feel uncomfortable just hearing it.

It wasn’t until Gavin Brooks pushed open the blacksmith shop’s door that the old man opened his cloudy eyes. “The forge isn’t open today. If you want something made, come back tomorrow.”

Getting turned away at the door—if it had been the old Gavin Brooks, he probably would have turned and left right away.

But thanks to the “criminally handsome” incident, ever since then, Gavin Brooks hadn’t made much progress in other areas, but his skin had definitely gotten thicker. Even though the old blacksmith ignored him, he still wore a smile on his face. “I’m not here to have anything made. I’m here to learn blacksmithing from you.”

“Oh?” He had expected to be rejected outright, but to his surprise, the old blacksmith’s cloudy eyes suddenly brightened at these words. He stopped smoking, stared up at him for a long time, and then shook his head with a hint of regret. “Didn’t expect there were still young people willing to learn blacksmithing these days. But it’s a pity—young man, your body is too weak, not really suited for this trade. I’ve been a blacksmith all my life, and I know how tough it is. With your condition, you probably couldn’t last even a day. You’d be better off learning another craft…”

“My body’s too weak?” When the system sprite had just told him his physical strength was far below normal, he hadn’t taken it seriously. But now, even the old blacksmith was saying the same thing, and Gavin Brooks couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. Still, he quickly replied, “As long as you’re willing to teach me, I can endure any hardship!”

“Is that so? If you can endure any hardship…” The old blacksmith closed his cloudy eyes again, listlessly leaning against the anvil and puffing on his pipe. Smoke curled around him, and the pipe occasionally made a faint crackling sound. Who knows how much time passed before the old blacksmith opened his eyes, pointed his pipe at a hammer in the corner, and said, “Then bring me that hammer first.”

“Yes, sir!”

Gavin Brooks walked to the corner, intending to pick up the hammer standing upright on the ground, which was nearly as tall as half a person.

Who could have guessed how heavy that hammer was—it far exceeded his expectations. With the strength of a level-three warrior, a weight of two or three hundred jin was nothing to Gavin Brooks. But now, even after using all his strength, he could barely lift the handle, let alone pick up the entire hammer. That was simply an impossible task.

Gavin Brooks estimated that the hammer weighed at least a thousand jin.

A blacksmith who used a thousand-jin hammer—what kind of concept was that?

But Gavin Brooks was just as stubborn. Just like how he knew he was born with a deficiency in spiritual power, yet never stopped meditating, he always believed that one day he would be able to sense the existence of magical elements.

He couldn’t lift the thousand-jin hammer, but that didn’t mean he would give up.

He gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead. With a loud shout, he gripped the handle with both hands and exerted all his strength. There was a harsh screeching sound, and the thousand-jin hammer was actually dragged a few inches by him.

If he couldn’t lift it, couldn’t he at least drag it? Though a few inches was insignificant, to Gavin Brooks it was already enough.

The pipe at the old blacksmith’s mouth continued to “clack clack,” but in those cloudy eyes, there was a barely noticeable hint of approval.

It only took a few steps to reach the corner, but dragging that thousand-jin hammer back took Gavin Brooks a full two hours.

What was the difference between a thousand-jin hammer and one weighing two or three hundred jin? Gavin Brooks gained a deep understanding during those two hours.

By the time he took the last step, Gavin Brooks was completely exhausted. It felt just like when he first entered Auckland Academy and Instructor Rodriguez made him run fifty laps around the campus—every last bit of strength seemed drained from his body. All he could see were dazzling flashes of color before his eyes, and he couldn’t hear anything except a persistent buzzing in his ears…

Sitting on the ground, Gavin Brooks stretched out his legs weakly, gasping for breath. It seemed that none of the blacksmiths in Auckland used such a hammer. He didn’t know if the city was too small, or if there simply weren’t any blacksmiths in the world who used such a heavy hammer.

Who knows how much time passed before the old blacksmith finally put down his pipe.

“From today on, you are my apprentice, the apprentice of Old Black.” After saying this, the old blacksmith bent down and picked up the thousand-jin hammer that had taken Gavin Brooks two hours to drag from the corner. In the old blacksmith’s hands, it was as if it weighed nothing at all—his wrist flicked it back and forth, as if he were holding a feather duster rather than a hammer that could smash a person into pulp with a single blow.

He casually picked up a piece of pig iron from beside the anvil and tossed it into the furnace. “Light the fire.”

Chapter Three: Blacksmithing

“Yes, sir!”

Amid the rasping sound of the bellows, Old Black picked up the tongs at his feet, gently clamped the glowing red iron billet, and with a “whoosh,” the thousand-jin hammer swept up a gust of wind like a falling meteor from the sky, smashing down hard on the red-hot iron.