The instant the hammer struck the anvil, a cascade of scorching sparks burst forth, accompanied by a deafening clamor of clashing metal that echoed without end. The searing sparks flew like dazzling flames of magic, and the overlapping metallic sounds took on a thunderous quality.

Gavin Brooks stared, utterly transfixed. He had never imagined that blacksmithing could be done like this. The performance of this Old Smith before him could no longer be called mere blacksmithing—it was nothing short of art! He had truly elevated the craft to a whole new realm.

On this small workbench, the thousand-pound hammer was wielded with effortless grace, exuding the aura of a calligraphy master creating a masterpiece with bold, sweeping strokes.

Old Smith's movements were not particularly fast, but their steadiness was almost unbelievable. The hammer fell hundreds and thousands of times, yet the height to which Old Smith raised it was always perfectly level, as if measured with the utmost precision. The hammer would be lifted high, then brought down hard onto the anvil, and through countless strikes, not a single mistake was made.

If the hammer were replaced with a two-handed sword, Gavin Brooks might have some confidence in keeping the blade level for ten swings. But he knew this was a hammer—a thousand-pound hammer that he could barely drag, let alone wield with the mastery of Old Smith.

Staring at the flying sparks, Gavin Brooks was completely stunned...

"Player Gavin Brooks has mastered Basic Smelting."

"Player Gavin Brooks has mastered Basic Forging."

Amid two consecutive system notifications, Old Smith brought down the final heavy blow. A section of the sword blade lay quietly on the anvil, still radiating intense heat. Old Black took out a pair of tongs, picked up the blade, and casually tossed it into a bucket of water. With a soft "sizzle!", a cloud of white steam rose from the bucket...

After finishing all this, Old Smith gently set down the hammer in his hand and relit his extinguished pipe.

"As my apprentice, the first thing you need to learn is how to properly use a hammer." As he spoke, Old Smith bent down by the anvil, found a hammer, and tossed it to Gavin Brooks: "Starting today, you will strike the anvil with this hammer a thousand times every day. Once you've finished, you can leave. Only when I think you can use the hammer correctly will I teach you something new."

The hammer Old Smith tossed over was still heavy, but nowhere near as exaggerated as the previous thousand-pound hammer that was impossible to even lift.

This hammer's head was clearly much smaller than the one Old Smith used for forging. Gavin Brooks tried lifting it and estimated it weighed two or three hundred pounds. Though still difficult to swing, compared to the previous thousand-pound hammer, this one was far less intimidating.

Holding the hammer, Gavin Brooks didn't rush to start striking. He closed his eyes, trying to recall Old Smith's movements when forging, mentally correcting his own mistakes with each imagined swing.

Black's cloudy old eyes watched Gavin Brooks curiously as he stood motionless with his eyes shut, wondering what he was doing. Why wasn't he starting to forge?

After simulating nearly a hundred times in his mind, Gavin Brooks suddenly opened his eyes, now shining with confidence. He raised the hammer high above his head and brought it down hard onto the anvil.

Clang!

In the cramped room, the sound of the hammer striking the anvil reverberated, and the hot sparks erupted like brilliant midnight fireworks, shooting out in all directions.

At that moment, Black's previously clouded eyes flashed with unprecedented sharpness. The right hand that had always held the thousand-pound hammer steady now trembled violently, as if he could barely hold onto his light pipe.

Impressive! Black looked at Gavin Brooks, who had just delivered his second strike, with delight. The height and speed of his first swing matched Black's own forging technique exactly.

However, this was not what truly surprised Black. The real essence of judging a blacksmith's skill was not the height or speed of the hammer, but the metallic ring produced at the very instant the hammer struck the anvil.

The sound of Gavin Brooks's first strike was three parts identical to Black's own—a sound that could not occur by chance, but only through careful observation and understanding.

One strike, two strikes, three strikes...

Gavin Brooks kept swinging the hammer, striking the anvil again and again.

He was so focused that he forgot the passage of time, even forgetting his own fatigue. He suddenly realized that blacksmithing was actually quite interesting.

Old Smith seemed to pay no attention to his apprentice, simply reclining in his chair and dozing, his pipe glowing and dimming in the rhythm of the hammering.

"Your forging proficiency has increased, strength +1."

"Your forging proficiency has increased, strength +1."

"Your forging proficiency has increased, strength +1."

...

Accompanying Gavin Brooks was only the monotonous sound of system notifications.