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.
