"Don't go closer," Kaelan said quietly, blocking the old man's path. "They're comprehending. This moment must not be disturbed."

The old man halted mid-step. The others stopped as well.

Everyone of them understood.

Moments of enlightenment were sacred to a blacksmith.

From where they stood, the two chunks of metal on the forging table were unmistakable.

That was thousand-refined heavy silver.

And not just any kind. It was second-grade.

Second-grade thousand-refined heavy silver normally lay firmly within the realm of fourth-rank blacksmiths. Yet now, two children stood beside it, their breaths still unsteady from forging.

Ray and Rachel's states of enlightenment faded quickly, but that brief moment was enough to tell Godfrey everything he needed to know.

At the very least, both of them had stepped into the third rank.

Godfrey slowly turned toward Kaelan, his gaze complicated. "junior… your West Ocean Blacksmith's Association really knows how to hide its cards. Nigel is truly something else. Two successors at once, and that brat…" His eyes lingered on Ray. "I checked him. He's only ten years old. Where did you dig up such a monster?"

Kaelan felt a rare sense of satisfaction at the old man's troubled expression. "Senior, there's no need to worry so much. We were simply lucky. You already know Rachel has shown promise since childhood. As for Ray, he is our president's only direct disciple. His talent is… passable. Perhaps in the future, he can exchange experiences with blacksmiths from Skysea City."

His words were gentle, but beneath them lay a sharp warning.

Ray belonged to Nigel.

Do not touch him.

Every blacksmith passed down their art differently. A great master was rare, but a disciple who could surpass their master was rarer still. What master would willingly give up such a seed?

Forging a second-grade thousand-refined metal wasn't what truly shook them.

It was Ray's age.

Ten years old.

In the entire history of blacksmithing, a ten-year-old who could thousand-refine… such a case simply did not exist.

Godfrey felt his chest tighten. "Why was I never told Nigel accepted a disciple?" He swept his gaze across the blacksmiths of Skysea City. "Did any of you know?"

One by one, they shook their heads.

"I didn't hear anything."

"Nothing at all."

"This is the first I've seen of it."

Kaelan's expression darkened. "Senior, what exactly are you implying?"

The old man snorted. "Nothing. Let's go. We shouldn't interfere with the children's competition."

Still, before leaving, he cast one last look at Ray. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

Only after they left did Ray finally lift his head.

Compared to Rachel, his moment of comprehension had been shallower. Heavy silver was familiar territory for him. Still, he had caught the faintest glimpse of something more profound.

First-grade Thousand Refinement.

That thought lingered.

He glanced at the tungsten hammers in his hands. If he had used his heavy silver hammers instead… he estimated his chances would have reached at least sixty percent.

First-grade Thousand Refinement was also known as Half-Spirit Refinement, the threshold that separated ordinary thousand refining from the realm of Spirit Refinement. The clearer the comprehension at this stage, the easier the transition later.

What Ray lacked was soul power.

Even with his innate divine strength, Nigel believed he would need three soul rings before attempting Spirit Refinement. Spirit Refinement required the blacksmith to pour their own vitality into the metal, bridging the gap between martial soul and material.

Ordinary blacksmiths needed at least four rings.

Ray could manage with three.

Before the tournament began, he had already set a goal for himself.

Before reaching three rings, I'll push every metal I touch to first-grade Thousand Refinement.

Only then would he truly be prepared for Spirit Refinement. The cost would be lower. The success rate is far higher.

A soft sigh sounded beside him.

Rachel raised her head slowly, staring at the gleaming silver metal on her table. The moment she saw it clearly, her thoughts froze.

Second-grade… thousand refined…

She knew what she was looking at.

Growing up as the daughter of a Saint Blacksmith, her understanding ran far deeper than most. She could tell at a glance.

Her hands trembled slightly.

She hadn't even fully grasped the basics of Thousand Refinement before today. And yet… she had forged a second-grade metal?

More than that, she had truly understood Thousand Refinement.

From this moment on, she knew with certainty that she could thousand-refine any metal.

She had crossed the threshold.

Third rank.

Rachel turned to Ray. Her eyes shimmered with emotions too complex to name—relief, admiration, envy… and something softer, unfamiliar.

A teacher guides the path and dispels doubt.

That was exactly how it felt.

Ray had dragged her into that rhythm, forced her into complete focus, and opened the door to Thousand Refinement in a way even her father had not.

She put away her hammers, walked over, and wordlessly rubbed his head before pinching his cheeks.

No thanks.

No praise.

Just action.

"Let's go," she said simply, striding ahead.

Ray watched her back, smiling faintly. Nothing more needed to be said. They both understood.

Once they exited the blacksmithing grounds, Rachel stopped. "You're also participating in the individual competition, right?"

Ray nodded. "Senior disciple sister, why aren't you? With your strength, you could definitely rank highly."

Rachel shook her head. "I can't. After you arrived, I started thinking seriously. Blacksmith, soul master, battle armor master… I want all three, but in the end, I'm destined to be a blacksmith. That's where I'll focus my time."

She looked at him deeply. "Ray, your talent surpasses mine by far. Dad said that if you continue steadily, you could become a Divine Blacksmith one day. If you love forging, then you must devote even more effort to it."

Ray understood her meaning.

She feared he would be distracted.

But his dream had already been decided.

"Senior disciple sister…" he said softly. "I love blacksmithing, but my circumstances are different from yours. Your martial soul is powerful. Mine is Silverfalls Vine. Since I was six, people have called it trash. Even now, my cultivation isn't impressive. A great blacksmith still needs soul power, so I have no choice but to cultivate."

He paused, eyes steady.

"My true dream… is to become a battle armor master."

Blacksmithing had started as a way to earn money.

Now, it was the foundation of his future.

Rachel froze for a heartbeat before suddenly snapping back to reality. "That's right! You still only have one soul ring!" Her eyes lit up as if she'd just rediscovered a forgotten truth. "How could I forget? You're not that amazing after all. You're still way weaker than me!"

Three black lines seemed to slide down Ray's forehead. What kind of logic is that…?

Then, inexplicably, Rachel smiled.

Her expression softened, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. "Ah… remembering that makes me feel much better. Yeah, no one can be ridiculously perfect. You're no exception." She waved him off. "Alright, hurry up and go. I'm not joining the individual competition, but I am in the team event. If we run into each other, I won't go easy on you. Well… assuming you make it that far."

Ray laughed and waved goodbye as he ran off toward the arena.

Watching his retreating figure, Rachel's smile slowly faded. She murmured to herself, "Dad was right… I really should build a good relationship with him." Then she clenched her fingers. "That brat… hmph. I really want to pinch him to death."

Yet the smile that followed was far brighter than before.

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