The three-thousand-pound cold-iron master anvil shrieked as fifty tons of striking force slammed into the glowing billet.
CLANG-CLANG.
Showers of brilliant violet sparks erupted across the dark underground foundry, ricocheting off the dark rock walls like shooting stars.
Blacksmith An Ni swung her eight-corner master forging hammer in relentless, clockwork rhythm.
Her face was drenched in sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead beneath her wire visor, her leather apron smoking from blasting heat.
Beside her, Lu Chen wielded a sixty-pound royal sledgehammer with one arm.
Every downward strike drove tiny dirt from the sky amalgam, welding the crystal-clear boundaries of the star-iron into iron-hard posture.
Under eighty-four folds, the metal began to sing with a deep, deep ringing hum.
