A true blacksmith didn’t merely examine a forge with his eyes. He listened to its metal, smelled its bricks. Then he felt the heartbeat of its hearth through the soles of his boots.
Tie Shan shed his thick traveling cloak, rolling the sleeves of his heavy leather smithing tunic past his massive, furred forearms. His star-iron left arm hummed with faint crimson runes, matching the rhythmic thrum of his golden titan bone-marrow. He stepped onto the outer edge narrow high walkways of the central white-jade island.
Lin Xiao, Su Ling’er, and Gu Qingfeng followed at a respectful distance. She allowed the master smith his sacred communion with the ancient workshop.
Tie Shan walked first to the central forging platform. There, an iron-hard metal anvil rested upon a stone stand of carved dark rock. The anvil was a huge block of solid meteorite iron and diamond-adamant, weighing no less than fifty thousand jin. Its sweeping horn was curved with clean, steady care. Its broad striking face was so flat and mirror-smooth that it reflected the glowing magma lake without a ripple of distortion.
Tie Shan unhooked a slender brass fine-tuning rod from his tool belt. Raising the rod, he tapped the horn of the iron-hard metal anvil with a light, measured flick of his wrist.
