The glowing white crucible touched the green-stone floor beside the Primordial Anvil of Entry hall 720. Qiao Ming set down the tongs and used a small bronze chisel to crack the graphite seal of the lid. The fireclay cover came away in two halves, releasing a burst of pale cyan light that lit up the entire dark rock dome with an unearthly, crystal-clear bright glare.
Inside the crucible lay the molten billet: a glowing mass of liquid star-fallen-astral composite, the size of a plum, shimmering with rainbow-bright ripples of emerald green, azure blue, and bright silver. It didn’t behave like common molten iron. It held together with high water’s skin, forming a radiant, pulsing sphere of liquid light.
With a pair of narrow-nosed smithing tongs, Qiao Ming lifted the glowing billet from the crucible and laid it upon the center of the Primordial Anvil. The four-hundred-and-eighty-ton mass of star-fallen steel beneath absorbed the heat instantly, cooling the outer skin of the billet from dazzling white to a rich, glowing cherry-red.
He gripped the stone-hard ash handle of the heavy smithing mallet in his right hand. His bare horn-hard feet planted themselves upon the green-stone temple steps, his toes locking into the stone fluting with unmoving, rooted strength. He raised the hammer above his right shoulder, aligning his vision with the gold datum lines engraved into the anvil face.
