“A rice cooker made out of Rank 7 Star-Iron?!”
Inside Forge Bay #4, Boom-Pot Sun stared at the drawing in Pei Xuan’s hand as if his eyeballs were about to pop right out of his smoky face.
“My Lord!” Boom-Pot Sun cried, waving his plump hands in the air. “Back when the Four Great Immortal Sects ruled Planet Canglan, if a Golden Core Elder found a piece of Grade-7 Star-Iron the size of a walnut, he would lock himself in a cave for thirty years to forge it into a life-bound flying sword! Even then, he wouldn’t let his own son touch it! And now you want to stamp millions of tons of Old Nine-Mouths’ Blue-Fire Star-Steel into... kitchen pots and water pipes for mortal farmers?!”
Right next to Boom-Pot Sun, Old Guo’s eyes lit up like two blazing lanterns. The fat Rank 6 chef stepped forward and gently nudged Boom-Pot Sun out of the way with his belly.
“What’s wrong with kitchen pots, Old Sun?!” Old Guo boomed indignantly, tapping his own giant iron ladle against the floor. “Can a flying sword boil soup? Can a magic spear steam fluffy white rice for a hungry child after a long day in the fields? Back before the Young Master fixed Dry-Well Village, do you remember how hard life was for ordinary folks? An old grandmother had to walk three miles with a wooden yoke on her shoulders just to carry two buckets of muddy water, and then cough in a…
