The fourth watch of the night was coming to an end.
In the center of the underground workshop, Tie Shan stood beside a massive, three-ton anvil cast from dense star-iron. The anvil had been salvaged from the abandoned foundry above, anchored to an iron-heavy oak base that sat flush against the bedrock floor.
Lin Tao stood ten paces back. He held his land-mapper metal pen and a heavy steel stopwatch.
“We need a hands-on baseline for your new load-bearing yield strength,” Lin Tao said. His voice calm and was cold and exact. “The joint capsule has remodeled. But we must verify that the connective joint cords can transfer maximum pulling torque without micro-tearing.”
Tie Shan nodded once. He wore only rough linen trousers, his broad torso bare to the waist. Across his back and chest, the thick network of old quarry scars was still visible. But the skin was tight, flushed with vital, oxygenated blood.
The giant stepped up to the three-ton anvil.
He didn’t use two hands. He didn’t brace his back with a leather lifting belt.
Tie Shan bent his knees slightly, reaching down with his newly healed left arm. His thick, calloused fingers hooked securely under the horn of the anvil. He wrapped around the cold star-iron with the unbending grip of a heavy-duty vice.
