Chapter Seventeen: The Genuine Blacksmith

  A thirty-five catty iron hammer, and this little warrior says it's light? Does he think it's just a matter of holding the hammer to fight? Can you finish off the enemy with one hit? This is forging! Forging! You need to keep hitting the raw metal continuously, one strike after another.

  Franklin shook his head and sighed, patting Gan Jing's shoulder: "Young man, it seems you really haven't hammered iron before. You'd better leave, I'm looking for experienced blacksmiths."

  "Boss." Gan Jing stood still, pointing to the iron hammer in Franlin's hand: "I want to borrow this iron hammer to forge iron."

  "What?" Fan Lin looked up at Gan Jing, doubting whether his hearing was problematic, as this young man actually opened his mouth and wanted to use his own iron hammer?

  The blacksmiths around also forgot to laugh for a while. Since the establishment of Franlin's Iron Forge, every session of Oakland Academy has students coming to apply, and almost all kinds of people have come, but no one has ever chosen Franlin's iron hammer.

  A huge hammer head and a thick handle, as long as you're not an idiot, seeing such a hammer would know that the weight is not light.

  "Kid, did we make you angry? No need to choose such a heavy hammer to save face, right?"

  The blacksmiths, recovering from their astonishment, burst into a louder laughter than any previous round.

  "Let me try." Qian Jin still had an indifferent expression.

  Franklin smiled wryly and shook his head, nowadays young people are getting more and more ignorant of the outside world. He handed over the hammer with a smile, saying: "It's very heavy, be careful not to hit your foot, it's better to hold it with both hands."

  Qianjin smiled and shook his head, insisting on stretching out his right hand to take the hammer, still with the same sentence: "Let me try it."

  Franklin looked at this young man who didn't know the height of the sky or the thickness of the earth, and silently handed the iron hammer into his palm.

  A hundred or so catty heavy hammer in hand, dry and powerful arm slightly sank down, then stopped falling, firmly grasped in the hand.

  "Oh..."

  A murmur of surprise rose from the crowd, and several people even let out a cold gasp. The blacksmiths' faces, which had been waiting to see Kei's embarrassment, froze in an instant, and their initial expectations turned into nothing but bubbles.

  He gripped the iron hammer in his hand, weighing around 110 pounds, much lighter than the one in that virtual game "Infinite World", and although it was still a bit heavy when lifted, it felt manageable, definitely better than the 30-pound hammer.

  Franklin was somewhat surprised that this heavy hammer, which only he could use in the entire blacksmith shop, didn't seem to be a burden for this young man at all. Such strength, even among the warriors of the Oakland Magic and Martial Arts Academy, not many could achieve. Had he used his inner energy? What level warrior was this young man?

  With a fierce cry, the left hand grasped the iron tongs beside the anvil and picked up the iron ingot that had been heated to a fiery red, placing it gently on the iron mat. The right hand raised the hundred-pound hammer in one swift motion, its rapid descent whipping up a gust of wind with a loud "whoosh" sound, as if a strong gust of wind had suddenly risen from nowhere. The massive hammer brought forth a dark glow, like a star falling from the sky, and heavily struck the fiery red iron ingot.

  Clang!

  The hammer and anvil collided, sending sparks flying in all directions like a burst of colorful fireworks, the metallic crash echoing through the air like a thunderclap out of nowhere.

  The blacksmiths around, whose smiles had already frozen, saw this scene and almost simultaneously opened their mouths in surprise. Is this kid from a family of blacksmiths? That last hammer strike wasn't something that just any blacksmith could come up with!

  Qian Jin didn't care about the reactions of the people around him, and the iron hammer in his hand had already been raised again, bringing with it a fierce gust of wind that heavily smashed onto the iron anvil.

  Another ear-piercing metallic collision sound, and Franlin's eyes, which had initially only appreciated the scene, suddenly showed a hint of surprise.

  What? Franlin felt his brother Fransi's elbow hitting him, looked up and found that Fransi's eyes also had a puzzled and surprised look.

  Like warriors and mages, the world of blacksmiths also has its own hierarchy. Most blacksmiths usually spend their entire lives as apprentices to other blacksmiths in the guild.

  But when a blacksmith's skills reach a certain level and pass a certain assessment and measurement, they can become a first-class blacksmith!

  Once he became a first-rate blacksmith after leaving the apprentice, this identity was immediately different. The quality of the cast weapons and armor is completely two concepts with the blacksmith apprentice!

  Franklin and Francis were both first-class blacksmiths, almost the most famous in all Auckland City, and their eyesight was also several times higher than that of other apprentices.

  Franklin was convinced that the two iron hammering just now, whether it was the height of the raised hammer or the trajectory when it fell, had not changed at all, as if an action was played twice using the rumored "afterimage magic".

  Three strokes... five strokes... ten strokes... thirty strokes...

  The backyard of the blacksmith's shop had fallen into an unprecedented silence, and although the apprentices couldn't see what level of skill was required to forge iron with such vigor, they could tell that this was a seasoned master, absolutely not some newcomer.

  Franklin was constantly inhaling the cool air in his teeth, and his eyeballs, which were initially normal in size, had widened to twice their usual size, transforming from admiration to astonishment, and finally into utter shock!

  Francis's Adam's apple moved up and down non-stop, and his eyeballs were also staring at the largest.

  Fifty hammer strikes, the same height, the same swift force, precise trajectory as if already restricted to a predetermined orbit, each strike bursting with sparks that are so dazzling and resplendent, in sync with that unique steady rhythm...

  "Is this...?" Franlin looked at his brother Fransi in surprise with a hint of doubt: "A first-rate blacksmith?"

  Francis was stunned, subconsciously nodding repeatedly. He wondered if the young man in front of him was really a student from the Oakland Magic and Warrior Academy? Was he not a blacksmith's son from a family of blacksmiths? How old was this kid? Blacksmithing, like warriors and magic, required talent! At such a young age, he already had the strength of a first-class blacksmith. Why would he want to be a warrior? He should be a blacksmith! He must have an incredibly bright future ahead of him!

  One hundred hammers... one hundred and fifty hammers...

  He hammered away at the shrinking anvil with unrelenting vigor, his sweat-soaked clothes clinging to him as if he had just been pulled out of a water vat.

  Two hundred hammers!

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