The eyes of several blacksmiths almost popped out.

You've lived for thousands of years.

Even though most of those years were spent in dog form, and you haven't experienced many trials of witnessing ghosts, it's not that unbearable, right?

It's not like you went to some Great Calamity Ghost Domain, you just visited the blacksmith shop next door, and you turned out like this?

As it went, there seemed to be rumors before that the merchant responsible for transactions, Zhang Huaping, was always unstable in the Three Flowers each time he returned, appearing in a daze.

Very much like this old man in front of us!

"Pull yourself together," an old lady said while inscribing runes, "why don't you tell us, what happened over there."

"Hmm, let me guess, their forging methods are quite unique?" an old man chuckled.

Another old man also spoke up, "Did you encounter the Water Army? They are ugly and terrifying, and you were quite shocked?"

Zhang Jinseng listened to the chatter, knowing they were trying to help him focus elsewhere. He pressed his brows and said:

"No, I didn't see any Water Army corpses in their blacksmith shop, but..."

"I saw a mass of blacksmith corpses."

His voice was hoarse as he recounted the experience.

The crowd listened in astonishment, faces changing drastically.

But fortunately, they did not witness it firsthand, and they were all long-lived people, so they did not lose their heart mind, affecting the inscription of runes in hand.

"What are they doing?"

An old man frowned and analyzed, "They said before that we are newcomers on this path, watch carefully, learn well, analyze more, ask less."

"Putting aside those images, looking at the essence through the facts, now they are definitely forging Artifact Spirits, so they're having people absorb Muddy Qi and then commit suicide?"

These words undoubtedly led each and every one of the old men and women to reevaluate the implication.

Zhang Jinseng suddenly snapped back to reality, couldn't help analyzing, "Their actions resemble the legendary [Muddy Artifact]."

"Muddy Artifact, what is that?" asked a relatively young Five-Body Realm Great Perfection blacksmith old man.

"Muddy Artifact is not a conventional weapon."

Zhang Jinseng said, "It is a specific ceremonial Magical Artifact used by some minority tribes and mountain fortresses. Their cultivated Spiritual Root is very unique, mediocre in combat power in life, but only when they die does their Spiritual Root show its power."

"After they die, the special Spiritual Root allows them to retain a relatively intact remnant soul, which can be embedded in certain ceremonial Magical Artifacts."

"When they fight using the Muddy Artifact, it's Divine Summoning, summoning ancestors to possess... This possession state is similar to those scholars going crazy during the Three Flowers state, insane but with strong combat power!"

The blacksmiths suddenly came to a realization.

When you say Muddy Artifact, they might not understand.

But mentioning 'Divine Summoning Technique' is something they've heard of.

It is a rather extreme local ethnic cultivation method, with powerful combat power.

Yet there's a saying.

Easy to summon a god, hard to send them away.

These cultivators repeatedly summoning gods are prone to contamination, forgetting who they are, becoming a wandering remnant of an ancient ancestor in the human world.

Someone said, "Are they making a Muddy Artifact, Divine Summoning? Absorbing the wandering remnants and Resentful Souls in the world?"

Someone refuted, "These are by no means powerful remnant souls, just some drifting weak souls, utterly useless, not worth sacrificing a life!"

"So, they might be using this method, with a special Muddy Artifact, to merge two Soul Bubbles."

Once the conclusion was drawn, everyone fell silent.

These blacksmiths are well-versed in traditional forging, but they don't understand the principle of the Ash Artifact inheritance.

But it can be confirmed, it's certainly a necessary fusion method, otherwise, they wouldn't make such a great sacrifice, joking with the lives of their clansmen.

In that case, their willingness to die is completely understandable.

"Save me..."

"Don't hit me."

"So painful, so painful..."

The mad voices, whispers of Resentful Souls, murmurings of remnants, echoed again from the blacksmiths next door.

Everyone looked at each other.

The previous fear, laughter, excitement no longer induced horror and dread, but rather carried a sense of solemnity and scorching fervor.

They were like moths to a flame, using the lives of scholars from their families to complete the final transformation of the weapon.

In a daze, they recalled the description of the Sword Fairy.

Zhang Jinseng recited word by word, in a clear voice:

"When you witness their forging process, you'll realize it's something not of this world, filled with the pure and heroic brilliance of a pilgrimage."

"Just like ancient humans struggling in the mire, moving forward one after another, igniting one torch of civilization with their lives! It's a passion that originates from the Life Origin!"

The elderly folks no longer spoke, leaving only silence.

Now, chewing over each word carefully, they finally understood the profound and weighty meaning within.

We've heard their family's stories and knew of their greatness, but now we understand this greatness and somberness are far heavier than imagined.

For we now personally experience their dual miracle, able to feel the real significance of their generations' sacrifices, while those ancestors thousands of years ago couldn't foresee the future nor know if their sacrifice would lead to such a miracle opportunity.

They gambled with all their passion repeatedly on the low-chance 'miracle', depending on their fervor at the time of sacrifice, unaware if there was an end to this path, or reward for their dedication.

These elderly blacksmiths couldn't help but feel like crying at the thought of such a despairing scene, it's too somber.

"We've always known their greatness, yet still underestimated it."

Everyone fell silent, some even bursting into tears, lamenting their somber and fervent spirit.

They were a commendable group of explorers, before whom lay a flame called truth.

Zhang Jinseng silently returned to the forge, slowly assisting in the inscription, expression solemn:

"Gentlemen, the unreachable dreams have now borne fruit! We mustn't betray the wishes of those who sacrificed, we must carry their dreams forward."

The electricity in Zhang Jinseng's eyes grew more intense, his hunched figure appeared small but stood tall like a pine.

His carving pen was like a swordsman's sharp blade, akin to a master swordsman in action, revealing its brilliance.

"They gambled their lives, and our aid in forging this artifact should exert maximum effort, to not betray the blood and tears in between."

Several elders shuddered, their faces filled with guilt.

They recalled the successive sacrifices at the neighboring blacksmith's, moths to a flame, while they had idle chatter and jokes, even sneakily trying to peek, curious about the appearance of the so-called Water Army Demon Beast.

An overwhelming remorse drowned out the thoughts in their hearts.

"The blacksmiths of this manor were the true Forging Masters."

At this moment, they too finally understood the true meaning of the couplet at the manor's entrance, they also interpreted the feverent spirit contained within the words with their lives:

The candle extinguished, embers remains, the burning soul scalds, yet the will persists.

Life forges the furnace, the Blade, Spear, Sword and Halberd continue the past.

"Continue the past, well said, continue the past."

This group of blacksmiths, aged hundreds or thousands of years, listened to the lamenting songs next door, with uncontrollable sadness and shock in their hearts, and an idea emerged:

"The Sword Fairy was right, there was an ideal land on the mountain."

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