He led Ray toward the forging workshop.

The moment Ray stepped inside, he froze.

Nigel was there.

Rachel was there too.

"President!" Ray quickly bowed. "Hello, senior."

Rachel stared at him as though she were looking at a monster.

Nigel smiled warmly. "Your breathing is unsettled. Calm yourself before the examination."

"Yes." Ray nodded. "Thank you, president."

He sat down cross-legged on the floor, eyes lowered, breath slowing as he circulated his soul power. He wasn't fully meditating, only stabilizing his emotions and body.

Kaelan leaned closer to Nigel and whispered, "Do you think he can succeed?"

Nigel smiled faintly. "If he wasn't confident, he wouldn't have come. Something must have happened to push him here tonight. You've seen his recent second-rank tasks, too. He's already working at the peak of that level."

Kaelan nodded slowly. "Then we're thinking the same thing."

Nigel chuckled. "If West Ocean City has a once-in-a-generation blacksmith genius, how could I not pay attention?"

Twenty minutes passed.

Ray rose to his feet.

Compared to when he had first arrived, his aura was completely different. His breathing was steady, his eyes clear and calm.

He bowed deeply.

"President, Grandmaster Kaelan, examiners. I am ready."

The room fell silent.

A third-rank blacksmith examination was about to begin.

Rachel stood to the side, arms folded, watching with the detached calm of an onlooker. She did not believe in him. Or rather, she refused to believe in him.

Yet even she had to admit something she disliked.

Ray's composure was better than hers.

If she were the one standing here, preparing to attempt a third-rank examination, she knew she would need far more time to steady her heart. Thousand Refinement was nothing like Hundred Refinement.

It was not a matter of strength or technique alone. Without entering a state of absolute focus, of unity between mind, body, and metal, success was impossible.

The surveyor spoke evenly, breaking the silence.

"The third-rank blacksmith examination consists of a single task. Complete a Thousand Refinement. You may choose any metal you wish. However, be aware that both the difficulty of the metal and the quality of your refinement will affect your final evaluation."

"Yes," Ray replied respectfully.

He turned and walked toward the metal racks.

I must succeed.

His gaze swept across the display before stopping. Without hesitation, he reached out and lifted a block of Heavy Silver.

Heavy Silver.

The moment he made his choice, Kaelan and Nigel both stiffened.

Rachel's eyes flashed with disbelief, then anger.

Heavy Silver? Is he insane?

Among uncommon metals, Heavy Silver was infamous for its difficulty. Even fourth-rank blacksmiths could not guarantee a successful Thousand Refinement every time. Choosing it was not confidence. It was recklessness.

The surveyor frowned. "Ray, are you certain? You can Hundred Refine Heavy Silver, yes, but Thousand Refinement is entirely different. It is not merely repetition. You must infuse spirit into the metal itself. Please consider carefully."

"I am certain," Ray answered calmly.

From start to finish, his eyes never left the metal in his hands.

He fixed the Heavy Silver onto the forging table with practiced ease, slid it into the furnace, and began heating it. His breathing slowed, settling into a familiar rhythm.

The world around him faded.

There was only the metal.

He seemed to hear it breathe within the furnace, to feel its yearning for change. It mirrored his own.

A hundred tempers forge steel. A thousand strikes awaken the soul.

Ray spread his arms.

Two dull-gray hammers appeared in his hands, their surfaces carrying a restrained, heavy aura.

The Blood Sacrificed Thousand Refined Heavy Silver Hammers.

They fit perfectly into his palms, the spiral grooves aligning naturally with his grip. They were no longer tools. They were part of him.

Nigel and Kaelan's gazes sharpened instantly.

Heavy Silver hammers require at least a hundred refined Heavy Silver to forge. The weight alone was terrifying. Yet Ray lifted them as if they were weightless.

He inhaled deeply, absorbing the scent of heated metal.

The hammer in his right hand tapped the control rune.

The glowing red Heavy Silver rose from the furnace.

Without pause, his left hammer struck.

Ding ding ding!

Three crisp sounds merged into one thunderous note. Sparks burst outward.

Nigel and Kaelan's hearts jolted.

Stacked Hammers!

And not just any Stacked Hammers.

Thousand Refined.

How heavy were those hammers?

How monstrous was his strength?

Before their shock could settle, Ray's right hammer fell.

Ding ding ding!

The forge roared.

His hammers descended like a storm, each strike precise, violent, and perfectly controlled. The forging table trembled beneath the impact, yet Ray stood unmoving, steady as a mountain.

His eyes never left the metal.

He listened.

Listened to the metal's voice.

With each strike, impurities were driven out. The structure harmonized. The Heavy Silver sang beneath his blows.

Under the Stacked Hammer effect, the metal shrank visibly, compressed, and purified at an astonishing speed.

Each strike from his Heavy Silver hammers was equivalent to ten strikes from ordinary Thousand Refined Tungsten hammers.

This was his true strength.

Rachel stared, frozen.

As the daughter of a Saint Craftsman, she understood exactly what she was seeing. The weight, the control, the unity between man and metal.

And she understood something else.

She could not compare.

The silver sheen of the Heavy Silver gradually vanished, replaced by deep, cloudy patterns that flowed like mist beneath the surface.

Ray's heart was calm, clear, and empty.

All distractions vanished.

This was complete focus.

Hammer after hammer fell without pause.

Ding ding ding ding ding—

The hammers became streaks of light.

Condense. Compress. Purify.

This was only his second attempt at Thousand Refinement.

Three months of preparation.

Three months of cultivation.

Three months of growth.

All of it poured into this moment.

Bang!

His right hammer descended one final time, releasing a triple-layered boom that echoed through the workshop.

The Heavy Silver had shrunk to two-thirds its original size. Its dark red glow faded, replaced by dense, swirling cloud patterns.

Ray exhaled, sweat soaking his clothes. He shook his wrists lightly, dispersing the residual force, and the hammers vanished back into his bracelet.

Silence fell.

Half an hour.

That was all it had taken.

The surveyor did not even need to inspect the metal. The cloud patterns alone were absolute proof.

Kaelan laughed in disbelief. "Stacked hammers… Gilbert really went all out."

Nigel looked at Ray, whose focused aura was slowly receding. "You forged those hammers yourself?"

"Yes," Ray replied instinctively.

Only after speaking did he realize what he had admitted, but it was too late.

Nigel smiled broadly. "Of course. Only self-forged, blood-sacrificed tools could be so perfectly attuned. Congratulations. From this moment on, you are a third-rank blacksmith."

There was no need for further announcement.

This level of refinement would have earned full marks even in a fourth-rank examination.

Ray bowed. "Thank you, President."

Nigel waved his hand. "This achievement is yours alone. Our association merely witnessed it. You are now the youngest third-rank blacksmith in the history of the continent."

Ray froze.

Only now did he understand why his teacher had hesitated.

Nigel continued, "You have brought honor to yourself and to the West OceanBlacksmith Association. If you have any requests, the association will do its best to support you."

Ray hesitated, then lifted his head. His eyes were firm.

"President, I would like to take a loan from the association."

Nigel was not surprised. "What do you need it for?"

"I want to become stronger," Ray said quietly. "I need resources."

"What exactly do you need?"

Ray clenched his fists. "A hundred-year Ice Crystal Fruit. A hundred-year Scarlet Flame Fruit. And ten drops of blood from a hundred-year soul beast with a dragon bloodline."

The room fell silent.

Nigel studied him for a long moment. "You know spirit fruits can damage the body."

"I know," Ray answered. "And I am certain."

Nigel nodded slowly. "Very well. The association will provide them. Repay the value through tasks, at your own pace."

In that instant, Ray felt something ignite within his chest.

A blazing fire.

Class One.

Wait for me.

Ray waited less than half an hour.

Nigel soon returned, carrying two jade-like boxes and a small crystal bottle. Without ceremony, he placed them into Ray's hands.

The moment the weight settled into his palms, Ray's breathing tightened.

He said nothing. He only bowed deeply, his back bent low, sincere and unwavering.

Giving gifts when one is already warm is easy. Sending coal in the midst of snow is not.

To Ray, these three items were not resources. They were lifelines.

Kaelan personally accompanied Ray to accept a task that only a third-rank blacksmith was qualified to undertake, then escorted him all the way out of the association.

Once Ray had left, Kaelan turned and headed toward the highest floor of the building, the office of Nigel, President of the West OceanBlacksmith's Association.

Nigel was already waiting for them.

"I knew you would come, Raymond," Nigel said with a smile.

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