Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

At the beginning of the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the sky was just beginning to lighten.

As the sky gradually turned a pale white, wisps of smoke from breakfast stalls began to rise from the direction of Qingkou Wharf.

In front of Old Sun's blacksmith shop, the stove was deserted, and the heavy wooden door was ajar.

Chen Ping pushed open the door and entered, the wooden axle making a long creaking sound.

Inside the shop, Old Sun was facing away from the door, wiping the huge black anvil in the center with a rag covered in grease, and asked without turning his head, "You're here?"

Beside the bellows, a sturdy boy of about sixteen or seventeen was squatting on the ground organizing the tools.

Upon seeing Chen Ping enter, he immediately put down the hammer in his hand, stood up straight, and called out, "Brother Chen."

In the corner, there was a thin, wiry boy of about thirteen or fourteen years old, who was holding a bundle of kindling and looked timidly at Chen Ping, shrinking his neck and not daring to make a sound.

Old Sun stopped what he was doing and turned around.

He had a short, gray beard and, although thin, had a very large frame.

His eyes, reddened by the furnace fire, sized Chen Ping up and down, and he said in a flat tone, "It's rare to see a member of the Qingyi Society, known for his red flower sticks, working as a blacksmith."

Without much formality, Old Sun raised his calloused right hand, held up four thick fingers, and began to establish the rules.

"First, arrive at 5 AM and leave at 5 PM. If you're late, you'll be docked pay; if you leave early, you're fired."

"Secondly, the shop is full of deadly things. If you get burned or bruised, you'll have to bear the consequences yourself; the shop won't cover the cost of medicine."

"Third, not a single word about what I do in my shop is to be revealed to outsiders."

Old Sun stared intently into Chen Ping's eyes, then raised his last finger: "Last rule, do exactly what I say. If you don't understand, ask. Don't try to be clever."

Chen Ping nodded calmly and said, "Understood."

Old Sun withdrew his hand: "You work here first. I'll decide whether you stay or leave after three months. If you do well, you stay; if you don't, you're fired."

After saying that, he turned to the burly young man and said, "Tie Niu, show him around the shop."

Tie Niu quickly replied, "Yes, Master."

Tie Niu led Chen Ping to the stove and pointed out the iron grate at the bottom, the coal pile next to it, the water bucket for quenching, and the anvil for blacksmithing.

The skinny boy named Shi Tou, following behind, couldn't contain himself any longer and whispered, "Brother Chen, are you really a martial artist at the Flesh Refining Realm?"

Chen Ping glanced at him but did not answer.

Tie Niu grabbed Shi Tou and scolded him in a low voice, "Stop talking nonsense and get to work!"

Old Sun remained silent.

As dawn broke, the light in the shop became clearer.

Pointing to the completely cooled main furnace, Old Sun gave Chen Ping his first order: "Start the furnace first, and clear out all the slag from yesterday."

Chen Ping walked to the stove and looked down at it.

The bottom of the furnace is a thick, perforated iron grate, and the side walls have two upward-sloping grooves for ventilation.

At this moment, the iron grate was piled with large and small black clumps of slag, completely blocking the gaps at the bottom.

Tie Niu, with great insight, handed over an iron shovel.

Chen Ping squatted down, inserted the tip of the shovel into the gap between the slag chunks, slightly lowered his wrist, used the shovel handle as a lever to find the fulcrum, and with a flick of his wrist, a hard slag chunk the size of a large bowl flipped up and rolled into the iron bucket next to him.

Tie Niu watched from the side, secretly astonished.

The technique of finding a fulcrum and releasing force is exactly the same as what my master taught me.

In about ten minutes, the slag at the bottom of the furnace was cleaned up, revealing the iron grate at the bottom.

Old Sun glanced at the empty iron grate, said nothing, but a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

"Load the coal." Old Sun pointed to the two piles of coal next to him. "First, spread a layer of fine coal powder at the bottom of the furnace, about an inch thick. Then stack the larger pieces on top, remembering to leave some gaps."

Chen Ping turned and asked, "How thick should the coal dust layer be?"

Old Sun held up his rough index finger: "One finger."

Chen Ping put down the shovel, reached out and grabbed a handful of fine coal powder, and began to spread it evenly on the iron grate.

He memorized the thickness of the falling coal dust, the size of the particles, and the air gaps left between the powder particles.

After laying down a layer that was exactly one finger thick, he began to place the large chunks of coal on top, deliberately leaving a one-finger-wide gap between the coal chunks to ensure that air could flow smoothly upwards from the bottom iron grate.

Tie Niu leaned close to Shi Tou's ear and whispered, "Judging from his demeanor, he's definitely worked in other shops before."

Old Sun turned his back and ignored him.

He picked up the tinderbox, blew on it, lit a handful of dry grass, and stuffed it into the bottom of the stove.

Flames quickly shot up, igniting the fine coal dust at the bottom, and a pungent plume of blue smoke rose up.

Old Sun pointed to the huge wooden bellows next to him: "Pull."

Chen Ping walked to the bellows, grasped the thick wooden handle that was worn smooth and shiny with both hands, and gently pushed it forward.

The cylinder inside the bellows has considerable resistance, and the vibration caused by piston friction is transmitted to the palm of the hand through the wooden handle.

He pulled it back a little, and the bellows flap inside the bellows snapped shut, releasing compressed air from the vent and into the furnace.

Tie Niu kindly reminded him from the side, "Brother Chen, when you're pulling this big bellows, don't just use your arms to pull; use your waist to pull, that way you'll save energy."

Chen Ping nodded, took a deep breath, and lowered his center of gravity.

With his back foot firmly planted on the ground, he twisted his waist and hips, transmitting the power from his shoulder to his arm, and slammed it solidly onto the bellows handle.

push.

With a dull creaking sound, a powerful gust of air shot out from the vent and rushed straight to the bottom of the furnace.

pull.

Chen Ping slightly retracted his back foot, twisted his waist and hips in the opposite direction, and the wooden board inside the bellows snapped shut, drawing fresh air into the cylinder.

Push, pull, push, pull.

The rhythm stabilized completely within just a few breaths.

Fueled by the continuous strong winds, the flames in the furnace gradually transformed from a faint orange-yellow to a blazing dark red.

Old Sun stood to the side, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the stove fire and Chen Ping.

He could clearly see Chen Ping's waist and hips exerting force, shifting his center of gravity, and his arms remaining relaxed throughout.

These movements were so precise that there wasn't a single flaw.

"You used to be a blacksmith?" Old Sun finally couldn't help but ask.

Chen Ping shook his head, his breathing steady: "No."

Old Sun frowned slightly: "Then how do you know the tricks of leveraging the force of this bellows?"

"Tie Niu just said to use your waist to generate power. I tried it and it really does save a lot of effort."

Old Sun was silent for two seconds, gave Chen Ping a deep look, and then turned to walk towards the large anvil: "Keep pulling, don't stop."

Tie Niu and Shi Tou exchanged a glance but neither spoke.

Chen Ping stared intently at the flames inside the furnace, sensing the changes in wind force and the feedback of the fire with each push and pull.

The fire's color rose from an initial dark red to a blinding incandescence. He silently counted in his mind, pushing and pulling about fifty times.

Old Sun suddenly turned around, pulled out a rough iron bar about thirty centimeters long and two fingers wide from the iron rack in the corner, clamped it with long-handled iron tongs, and precisely inserted it into the center of the incandescent furnace fire.

"Keep pulling."

Chen Ping's gaze was fixed on the iron bar that was gradually heating up in the furnace, carefully observing its color changes.

The cold, dark gray gradually turned into a dark red halo, then orange-red, then golden yellow, and finally became a blindingly bright white light that was too dazzling to look at directly.

It takes about fifty pushes and pulls to burn the material from dark gray to golden yellow.

From golden yellow to incandescent, push and pull about thirty more times.

He memorized those numbers.

Old Sun suddenly exerted force with his arm, pulled out the iron bar, quickly walked to the large anvil, and swung the hammer with his right hand.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

Three consecutive hammer blows, like a sudden clap of thunder, each strike hitting the very center of the iron bar with perfect precision.

Sparks rained down, and the iron bar was quickly flattened under the immense force.

Immediately afterwards, Old Sun flipped his wrist, skillfully changing the angle of the iron bar, and swung the hammer again.

Boom!Boom!Boom!

This time, the hammer struck the edge of the iron bar.

Three hammer blows in the center, three hammer blows at the edge, three hammer blows in the center, three hammer blows at the edge.

Chen Ping stood beside the bellows, his eyes never blinking.

As the temperature drops, the color of the iron bar fades.

Without hesitation, Lao Sun stuffed the iron bar back into the furnace and remelted it.

Without needing instructions from Lao Sun, Chen Ping continued to pull the bellows, silently counting the number of pushes and pulls in his mind.

Old Sun pulled out the incandescent iron bar again and began hammering it furiously on the anvil once more.

Fifty times, thirty times, without the slightest error.

This cycle was repeated three times.

When the third hammering was finished, the originally short and thick cylindrical iron bar had been transformed into a long and flat knife blank.

Old Sun, still holding the warm knife blank, quickly walked to the bucket in the corner.

呲!

As the knife blank plunged into the murky, cold water, a thick cloud of white mist instantly erupted from the surface, and scalding heat rushed towards us.

The water in the bucket was boiling violently, with bubbles churning wildly.

Old Sun tossed the cooled blade blank onto the anvil and turned to Chen Ping: "Did you understand what just happened?"

Chen Ping nodded: "Smelt the iron, hammer it, quench it."

A hint of approval flashed in Old Sun's sharp eyes: "Your eye for talent is indeed quite good."

He paused, his tone becoming serious: "But just looking isn't enough; you have to memorize the color of the fire."

Old Sun pointed to the furnace fire and explained in a deep voice: "The most important thing in blacksmithing is the temperature. If the temperature is not high enough, the iron is too hard to forge. If the temperature is too high, the essence in the iron will be burned away, and it will be ruined."

He pointed to the color at the edge of the fire and began to speak.

"Look at the color of the fire. It's dark red, and the iron is just starting to soften. If you swing a hammer at this point, you won't be able to break it, and it will even crack."

"Burn it to a bright orange-red or golden-yellow color, and it will have just the right amount of toughness. That's when you can make farm tools like hoes and sickles."

"If it's heated to incandescent color, that's the perfect temperature for making weapons of mass destruction. Only under such high temperatures can the impurities in refined steel be forced out."

Old Sun stared intently at Chen Ping: "But if the flame goes beyond incandescence and becomes too white with a bluish glow, the iron will melt directly into a pool of molten iron in the furnace and be completely ruined."

Chen Ping listened quietly, memorizing every correspondence between color and cooking temperature.

Old Sun stuffed a new iron bar into the furnace and gave Chen Ping his instructions: "Now, you come and see for yourself. Pull the bellows and tell me how far the iron bar has turned in the fire."

Chen Ping walked to the bellows, grasped the wooden handle, and began to push and pull.

His eyes were fixed on the iron bar that was gradually heating up in the furnace.

Dark red, orange-red, golden yellow.

"Golden yellow," Chen Ping said in a deep voice.

Old Sun glanced at it and nodded: "Yes, continue."

Chen Ping increased the frequency of pushing and pulling.

Before long, the iron bar changed from a pure golden color to an almost transparent white, and even the air above the iron bar distorted.

"Incandescent".

Old Sun nodded and decisively pulled out the iron bar: "That's enough."

Chen Ping loosened the wooden handle, stood still, his chest rising and falling slightly.

He stared at the incandescent iron bar radiating high temperature in Old Sun's hand, and a thought popped into his mind.

Moving things and walking are all about finding the right method and then repeating it over and over again.

So, how about observing the color of the fire?

He didn't dwell on the thought any further, but simply gripped the wooden handle of the bellows again, his gaze fixed once more on the flickering flames in the furnace.

Dark red.

It hasn't turned orange-red yet.

He silently memorized the color of that moment, how many times the bellows had been pumped, and how long the iron bar had been inserted.

I don't know if it will work, but it might be worth a try.