Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

The recording officially began at 9:00 AM the next morning.

New equipment has been installed in the center of the testing area.

A military-grade test dummy hangs on a suspended test frame—its outer layer is covered with a polymer skin that simulates human tissue, its interior is filled with ballistic gel, and its skeletal structure is cast from high-strength engineering plastics. The dimensions of its clavicle, ribs, and spine are strictly replicated according to the anatomical data of an adult male.

Two sets of quenched medium carbon steel plate armor and two cold-rolled steel shields were fixed on the cast iron frame next to them, gleaming with a cold metallic luster under the camera lights.

The host stood directly in front of the testing area.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final of this season's Sword Forging Competition. Today's test is divided into two parts—the killing performance test, which uses dummies to evaluate the sword's slashing and piercing capabilities; and the strength test, which uses plate armor and shields to test the sword's performance under extreme combat conditions."

On the judges' panel, J. Nelson sat in the middle, David Baker on the left, and Doug Macheda on the right.

Doug Macheda stood up from the judges' panel.

He walked to the display stand and picked up Greg's sword first.

He weighed it in his hand and walked to the front of the dummy.

With both hands gripping the sword, the first strike landed at the junction of the dummy's shoulder and neck—the blade cut through the polymer outer skin, passed through the ballistic gel, and was noticeably hindered at the clavicle structure.

Doug drew his sword, adjusted the angle, and delivered a second blow to the same spot.

The blade continued its advance along the incision made in the first cut, barely severing the collarbone, but its speed of advance slowed significantly, eventually getting stuck below the shoulder blade.

He switched to short, continuous slashes, with the third and fourth slashes landing on the junction of the dummy's side ribs and upper arm. Each slash created an effective wound, but he was forced to stop each time he encountered a bone structure, and had to rely on subsequent slashes to widen the incision depth.

After slashing, he took a step back, aimed the tip of his sword directly below the dummy's sternum, gripped the hilt with both hands, and thrust forward.

The sword tip pierced the polymer outer layer and ballistic gel, penetrating about six inches before being stopped by the spine.

Doug drew his sword, adjusted his breathing, circled around to the side of the dummy, aimed at its neck—he gripped the sword with both hands and slashed horizontally, the blade cutting into the neck. When it reached the cervical vertebrae, he added force, and the blade passed through the gap between the cervical vertebrae, decapitating the dummy in one strike.

The dummy's head rolled onto the test table, and simulated blood plasma slowly seeped out from the neck cut. The cervical vertebrae on the cut surface were cut diagonally, but the edges of the cut were slightly jagged, not a clean and neat flat cut.

Doug put the sword back on the display stand and gave a brief summary to the camera: "The center of gravity is forward, so the slashing power is sufficient, but the penetrating power will decrease when encountering high-density bones. Spring steel has good toughness, and the blade did not chip after continuous slashing and thrusting. The decapitation strike relied on finding the bone gaps—if you tried to cut the cervical vertebrae directly, it would probably get stuck."

Then he picked up Lin Yuan's sword.

The moment the sword was drawn from its sheath, golden light spread out completely under the white light of the testing area.

The stingray skin hilt gleamed with a fine, matte sheen under the light. The blade was long and straight, and the brass inlays on the inscriptions were faintly visible in the glow. Doug gripped the sword, flipped it over, and then flipped it back over.

He looked at it for a long time—not the way a judge examines a work, but as someone who had dealt with swords for decades, suddenly encountering something that forced him to readjust his breathing.

"I've seen many knives and swords in my life." His voice was a few decibels lower than usual, and his rough voice sounded somewhat unfamiliar in the quiet workshop. "Some are good tools, some are beautiful works of art. But this one—this one is different."

He held the sword horizontally between his hands, letting the blade face the light.

The golden light floated steadily beneath the blade, neither dazzling nor ostentatious, but quietly shining deep within the steel.

"It's more than just a piece of art. It's something that only comes into being when a craftsman forges everything he believes in into it." He slowly turned the sword over, his gaze falling on the inscription. He paused for a moment, then looked up. "This sword shouldn't be used for testing—it should be in the hands of a true warrior, taken to the battlefield, and used to protect those who deserve it."

A few seconds of silence fell over the workshop. Doug finally took a deep breath, gripped his sword hilt, and walked up to the dummy.

The movement of raising the sword is slow, not the kind of sweeping, forceful start of a normal violent test, but rather the careful finding of the most suitable grip position by someone who has just acquired something precious and is still getting used to its weight and balance.

He adjusted the angle of the sword twice in the air before finally raising it above his head.

Then he chopped down.

He probably tried to control the force when he made that strike.

But the moment the blade touched the dummy's skin, the almost imperceptible resistance made him instinctively continue to apply more force—the blade pierced through the polymer skin, through the ballistic gel, through the clavicle structure, through the rib cage, and down from the shoulder to the side of the abdomen, cutting all the way through in one stroke.

The dummy's upper body has a diagonal cut that runs through it.

The upper half lasted for a moment, then slowly slid down the sloping cut and crashed onto the explosion-proof partition below the test bench with a dull thud.

Inside the incision, the clavicle and four ribs, cast from engineering plastic, were cleanly severed, with smooth, flat surfaces. The cut surface of the ballistic gel was as clean as if it had been cut with a scalpel.

The entire workshop was silent for about three seconds.

Doug stood there, looking down at the sword in his hand, then at the half-eaten dummy on the testing stand. His expression was complex—surprise, a certain indescribable sense of cherishing, and a bewilderment of "what did I just do?"

"I didn't intend to use that much force," he said, his voice unusually tinged with confusion. "It's just that this sword is so easy to handle, and I accidentally..."

He paused, then raised the sword again to inspect the blade. The blade was intact, the golden light flowing as usual, and even the continuous reflection of light after the sweeping motion was not interrupted.

"I've tested knives on this show for nine seasons, and I've never seen this level of slashing efficiency. A half-sword is a slashing weapon, not a cutting machine. But the way this sword cuts through this dummy—it doesn't feel like chopping something, it feels like paddling."

J. Nelson leaned out from the judges' panel, his gaze sweeping over the broken edge of the half-mannequin before landing on Lin Yuan.

"You did a special treatment on the thickness transition of the blade, right? The hardness of the dummy's bones is close to that of fresh cow bone. A normal hand-and-a-half sword would be blocked by the bones when slashing the collarbone, at most embedding half of it."

Your sword severed the collarbone and four ribs—this requires the blade to remain sharp and resistant to chipping under extremely high impact, two things that are usually mutually exclusive. How did you do that?

"When we were working on the blade, we used vegetable-tanned leather to finish the edge, which completely removed any microscopic burrs. The material of the blade itself also played a part," Lin Yuan said.

J. Nelson nodded and made a note on the score sheet.

David Baker picked up Greg's sword from the display stand and compared it to the cut surface of the dummy's broken edge: "Greg's sword has signs of obstruction at the collarbone area, and the blade does not have enough thrust when it encounters high-density bone. This is related to the forward-biased design."

However, the sword itself did not deform, and the cutting edge did not chip; the spring steel's toughness passed the chopping test.

Greg stood in the preparation area, his arms crossed in front of him, and nodded after listening.

The host walked to the center of the testing area.

"Next is the strength test—using plate armor and a shield to test the performance of the two swords under extreme combat conditions."

J. Nelson stood up from the judges' panel and unbuttoned his coat. He walked to the display stand and picked up Greg's sword first.

The steel shield was securely fixed to the cast-iron frame. J. Nelson gripped his sword with both hands, raised it overhead, aimed it at the center of the shield, and brought it down with all his might. The sound of the blade striking the steel plate echoed sharply and piercingly in the workshop.

A dent was cut into the surface of the shield, with the metal caved in about three millimeters.

He examined the blade—there were slight friction marks in the middle of the edge, but it was otherwise intact, without any chipping or nicks.

He walked in front of the plate armor, adjusted his position, and slashed three times in succession.

Each strike added a new dent to the plate armor, but none completely pierced the steel. The three dents were neatly arranged on the front of the plate armor.

J. Nelson placed the sword back on the display stand and turned to the camera.

"Dent. No penetration. Blade intact. Spring steel exhibits excellent toughness under high-intensity impact; no microscopic chipping or breakage was observed on the edge."

Then he picked up Lin Yuan's sword.

The first thing he does when he grips the sword is to tighten his grip on the hilt with his fingers, loosen it, and then tighten it again, finding the most comfortable position to exert force.

The frictional resistance of the stingray's scales allowed his fingers to stay firmly in place once he gripped it, without needing to adjust it again.

The first sword strike landed on the shield.

The impact was sharper than before, and a small cluster of sparks exploded on the shield's surface at the moment the metal collided.

The dent on the shield was deeper than before, and the bottom of the dent changed from a concave surface to a slight tear, but the blade did not chip, and the golden light remained stable.

J. Nelson glanced at the blade, then quickly unleashed a second and third slash.

The force of these two sword strikes was significantly greater than the previous ones—not because he was deliberately increasing the force, but because the results of the previous two strikes led him to conclude that the sword could withstand a higher impact intensity, allowing him to raise the testing standard by one level.

After the third sword strike, a small tear extended from the center of the dent to both sides.

The steel shield was cleaved open with a crack about two inches long.

J. Nelson stopped and held the sword up to the light for a closer look.

The blade was completely unharmed, and even the reflection of the blade after the swing was still in its original position.

He wiped away a small metal shaving from the blade with his finger, and the blade underneath was as good as new after the shaving was removed.

He walked in front of the plate armor. This time, without adjusting his position, he gripped the sword with both hands and unleashed eight consecutive strikes.

Each strike landed precisely on the front of the plate armor, leaving deeper and deeper dents, gradually building up from the shallow marks of the first strike into a gaping wound.

When the eighth sword fell, the hardened steel plate on the front of the plate armor finally gave way, and a through-crack appeared at the bottom of the gap, revealing the metal frame of the fixing clamp behind it.

J. Nelson straightened up and placed the sword on the display stand. His breathing was slightly more rapid than before—not from fatigue, but from excitement.

"The shield was cleaved open. The plate armor was ripped open with a through-and-through gash." He removed his goggles, his voice steady but his pace faster than usual. "These two things were designed to block sword strikes, and I saw them cleaved open by the same sword today. And that sword—the blade was undamaged."

David Baker picked up the two swords from the display stand again and placed them side by side.

He first examined Lin Yuan's sword with a magnifying glass—the blade was intact, without any microscopic chips or chipping.

Then, Greg's sword was examined—there was slight frictional wear in the middle of the blade, but no chipping or chipping. The spring steel performed adequately in the high-intensity impact test and was fully qualified.

"Both swords passed the strength test." David Baker placed the two swords back on the display stand.

The three judges left their seats and briefly discussed the matter in a corner. The workshop was so quiet that only the low-frequency hum of the camera lights' cooling fans and the occasional dripping of ballistic gel from the cut edges of the mannequin's upper body could be heard.

J. Nelson walked back to the judges' table and placed his hands on the table.

"Thank you for your work, swordsmiths." His voice was not loud, but each word was spoken steadily. "In today's test, both swords demonstrated their respective qualities."

Greg's sword performed consistently in slashing and strength tests, demonstrating the resilience of the spring steel and maintaining basic integrity of the blade even after continuous high-intensity impacts.

This is a qualified and reliable weapon, demonstrating the solid basic skills of an experienced swordsman.

Greg lowered his head, his lips moving slightly.

Then he raised his head, straightened his body, and nodded slightly to the judges' panel.

J. Nelson turned to Lin Yuan: "Lin Yuan. Your sword showed no damage in any of today's tests. Edge retention, center of gravity, grip feel, penetration of high-density bone, and destructive power against steel armor all reached an excellent level."

The combination of innovative materials and advanced forging techniques allowed this sword to perform far beyond the competition's pre-set benchmarks in performance testing.

His gaze swept over the golden light on the sword and finally landed on the inscription.

"The three judges unanimously agreed that Lin Yuan is the champion of this season's Sword Forging Competition."

The workshop fell silent for a moment.

J. Nelson stood up from the judges' panel, walked around the table, shook hands with Lin Yuan, and handed him a $10,000 champion's check.

Doug Macheda also came over. He didn't offer his congratulations immediately, but instead walked to the display stand and glanced at the sword again.

Golden light flowed quietly under the camera lights, and the brass inlays on the inscriptions were faintly visible in the halo. Then he walked up to Lin Yuan and patted him on the shoulder forcefully.

"This is one of the best entries I've ever seen in a competition," Doug said, his voice rough but slightly lowered. "Don't forget the commission you promised me."

Lin Yuan took the check and turned around. Greg was already standing in front of him.

"Congratulations." Greg grinned and gave a fist bump.

Lin Yuan bumped his fist against his. "Your sword held out until the very end."

"Let's have a meal together next time we have the chance."

"OK."

The cameraman from the production crew zoomed in from the slider, capturing the moment the two men bumped fists in the viewfinder. Mark stood next to the judges' panel, his whiteboard hanging at his side; he no longer needed to take notes.