Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

Dinner was booked at a long-established steakhouse in downtown Atlanta, about a 20-minute drive from the film studio.

J. Nelson had made a reservation by phone in advance, and the waiter led them to a booth in a corner by the window. The leather chairs were worn smooth and shiny, and the table was covered with a white linen tablecloth. The restaurant was dimly lit, with a small candle lamp on each table, the warm yellow light just enough to see the menu.

The four sat down. Doug took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair, David Baker ordered a bourbon, and Nelson asked for a glass of iced water. After flipping through the menu, Nelson recommended the ribeye steak, saying he had to eat there every time he came to Atlanta. Lin Yuan ordered the same thing, closed the menu, and set it aside.

While waiting for the food, Nelson spoke first. He leaned back in his chair, his hands crossed in front of his stomach, and his tone was no longer that of a judge on the show; it was more like a blacksmith chatting with his fellow blacksmiths in his workshop.

"The dagger you made in the first round—the cloud-patterned steel one you mentioned—I've been thinking about it ever since I got back. Nearly three thousand layers, yet the pattern didn't become a blurry mess at that density, and the direction of the pattern matches the curvature of the blade. How did you achieve that in terms of craftsmanship? I'd like to hear your thought process."

Lin Yuan picked up his water glass, took a sip, and thought for a moment about where to begin.

"The key is the relationship between the initial arrangement and the folding direction." Lin Yuan drew a line on the tablecloth with his finger. "Ordinary Damascus steel is randomly layered, and the pattern direction is basically determined by natural deformation. The cloud-patterned steel is not evenly alternating in the initial arrangement—the soft steel layer in the middle area is one or two layers more than the sides. During the subsequent forging, the stretching ratio of this part is different from that of the surrounding area, and the pattern will form a curled arc in a specific position."

"What about thickness control for carbon migration?" David Baker asked.

"Between eight and twelve micrometers. If it's too thin, the contrast won't be enough after pickling; if it's too thick, the pattern will be blurred. The corresponding requirement is that the temperature fluctuation of each round of forging should not exceed fifteen degrees Celsius. Otherwise, if the carbon migration rate changes, the interface thickness will be uneven." Lin Yuan paused. "In addition, before each round of folding, I will leave a transition zone at the cut position so that the folded nodes do not fall on the same plane. In this way, the pattern will not form parallel lines after superimposition, but rather staggered cloud-like patterns. After pickling, the dark layer of 1084 shrinks more, while 15N20 has a high nickel content and is corroded slowly. The difference in height between the two creates a sense of flow under light."

J. Nelson put down his fork and tapped the table with his knuckles. "Initial layer difference, temperature window control within 15 degrees, staggered cut transition zones with folded surfaces—each of these isn't a secret on its own. But executing them precisely simultaneously within two hours of a competition is what sets you apart from the other competitors."

"The most crucial part isn't actually these technical aspects," David Baker said, adjusting his glasses. "It's about determining the blade shape first, then working backward to design the angle of each fold and the point of each hammer strike. Most bladesmiths make the blank from Damascus steel first, then adjust the blade shape according to the pattern. You do it the other way around, letting the pattern serve the blade shape."

Lin Yuan nodded, not denying it. "In Chinese forging, there's always been the saying 'following the shape and adapting to the situation.' It's not about making the material first and then seeing what it can become, but about figuring out what you want to make first, and then guiding it in that direction with every step of the forging process."

"Where's the sword you used in the finals?" Nelson leaned forward, his eyes behind his silver-rimmed glasses filled with a long-suppressed curiosity. "How did you incorporate the silver? The golden sheen on the sword isn't from a surface treatment—I could see it clearly. Surface treatment and the natural luster of the material are two different things."

"The silver was added along with the steel billet early in the forging process," Lin Yuan said, then paused. He turned his water glass slightly, looked up again, and said, "The specific fusion process involves my family's traditional techniques, which are not convenient to go into detail about. I hope you all understand."

The words were blunt, but the three judges reacted almost identically. Nelson nodded, leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms again in front of his stomach, and showed no sign of being offended. "Of course I understand. I also have a few skills that I don't teach outsiders, and I never film those parts when making instructional videos. It's not about being secretive—a blacksmith's expertise is something he's acquired through decades of trial and error. To just casually share it isn't generosity; it's disrespect for one's own craft."

David Baker chimed in, "My experience replicating ancient weapons tells you one thing: truly good craftsmanship never appears in publicly available teaching materials. Even today, no one can perfectly replicate the forging of medieval hand-and-a-half-swords in museums. Those lost core techniques were taken to their graves by the original swordsmiths."

Doug chimed in from the side, "It's like cooking—you can tell me what ingredients you used, but how to season it, what heat to use, and when to flip it—you just need to know those things yourself."

Nelson picked up a knife, cut a piece of steak, placed the knife on the side of the plate, and looked up at Lin Yuan. "Speaking of which—you're now the champion of the 'Knife Forging Competition.' The show hasn't aired yet, and according to regulations, the news of your victory can't be announced in advance. But once it airs, your name will be a household name in this circle. Have you ever thought about making instructional videos?"

Lin Yuan was about to cut a piece of steak when he heard this and stopped.

"Not yet. We filmed audition videos before, but the tutorial videos are different from those."

"It's different, but you have something that others don't." Nelson forked a piece of beef and held it in the air, as if using the meat to emphasize his point. "Your cloud-patterned steel, the traditional techniques of folding forging and water forging—these things have been almost never systematically demonstrated in the North American forging circle. Let alone ordinary enthusiasts, I'd like to hear you explain how to water forge. Do you think nobody wants to see that?"

I want to see it. David wants to see it. The three of us alone can guarantee your video will spread throughout the community. Once the show airs, news of your victory gets out, plus the footage of those two amazing videos you made during the competition—you still have to worry about nobody buying it?

David Baker put down his glass and continued, "And instructional videos are different from selling knives. Selling a knife is a one-to-one transaction; you can only sell one knife to one person. Instructional videos are one-to-many; you create content once and can sell it to anyone who wants to watch it. That's scaling—you've been a knifemaker for eleven years, so you know better than I do that even the best knifemaker can only make a limited number of knives in a year. But there's no limit to how many knives you can make in an instructional video."

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table, his tone as precise as when he analyzed the structure of a knife on the show. "Moreover, your instructional videos are themselves a kind of showcase. People who buy your videos learn your basic techniques and think they can make them too, but after trying, they find they can't reach your level—that's when they become your custom clients. It's like you're collecting tuition fees while simultaneously giving yourself a 'GG' (a Chinese internet slang term for failing miserably).

"If you need a location, my workshop can provide one," David said, adding, "It's fully equipped. I have the lighting and sound equipment ready-made—the kind we use for filming replicas of artifacts. You just need to stand in front of the camera and explain what you already know. I'll take care of the rest."

"David is a professional at filming videos," Nelson nodded in agreement. "He often records the entire process when making replicas for museums. His facilities are even more organized than the show's workshop; at least there won't be any of those crazy things like the hydraulic forging press suddenly breaking down."

Lin Yuan thought for a moment. "After the show airs, I can try filming one episode first. If the effect is good, I'll continue. I already have a general idea of ​​what the first episode should be about—the operation process of water forging and the control of quenching temperature. These are two things I used in the show but didn't have time to elaborate on, so some people should be interested."

"Water forging in the first episode—this isn't a trial, this is dropping a bomb," Nelson laughed. "Others start by teaching the basics, and you're showing off your special skill in the first episode. You're really going all out."

"It's not that we're willing to give it up," Lin Yuan said, "it's just that water forging isn't a specialty of my family. The specialty parts aren't in the instructional videos."

David raised his glass and nodded in Lin Yuan's direction. "Just follow this approach. Let's decide on the theme for the first episode, and the location can be used anytime—let me know when you're free, and I'll schedule it in advance."

After the topic of the instructional video came to a close, Doug pushed his plate aside and wiped his mouth. He didn't say much for the first half of the dinner, occasionally interjecting, and spent most of the time eating his steak. But Lin Yuan noticed his eyes—not the blank, absent-minded look he sometimes had when silent, but rather, he was constantly listening and thinking.

"Alright. You talk to them about the video. I have my own things to do." Doug folded his napkin and placed it on the table, leaned forward, rested his forearms on the edge of the table, and spoke directly.

"Your custom order." Lin Yuan pushed the plate aside. "Have you decided what you want?"

“I wanted it the moment you finished making that dagger on the show,” Doug said. “After seeing the sword in the final, it wasn’t a matter of wanting it or not—I absolutely had to have a knife you made. I’d pay any price.” He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and thought for a few seconds. “But first, I need to figure out—what are you best at?”

"Chinese weapons," Lin Yuan said. "Longquan swords, willow-leaf knives, ox-tail knives, goose-feather knives—I've been making these things since I was twelve. But I also make regular hunting knives, bow knives, and daggers."

Doug pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped a few times. The white light from the screen illuminated his face, and the muscles in his jaw tightened slightly with concentration. He wasn't used to looking for things on a map—his rough fingers moved somewhat clumsily across the screen.

"I'm looking into what you've mentioned. Longquan sword—I think it's this one. These sword designs all look pretty good to me, but I know exactly what I want—I don't want collectibles. I want something practical, something I can take into the wild. Not something that just hangs on the wall collecting dust."

He stared at his phone screen for a while, scrolling through pictures of Chinese swords, the curves of the blades and the outlines of various sword shapes rapidly gliding across the screen.

"This." Doug turned his phone to show Lin Yuan. On the screen was a short cross-blade—long and straight, with a slightly curved tip, a small guard, and a handle of moderate length. "A short cross-blade. About this long." He gestured with his hand, indicating a length of about sixty centimeters. "It can be used with one hand, making it convenient to carry. When chopping, it provides a clean and decisive strike, unlike some short knives that feel like toys in your hand."

Lin Yuan looked at the picture and nodded. "This is a good choice. The horizontal blade is a traditional knife type from my hometown, Longquan. Structurally, the blade is straight, and the center of gravity is about three to four inches in front of the guard. The moment of inertia when chopping is concentrated in the middle and front section, making it very efficient for chopping wood and thick rope with one hand. The handle length leaves a fist and a half of leeway, so you can switch between one-handed and two-handed use—would you like a long handle or a short handle?"

"A short handle is fine. Primarily for one-handed use."

"Then the handle length should be around 15 centimeters, the blade length 45 to 50 centimeters, and the overall length 60 to 65 centimeters. The center of gravity should be similar to the tactical knife you usually use, so the grip won't feel too unfamiliar."

"Craftsmanship." Doug put down his phone, looked up at Lin Yuan, and said, "I want the same level of skill as that sword you made in the finals. That golden light—" He twirled his finger in the air, "I watched it the whole time. The golden layer seemed alive when the blade spun. I don't care how you made it, I want that." He paused, then added, "The pattern on the dagger you made in the first round—what was it called again? Cloud-patterned steel. I want that too."

Lin Yuan didn't answer immediately. He slowly drew a horizontal line on the tablecloth with his finger, as if drawing a design in his mind.

The knife Doug wanted—forged from holy silver and reinforced with cloud-patterned steel—had never before been made using the same technique in a single piece. The logic behind these two processes is not entirely the same. Forging from holy silver requires precise control over the temperature window of the silver material during the forging process, while the cloud-patterned steel requires repeated heating and forging to increase the number of layers.

Each heating process changes the distribution of the silver material, which means that the temperature of each round of forging must be reconsidered, and the process parameters of ordinary cloud-patterned steel cannot be directly copied.

If not handled properly, the silver material area may be stretched into discontinuous silver phase fragments during the nearly three thousand layers of folding, and the golden luster will be broken.

But that doesn't mean it can't be done. He currently has plenty of gold coins and the capital to try and fail—and he is confident in his current technical judgment.

"I can do it." Lin Yuan put down the napkin he had been fiddling with. "But to be honest, this is more difficult than the two things you saw in the competition."

"More difficult than the sword fight in the final?"

"Difficult. That sword uses a single high-carbon steel. After the silver material is forged in, you only need to shape the sword. What you need is to forge the silver material in while simultaneously layering nearly three thousand layers of cloud-patterned steel—essentially doing both the fusion forging of silver and steel and the folding forging at the same time, combining two processes together."

The temperature window is much narrower than a single process. If it's not controlled properly, the continuity of the silver veins will be broken, and the entire material will become a mess. "Lin Yuan paused for a moment. "And since we're using silver as the material, you need to be prepared for the price."

"Name your price." Doug held out his hand, gesturing for Lin Yuan to make an offer. "I won't haggle over anything under $100,000."

Lin Yuan put down his water glass and glanced at Nelson and David beside him. The two nodded slightly.

Nelson traced a circle in the air above his plate with his fork: "It's not that I haven't considered ordering a knife from him. But with my current income, my maximum budget is only twenty to thirty thousand, and I'm not even sure I can secure Doug's spot to cut in line."

David wiped his mouth and added, "Based on the prices of top bladesmiths, a master bladesmith's complex custom-made piece typically starts at ten to twenty thousand US dollars. To replicate an ancient sword for a major film company, the budget could reach eighty thousand."

"A piece like the one Lin Yuan has, if it finds a suitable buyer in the future, would be conservatively valued at $100,000."

Lin Yuandao said, "I don't need as much as 100,000. But it's really impossible to price it at a few thousand yuan - just the effect you're asking for, the cost of silver is not cheap, plus each round of annealing and forging is an extra operation."

I can't tell you the exact price right now; it depends on the final cost after I finish making it. But for just a short knife, it would probably be between ten thousand and thirty thousand US dollars.

"Deal." Doug didn't hesitate for a second, extending his hand to shake Lin Yuan's. "How long will the forging process take?"

"The blade area of ​​the short crossbow is much smaller than that of a half-sword, so the forging time won't actually be longer than in a competition after stacking the layers. From material selection to completion, it will take about two weeks. If you need it urgently, I can schedule the time more quickly."

"Two weeks is fine. No rush, as long as the product is good enough." Doug withdrew his hand, leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh, tapping his fingers twice on his knee. "To be honest—I've done this show for nine seasons, and you're the first person who can make me willingly part with tens of thousands of dollars."

"But you still tried to bargain," David chuckled from the side.

"I didn't bargain."

"He said he didn't want 100,000, so you didn't give it to him—isn't that bargaining?" David raised his glass and clinked it against Lin Yuan's, a mischievous smile on his face.

Doug said sternly, his tone leaving no room for argument: "He said this knife is only worth ten thousand, so in my mind it's worth ten thousand. If it's really worth one hundred thousand when I get the actual product, I'll play GG for him every day after the show, and I guarantee he'll be booked until next year."

J. Nelson leaned back in his chair, looking at Lin Yuan: "What you've done in the last few matches—and I'm not exaggerating—is at a level we haven't seen in nine seasons. And now you've agreed to do one for Doug."

After the show airs, you'll get just as many people ordering from you as he does, and the prices will only be higher.

His tone was calm, as if he were stating a fact that had already happened.