The iron sang under Xi Chen's hammer as another morning began in Green River Town. His forge glowed a soft orange, casting long shadows against the packed earth floor. Outside, mist clung to the rooftops, and the air carried the scent of pine and distant smoke. The town hadn't burned, not yet—but something in the wind made even birds cautious.
Xi Bing and Xi Xuan, now used to their daily chores, took turns drawing water and tending the chickens in the back. Their laughter still rang out clear, untainted by the tension gripping the town. Xi Chen watched them briefly as he shaped a new farming sickle, the metal cooling in careful stages. Despite everything, he was grateful they still had their innocence. For now.
Behind the calm mask of the blacksmith's life, Xi Chen's senses were sharp. Training by moonlight, pushing his body through every breath and movement, he had finally crossed into the Bone Refinement Realm. The power within him no longer felt like something borrowed—it was part of his blood and bones. But no one knew. No one could know. Until he reached the Acquired Qi Realm, he would remain in the shadows, hammer in hand, not sword.
He had long since completed the Furnace Body Tempering Technique, a method that had solidified his physical body into something far more resilient than before. Now, his focus was on the Scarlet Bone Blooming Method, a cultivation technique that promised to unlock a far deeper potential within him. But progress was slow, and the work was taxing. Each day, he would pour his energy into refining his bone structure, forcing his body to adapt, to bloom in ways no one else could imagine.
Every day, he passed through the marketplace to purchase coal and metals.
Every day, he heard more whispers:
"The Meng elders have stopped showing up at council meetings."
"A Lin caravan was robbed—some say the Li were behind it."
"The Li clan is recruiting more outer disciples than ever before."
Tension hung thick like smoke from an unquenched flame. But so far, it had not ignited. Not fully.
The Meng clan still held sway in scholarship and formation. Their libraries, guarded day and night, remained untouched. Their spokespeople continued to smile in public. But behind the veil, extra guards patrolled their sector of the town.
The Lin clan, pragmatic as ever, had fortified their trade posts, stockpiling medicine and grain, preparing for what might come. Rumor had it they'd sent word to the provincial capital in secret—though whether they expected aid or intervention, no one knew.
And the Li clan? Their boldness grew daily. Patriarch Li Chongba, after emerging from six months of seclusion with the power of a Grade 10 Acquired Qi Realm cultivator, had not returned to hiding. His presence was now a constant pressure. Enforcers walked more openly, sometimes making quiet examples of uncooperative merchants. It was subtle—but felt everywhere.
Despite the slow boiling chaos, Xi Chen kept to his forge.
One evening, as he packed up a batch of tools for delivery, Old Gui appeared at the edge of his workshop.
"Still walking your path alone, boy?"
Xi Chen didn't flinch. "Always."
Old Gui stepped into the firelight, adjusting the dark cloth tied around his eyes.
"Good. The wind is turning, and when it does, trees that bend survive. Trees that stand proud snap. You bend. That's wise."
"I have no stake in their game."
"They think no one does until the fire reaches their roof." The old man chuckled, low and quiet. "Just don't let your brothers be caught in someone else's blaze."
Xi Chen only nodded. He was already planning. He had begun to hide a few essential supplies in the forest. Just in case. Tools. Dried food. Bandages.
Herbs. A spare change of clothes for each of his brothers. It wasn't much, but if the worst came, it would buy them time.
Still, no lines had been officially drawn. No clan had yet declared open hostility. The council meetings continued, though rarely in full attendance. Markets still opened, though more wary eyes watched the alleys. The town militia remained in place, though increasingly outnumbered by clan enforcers.
One late afternoon, while Xi Chen bartered for iron ore in the south district, he overheard two traders arguing over rising tariffs. One blamed the Lin for manipulating prices. The other said the Meng were hoarding medicine. Neither noticed the Li youth watching them from across the street, eyes cold.
He turned away, stepping out of the crowded street and into the alley behind the forge. There, away from prying eyes, he stopped for a moment. He placed a hand on the wall, feeling the coolness of the stone beneath his fingertips. His thoughts drifted for a brief second—what would happen to his family if the town descended into chaos? What would happen to him?
The next few days were tense. Xi Chen kept his head low, continuing his work and training at night, though his mind was never at ease. He could sense the undercurrents of unrest in the air. The town might have appeared peaceful on the surface, but beneath, things were shifting.
That night, he worked on the Scarlet Bone Blooming Method, pushing his limits as the heat of the forge consumed him. Sweat dripped down his brow, his muscles screaming in protest, but he kept going. It wasn't just the physical training that consumed him—it was the constant awareness of what was to come. He had no illusions about the future. When the time came, he would need more than just a hammer to protect his family. His training was his only lifeline.
Xi Bing and Xi Xuan came to him that evening, asking if they could help him with the forge. They had always been curious about the blacksmith's work, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the weight on Xi Chen's shoulders. He smiled at them, glad for the distraction.
"Not tonight, boys," he said, wiping his hands on his apron. "Maybe when you're older."
"How old?" Xi Xuan asked, his round eyes full of innocence.
"Fifteen," Xi Chen replied, his voice firm. "By then, you'll be ready."
They seemed satisfied with that, and Xi Bing's grin grew wide. "I'll be the best blacksmith in Green River Town!" he declared.
Xi Chen chuckled softly. "We'll see about that."
Later, while he continued his quiet work, his thoughts drifted to his brothers. They were innocent, still untouched by the darker currents that tugged at the town. He had always planned to train them in martial arts when they turned fifteen, but with the way things were escalating, he wondered if that time would come sooner than he had hoped.
The following morning, the streets were unusually empty. The vendors were quieter, their eyes darting nervously, speaking in hushed tones. Even the town militia seemed more vigilant, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons as they watched the movements of the clan enforcers.
Rumors continued to swirl. One said the Meng clan had set up additional formations around the town's borders. Another whispered that the Lin clan had begun gathering supplies from the capital, possibly to fortify their own stronghold.
Xi Chen's heart tightened. He knew that even though no overt violence had erupted, the town was preparing for something. The slow build of tension could no longer be ignored.
That night, he once again trained late into the evening, pushing his limits as the flames from the forge flickered around him. The sweat on his brow was a testament to his determination. He would be ready when the storm finally broke.
The next day, an incident occurred. A minor skirmish near the western rice fields—a Meng wagon overturned, its contents looted. The Li clan was rumored to be involved, though they denied it. Witnesses spoke of men wearing crimson vests, but there was no solid proof. The Lin clan quickly intervened, sending their mediators to negotiate peace, but the Li clan's representatives treated the peace talks with disdain. The town was walking a razor's edge, and Xi Chen knew that it was only a matter of time before someone slipped.
Xi Chen heard of it all. He said nothing. Did nothing.
But that night, he trained longer than usual. Sweat soaked the dirt beneath his feet, and the moon bore witness to a man pushing beyond exhaustion, preparing for a storm he could not prevent—but might survive.
The days stretched, heavy with heat. Markets bustled with quiet tension.
Children played in silence. Older townsfolk kept their voices low.
On a particularly humid afternoon, a stranger passed through the forge district. Clad in merchant robes but carrying himself like a warrior, he paused near Xi Chen's stall. His eyes lingered a moment too long on the tools lined on display. Xi Chen, without looking up, adjusted his grip on the hammer. But the man moved on without a word.
That evening, Xi Chen buried three small bags of coins—two silver, one gold—in a concealed crevice near the rear fence. Emergency funds. Just in case.
Another day passed. Another week. The town held itself together on fraying threads. And still, no war was declared. Still, the peace—brittle, trembling—remained unbroken.
For now.
And in a forge on the edge of town, the quiet blacksmith tempered more than steel. He tempered himself.
Because when the time came, he would not be caught unprepared.