The knife maker refused to reveal his full name. He only said he had been forging blades all his life, and now that he was old, people simply called him Knife Master.
Logan asked, "What about when you were young?"
"When I was old, I was called Dao Ye. When I was young, I was called Dao Lang."
Logan's lips twitched slightly but decided not to comment.
Dao Ye was tall. Even with a hunch from age, he still stood over 1.8 meters. His arms were thicker than Logan's thighs. He had a buzz cut streaked with gray, a high nose bridge, and stern features that made him resemble Abe Hiroshi.
A hideous scar stretched from Dao Ye's wrist to his elbow on his right arm. Because of this, Dao Ye used his left hand for everything, from eating rice balls to receiving Samehada from Logan.
"How do you want to reforge it?" Dao Ye asked.
"Is there a difference?"
"Of course."
Dao Ye began unwrapping the bandages around Samehada bit by bit. "This sword is very special. It's layered."
He tapped the blade lightly, revealing its fine, shark-like teeth.
"The outer layer is teeth. Beneath that is flesh. Deepest of all are the bones—and its soul."
"If you find its teeth uncomfortable, I can replace them with different blades or reshape it into a simple broadsword. If it's too heavy, I can trim the flesh to make it faster and easier to wield. But if you feel like you can't get along with it..."
Dao Ye's eyes turned solemn as he looked at the blade. "Then I'll have to break its bones and reshape its soul. But I don't recommend that. It's torture—not just for the sword, but also for its spirit."
Logan hadn't expected reforging a blade to be so intricate, but with his technical background in a past life, he understood how deeply specialized a niche craft could become.
Dao Ye was far more professional than Logan imagined.
"I don't know which level to adjust," Logan admitted. "My power seems to clash with Samehada's nature. It causes trauma to it."
"What's your chakra attribute? Fire?"
"It's not chakra."
Dao Ye looked at him, puzzled. "Samurai, then?"
"No."
Dao Ye's curiosity deepened. He stared at Logan for a long time, then silently pulled a black, unsharpened knife blank from a cabinet and handed it over.
"Pour your energy into this. Let me see."
Logan channeled ripple energy into the knife.
A streak of golden lightning flickered through it. The blade shimmered silver, turned razor-sharp, and began to emit a subtle vibrating sound with a wave of scorching heat.
Dao Ye's eyes widened.
In his lifetime of forging blades and meeting countless ninjas and samurai, he had never seen anything like it.
He pulled Logan to a seat, grabbed a pen and paper, and began a long string of questions.
The two, one old and one young, spoke from morning until noon. Only when their stomachs growled did they finally stop.
Dao Ye patted the thick stack of sketches and notes on the table. "You have a wild imagination and clear logic. Compared to me, you're more like a craftsman."
After hours of discussion, they finalized the plan to reforge Samehada.
They would remove its "teeth" and "flesh" and keep its core—its "bone and soul." On that base, they would incorporate materials compatible with ripple energy and reshape the sword's body, embedding chakra pathways and meridians within.
When Logan used breathing techniques during battle, he would breathe in sync with the blade, allowing ripple energy to flow through it with unmatched efficiency.
Theory complete—now it was time to execute.
"Leave the rest to me," Dao Ye said as he stood. "Give me half a month. Come back then to collect the blade. Best not to leave the village in the meantime—I'll need you to test the design."
"Alright."
"One more thing."
Dao Ye grinned, revealing big white teeth. "I don't work cheap."
"You're friends with Kanhara. You should already know that."
Logan smiled back. "I'm not short of money."
He left Dao Ye's workshop, leaving the master to his craft. As soon as he stepped outside, he saw Terumi Mei leaning against the wall.
"Were you eavesdropping?"
"What do you mean 'eavesdropping'? I was standing here openly. Everyone saw me."
She handed him a hot rice ball.
"For me?"
"Yes. I'm here to observe you. If you starve, I'll lose my subject."
Logan took the rice ball but didn't respond.
"Tell me," Terumi Mei said, cocking her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You, the man who said, 'I'm not short of money'... How could someone like you look down on a poor little rice ball like me?"
Logan: "…"
Too lazy to engage, he turned and walked away. He'd already sensed her presence thanks to Aerosmith and didn't feel the need to chase her off. If she hadn't listened now, she'd just question Dao Ye later. That might get messy.
Let her listen. It cost him nothing.
Terumi Mei followed, striding behind him while nibbling on her rice ball. "You let those two tax collectors go. Aren't you afraid the county magistrate will come after you?"
Logan glanced at her rice ball. It was filled with peanuts, beef, and cucumber—its aroma wafting in the air. He turned back to her.
"If I killed them, wouldn't the magistrate be even more likely to come?"
Each tax collector had an assigned area. If one got injured, it was easier for the magistrate to assume he encountered resistance and replace him. But if one was killed, that would become a political matter, not a local issue.
Terumi Mei understood. That wasn't the point she was making. What she really meant was—
"You didn't have to fight at all. Just pay."
"If it were just me," Logan said, "I'd pay. But..."
He looked at Xiao Tao, who had been quiet since the incident.
If he paid, it would plant a seed of fear in her. He wanted her to know she would never again be treated like a thing to be sold.
Anyone who tried would pay.
Terumi Mei saw the concern in Logan's eyes. Her expression softened.
They'd only known each other a day, but she already grasped the kind of man he was.
"Strong, gentle, principled... rare indeed."
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