Vampire Progenitor of the Immortal World

Chapter 31: Chapter 31: The Blacksmith’s Advice

The next morning, Ethan woke before the streets became noisy. He remained seated on the edge of the bed for a while, listening. A cart rolled somewhere below. Someone called out from the street. A door opened and closed. The inn was beginning another day.

Ethan reached for the small pouch beside him and counted his money. The twelve copper coins from yesterday’s work were still there. He added them to what remained of his savings and counted everything carefully. Then he separated the twelve copper coins again. Those were yesterday’s earnings. They were not much, but they had already taught him something.

Money disappeared quickly. Food. Lodging. Cultivation resources. Even a simple weapon. Each one took a portion.

Ethan closed the pouch. He had spent too much of his savings on the cultivation manual to ignore the problem. The Evergreen Breath Method had worked. That was the good news. The bad news was that his first attempt had also shown him how slow cultivation could be without support.

He needed resources. And before resources, he needed a reliable income. But there was another problem.

Ethan had begun moving around outside the market. Yesterday’s herb-gathering job had taken him beyond the safer streets and into the hills. He had gone there with nothing but his hands.

That had been acceptable once. It would not always be acceptable. He looked down at them. They were the hands of someone who had spent months doing hard work. They were stronger than before. But strength alone wasn’t a fighting skill. If something attacked him on the road, what would he actually do?

Run?

Perhaps.

That would work until it didn’t. Ethan had no weapon. More importantly, he had no idea what kind of weapon would suit someone who had never been trained to use one.

He didn’t intend to buy something simply because it looked impressive. That would be wasting money. He needed advice. A professional would know more than he did.

That settled it. After breakfast, Ethan left the inn. The market was already awake. Merchants shouted prices from their stalls. Workers pushed carts through narrow gaps between people. The smell of cooked food mixed with damp earth and smoke from nearby fires.

Ethan walked without hurrying. He had seen several weapon stalls during his earlier visits to the market, but most had displayed finished weapons in open racks. He wasn’t interested in picking one at random. He wanted someone who made them.

After asking two shopkeepers, he received the same direction. A blacksmith’s shop stood near the outer section of the market, where the noise from the stalls became less crowded and the road widened enough for carts to pass.

Ethan followed the directions. He heard the hammer before he saw the building.

Clang.

A pause.

Clang.

Another pause. Then three quick strikes. The sound carried through the street with enough force to turn heads. Ethan followed it around the corner.

The blacksmith’s shop was not large. A wooden sign hung above the entrance. The paint had darkened with age, and the bottom edge was chipped. The doorway stood open. Heat rolled out from inside.

Ethan slowed as he approached. The air around the entrance was already warmer than the street. He stepped inside.

The change was immediate. The outside world seemed to fall away behind him. The shop smelled of hot metal, coal, ash, and sweat. A thin layer of smoke hung beneath the roof. Not enough to obscure anything. Enough to make every breath taste different.

Several unfinished pieces of metal rested along one wall. Some were still rough. Others had already been shaped into recognizable tools. A heavy wooden block stood near the forge. Beside it were tongs, hammers, files, and other tools Ethan couldn’t name.

The forge burned at the back. Flames moved beneath a dark iron hood while heat shimmered above it. Ethan looked around. Nobody stood at the front.

He waited. Another hammer struck. The sound came from behind the forge. Ethan followed it. A broad-shouldered man stood there with his back turned. His sleeves were rolled above his elbows. Sweat ran down one side of his face and disappeared into the short beard along his jaw. He held a pair of tongs in one hand and a hammer in the other.

A piece of heated metal glowed between them. He raised the hammer.

Clang.

The metal shifted.

Clang.

Again.

Ethan waited.

The blacksmith continued working. He didn’t seem to notice the visitor. Ethan wasn’t in a hurry. He stood to the side and watched. The man struck the metal several more times before placing the hammer down. He dipped the piece into a nearby container.

Steam rose sharply. The blacksmith wiped his face with the back of his wrist. Only then did he notice Ethan.

"You’ve been standing there for a while."

"I didn’t want to interrupt."

The man looked at him.

"You already did."

Ethan accepted that without argument.

"I need a weapon."

The blacksmith glanced at Ethan’s clothes. Then at his hands. Then back at his face.

"What kind?"

"That’s what I’m here to ask."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow.

"You don’t know?"

"No."

"Never used one?"

"Never."

The man stared at him for another moment. Then he laughed.

"At least you’re honest."

He walked toward the front of the shop and poured himself a cup of water. Ethan followed. The blacksmith drank half of it before asking,

"What do you need it for?"

"Protection."

"Against what?"

"Anything I might encounter while traveling."

The blacksmith gave him a strange look.

"That’s not a small list."

"I know."

"Do you expect to fight people?"

"If necessary."

"Do you know how to fight people?"

"No."

The blacksmith laughed again.

"Then you’re asking the wrong question."

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