Othua's War Banner

Chapter 47 0047: Blacksmith Workshop

Ken took out two coins and squeezed them between his fingers.

Several refugees on the street looked over and chose to wait after hesitating for a moment.

He suddenly came up with an interesting idea, put away the money, and asked Kuima to take out two pieces of [Army Grain Cake]. This kind of pasta mixed with pieces of meat tastes good, and it was found in the robber's warehouse.

Two waist-high kids made their way through the crowd.

They are brothers and sisters, dressed in shabby and baggy clothes, holding each other's dirty hands, staring at the food in the young man's hands with wide eyes, making no secret of their hunger.

"Will any of you lead me to Mr. Marungu, he's a blacksmith."

The boy shook his head, his voice hoarse.

"It's not a blacksmith, he's the furnace owner. The people under Mr. Marungu are called blacksmiths. Under the blacksmiths are apprentices, laborers, and adults who talk about business."

Ken signaled the other party to lead the way, and took an extra small bottle of fruit honey when handing over the food.

Boys are not hypocritical.

He tore open the package in public, tore the meat loaf into strips and handed it to his sister, took a bite himself, stuffed the rest into his clothes, and led the way while eating.

"Food is better than money."

Ken said casually, looking around from the corner of his eye.

The two little guys walked in the crowd silently, the girl was nibbling food with one hand, and holding her brother's skirt with the other, as if this was the direction of life.

They walked two streets.

The work area is quieter than the bazaar, and there are fewer refugees. Except for a small number of formal laborers and order vendors, they are basically working craftsmen.

At this moment, the boy suddenly spoke, as if answering the question just now.

"Money is better. But I want to protect Lili, the food can be eaten on the spot, and the money can be robbed or even stolen."

His voice was hoarse, and he spoke of the cruelty of the world in a flat tone.

"Oh, is anyone watching you?"

Ken spoke in a smooth tone, which was different from his usual tone.

Kuima heard the words, glanced at the battle banner, and seemed to understand something.

The boy turned his head, looked around for a moment, raised his head and said, "People often come to search our pockets. I used to have a few friends, but I heard that they were all taken away by the adults who ran goods in Southern Xinjiang."

[rumor: slave trade]

[Slave traders will buy captives on the battlefield, transfer them to those who need them, or transfer them to the border of southern Xinjiang. No one knows when orphans began to appear in this industry. 】

Ken raised his hand and gestured a few simple movements, which he taught the troops a long time ago.

Kuima straightened her longbow, broke away from the team, and hid in the market place. She climbed up the stone wall in a deserted place, and soon found two sneaky guys following behind—the image of a local hooligan, with nothing to hide. Weapons, judging by the tattoos on their necks, aren't in a good business.

In the remote alley, the sound of fighting was soon heard.

Ken unfolded his gray vision, and through the crowds and buildings, he could see hazy outlines and clear blood bars.

The progress of the followers is very obvious, and the fighting power of the falcon shooter can crush civilians.

Through the phantom, he judged that Kuima was stepping on a guy, and pinched another person's neck with one hand, as if he was asking for some information.

"Very good, young people are gradually becoming more reliable in doing things."

But in reality, Quema was much older than him.

Ken didn't speak, and leaned down quietly, stuffed two gold coins into the little girl's pocket, and at the same time raised his fingers as a gesture of silence.

Walk around the work area a few times.

Marlungu's workshop is located in the center of the village. From its status, apart from the three ancient melting pots, it should be quite a famous shop.

Brother and sister can only lead the way here.

Ken asked the rider to watch them leave, and walked into the pavement together with the singer who picked up the wooden box.

The buildings in Duwa Village are gray, mainly in dark brown and dark tones, mostly decorated with metal and stone bricks, but no matter where you go, there is a thick layer of dust, which seems to be burning everywhere, and the crooked plaque is engraved with Complex and ancient text: focus on the fire, focus on the soul.

After entering the store, first there is a scratched foyer, and there are piles of weapons—semi-finished products and finished products.

The air smelled of molten iron.

He saw a lot of unknown tools. Apprentices and laborers walked between the large and empty workbenches. Coarse short jackets were the standard equipment here, and sweat and dark muscles were the main scenery.

The administrator is a short and strong local man who is carving the pattern of a warhammer. Everyone in the store is focused on their work, and no one is free to take care of customers.

He reluctantly put down the tools, and walked over quickly.

"The order has to go to the front. If you get the goods in the back alley, walk around and get out of here."

【Desperate administrator】

[Attitude: Impatient]

"I'm looking for Monsieur Marencourt. An old friend of his has asked us to bring us some presents, and a request along the way."

The craftsmen around heard the name raised their heads.

The administrator put down the clay pot for drinking water, dried his sweat with a cloth that could not see the original color, then took the order from the other party, looked up at the young man, called the apprentices, and walked into the deeper gate together.

Ken waited there for a moment.

Soon, someone came to lead the way, stepped over the messy but orderly workbench, walked along the red hearth to the doorway built against the mountain.

The smell of molten iron became stronger.

Ken heard the loud bang of the bellows and felt the oncoming heat.

This is a crack in the mountains, and the furnace is embedded on the cliff. Those who can be busy here are experienced craftsmen, and if they are placed outside, they are also old guys with top craftsmanship.

Go all the way to the depths.

The tiles were solid, jet-black and deep, covered with a darker gray.

Ken walked a long way in the canyon, and the singers couldn't hold the wooden box. The scenery was only the same "black" and "bright yellow", and the display racks on both sides were filled with various weapons of [excellent] quality .

"The stove master is waiting for you in front."

Ken went up the spiral steps, and there was a heavier knocking sound. The rhythm of the hammering was breathtaking, as if he was forging his soul.

He came to an open field.

It is not so much a blacksmith's shop as an altar, with intricate patterns engraved on the regular floor tiles, and the four huge furnaces emitting flames are shining with yellow light.

thump.

The chanter fell to the ground, and the wooden box was caught by the war banner with sharp eyesight and quick hands.

Ken raised his hand with one hand, turned his head, and saw a clump of curly white hair standing up: it was covered with large and small rings, and there were countless hastily made knots, covered with thick ash, like an abandoned warehouse Blanket from inside.

But this is hair.

Its owner slowly straightened his back, his body was twice as tall as a human, his arms were like giant pine, his thighs were as strong as a beam, and he roared like a bell:

"Be careful, child, that thing is more precious than your life."

　Changed a chapter, scheduled to post at night, I have something to go out today, sorry I can only update it, and I will make it up during the day tomorrow.I don't have a computer at night, so I can only watch the game. RNG will play a wild card. Hope it goes well!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)