Othua's War Banner

Chapter 64 0064: Only one lesson

Thunder entrenched overhead.

The snowflakes danced in the north wind, constantly surging in the shining white light, and the aurora passed through the horizon, with a long and narrow arc, dazzling and beautiful, like the wings of a crystal angel.

Arthur huddled behind Ken.

His hands ached from the cold wind, and the roar of thunder overwhelmed everything, which reminded him of many things - Worchell sat in the faint candlelight, bent the silver wire with a small flame, and spoke seriously about ancient times. The melting pot, a hundred years of grand occasion, the gathering of battle flags, the vision that makes the earth fear is so spectacular.

Arthur opened his eyes on the back of the wolf, and the thunder just outlined the outline of the Dewar's tribe.

"Probably so."

he thought.

At this time, all beings are suppressed on the ground.

The resonance of the ancient furnace made all the mountains shake.

The Wolf King Fei rushed into the gate of the village.

Arthur turned his head and saw the night watchmen at the outpost standing in place, their heads squeezed out of the windows on both sides of the street, travelers hiding in all directions, and craftsmen arguing with vendors.

"No orders tonight!"

"All weapons must be reloaded. This is out of the question. The Dua tribe can only produce one weapon tonight."

The strong blacksmiths stood with their hips akimbo in the snowstorm.

Apprentices and laborers are busy together. They put the semi-finished products that have been hammered, and the weapons that have just been polished and are waiting to be oiled and loaded...

Throw them all into the furnace!
There were dark clouds, thunder and snow.

Every workshop of the Dua tribe is busy, countless weapons are melted into molten iron, and sparks splash from the window sills, chimneys, and various door openings.

"What are they doing?"

asked Ken.

Arthur suddenly thought of a cup of warm tea a few winters ago, of the crackling charcoal fire, of a strange old man with scary eyes...

A dull narrative voice sounded in his head:

"Perfect forging, there will be visions, it will link all the furnaces around, if you encounter such a rare opportunity in the future, throw the work at hand into the fire. The more things you have, the more precious the forged work is, And this astonishing book will have your share of credit."

Memories rush, so clear.

Arthur opened his trembling lips and whispered silently. He even remembered asking: "Why help? I have to destroy my own work when someone else's weapon is used!"

The old man at the table took off his worn-out secret pattern glasses.

He twisted the table and chair and turned around, brushed his white beard, reached out and touched the three rings that symbolize skills, and then explained seriously: "This is an honor, and Seanbio will remember all the sacrifices, the old god will Bless your future success rate..."

The memories faded away, and the wolf sobbed from its back.

Arthur didn't know why he was crying, but he just couldn't control his tears. The few lectures from Waucher came to his mind and echoed in his ears for a long time:

"Arthur, forging is sacred, you have to be devout."

…………

The street was blocked by an overturned carriage.

The mercenaries and traders surrounded and yelled at the entrance of Marungu's workshop. The person in charge was arguing with each other, and the two groups of people seemed to be fighting.

Ken made a decision, and directly rode a wolf onto the debris.

They moved between the cargo box and the cut rope, turning into an afterimage. When they jumped to a high place, it was easier to perceive the thin magic power, and there were ripples similar to the "evidence of the battle banner".

[The mighty power of the old god has come here. 】

Ken landed on the ground, and a ferocious wolf howl briefly overwhelmed everything.

He saw all the quarreling people looking over, the mercenaries put up their round shields to watch, and someone announced his name in the snowstorm, the situation seemed to be more complicated.

No one saw the process.

A corpse flew out of the workshop, mangled and flung to the ground like a disgusting paste.

The pitch-black stone bricks trembled, there was a scorching smell in the air, and there was a heavy panting sound, restrained like a volcano, tall and majestic, but everyone knew that it was full of strength and anger.

Click.

The giant palm pinched the support beam of the side door, leaving clear cracks in the top shield wood.

Marungu came out, and he stretched out his burly and tall body again. He glanced at the ants in front of him with angry eyes, as if he was waiting for the last straw to liberate the killing.

The members of the workshop stood in a human wall, and everyone showed their status rings.

They are blacksmiths who admire skills first, and businessmen second. In the face of ancient teachings and rare forging, any interests have to be compromised.

The traders who encouraged the riot were terrified.

He has never seen the Furnace Master leave the deep valley of forging, it should be said that no one has seen it except the day of God forging.

At this point, it is no longer a matter of a single business...

Everyone retreated sensibly.

Ken smelled a faint smell of blood.

Not from a corpse, but some kind of pungent, powerful blood.

He first thought of the bottle of [Dragon's Blood], and as expected, in Marungu's cloudy white eyeballs, he saw a faint thunder light—the overflowing expression of magic that had not been fully digested.

The furnace owner looked down at the crowd and naturally found him.

The apprentices removed the barriers and all made way out of the passage. Needless to say, they were already urging the two to go in.

Arthur dashed forward.

Knowing that he was not qualified to enter the [Forging Deep Valley], he ran towards the cliff while wiping his tears. His actions were reckless, and he was scratched several times by scattered iron objects.

The apprentices were still stuffing things into the hearth when Ken chased after them.

He walked through the valley, the sides were empty, and the place was being cleared. Everyone put down their work and retreated respectfully.

On the steps at the end, there were a few fragments scattered.

[Item: Iron Ring]

[A decoration used by craftsmen to flaunt their identity and skills. 】

They were violently dismantled and discarded, declaring the original owner's renunciation, and also heralding some kind of tragic result.

Ken rushed to the bottom, taking half a step backwards from the heat.

Arthur screamed, the flames bent his hair, his bare arms were red and dark, and blisters appeared in a short while.

With quick eyesight and quick hands, Ken quickly dragged the person out of the range of the round stone and hid him in the corner. The invisible heat gushed out, and the impurities between the floor tiles were melted away like butter.

"Let me, go in, teacher..."

Arthur pushed away, his arm wiping blood on the black armor.

The deadly heat wave was contained, and it seemed that it had just finished brewing. The four most expensive blast furnaces in the Malungu workshop were all opened, and the flames converged into phantoms.

He stands between the thunder and the cloud.

The three ancient melting pots of the Dua tribe present a corner-like trend, enclosing the image of Cinbio in the middle.

"You're back?"

The shadow of the old god did not speak, it was the kneeling man in the middle of the altar who spoke.

Vauciel, with a disheveled beard, turned his head.

His voice was weary, his words clumsy, and there was joy and relief.

Worchell looked at Arthur, opened his mouth, wanted to reprimand, wanted to teach, and finally said in a deep voice: "It's been a long time since I forged in front of you, don't worry, this time it's your favorite weapon.

Hey, sorry, my good boy, your teacher is a spirit craftsman...

For so many years, there is no way to teach you well, and let you bear the anguish and difficulty of learning skills alone. "

Arthur growled.

He shook his head in pain, but he couldn't get through the wavy air.

An unspeakable high temperature stood between the two of them.

Wachier stood at the "sacrifice position" in the prayer ceremony, but the twisted heat wave didn't hurt him. Instead, it passed through his hands continuously, melting, purifying, promoting, and resonating with the divine revelation.

"I thought about it for a long time."

Wauciel gave an ugly smile.

"The last thing I can do for you is a little thing. Remember every detail, it will be of great help to your forging."

The father who is not good at words is teaching the most important lesson in life to the child who is about to travel.

Arthur fell to his knees.

His regretful roar pierced his heart, his tears evaporated, and the surrounding temperature continued to rise.

　I worked overtime until eleven o'clock to catch up with the bidding documents.

　　It’s early morning after I finish writing, hey, it’s not easy, I’ll write slowly, please read slowly, I hope I can get off work on time tomorrow.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)