Crafting Needles for Guan Xue
Guan Yu and Zhang Fei's overwhelming might had swept through the night streets of Xu Province's castle town, leaving them as silent and heavy as the abyss after a storm. Even the acrid stench of blood seeping through the door cracks had been scattered by the night wind, and an eerie quiet hung inside the workshop.
He stood motionless in the center of the dimly lit workshop. His heart still beat a little faster than usual. What he had witnessed tonight wasn't mere slaughter. It was violence beyond measure from heroes who would shake an era.
That overwhelming power that mowed down dozens of bandits like rotten straw bundles.
He had seen with his own eyes a realm far beyond what any status window numbers could touch. I need to learn some martial arts if I want to protect even my own body, the thought crossed his mind.
'Guan Xue.' The name Zhang Fei had spat lingered in his ears. The woman who had stopped by the workshop during the day to warn him about the bandits. Guan Yu's sister, whose fingertips were callused from repairing the volunteer army's worn armor. She was the kind of person who had mobilized her brothers out of worry for a mere blacksmith—one who had fixed her brother's Green Dragon Crescent Blade and made her a pair of scissors. In these chaotic times, human lives were lighter than a fly's. Yet she had made a corner of his heart ache dully.
"Thank you. I miss you."
He murmured softly into the empty air. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind.
"Subspace Opening."
Flash—!
When he opened his eyes, there it was: his personal sanctuary, the Subspace Forge, perfectly controlled in ways the real-world workshop could never match.
Subspace Forge has been opened.
Duration: 11 minutes
A red timer appeared in the corner of his vision, counting down generously from 11:00. Tonight, what he needed to forge wasn't a chilling ring-pommel sword to sever enemy necks or a sharp spear to pierce hearts.
A needle. To stitch the volunteer army's rough, thick leather armor and iron scales, she had been using cheap iron needles that ruined her fingers. A few days ago, he'd made her sharp tailoring shears. Today, it was time for another essential tool: needles. He pulled out a fragment of the purest high-carbon steel ingot. He'd also saved a tiny pinch of cloud iron dust left from repairing a high-ranking officer's heirloom cloud iron spear during the day.
Making needles demanded precision on a whole different level from forging a massive greatsword. Too hard, and they'd snap piercing leather. Too soft, and they'd bend on contact with scales. He had to infuse extreme hardness and flexibility—two contradictory properties—into a thin wire as fine as a hair.
"Hoo—."
Exhaling deeply, he stoked the furnace flames. He thrust the iron fragment into the high-heat blue flames. As it glowed red and softened, he pulled it out with tongs and placed it on the anvil. He picked up a palm-sized precision hammer for fine work.
Remaining time: 09:10
Clang, clang, clang—! Clear, crisp metallic rings echoed through the subspace. It wasn't about brute force. He had to control his Strength of 13 to the limit, striking as if rearranging the molecular structure of the iron.
The glowing red iron stretched thinner and longer with each hammer blow. He reheated it, pulled it out, hammered again, and before it cooled, twisted it to boost strength—repeating the cycle dozens of times. Thick sweat beads rolled from his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he had no time to wipe them.
Remaining time: 07:20
Soon, the iron had thinned to the size of a thick needle. Now came the real challenge. He heated a fine awl and pierced a tiny hole in the needle's eye—securing space for thread without weakening the structure, dead center, without a millimeter of error.
Sizzle! As the hole pierced through, he thinly coated the surface with the prepared cloud iron powder, then thrust it back into the flames. The cloud iron would seep into the high-carbon steel, granting supreme wear resistance.
Next, heat treatment—the pivotal moment deciding the needle's fate. Quenching in water would crack it too fast; air cooling would soften it too much. He mixed oil and clay.
Remaining time: 05:10
Carefully, he lifted the needle—glowing red, no, white-hot—with tongs and plunged it vertically straight into the quenching bath.
Ssssss—! White smoke billowed as the oil boiled. The subtle cooling sounds and vibrations transmitted through the tongs to his fingertips. The sensation of steel and cloud iron fusing, the structure contracting densely. Perfect.
He pulled out the cooled needle and began grinding and polishing it on a fine whetstone.
Remaining time: 03:10
The rough surface smoothed out, revealing a dazzling silvery-white sheen with a faint blue tint. The tip was sharp enough to slice floating dust; the body bent elastically under a finger's pressure before snapping straight again. Thus, three needles were complete.
Cloud Iron Steel Needle (C-rank) crafting successful.
E-rank Blacksmith experience gained.
Sufficient experience accumulated. Stats increased.
Stat increase: Vitality +1
"…Success." He placed the three finished needles on his palm, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Pulling a C-rank from a simple tool meant his crafting skills had advanced a step. He pictured Guan Xue holding them, mending the volunteer army's worn armor—no more bloodied fingers from snapped needles.
Along with the crafting success, his Vitality had risen. His trembling arms and sweat-soaked body felt refreshingly loosened.
The grueling process of tensing every nerve and controlling his breath to make one needle had pushed his physical limits up a notch. Amid the crashing exhaustion, a strange sense of accomplishment filled his chest. He carefully wrapped the three needles in soft cloth and tucked them into his bosom.
Remaining time: 00:00
Subspace duration ended.
Returning to the real world.
Space warped, returning him to the workshop.
A few days passed like flowing water after that night's raid.
Xu Province's mornings dawned peacefully as always. The Mi Merchant Guild's information control and cleanup were beyond imagination. The dozens of bandit corpses and bloodstained alleys were erased without trace by their dispatched men. As if that night's horrific battle had been collective hallucination, the streets filled again with lively merchants and haggling voices.
He too avoided the aftermath, fully immersing in his routine. Up early to light the furnace, wrestling glowing iron lumps through the day. The workshop's threshold remained high, but rumors of his skill spread through and beyond Xu Province, drawing endless nobles and elite warriors.
"The balance is art. Can't compare to the sword I bought from another forge last time."
"Haha, as the rumors say, Mi Merchant Guild Workshop's craft is the best in Xu Province. Not a single nyang wasted!"
He swept up their gold with a blank expression. Between orders, he pressed on with his work.
A few days later, today, his workshop racks brimmed with the fruits of his sweat. Along the right wall, on black oak racks, steel ring-pommel swords stood half-drawn from sheaths, exuding chilling sword qi. Their curved blades, optimized for slashing over thrusting, glinted blue in the furnace light. Beside them, steel spears taller than a grown man loomed imposingly. Shafts of springy wood, blades of high-carbon steel hammered endlessly for max penetration—masterpieces.
Just gazing at the orderly weapons felt reassuring. Converted to gold, they'd match a small merchant guild's monthly revenue in days.
"Phew, looking pretty good." He wiped forehead sweat with a towel, stretching. Days of nonstop heavy hammers and iron had left his muscles pleasantly sore. Watching sunlight shatter on the blades through the window, he checked his status.
"Status Window."
Name: Nameless (Aman)
Job: Blacksmith (E-rank)
Stats
Strength: 14 | Agility: 11 | Intelligence: 10
Vitality: 56 | Mana: 11
Skills
Subspace Opening (Lv.2): Consumes 11 mana to open your personal isolated Subspace (Forge). (Duration: 11 minutes)
Strength up 1 to 14. No wonder he'd felt stronger today.
Days of forging heavy steel weapons had finally pushed his Strength to the next level. Strength 14 meant no more struggling with average weapons or heavy hammers. Watching the numbers grow was as thrilling as impurities burning off molten iron, birthing pure steel.
Ting-a-ling— The clear chime of wind bells rang as the front door creaked open cautiously.
"Welcome. This is the Mi Merchant Guild's custom workshop. Even basic repairs start at one nyang—"
Before he finished, the visitor's presence differed sharply from rough nobles or merchants. Light, cautious steps, somehow hesitant.
He slowly looked up at the entrance. Backlit softly stood a figure in rough, worn hemp clothes, black abundant hair tied loosely over her shoulders. No gaudy gold or silk, yet her pure elegance and resolute spirit seemed to purify the workshop's stale air.
It was Guan Xue. She stood frozen at the door, gazing at him.
"Come on in. I've been waiting for you."
"Yeah. I have something to give you too."
Then he remembered: she'd measured his body earlier. And in her hand was something neatly wrapped in cloth.
"Have a seat first."
He guided her to the table and handed over the cloth-wrapped Cloud Iron Steel Needles (C-rank) he'd stored away.
She unwrapped it, eyes widening in surprise.
"Wow! I've never seen needles like this."
She examined them curiously, then placed her own cloth bundle on the table.