Jin Shu left Xi Yue's office with more questions than answers. The only thing she'd been able to confirm was that Nano had indeed merged with his qi and blood, becoming a kind of living entity, separate but integral. His blood, now alive, behaved more like an elemental spirit—and according to her theory, might eventually evolve into one.
What that meant for him, she couldn't say.
Theoretically, she told him, it was possible to regain control over his qi if he could separate it from his blood and guide it into the meridian pathways she'd shown him.
He also learned that controlling his qi outside his body was technically possible—if he acted fast. If he projected his qi quickly through his pores, his blood wouldn't be able to follow. But if he tried to channel it near an orifice, the blood might leak out after it… something he had already experienced once—and never wanted to again.
Wandering the streets, lost in thought, Jin Shu barely noticed the disciples still buzzing over the recent tournament. His name surfaced often in their conversations.
He slowed as he passed a smithy, drawn in by the sound of an excited discussion. Three women stood outside the smoking forge: a teenage girl around seventeen, a woman in her mid-twenties, and an outer sect elder just a few years older.
"You know, I wonder if we could find Jin Shu and ask him how he made those weapons?" the woman in the middle said.
"The pellet guns?" the younger girl asked.
"Yeah, but also that other one he used against Ling Shi and Bing Hou."
"Ohh!" The girl clapped her hands. "That one was so cool. I really want to know how it works!"
"They seemed to operate like small crossbows," the elder added. "But I'm sure they're much more advanced than just a taut string and a trigger."
Jin Shu paused, considering whether to approach them.
Should I? he wondered. I could give them a pellet gun—they're relatively safe, and I don't really have much use for them anymore.
"That wouldn't be bad, would it?" he asked the two souls within him.
"They were basically toys back on Earth," Gold said with a mental shrug. "I doubt they could reverse engineer a working gun, so I don't see a problem."
"You've got the disciple token—make it a trade," Shuang added. "That way, it'll be logged as a contribution to the sect."
"Is that how that works?"
"Maybe? One of them's an elder. Trade it to her and mention you want it counted as a sect contribution. That should work, probably. "
Jin Shu nodded. "Got it."
Reaching under the veil, he tapped his earring and drew out one of his pellet guns, then headed toward the three women.
The teenage girl was the first to spot him. "Hello, can we help you?"
"Yes. But I can help you too," he said, holding out the pellet gun. "I overheard you talking about my weapons. I'll trade this to the sect—through you—if you let me borrow some materials and your forge for a few hours."
The three of them stared at the weapon, then up at his veiled face.
"Jin Shu?!" the teen girl blurted.
"Shh," he hushed her, pressing a finger to his veil. "Let's keep this quiet. So, do we have a deal?"
"Yes—yes, of course, yes!" she said, still far too loud.
"Wait," the elder interjected, holding up a hand to stop her. "Are you really Jin Shu? And is this weapon genuine?"
"I'll show you." Jin Shu lifted his veil just enough for them to see his face, then handed the weapon to the elder.
The teenager and the other woman exchanged thrilled looks and huddled around the elder to examine the weapon.
"Is it real?"
"Oh! I think it is!"
"Both of you, shush. You're embarrassing us… but—oh my gosh—it is real!"
The three of them spoke in hushed, rapid tones, barely containing their excitement. After a few minutes, they turned back to Jin Shu, the elder clutching the pistol tightly, as if afraid he'd snatch it back.
"You're really giving this to us?" she asked.
"I'm not giving it. I'm trading it to you—an outer sect elder—as a contribution to the sect," he clarified. "In exchange, I'd like access to your forge and a few materials."
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"What about contribution points?"
"Ah. Right. Otherwise, it'd be considered an illegal trade…"
It had slipped his mind that, according to sect rules, any trade had to include contribution points to be official and traceable. Ironically, he'd just come from an unofficial one.
"We… don't have many contribution points," the elder said hesitantly. "Would… ten thousand be enough?"
She flushed, clearly embarrassed by their lack of points.
Jin Shu shook his head and waved it off. "Just give me a hundred or so. I just need the trade to be recorded."
"Are you sure?"
"You know, if you gave this to a Core Elder—or even a Core Disciple—you could earn hundreds of thousands of points," the teenager chimed in.
"I don't need contribution points," he said with another shake of his head. "My mother is the Vice-Sect Master, and my step—my master is the Sect Master. If I needed anything, it's unlikely the sect has something they couldn't give me."
He didn't say it to brag. It was just the truth. Both of the sect's leaders were close to him and would likely give him anything he asked for—though he had no intention of abusing that trust.
"Alright, I'll record it as a sect contribution. There's also an additional reward for offering research materials you can claim at the Contribution Hall, if you're interested," the elder said, pulling out a token. With a fingertip coated in qi, she wrote glowing characters across its surface.
When she finished, she held the token out flat on her palm. Jin Shu remembered seeing Biyu and Bin Yu trade points before, so he retrieved his own disciple token and placed it over hers. A soft flash of light passed between them. He took his token back.
Glancing down, he noticed new information displayed on its surface. Previously, only his name had appeared in glowing white script. Now, a number had been added beneath it: 100. His current contribution point total, clearly.
He didn't have any immediate plans to use them, so after a final glance, he returned the token to his earring.
"What kind of materials do you have on hand?" he asked.
"This is the sect's main smithy—we've got a bit of everything," the woman in her twenties said, motioning toward the forge's entrance. "You're free to take your pick."
"Alright. Thank you." He nodded and stepped forward, then paused. "Oh… what are your names?"
"I'm Xing Fen!" the teenage girl chimed in, waving excitedly with a wide grin. "Also, I'm a huge fan! I was cheering for you during the tournament!"
The woman beside her glanced at Xing Fen, shook her head, then looked back at Jin Shu. "Wen Ding," she said calmly.
"…Wing Ding?" he repeated, blinking at her unusual name.
"No—Wen Ding, like 'steady,'" she corrected with a small smile.
"Ah… sorry," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck.
"It's fine." Her smile softened. "I'm also a fan, so I'm glad I got to meet you."
That only made him feel more awkward. He'd never had fans before and now he was embarrassing himself in front of them.
"I'm Zhen Zhu," the elder said at last. She paused, then looked down with a faint blush. "Also… a fan," she added in a near whisper.
Jin Shu raised an eyebrow as he watched the older woman blush like a shy schoolgirl. Having fans, he decided, was a strange experience. He still wasn't sure if he liked it or not.
"Right… thanks," he said awkwardly. "I'll just… go borrow the forge now."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and entered the still-hot smithy.
Once inside, Jin Shu took a deep breath. The air was thick with smoke and dry heat, but it brought him a strange sense of comfort. He had grown up in a forge, spent much of his childhood surrounded by fire and steel. This place, loud and blistering as it was, had always been like his fortress of solitude.
If he was being honest, the only reason he'd given away that pellet gun was to gain a few hours alone here—away from the noise, the pressure, and the strange, terrifying changes happening to him lately. He just needed space to breathe. Still, he had a few ideas he wanted to try out, so he walked the edges of the forge, scanning racks and shelves for materials.
He gathered what he needed—and a few extras just in case—then set to work.
The preparations were second nature. Tools were arranged. The bellows tested. Flames stoked. The sound of clanking metal and the whoosh of fire filled the air. As he began melting and shaping the first piece, his mind slowly cleared.
The weight of recent events—the revelations, the strange behavior of his blood, the attention from the sect—began to fade into the background.
Hammering.
Folding.
Heating.
Quenching.
His breathing fell into sync with the rise and fall of the hammer. His muscles moved without thought, guided by memory more than intention. Sparks danced around him like fireflies, the rhythmic clang of metal on metal steadying his mind.
In that moment, he wasn't Jin Shu the anomaly, or Jin Shu the fan-favorite.
He was just a boy with a hammer, chasing peace in the heart of a flame.