Becoming a god starting from blacksmithing

Shen Chi lay on the bed, staring at the roof beams.

He tucked the note under his pillow. He had memorized the words—

"The monument is lit up. The Yansheng Pavilion will know. They will arrive by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

He rolled over.

A-Zhu was asleep in the back room, her breathing very soft. There was no moon outside the window, and the yard was pitch black, with only the whistling of the wind blowing through the roof.

Shen Chi closed his eyes, then opened them again.

He thought of his father.

Three years ago, in the summer, my father was sitting on the doorstep drinking. When he had drunk his third bowl of wine, he suddenly said something.

"If someone comes looking for us someday... deep inside the mine, under the third pillar."

Shen Chi was sharpening his knife at the time and didn't even look up: "What?"

The father didn't repeat himself. He simply finished the wine in his bowl, stood up, patted him on the shoulder, and went back into the house.

Shen Chi didn't take it seriously. His father often said inexplicable things when he drank.

He was lying here now, and the people from the Yansheng Pavilion would be arriving tomorrow. Those words were stuck in his mind like a nail.

He sat up.

Beneath the third pillar—the father's words were not drunken ramblings.

He put on his shoes in the dark, and took the torch and hammer from the wall. Before leaving, he glanced back in A-Zhu's direction.

He quietly closed the door.

The old mine is located at the foot of the mountain north of Qingxi Town, about half an hour's walk away.

The mountain path was difficult to walk on at night. But he walked quickly, the hammer tucked behind his waist, his right hand unconsciously gripping the hammer handle and then loosening it.

The scar on my right arm itched faintly in the night breeze. It stretched from my wrist to my elbow, like a centipede crawling across my skin.

This was left behind by the landslide three years ago.

The townspeople all say that Father is buried there. Buried too deep, they can't dig him out.

Shen Chi wanted to dig. He dug through the rubble with his bare hands for three days, until all ten of his fingernails were torn off and covered in blood. In the end, Old Chen dragged him away—"Your father is gone, you can't let yourself get hurt."

That scar was from that time. A piece of gravel cut his right arm, but he didn't even notice it at the time. By the time he realized it, the entire sleeve was soaked with blood.

He never went back to the mine.

Not wanting, but not dare.

The mine entrance was half-hidden by weeds and rubble, like a gaping mouth.

Shen Chi stood at the cave entrance and paused for a moment.

The night wind blew out of the cave, carrying a damp smell and the smell of rust.

He lit a torch, and the light illuminated the entire cave entrance. The pillars supporting the entrance were covered in moss, and there were animal footprints on the ground.

He bent down and crawled inside.

The mine tunnel was narrower than he remembered. Now, his shoulders were almost touching the stone walls on both sides.

The torchlight couldn't illuminate very far; the darkness ahead was like a thick blob of ink.

He slowed his pace. Each step he took made a splashing sound as he stepped on the gravel and puddles.

Every few steps along both sides of the mine tunnel, there is a wooden support pillar. Some of them are already crooked, and some are cracked by the weight, making creaking sounds.

He walked along, touching the scar on his right arm. Each time he touched it, his heart skipped a beat.

After walking for about the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the mine tunnel came to an end.

Ahead was a pile of rubble.

The landslide blocked the entire road. The highest point of the rubble pile almost reached the bedrock. The landslide three years ago started from this section.

Shen Chi held up the torch and shone it on himself.

The surface of the gravel was covered with a thick layer of dust. No one had touched it for three years.

But as he approached, crouched down, and took a closer look, he realized something was wrong.

Beneath the dust, there were several pebbles that showed signs of being moved, as if another layer of dust had been sprinkled on top after they were moved.

Someone has been here. And that person doesn't want anyone to know they were here.

Shen Chi's heart skipped a beat.

He stuck the torch into a crevice in the nearby rubble and began to dig through the rocks.

After peeling away more than a dozen pieces, I suddenly came across something in a crevice, which looked like a strip of cloth.

He grabbed the cloth and pulled it out—pulling out an oilcloth package.

The package was a little bigger than the palm of my hand. It was wrapped in many layers of oilcloth, and the corners were tied tightly with hemp rope.

Shen Chi placed the package on his lap, his hands trembling so much that he had to untie the hemp rope several times before he could finally manage it.

The last layer of tarpaulin was lifted—

Inside was a fragment of a broken sword.

The metal was dark gray with fine, flowing patterns on its surface. The fragment was about two fingers wide and a palm long, its edges polished to prevent cuts. Shen Chi examined it closely and noticed a single character engraved on the back—

"Heart".

The same words as those on the broken hilt of the sword in his apron pocket.

His throat tightened slightly. Without even comparing them, he knew that the shape of the broken sword fragment perfectly matched the shape of the broken end of the hilt.

There was also a letter in the package.

The paper was yellowed and brittle, but neatly folded. Shen Chi unfolded it, revealing two lines of text.

He recognized the handwriting. It was his father's handwriting—

"If I don't come back, guard this sword that protects your heart. One day you'll know why."

Shen held the letter tightly. It was written by his father.

"If I don't come back"—that's what my father wrote in the letter. Then he went into the mine and never came out again. Did my father know something was going to happen to him?

"Guard this Heart-Guarding Sword"—could this broken sword fragment be part of the Heart-Guarding Sword? What about the other parts?

Shen Chi held the fragment of the Guardian Sword in his hand, gripping it too tightly. The edge cut his palm, and blood seeped out, soaking into the fragment.

The fragment of the Guardian Sword was scalded, as if it had just been taken out of the furnace, making his hand tremble. But he did not let go.

Immediately afterwards, the fragments of the Guardian Sword emitted a faint golden light.

The light was faint, like a firefly, flowing across the dark gray surface of the broken sword. It spread along the water-like patterns, finally converging on the character "心" (heart).

The invisible line on Shen Chi's chest also started to burn.

A memory suddenly crashed into his mind.

At the mine entrance. It was still dark. His father stood in front of him, clutching the broken hilt of the Guardian Sword, his face grim. Behind his father, a muffled rumbling sound came from the mine, as if something was churning underground.

The father stuffed the broken handle into his arms.

"Run," the father said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was forceful. "Don't look back."

Shen Chi wanted to press for an answer, but his father shoved him. The shove was quite forceful; he staggered two steps and turned around—

"Don't look back! Run!"

When the father spoke, he didn't look at Shen Chi, but rather gazed towards the direction beyond the mountains. It was as if he was waiting for something, or perhaps afraid of something.

Shen Chi ran away, ran very far. He ran until he could no longer hear the roar of the mine, then he turned back—smoke and dust billowed into the sky in the direction of the mine.

Shen Chi had always believed that his father had been buried in a landslide.

But in that memory, when his father pushed him, he was wearing his usual gray cloth shirt, clean and free of dust or mine grime. It didn't seem like he was going into the mine, nor did it seem like he had just come out of the mine; it was more like he was waiting for him at the mine entrance.

Moreover, the father wasn't looking inside the mine.

It's outside the mountains.

It looked like they were hiding from someone.

Shen Chi opened his eyes.

He was still kneeling before the pile of rubble. The fragments of the Guardian Sword in his hand were still faintly glowing, and blood had seeped into the patterns on the fragments.

He looked down at the fragment of the Heart-Guarding Sword.

It turns out my father wasn't buried in a landslide.

The father hid this fragment in the mine, wrote this letter, and then waited for someone to come.

Who is it? Is it me?

Shen Chi didn't know.

But he vaguely sensed that his father, who forced him to "run away" three years ago, and the Yansheng Pavilion that was coming tomorrow were likely closely related.

He carefully put away the fragments of the Guardian Sword and the letter, wrapped them again in oilcloth, and tucked them into his bosom.

Then he knelt in front of the pile of rubble and kowtowed three times.

As his forehead touched the ground, he said something in his mind—

"Father, I'm back."

As we emerged from the mine, a sliver of light was already appearing on the horizon. The town of Qingxi at the foot of the mountain was shrouded in the morning mist, and we could vaguely see wisps of smoke rising from a few rooftops.

When Shen Chi arrived at his doorstep, A-Zhu was squatting in front of the stove, starting a fire, her face covered in soot. She paused for a moment when she saw Shen Chi walk in.

"Brother Shen Chi, you're up so early?"

Shen Chi grunted in agreement, went into the inner room, took the letter from his pocket, and hid it under the bed. Then he came out, took the fire tongs from A-Zhu, and squatted down to help her start a fire.

Ah Zhu looked at him and sensed something was wrong, but didn't know what to say.

After a long while, she whispered:

"Brother Shen Chi, the light around you... seems to have brightened a little bit."