Chapter 178 — Orders of Fire and Iron
The Imperial Forge City never slept.
Lin realized that within an hour of arriving.
Forges roared day and night, their heat regulated by layered formations rather than rest or restraint. Smiths rotated in disciplined shifts, some mortal, some cultivators, all moving with practiced efficiency. Overhead, gravity arrays hummed constantly, maintaining pressure levels that would crush an unprepared body flat against the stone.
This was not a place for inspiration.
It was a place for production.
Lin stood at the edge of Forge Hall Seventeen, watching as the first batch of standardized spearheads cooled in precisely measured troughs of alloyed water. Each piece was identical—not merely in shape, but in internal density, resonance, and durability.
Rowan's voice cut through the heat.
"Impressive, isn't it?"
Lin inclined his head. "It's… different."
Rowan snorted softly. "Different from personal forging, you mean. No flair. No ego. Just results."
He gestured toward the racks of finished weapons. "Every one of those will be wielded by someone who may never touch Soul Transformation. If your forge sings too loudly, it cracks. If it sings too softly, it bends."
Rowan turned, fixing Lin with a sharp gaze. "You don't get second chances here."
Lin met his eyes steadily. "I won't need them."
---
Forging Without Glory
Lin's assignment was clear.
Mid-grade Titan steel.
Reinforced gravity alloys.
Simple rune matrices—durability, edge retention, impact dispersion.
No upgrades.
No experimentation.
No shortcuts.
At first, it felt… constraining.
His instincts urged him to refine further, to compress density just a little more, to stabilize resonance beyond the listed tolerance. He could make these weapons better.
But better for whom?
Rowan had been clear.
A weapon too refined would shatter its wielder's meridians.
A blade too sharp would chip against improperly reinforced armor.
Perfection, here, meant reliability.
So Lin adjusted.
He softened his gravity law's influence until it merely guided molten metal instead of compressing it. He aligned his forging rhythm to the city's master arrays, syncing his strikes with the pulses of the forge hall itself.
Hammer met metal.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Hours passed.
Then days.
Lin's output did not spike.
It stabilized.
Rowan watched from a distance, arms folded, saying nothing.
---
Tian's Path Diverges
Elsewhere in the city, Tian's forging echoed with heavier cadence.
Siege implements.
Massive cleavers.
Armor plating designed to withstand abyssal claws.
His path was louder, more aggressive, driven by brute refinement and overwhelming density. Where Lin refined balance, Tian refined force.
They did not compete.
Not here.
This was not a duel.
This was preparation.
---
The Empire's Measure
Imperial officers arrived on the fourth day to inspect progress.
They did not flatter.
They did not threaten.
They measured.
They weighed completed weapons in their hands, struck them against reinforced testing blocks, ran qi through them at standardized intensities. They recorded numbers, nodded, moved on.
One officer paused at Lin's rack.
"These are consistent," he said.
Lin said nothing.
The officer glanced at the forging mark. "Outer Court disciple?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"…Interesting."
That was all.
But Rowan noticed.
---
The Abyssal Murmur
Far beneath the Imperial Forge City, beyond the layered defenses and stabilized ley lines, the abyss shifted once more.
The fluctuation was minor.
Barely enough to register.
But it followed a pattern.
Purified zones near rift-adjacent supply lines lingered longer than expected. Corrupted energy dissipated more cleanly.
Something was consuming corruption without violence.
The abyss did not yet understand.
But it remembered.
---
Night Terrors and Silent Strength
Back at the Astral Forge Sect, Yueyin trained under the watchful eyes of elder instructors assigned to acclimate lower-realm survivors.
The exercises were simple.
Walking under gravity.
Breathing under pressure.
Circulating qi without collapse.
She struggled.
Not because she was weak—but because something within her resisted adjustment.
Each night, her dreams grew sharper.
Flames curled along her bones. Moonlight pressed against her skin. She felt herself being measured by the Titan Realm's laws, tested for compatibility.
She woke trembling, phoenix flame flickering uncontrollably for a breath before she suppressed it.
No corruption.
No intrusion.
Just… resonance.
---
Quiet Advancement
On the seventh night, Lin returned to his quarters and sat in silence.
He reviewed his cultivation carefully.
Soul Transformation Realm — late mid-stage.
No instability.
No residue.
His gravity law felt heavier, denser, no longer spreading outward but anchoring inward.
He did not advance further.
Not yet.
He closed his eyes and retreated into his inner world.
Five days passed within.
He did not cultivate.
He refined.
---
A Realm That Does Not Rush
When Lin emerged the next morning, the Imperial Forge City greeted him with the same unrelenting rhythm.
Hammer.
Heat.
Discipline.
Somewhere beyond the city walls, armies gathered.
Somewhere deeper still, the abyss watched.
And between the two, the Astral Forge Sect forged—not legends, but the means to survive what was coming.
---
End of Chapter 178