The cold rain deep within Emerald Street extinguished the residual warmth of the neon lights. Gu Hanzhou leaned against a lightless corner, looking down at [Black Order] at his waist.
The scabbard remained simple and ancient, but from within, a constant, faint moan—like the sound of glass shattering under pressure—echoed through the metal. During the forced devouring of "Subject Zero" at the Pool of Purgatory, the rampaging Imperial Gold energy had allowed him to break through, but it had also pushed this divine blade of the Ancient Court past its absolute structural limit.
Near the tip of the blade, a fragment the size of a fingernail had already flaked away.
"The maps of the Black Prison are vital, but walking in there with a blade that could shatter at any moment is a death sentence," Gu Hanzhou muttered, his voice low and raspy, as if forced through clenched teeth.
Su Qingyue leaned against him, her strength failing. Her trembling fingertips traced the dense network of fractures along the scabbard. "This blade is no common steel. The blacksmiths in the Mid-Sector who specialize in mechanical power-cells and standard-issue sabers can't touch this. But on the west side of Emerald Street, in the Ashen Market, there is a forging genius who was purged from the Legion. They call him 'Old Mute.' He was once the Chief Armorer of the Night-War Legion."
"He can repair a relic of the Ancient Court?"
"He cannot 'repair' it in the traditional sense," Su Qingyue whispered, her breath turning into a mist in the cold air. "But he possesses a furnace stoked with Subterranean Dark-Fire. It is the only flame capable of melting the dross of the Old Order and reshaping its spirit."
Under the cover of night, the two navigated away from the opulent main thoroughfares and descended into the slums known as the Ashen Market. Though it was technically located within the Mid-Sector, its proximity to the massive industrial waste-vents meant it was perpetually shrouded in thick, grey soot. The conditions here were arguably grimmer than the mining pits of the lower levels.
Old Mute's smithy sat at the absolute dead-end of the market. There was no sign, only a warped, half-melted metal helmet hanging from the lintel.
CLANG— CLANG— CLANG—
A heavy, rhythmic pounding resonated from within, each strike vibrating directly in the observer's ribcage.
Gu Hanzhou pushed the door open. A wave of scorching heat washed over them, emanating from a massive central furnace that spit out tongues of dark-red flame. An old man with a single arm and a face horribly disfigured by burn scars stood before an anvil, wielding a heavy sledgehammer with singular, violent focus.
He didn't look at the two intruders. His solitary eye remained fixed on the dancing flames.
Gu Hanzhou stepped forward. He offered no pleasantries. He unbuckled [Black Order] and slammed it onto the anvil, alongside a bag of high-grade Blood-Ignition serums scavenged from the Moonlit Bar and the calcified, dark-gold marrow fragment of "Subject Zero."
Old Mute's hammer froze in mid-air.
His single eye swept over the items on the anvil. The clouded, weary gaze suddenly erupted with a frantic, near-manic light the moment it touched [Black Order]. He dropped the hammer, his lone arm trembling as he reached out to touch the fractures on the blade.
"Old... shadows..."
A sound like a broken bellows escaped the man's throat. He was indeed a mute, but the sight of the blade had almost forced him to rediscover the concept of speech.
He turned to Gu Hanzhou, his eye filled with a mixture of intense scrutiny and primal fear. He recognized the blade, but more importantly, he recognized the lingering aura of Imperial Gold blood that made his very soul shiver.
"Fix it," Gu Hanzhou stated, his eyes locked onto the smith. "Name your price."
Old Mute remained silent for a long time. He hobbled around the room, retrieving a grey crystal vial from a hidden compartment. Inside was a swirling mass of slow-moving black granules—Star-Shard Sand, a military-grade material strictly contraband in the Mid-Sector, capable of drastically increasing a weapon's conductivity to Order Energy.
The mute pointed to the furnace, then to Gu Hanzhou's heart.
"He wants your Source-Blood," Su Qingyue translated softly. "This blade is already bound to your life. To mend its spirit, he must use your 'King's Blood' as a catalyst, combined with the Subterranean Dark-Fire to reforge the core."
Gu Hanzhou did not hesitate for a second. He slashed his palm open with a jagged piece of scrap metal. Dark-gold blood dripped onto the glowing anvil, hissing like molten lava meeting water.
"Begin."
Old Mute pounded his chest with his fist, letting out a guttural roar like a wounded beast. With one arm, he hoisted the heavy hammer and plunged the entirety of [Black Order] directly into the heart of the dark-red furnace.
BOOM!!
The moment the flames touched the Imperial Gold blood, they turned from red to a blinding, solar gold. A terrifying shockwave of Order Energy erupted from the furnace, instantly disintegrating the surrounding scrap metal and spare parts into fine dust.
Gu Hanzhou felt as if his very soul had entered the furnace alongside the blade. The agony of being forged and hammered a thousand times over at extreme temperatures began to blur his consciousness.
But he stood his ground, his eyes wide and unblinking as he stared into the fire.
Half an hour later, Old Mute frantically worked the bellows one last time, then brought the sledgehammer down on the anvil with a strike that threatened to shatter the eardrums of everyone in the room.
CLANG—!!
A sliver of light—deeper, colder, and more lethal than before—bloomed quietly amidst the ashes.
The reforging of [Black Order] was complete.
The fractures had vanished. In their place was a pattern of fine, dark-gold etchings that resembled dragon scales. Near the tip of the blade, a subtle, haunting arc of blood-red light now shimmered. The Tang Dao no longer felt like an inanimate object; it felt like a black dragon coiled within its sheath, waiting for the command to devour the world.
Old Mute collapsed to the floor, utterly spent. He looked at Gu Hanzhou and gestured with his hand, drawing a specific pattern in the soot.
It was an inverted tower.
"He says... the bottom of the Black Prison is not a jail," Su Qingyue translated, her face growing increasingly solemn. "It is a gate leading to the Great Subterranean Rift. Your father... he might not be in a cell. He might be trapped within the seam of that gate."
Gu Hanzhou took the reforged blade. It felt heavier, yet more balanced. A sense of murderous synchronization flooded his system, making the Blood-Ignition vortex in his heart roar with anticipation.
"The Inverted Tower. The Gate of the Core."
Gu Hanzhou slammed the blade back into its scabbard, his gaze turning as cold as the void.
"Duke Mordent, the blade is mended. Its first taste of blood... will be fed by your Black Prison."
He turned and strode out of the smithy. Behind him, the grey soot of the Ashen Market was parted by a sharp, invisible ripple of killing intent, revealing a straight, bleak path leading directly toward the Inquisition Black Prison.