Rong City, the most remote border town in the Shadowvale Knight Kingdom.
The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, but the forge in the blacksmith shop was already roaring. Sparks flew with every rise and fall of the hammer, lighting up Xuan Fan's slightly thin face. He was bare-chested, sweat sliding down his toned muscles and dripping onto the scorching anvil with a soft hiss.
Clang—clang—
The rhythm of the hammer was steady, each strike heavier than the last. The plate armor in front of him was gradually taking shape, and the faint outline of a knight emblem—the silver lion crest of the Shadowvale Kingdom, symbolizing glory and protection—began to appear on its surface.
"Xuan Fan, you're hitting too hard again!" The old blacksmith walked out from the backyard, carrying a pot of cool tea, and scolded with a laugh. "These armors are for the border knight order. Don't smash them into scrap metal, boy."
Xuan Fan stopped the hammer, wiped the sweat from his face, and gave a simple smile. "Don't worry, Master. I know my limits. It's just… these armors feel like they're missing something when worn by others."
The old blacksmith shook his head and shoved the teapot into his hands. "Missing something? They're missing your life on them, that's what. You're just a blacksmith. Dreaming of becoming a knight? Go dream in your sleep."
Xuan Fan took the pot and drank deeply. The cool liquid slid down his throat, but it couldn't extinguish the restless heat stirring in his chest.
For as long as he could remember, he had felt different from everyone else.
Other people forged iron to make a living; he forged iron as if he were fighting against something inside himself. Every time the hammer fell, it felt like he was striking at some shackle locked within his body. That strange heat flow—starting from his heart, traveling along his meridians, sometimes gentle like a stream, sometimes raging like wildfire—had been with him for all eighteen years of his life.
When he was small, he thought it was an illness and went to see a doctor. After taking his pulse, the doctor only said one sentence: "Boy, this is an innate anomaly. You won't live past thirty."
Later, when he grew up, he realized it wasn't a disease. It was something "sleeping" inside him.
But why had it chosen him—a blacksmith apprentice who didn't even qualify for the knight trial?
Ding—
The sound of hooves came from afar. Xuan Fan looked up and saw a squad of silver-armored knights riding in from the town entrance. The leading knight was tall and imposing, his cloak fluttering, the silver lion emblem on his chest gleaming in the morning light.
"It's the Rayne Knight Order!" The old blacksmith's eyes lit up as he hurried forward. "My lord, three sets of armor are ready. The rest will be finished tomorrow!"
The lead knight reined in his horse, his gaze sweeping over the blacksmith shop and finally landing on Xuan Fan.
"Not bad craftsmanship, kid," the knight said in a deep voice. "Pity you were born in a backwater like Rong City. Wasting your talent."
Xuan Fan lowered his head and said nothing. He knew these knights stood high above, looking at people like him the way one looks at ants.
After the knight order left, the old blacksmith sighed. "See that? That's what a real knight looks like. Armor is dead; people are alive. If you really want it, save some money and go to the capital for the trial. Who knows, maybe…"
"Master," Xuan Fan suddenly interrupted, "do you think a knight's glory comes from the armor… or from the sword?"
The old blacksmith was stunned, then burst out laughing. "Stupid boy, asking such profound questions. Glory is won by killing! No sword, no armor—you think you can claim glory with your bare hands?"
Xuan Fan fell silent again and quietly picked up the hammer once more.
Night fell.
The forge fire was extinguished, and Rong City sank into silence. Xuan Fan lay on his simple wooden bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Outside the window, stars twinkled unusually brightly, as if they were both close and impossibly distant.
The heat flow came again.
This time it was stronger than ever before—like a ball of fire tumbling in his dantian, forcing veins to bulge on his forehead. Xuan Fan sat up abruptly, breathing heavily.
"What exactly… is it?"
He got out of bed barefoot and walked into the yard, looking up at the sky. The starry river was brilliant, and one particularly bright star seemed to tremble faintly.
At that moment, a shooting star streaked across the sky and plunged straight toward the back mountain.
Xuan Fan's heart skipped a beat. Almost instinctively, he grabbed his outer robe and ran toward the back mountain.
The back mountain wasn't far, but it was desolate—overgrown with weeds and jagged rocks. Xuan Fan groped his way forward by moonlight and finally stopped beside a small stream.
The stream water was clear, reflecting starlight. Right at the water's edge, an unremarkable stone glowed faintly.
Xuan Fan crouched down and brushed away the dirt.
It wasn't a stone. It was an ancient jade slip.
The surface of the jade slip was covered in cracks, yet it emitted a soft cyan glow. Between the cracks, strange runes could be faintly seen—part ancient script, part knight emblem, part Eastern talisman, in a bizarre fusion.
He reached out and touched it.
Buzz—
The jade slip suddenly erupted with dazzling light!
A vast divine sense surged into Xuan Fan's mind like a tidal wave:
"The kingdom's spiritual veins are on the verge of collapse. The knightly holy light will soon be extinguished. Only a knight of oath can reforge the Star Sword and protect the continent."
"You… are the chosen one."
Xuan Fan's mind roared. Before his eyes appeared the phantom of a broken holy sword. Its blade was entwined with starlight and golden holy flames, and ancient oath runes were carved into the hilt.
In that instant, the heat flow inside him boiled over, resonating with the jade slip's light!
Xuan Fan staggered back, falling to the ground beside the stream, gasping for air.
"This… is this real?"
He looked down at the jade slip. The light gradually receded, leaving only a faint line of text floating on the surface:
"The gate has opened. The opportunity has arrived. Go, mortal. Your path begins tonight."
Xuan Fan gripped the jade slip tightly, his fingers white from the force.
He didn't know if he was truly "chosen." He didn't know if this thing would take his life.
But in that moment, for the first time, he felt—
Perhaps he was never meant to be just a blacksmith.
The stars above. The hammer had fallen.
The era belonging to Xuan Fan was about to begin.
(End of Chapter 1)