After the meeting, Xin made his way slowly back toward his courtyard, his small figure trailed closely by a silent shadow — Cike Ichiji, his newly assigned personal attendant.
The boy followed Xin at a respectful distance, steps light but ever-vigilant.
Servant, poison tester, playmate, and bodyguard — such was the new role assigned to him by Lord Bo himself.
With the awakening of Spirit Power among the Cike Clan members after the Bloodline Baptism, Dugu Bo had decided: "Since they now possess strength, let us put it to use." Thus, each of the Young Masters and Young Misses of the Clan were assigned one of the Cike sextuplets, loyal beyond death, their spirits and lives now forever tied to their young charges.
Ichiji was taciturn by nature, his dark eyes calm and unwavering. Once a child marked as unable to cultivate at six years old, destined to live a servant's life — his fate had changed during the Baptism. Though he had only reached Rank 7 Spirit Trainee, the fusion of their Clan Leader's bloodline with a small trace of Xin's own bloodline had ignited a faint spark within him.
As long as one had any spirit power they were able to cultivate further, enough to serve, to protect — and if need be, to die for his young master.
The Cike Clan's Spirit, Heaven's Book, pulsed quietly within him.
As they walked, Xin at last had the energy to truly lift his eyes and see his home — not through the haze of depression and decay, but clearly.
Viremoor Keep stretched before him, a symbol of grandeur and strength.
An expanse measuring eighteen kilometers by nine kilometers, it was an ocean of elegant courtyards, flowing gardens, and towering halls. The perpetual fog that blanketed the Moonveil Marshes beyond was kept at bay by a grand Spirit Barrier, shimmering faintly overhead like a second sky.
At the very heart of the Keep stood his father's Main Courtyard, surrounded by the Clan's great administrative halls and training grounds.
Not far from there lay Xin's own courtyard, nestled alongside those of his siblings and the honored Elders — a place of relative peace.
Further out still, bordering the inner walls, were the servants' quarters and various occupational spaces — blacksmith forges, alchemy houses, tailoring halls, and more, each humming with quiet industry.
As Xin's small feet pattered lightly on the stone-paved walkway, a sudden memory flashed in his mind.
The blacksmiths!
He had given them a task, weeks ago — a reckless order based on a half-remembered formula from his past life. He had described steel to them, recalling the components — iron and carbon — but the exact proportions eluded him at the time.
Pausing in his steps, Xin turned to Ichiji.
"Ichiji," he said crisply, "go to the blacksmiths. Tell them the First Young Master will be arriving shortly to inspect their work."
Without a word, Ichiji bowed slightly and darted away, swift and silent as a shadow.
Xin watched him for a moment before continuing his walk, excitement and nervousness mingling in his young heart.
Steel — if they had succeeded, even imperfectly — could become a foundation stone for the Dugu Clan's rise in ways no other noble family could foresee.
A small, confident smile tugged at the corners of Xin's lips as he made his way forward.
Upon reaching his courtyard, Xin wasted no time.
Shrugging off the heavy, ceremonial robes draped over his small frame, he changed into a more comfortable outfit — still woven of fine silk and adorned with understated embroidery, a subtle reminder of his noble status. He moved with a quick but methodical grace, clearly accustomed to the quiet rituals of a young master in a powerful house.
Picking up a bundle of scrolls stacked neatly on his writing table — filled with rough diagrams and hastily written ideas from his past experiments — Xin handed them carefully to a nearby cleaning servant.
"Follow me," he instructed simply.
The servant, a young girl with her hair tied back neatly, gave a respectful bow and trailed after him at a polite distance, cradling the precious scrolls as if they were royal decrees.
The walk from the inner sanctums of the estate to the outer working areas was no short journey.
As they traveled the long, winding stone paths, Xin's sharp eyes wandered over the scenery — manicured gardens, murmuring fountains, ancient trees with silver leaves glistening faintly under the barrier's light.
Along the way, he spotted a familiar figure emerging from a side hall — Dugu Meiying, her beautiful figure clad in flowing scholar's robes, a stack of ancient tomes floating beside her with a casual application of spirit power. She was clearly headed for the library.
Seeing him, she flashed a dazzling smile that could have brightened even the fog beyond the barrier.
"First Boy is looking especially handsome today," she teased warmly.
Xin immediately stopped and bowed properly, a bright, boyish smile spreading across his face.
"Thank you, Aunty," he replied with genuine affection.
Meiying laughed lightly and continued on her way, leaving behind a faint trace of lilac fragrance as she passed.
Pleased by the encounter, Xin pressed onward.
At last, they arrived at the Smithy, a sprawling open-air structure of dark stone and reinforced wood that lay near the southern edge of the Keep.
The clang of hammers on anvil, the roar of flames, and the sharp scent of molten metal filled the air, vibrant and alive.
Awaiting him were the five blacksmiths he had personally tasked with a special mission.
Each stood proudly behind their workstations, lined up in a neat row.
Before them, laid carefully on polished stone slabs, were their latest creations — five different prototypes of the material Xin had challenged them to recreate.
Their versions of steel.
The blacksmiths had not merely worked — they had labored day and night, experimenting, arguing, failing, and starting again. And now, their results awaited the critical eye of the First Young Master.
Xin stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm but sharp.
He could already feel the slight tremble of excitement under his skin.
Today was not just about inspecting some metal.
It was about laying the first brick in the road that would lead the Dugu Clan beyond the reach of their rivals.
Xin stepped forward, the soft tapping of his boots on the stone floor the only sound in the suddenly breathless smithy.
The five blacksmiths stood rigidly at attention, faces serious, sweat beading on their brows despite the coolness of the estate's protected air.
Xin swept his gaze over them and spoke calmly, his young voice carrying the quiet dignity of someone far older.
"I see each of you have done well," he said, hands still clasped behind his back. His words were not casual praise — they carried a weight of expectation.
"Now, I shall begin the inspection."
Taking his time, Xin approached the first blacksmith — a middle-aged man whose arms were marred by old burn scars, the marks of long years spent toiling at the forge. His frame was thick and muscled, his face carved into a fierce, stoic mask.
His name was Hun Ju, the most senior among the smiths.
Without hesitation, Xin picked up one of the many heavy ingots set before Hun Ju, its dull metallic sheen catching the faint light of the smithy fires.
As his fingers brushed the cool surface, a familiar, faintly glowing transparent screen flashed into existence before Xin's eyes — unseen by anyone but him.
[Prototype Steel: 87% Accuracy]
[Flaws: Incorrect ratio of carbon to iron — durability compromised.]
Xin's sharp gaze lingered on the ingot for a moment longer before setting it down gently. He offered Hun Ju a small, unreadable nod and moved to the second blacksmith.
The second was a stocky, sharp-eyed woman with calloused hands and a quiet intensity, named Yan Fei. Her ingot was slightly darker in color, the grain of the metal less uniform.
Again, as Xin touched it, the translucent prompt bloomed before his eyes.
[Prototype Steel: 84% Accuracy]
[Flaws: Inconsistent smelting temperature — impurities trapped within.]
Without comment, Xin replaced the ingot and moved on, his face serene as still water.
The third blacksmith, Mao Shen, was a lanky man with sun-darkened skin and quick, nervous hands. His ingot was polished to a mirror finish, but Xin knew better than to trust appearances.
A light touch — another screen.
[Prototype Steel: 82% Accuracy]
[Flaws: Excessive purification — metal too brittle.]
Xin almost smiled faintly — too perfect was just as dangerous as too flawed.
He continued on to the fourth, a grizzled veteran named Luo Fen, whose ingot was rougher, unfinished at the edges. Luo Fen was known for his brute-force forging style, caring little for aesthetics.
The system chimed again.
[Prototype Steel: 85% Accuracy]
[Flaws: Poor mixing technique — carbon distribution uneven.]
Xin hummed softly to himself as he set the fourth ingot down.
Finally, he arrived before the last blacksmith — a young man, no older than twenty, with soot-streaked cheeks and hopeful eyes. His name was Jiang Kui, and though less experienced than the others, he had earned his place here through sheer determination.
Xin picked up the fifth ingot.
The moment he did, the system displayed:
[Prototype Steel: 86% Accuracy]
[Flaws: Minor impurity inclusion — forging temperature fluctuations.]
Xin set the last ingot back carefully, his sharp mind already turning over the results.
Though none had surpassed Hun Ju's 87% threshold, each had come close. They had succeeded beyond his expectations, considering they had worked with little more than vague directions and experimental methods.
Straightening, Xin faced the gathered smiths. Their eyes were fixed on him, breaths held tight in their chests, waiting for his judgment.
The young master's lips curled slightly upward — a smile both approving and expectant.
"You have all done well," Xin said, voice crisp. "Very well. I see dedication, skill... and the seeds of true greatness."
The blacksmiths straightened proudly, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"But," Xin continued, his tone sharpening like a blade, "there is still work to be done. Perfection is not yet within reach — but it is near. You stand at the threshold."
Gesturing lightly with two fingers, Xin summoned the young servant who had been following quietly behind him, clutching the rolled scrolls to her chest as if they were treasures.
Understanding immediately, she approached respectfully, bowing as she presented the scrolls to her young master.
Xin took one, unrolling it with a smooth flick of his wrist. From a small pouch at her waist, the servant pulled out a slender stick of fine charcoal, offering it to him with both hands.
Without hesitation, Xin crouched slightly by the low stone table near the forge's edge, setting the scroll against the flat surface. His hand moved quickly but precisely — the motions clean, graceful, and filled with the certainty of someone far beyond his years.
Charcoal scratched against parchment, each stroke birthing runes of thought and lines of revelation.
As he wrote, a translucent screen shimmered quietly before his eyes, unseen by all others:
[System Notice: "Unique Improvement Pathway Initiated."]
[Detected Material: Proto-Steel (Hun Ju Variant)]
[Current Base Standard: ~87% Earth-Grade Steel Equivalent.]
[Optimized Refinement Formula Unlocked!]
→ Increase Carbon ratio by 0.2%.
→ Triple-cycle heat treatment to remove hidden microfractures.
→ Low-slag, high-purity tempering with Moonveil Lotus Ash (local rare material substitute for flux).
[Projected Outcome: 112% Earth-Grade Steel Equivalent.]
[Special Trait Potential: Spirit Energy Conduction Affinity – Minor.]
Xin's hand never paused, even as these miraculous prompts flooded his vision.
Instead, he incorporated the knowledge instinctively, as if he had been born to command the very laws of metallurgy themselves.
Before long, a new blueprint was sketched upon the scroll — detailed measurements, furnace instructions, purification techniques, and even notes about using rare Moonveil herbs available only in their territory to substitute for Earth-world fluxing agents.
Once finished, he rose, snapping the scroll lightly to straighten it.
Turning to Hun Ju, Xin's expression was solemn, yet there was a subtle fire burning behind his youthful gaze.
"Hun Ju," he said, holding the scroll aloft, "you have come the closest to reaching the steel I envisioned."
The blacksmith's scarred hands trembled ever so slightly as he accepted the scroll — a craftsman instinctively sensing the value hidden within the seemingly simple diagrams and annotations.
Xin continued, his voice carrying the heavy dignity of command.
"Follow these refinements exactly. If you succeed..."
He paused, letting the weight of his words fall heavy upon the blacksmith's heart,
"...you will forge steel unlike any seen on this continent."