American Hunting: Starting with Solitary Life in the Wilderness

Chapter 242 Final Forging

Lin Yu'an used the loader's bucket to steadily lift several cages, ensuring a smooth journey.

After bidding farewell to Stan, Lin Yu'an drove his loader, carrying his prized Chantilly chickens, on his return journey.

Back in the wood forest, the chickens were settled in the spacious coop that had been built beforehand. All the necessary equipment was turned on, and the coop was kept well-lit and had a water supply.

Watching these cold-resistant creatures curiously explore their new home, flapping their wings and chirping, he felt a special sense of satisfaction once again.

This vibrant life force has given this desolate land the warmth of a "home".

At the same time, he did not forget Stan's teachings; those seemingly crude yet deadly defensive techniques were now repeatedly considered in his mind.

He knew that an invisible war had already begun.

He stepped into the warm cabin, where Arya and Emily immediately came to greet him.

"Is everything settled?" Arya handed her a glass of warm water.

"Yes, they're in great spirits." Lin Yu'an took a sip of water and said with a smile, "Uncle Stan is taking very good care of them."

"That's great! We'll soon have a steady supply of fresh eggs!" Emily said, taking Lin Yu'an's heavy coat as she took it off and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

Seeing their happy faces, Lin Yu'an felt a slight relief from the urgency caused by the wolf pack. But she had to tell them this: here, any concealment of danger was irresponsible towards their families.

He didn't speak immediately, but walked to the fireplace and watched the two children playing on the carpet for a while before turning to Arya and Emily, who were busy in the kitchen, and said, "Arya, Emily, I have something to tell you."

His tone was calm, but the two women immediately detected an unusual seriousness beneath that calm. They stopped what they were doing, exchanged a glance, and then walked up to him together.

"What's wrong, darling?" Arya asked with concern.

Lin Yu'an recounted the hunting scene he had witnessed on the road, as well as his entire conversation with Stan, verbatim. He made no attempt to conceal anything or exaggerate anything; he simply stated the facts objectively.

Upon hearing his words, the smiles on Arya and Emily's faces vanished, replaced by solemn expressions.

"You mean the wolf pack... might attack our chicken coop?" Arya's voice was a little tense. She wasn't afraid of wolves, but she had to be on guard at all times.

Lin Yu'an nodded. "Uncle Stan's judgment is the same as mine. The wolf pack might indeed target this place, even though our chicken coop is very sturdy. But they will test the waters and observe first, which will undoubtedly pose a threat to us."

“Then what should we do?” Emily’s reaction was more direct and calm. She immediately entered the mode of thinking about solutions. “We have guns, but we can’t guard the chicken coop 24 hours a day. We need a more proactive defense strategy.”

“You’re right.” Lin Yu’an was relieved that they hadn’t panicked but had immediately started thinking of countermeasures. “Stan taught me a few ways to use scent to deter people, but that’s not enough.”

He looked at his two wives, his eyes hardening: "These are just passive defenses, treating the symptoms but not the root cause. We need more reliable and proactive defenses."

Lin Yu'an revealed his decision: "I plan to go to Old George and borrow or buy a few animal traps from him."

"We can't place all our hopes on guns and a few bullets. We need to build an ironclad defense around the chicken coop so they can never escape!"

“We support your plan,” Emily was the first to speak. “It’s the most sensible option. We must establish the strongest deterrent before they cause any real harm.”

“We need to let those beasts know that this is not a place where they can run wild.”

Lin Yu'an grasped their hands in return and said solemnly, "I'll go get the things first. Tonight, we'll discuss together how to arrange things in the safest and most effective way."

Seeing his family members united in their hatred of the enemy and trusting each other, Lin Yu'an felt no unease at all. Instead, he felt an even stronger determination to protect everything.

"Alright, I'll be right back." He let go of her hand, turned around, and prepared to set off again.

"Be careful!" Arya and Emily called out to him from behind.

This time, he switched to the more agile Polaris snowmobile. The engine let out a crisp roar, carrying him deeper into the snowfield.

Old George's house was more like a fortress of iron and fire.

It was a house built of stone and heavy logs. In a separate forge behind the house, a rhythmic, crisp sound of metal being struck could be heard, and white steam mixed with coal smoke was billowing from the chimney.

As Lin Yu'an approached, he saw old George wielding a heavy iron hammer, pounding a red-hot piece of iron.

"Dang! Dang! Dang!"

Each strike was precise and powerful, sparks flying like orange fireworks bursting in the dimly lit workshop.

The shapeless block of iron was being tamed and shaped little by little under his hammer, gradually revealing the prototype of an axe.

The air was filled with the hot, pleasant smell of charcoal. Old George's face was covered in focus and sweat. Lin Yu'an didn't disturb him, but simply stood quietly at the door, admiring this scene of creative beauty.

Finally, old George completed the final shaping and hammering, and placed the nascent axe back into the roaring furnace for another round of heating.

"Kid, you've come." His voice was as hoarse and powerful as the steel he hammered.

Even on old George's usually serious face, a rare smile appeared.

"I thought you'd become a big star and forgotten about this old man's appointment," old George said with a hint of good-natured teasing.

"How could I forget?" Lin Yu'an smiled. "It's just after Christmas, and I've just settled things at home, so I came here immediately to learn forging from you."

This agreement was made between Lin Yu-an and Lin Yu-an fifty days ago when Lin Yu-an went to participate in a wilderness retreat.

He then changed the subject, "I just picked up the chickens from Stan's today, and on the way, I discovered things weren't going well in the woods."

Lin Yu'an briefly recounted what he had witnessed on the road and Stan's concerns. "Stan thinks they might be heading for the chicken coop."

Old George's eyes sharpened instantly. "Oh? Those beasts have made a move?"

"Hmph, as expected." Old George snorted, his smile vanishing and replaced by the seriousness typical of a blacksmith. "Take a few animal traps back later. You know how to set them up. We must be prepared to guard against those beasts."

Then, he took a thick leather apron and a pair of goggles from the shelf next to him and threw them to Lin Yu'an.

"Alright, let's begin class. Put your clothes on."

Lin Yu'an did not hesitate and immediately dressed.

Seeing the determination in Lin Yu'an's eyes, old George nodded in satisfaction. The lines on his rock-solid face seemed to soften a little.

As he spoke, old George used tongs to take a piece of iron, which was as red-hot as lava, from the furnace and placed it on the anvil.

"The first and most important lesson in forging is to have reverence for the piece of iron in front of you."

"It's alive, warm, and soft now. But soon it will get cold and hard. You have to tell it what you want it to become while it's still willing to listen to you, with the hammer in your hand."

Are you sure you're ready now?

Lin Yu'an nodded solemnly.

"it is good."

Old George grinned, revealing a set of white teeth; the smile carried a hint of satisfaction at finding a successor.

“If you want to learn forging, you have to forget your carpentry rules first.” He didn’t rush Lin Yu’an to pick up the hammer, but pointed to the roaring forging furnace, his voice steady and powerful, “The first lesson of a blacksmith is not on the anvil, but in the fire. You have to learn to ‘read fire’ first.”

He gestured for Lin Yu'an to come closer, "Forging, to put it simply, is the 'art of temperature control.' If the temperature is wrong, no matter how much force you use, you'll just be ruining a good piece of iron. Use your eyes as a thermometer and remember every color I'm about to describe."

Old George used tongs to slowly move a piece of the semi-finished product in and out of the furnace fire.
"Look, now you can just see the dark red color, which is about 650 degrees Celsius. At this temperature, the iron just begins to soften, but it is still very brittle. We call it 'red short,' and you absolutely cannot hammer it! It will crack if you do."

As the iron block stays in the furnace longer, its color begins to change. "It's cherry red now, around 800 degrees Celsius. It's suitable for some fine shaping, straightening, or punching."

"Further up, it's bright orange, around 1100 degrees Celsius. This is the temperature range most commonly used for forging carbon steel, where the iron becomes soft and has the best ductility."

"Do you see that dazzling bright yellow color at the very back? It's close to 1250 degrees Celsius. That's the temperature of 'forging and welding.' Only at this temperature can two pieces of iron truly fuse together under the hammering."

"But this temperature is also very dangerous. If it gets any higher, the iron will 'burn' and start sparking. At that point, the iron will be completely ruined."

He only explained it once, but Lin Yu'an firmly imprinted the complex relationship between the "steel chromatography" and temperature in his mind, never forgetting it.

"Got it?" old George asked.

"remember."

“Alright.” Old George nodded. “The theory is done, now it’s time for practice. Today, we’ll make something, a real, usable survival knife.”

He pulled out a grayish-brown, round steel bar about thirty centimeters long from a pile of inconspicuous materials in the corner.

“This is 5160 spring steel.” Old George handed the steel bar to Lin Yu’an so he could feel its weight. “It’s a leaf spring salvaged from a wrecked Ford pickup truck. It’s tough, durable, and has good retention. It’s the best choice for making a good field knife.”

"Our goal is to forge it into a blade blank. Remember the steps: forging the tip, sharpening, shaping the handle, and finally cutting."

Old George put one end of the steel bar into the furnace fire. "First step, forging the tip. Watch my movements carefully."

When the steel bar was heated to a bright orange-yellow color, he quickly removed it and placed it on the anvil.

“To make it sharp, you don’t just tap the end,” he said, demonstrating as he spoke.

"Look, starting from here, about five centimeters from the end, use the side of the hammer head closest to your body to apply force downward and outward. We call this 'half-sided hammering.' With each strike, you should 'push' the iron towards the end."

"Clang! Clang! Clang!—"

His hammer blows were rhythmic, each one landing precisely on the shoulder of the steel bar. Under his hammer, the round end of the bar, like a stretched dough, quickly lengthened and thinned, forming a uniform cone shape.

"The force must be evenly distributed on all four sides, otherwise the tip will become crooked." He quickly flipped the steel bar to ensure that each side was hammered evenly.

When the color dropped to cherry red, he immediately stopped striking the steel bar and sent it back into the furnace.

“Now, you come.” He pointed to another identical 5160 spring steel.

Lin Yu'an took a deep breath, heated the steel bar to the perfect bright orange-yellow color he remembered, and then took it out. Recalling every detail of Old George's movements, he swung the eight-pound hammer.

"clang!--"

The sound was crisp, and the landing point was precise!
Old George's eyes suddenly lit up! This hammer blow, in terms of angle, force, and timing, was nothing like that of a novice!
Without pausing, Lin Yu'an quickly flipped the steel bar and began the systematic "half-sided hammering".

Although his movements weren't as freehand as old George's, they were like a precise machine, with every flip angle and every hammer strike perfectly executed.

"Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!—"

The sound was no longer a clumsy tapping, but a rhythmic and crisp symphony.

The forging process, which originally required repeated guidance from experienced masters and would take a novice at least several pieces of material to master, was accomplished by him on the first try! The conical tip was smooth, centered, and perfectly formed.

"...Back to the furnace." Old George's voice carried a hint of surprise that even he himself hadn't noticed.

“Next, sharpen it.” Old George demonstrated again.

"It's about thinning the blade. The hammering angle needs to be smaller and flatter, from the back of the blade towards the edge, 'squeezing' the iron out bit by bit. Imagine you're using a hammer to spread a piece of butter."

He only demonstrated it once, and Lin Yu'an immediately understood.

When it was his turn to operate, he not only perfectly replicated old George's movements, but even subconsciously made extremely subtle adjustments to his body based on the color and sound of the iron block when he hammered.

When the temperature is high, he strikes with decisive force. When the temperature drops, he switches to lighter and faster blows to refine details.

This instinctive perception and immediate feedback on the state of materials is a blacksmith's most valuable talent!
Old George fell completely silent. He stood quietly to the side with his hands behind his back, watching Lin Yu'an train with focused and efficient movements, like a veteran who had practiced for ten years.

Sharpening, shaping the basic handle, cutting with a hot cutter... all these steps, which seem incredibly difficult to a novice, were mastered perfectly by Lin Yu'an with minimal guidance from Old George, at an almost terrifying speed.

Finally, a rough but well-proportioned and smooth-lined dagger blank was born in Lin Yu'an's hands.

Old George didn't speak. He stepped forward, took the fire tongs from Lin Yu'an, held the knife blank up to his eyes, and examined it carefully for a long time in the light.

Then, he raised his head, his eyes, deep in wrinkles, staring intently at Lin Yu'an, as if trying to see through his soul.

“Kid,” his voice was a little hoarse, “you’ve never touched a hammer before?”

"This is the first time I've had such a formal forging process today," Lin Yu'an answered honestly, but he added, "However, I do have some theoretical knowledge."

"I have read a lot of materials, from ancient iron smelting techniques to modern knife forging. I have gone through almost all the well-known knife forging competition videos and tutorials on YouTube."

"So theoretically, I know what to do at each step, and I also know how different steels will react at different temperatures."

He paused, a look of reminiscence on his face: "Moreover, when I was living alone in the wilderness, with limited resources, I once forced myself to forge a simple ice drill. Of course, that thing was very crude and couldn't compare to the craftsmanship here at all."

"But at least... it gave me a familiar feeling about hammering red-hot iron."

After hearing these words, old George slowly exhaled.

He got it.

This kid is not a blank slate at all, but a "prospective apprentice" with a wealth of theoretical knowledge.

What he lacked was not knowledge, not understanding, not even experience, but simply a suitable platform, a real forge, a flat anvil, and a handy hammer.

Once given these things, his profound theoretical foundation will burst forth with astonishing power, like a flood finding its outlet!
He's struck gold—a genius whose theory and talent are a perfect combination!
That serious face could no longer hold back, and a huge smile spread across his lips, a mixture of shock, ecstasy, and relief.

"Good...good lad!" He patted Lin Yu'an's shoulder heavily.

"No wonder! No wonder you picked it up so quickly! I thought I'd be lucky to teach you how to forge square steel into a round shape today."

He looked at Lin Yu'an with a hint of anticipation in his eyes, like a discerning eye discovering a hidden gem.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

(It's the last day! Monthly votes expire tomorrow, so please vote for me if you still have any left!)

(Another 12 words are still being written; I expect to update all 3 words together at midnight tonight.)
(End of this chapter)