Douluo Dragon King: I, Huo Linfei, the Mecha Illusionary Lin God

He raised his head and looked at Huo Linfei for a very long time.

Finally, the burly man let out a long breath and stuffed the red copper back into Huo Linfei's hand.

"Keep this safe. This is your first piece of work." His voice was a little hoarse.

"Starting tomorrow, you won't need to do basic training anymore. I'll teach you real forging."

Huo Linfei held the warm red copper and grinned.

He pulled up a chair and sat down, his gaze darting back and forth between Huo Linfei and the piece of red copper, his brows furrowed as if he were solving a complex math problem.

"Boy," Mang Tian suddenly spoke, "show me your flames again."

Huo Linfei raised his left hand. The superpower lock glowed with a soft red light in the dimly lit studio, and a cluster of flames suddenly rose from his palm.

He controlled it very well this time; the flames weren't large, but the temperature was extremely high, distorting the surrounding air.

Mang Tian squinted, leaned in very close, and observed carefully.

The flames weren't ordinary red. At their core was a fiery white, transitioning to orange-red towards the outside, while the outermost layer had a strange touch of emerald green.

The way the flames leaped was also very special—not the rigid burning of soul fire driven by soul power, but... like a living thing, breathing and pulsating.

"Can the temperature be controlled?" Mang Tian asked.

Huo Linfei nodded, and with a thought, the flames shrank dramatically, the temperature plummeted, and they turned a warm, gentle yellow. With another thought, the flames surged, the temperature soared, and the metal in the workshop began to hum.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Mang Tian quickly waved his hand. "That's enough."

Huo Linfei extinguished the flames.

Mang Tian remained silent for a full minute. He got up, walked to the workbench, picked up a piece of scrap iron, then walked back and handed it to Huo Linfei:

"Burn it. I want you to heat it to the perfect temperature for forging, not melt it, but just soften it."

Huo Linfei took the iron material, and the flame in his palm reignited. He closed his eyes, feeling the metal change within the flames—its hardness, density, and internal structure. This information was transmitted back through the flames, as clear as if the metal itself were speaking to him.

Three seconds later, the surface of the iron material turned a uniform dark red.

"It's ready." Huo Linfei opened his eyes.

Mang Tian took the iron material, touched it with his fingers to check its temperature, tapped it with a tool, and listened to the sound.

Then he raised his head and looked at Huo Linfei with a complex expression, as if he were looking at an alien creature.

"I understand," Mang Tian said slowly. "Your flames are not generated by external soul power, but are a part of your body. They originate from the same source as you, and you can perfectly control every bit of their temperature."

Huo Linfei nodded: "Yes, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Mang Tian raised his voice. "Do you know what the hardest part of forging is? It's not the hammering technique, it's the control of the heat! Out of ten successful forgings, the control of the heat accounts for 30%! Countless blacksmiths spend their entire lives stuck on controlling the heat, and you—"

He pointed to the piece of iron: "A simple heat is all it takes to reach the perfect forging temperature. The error is no more than five degrees. Do you know what that means? It means that when you forge, the metal is always in its optimal state, impurities are easier to remove, and the structure is easier to shape!"

Huo Linfei blinked: "So... I'm very powerful?"

Mang Tian wanted to curse, but he held back. He took a deep breath: "Also, the red copper you chose is a fire-attribute metal, naturally compatible with your flames. The heat is right, the material is right, plus your damn talent..."

He paused, his voice carrying an almost absurd exclamation:

"A thousand refinings a day seems impossible, but it actually makes sense for you."

Huo Linfei grinned, showing no modesty whatsoever: "Of course. Otherwise, how could I be your apprentice?"

These words were spoken so matter-of-factly and confidently that they left Mang Tian speechless.

He looked at Huo Linfei's still-childish yet confident face, at the light dancing in those emerald green eyes, and finally sighed and smiled.

"Alright," Mang Tian said. "From today onwards, you are my disciple. That piece of red copper is my gift to you as a formal apprenticeship present."

Huo Linfei's eyes lit up, and he quickly tucked the red copper into his pocket: "Thank you, teacher!"

Just then, a weak voice came from the side.

"Teacher... what about me?"

The two turned around and saw Tang Wulin walking over at some point.

The little guy was covered in sweat, his clothes soaked and clinging to his body, his arms still trembling slightly—a lingering effect of swinging the hammer for so long. But he stood ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on Mang Tian, ​​filled with expectation, trepidation, and a hint of…grievance.

He completed the task assigned by Mang Tian, ​​swinging the hammer a thousand times without missing a single one, his movements progressing from clumsy to standard.

From beginning to end, Mang Tian and Huo Linfei's attention was focused on the piece of red copper, and no one glanced at him.

Huo Linfei's heart skipped a beat. He had been so focused on his own enjoyment that he had forgotten about his second brother.

Mang Tian was also stunned. He looked at Tang Wulin, at the stubbornness in the child's eyes, and suddenly realized that he had made a mistake. He had focused too much on Huo Linfei, this prodigy, and neglected another child who was also working hard.

"You..." Mang Tian walked to the spot where Tang Wulin had just swung his hammer and looked at the ground.

There were sweat stains on the ground, pools of sweat forming a continuous patch. On the anvil lay an ordinary iron ingot, which Mang Tian had casually tossed to Tang Wulin for practice.

Mang Tian picked up the iron ingot and weighed it in his hand.

Then his pupils contracted slightly.

This iron ingot... has changed.

Although the surface is still rough, the weight is different. The iron ingot that originally weighed five pounds is now at least half an ounce lighter. Moreover, the feel is different; it is denser and has a more substantial texture.

Mang Tian suddenly looked at Tang Wulin: "You were practicing with this iron ingot just now?"

Tang Wulin nodded: "Yes. The teacher told me to wave it a thousand times, so I waved it at it."

"A thousand times... all at the same point?"

"Yes," Tang Wulin answered honestly, "The teacher didn't say we could change places, so I kept tapping the middle."

Mang Tian fell silent.

He placed the iron ingot on the workbench and picked up a magnifying glass to examine it closely. A shallow dent had been hammered into the center of the ingot. The metallic texture around the dent... was converging towards the center.

This is not a simple tapping.

This is an unconscious "forging focus". In a thousand repeated strikes, Tang Wulin's landing point error is no more than one millimeter.

This terrifying precision, coupled with unwavering perseverance, allowed the impurities inside the iron ingot to be squeezed towards the center little by little, and then discharged through that pit.

Although it is far from being a hundred times refined, it already has the beginnings of a hundred times refined.

If you give him the right materials, the right flame, and the right instructions...

Mang Tian raised his head and looked at Tang Wulin. The child was covered in sweat, his face was pale, but his eyes were clear and contained an indescribable tenacity.

"How long did it take you to swing it a thousand times?" Mang Tian asked.

Tang Wulin thought for a moment: "About... an hour and a half."

One and a half hours, three hours. Swinging a fifteen-pound hammer continuously, with a landing point error of no more than one millimeter.

Mang Tian's heart skipped a beat again.

What day is it today? What kind of monsters did God send him?

A fiery prodigy who wields fire with unparalleled skill, forging it a thousand times a day.

A practitioner of asceticism with astonishing perseverance and abnormal precision.