Douluo Continent III Haotian Wulin

The fire in the stove gradually grew stronger.

The piece of silver lay quietly in the center of the furnace. The silvery-white metal surface first showed a soft red hue, and then the red color gradually seeped in, like the deep-sea cold iron finally having its outer shell pried open by the high temperature, slowly revealing the temperature suitable for hammering.

Tang Wulin stood in front of the furnace, not in a hurry to make a move.

He just watched.

Watch the piece of silver gradually change color in the fire, see the first luster appear at its edges, and see its unyielding nature that refuses to soften even under intense heat.

Then, he raised his right hand.

With a flash of silver light, the Sinking Star Hammer silently fell into his palm.

The moment the hammer touched his hand, Tang Wulin fell silent.

For the past three years, he has been using it to forge.

It wasn't an ordinary forging hammer, nor was it one of the standard iron hammers in the workshop; it was the martial spirit that had been with him since the day he awakened.

Others wield tools.

What he grasped felt more like a weight extending from his own bones.

Mang Tian stood aside, silent, watching quietly.

The light fell on the boy's profile and also on the jet-black hammer. After fusing with the soul, the Sinking Star Hammer was heavier than before, and the few extremely faint dark gold patterns deep in the hammer's surface would occasionally flash gently in the glow of the furnace fire, like lines buried deep in the iron's color.

It took almost half an hour for the silver to finally reach the right temperature.

Tang Wulin pressed the card slot, and the sunken silver slowly rose.

A wave of heat hit him, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead. But he didn't blink; he simply raised the Heavy Star Hammer slightly and tapped the edge of the Heavy Silver Hammer lightly.

"bite."

The sound was very clear.

It's not crisp, it's firm.

It's like there's something inside that's very taut, only letting you hear a tiny echo.

Test hammer.

This was something Mangtian had taught him very early on: before really starting, listen to whether it was willing to speak.

Tang Wulin's gaze sharpened slightly upon hearing the echo, and then he took a half step forward with his left foot, finally bringing the Sinking Star Hammer down.

"when!"

The first hammer blow landed on a corner of the sunken silver.

The entire piece of metal was gently shaken, but it hardly deformed, leaving only a shallow circular dent on the surface.

Immediately afterwards, the second, third, and fourth hammer blows followed.

The sound of hammers quickly became continuous.

Unlike a sudden downpour or a frenzied attack, it carried a very steady rhythm. The intervals between each hammer blow were almost identical, and the points of impact were very fine, as if it were not smashing a heavy and rare piece of metal, but rather slowly knocking on a door that was unwilling to be opened.

Tang Wulin did not use his full strength.

They even used only 30% or 40%.

Unlike the common metals he usually deals with, smelted silver is too hard, too heavy, and too stubborn. If he were to start by striking it relentlessly, he would only break down its surface without truly understanding its internal texture. With this kind of thing, being impatient is the most useless thing to do.

So he's not in a hurry.

The hammer blows one by one, and we listen carefully, bit by bit.

The recoil from the heavy silver was immense, far greater than that of ordinary metals. Each time the hammerhead struck, the recoil would push back along the handle, as if the metal were using all its bones to resist its intrusion. But Tang Wulin's hand was now much steadier than before; his wrist, elbow, shoulder, and back were all tightly contracted, managing to absorb each wave of recoil and then smoothly transform it into the next hammer blow.

At first, Chen Yin's response was cold.

Like the deepest reef in the ocean, heavy, hard, and silent.

Tang Wulin didn't urge it.

Time passed little by little.

Only the soft hissing of the furnace fire and the rhythmic thud of the falling star hammer remained in the forging room.

Mang Tian stood to the side, his expression calm, but a faint hint of satisfaction slowly surfaced in his eyes.

What's most precious about this child has never been his strength.

There are many strong people, and there are also people willing to endure hardship. But what is most rare is that Tang Wulin, who clearly possesses superhuman strength enough to overpower anyone, can still maintain such composure when it truly requires finesse.

He didn't try to forcefully subdue Chen Yin just because he was stronger and had spirit rings.

On the contrary, he was more patient than before.

This shows that he not only has steady hands, but also a steady mind.

An hour later, the silver had only tightened slightly; it was far from being refined through a hundredfold refining, let alone a thousandfold refining.

Tang Wulin showed no impatience whatsoever.

His breathing remained even, and although sweat was gradually appearing on his forehead, his gaze became increasingly focused. The Star Hammer struck the surface of the silver again and again, each circular hammer mark almost identical in size, as if someone had patiently driven each hammer into the bone of this metal.

In the second hour, the hammering became more frequent.

It's not that it's more urgent, but rather that it's more coherent.

Tang Wulin has gradually figured out the temperament of this piece of sunken silver.

It is heavy and sturdy, with a surface that is almost stubbornly hard, yet at high temperatures, it contains an extremely fine layer of extension. Unlike other metals, this extension is not exposed; rather, it is like an undercurrent hidden in deep water. You have to try and push it again and again before you can find the place where it is truly willing to yield.

He became more and more focused as he played.

Focusing on what's in front of me, there's nothing else but this piece of sunken silver.

The furnace, the lamplight, the forging room, the teacher, even time itself seemed to fade away. Only the touch of the hammer as it fell and the slight vibration of the slush returning to him became clearer and clearer, more and more like a conversation that only they could understand.

At one point, Tang Wulin even clearly felt that he seemed to "hear" the sinking silver.

It's not a sound.

It's something more subtle.

Where it's tight, where it's loose; where it's been pushed to the edge, where it's still stubbornly holding on; where it's hard on the outside but soft on the inside, where it's cold inside and out—all of this travels back through the hammer and wrist, bit by bit.

He didn't know if this counted as "communication" as the teacher had mentioned.

But he knew that he had already begun to truly encounter it.

Two hours later, Tang Wulin finally stopped for a moment.

It wasn't that he was too tired to lift his arms, but rather that he knew the time was right.

In those two hours, he hadn't made much progress in the purification process, but he had already figured out most of the smelted silver from top to bottom. Every tiny round pit on the surface was a probe, a mark. They gradually revealed the metal's veins, like slowly outlining the contours of a texture that was originally hidden deep inside.

Tang Wulin raised his hand to wipe away the sweat, the stray hairs on his forehead already damp and clinging to his skin. But his eyes shone brightly, not with superficial excitement, but with a kind of exhilaration that comes from truly finding the right path.

Mang Tian looked at him and finally spoke slowly:

"Have you figured it out?"

Tang Wulin did not answer immediately, but simply nodded slightly.

Then, he gripped the Sinking Star Hammer tightly again.

This time, his posture changed.

It's no longer just about being stable, but about going even lower. The feet feel like they're nailed to the ground, the calves generate power, the waist and back tighten, and the power of the whole body no longer stops at the arms, but seems to pull upwards from the ground, finally converging on the hammer.

"when."

The first truly powerful hammer blow finally landed.

The voice was completely different from before.

Heavier, louder, and deeper.

The hammer marks on the surface of the silver, which were originally only slight depressions, were now noticeably deeper. The metal trembled slightly in the fire, and the edges of the entire piece seemed to vibrate as well.

Immediately afterwards, the second and third hammer blows came down in quick succession.

Tang Wulin is starting to really unleash his power.

The sinking star hammer rose and fell in his palm, accompanied by an increasingly heavy whistling sound. With each strike, he could feel that familiar heat rising gently up his spine, no longer surging uncontrollably like it had a few days ago, but gradually being restrained by his movements, breathing, and intention, transforming into a purer force.

This is not a soul skill.

It's not a blood rush either.

It's more like an instinct that's beginning to be tamed.

The furnace fire was enlarged by his foot, and orange-red flames immediately shot up from the surrounding nozzles, pushing the temperature of the smelting silver upwards again. The metal shone brightly red in the firelight, while Tang Wulin's Smelting Star Hammer relentlessly hammered that layer of light inwards.

The hammering grew more frequent.

The sparks flew higher and higher.

Shen Yin was no longer just stubbornly resisting; she finally began to yield little by little under his heavy blows. It wasn't a rout, but rather like a door that had been closed for a long time, finally being pushed open a crack by someone who found the right place.

Mang Tian stood to the side, his eyes now completely dark.

He originally thought that Tang Wulin would be lucky to even touch the door tonight.

But now it seems that the child did more than just touch it.