What do you mean by saying that the corpses I sew are all ominous creatures?

I opened the car door and sat in the passenger seat. The car was well-heated, and there was a strong smell of chive dumplings in the air.

"Why did you switch to this car?" I asked, fastening my seatbelt.

"That Mercedes is too conspicuous. Jiangcheng is in complete chaos right now. Although the Shadow Sect has lost a few elders, they still have their informants. It's better to keep a low profile."

Jin Wanliang said as he shifted gears.

"Besides, if you're going to see someone like Old Man Huo, you're likely to get ripped off if you drive a luxury car."

That old man treats people differently based on their social status. If you dress like a rich man, he can sell nails for the price of gold bars.

The Santana emitted a plume of black smoke and swayed as it drove into the night.

The car headed north, passing through the bustling city center, where the surrounding buildings became increasingly shorter and the streetlights increasingly sparse.

After driving for about forty minutes, we arrived at an abandoned industrial area.

This used to be Jiangcheng's old steel plant, which ceased production and relocated more than a decade ago.

Jin Wanliang skillfully turned the car onto a narrow road full of coal ash, and finally stopped in front of a red brick building that looked like an old boiler room.

This place is extremely remote, without even a streetlamp. Only a faint, dark red light shines through the crack of that dilapidated iron gate.

"We've arrived. Keep quiet when we go inside, I'll take care of things."

Jin Wanliang gave a word of advice, then got out of the car.

I followed closely behind.

As soon as I got off the bus, I heard a rhythmic "ding-dong" sound, which sounded particularly crisp in the quiet night.

Jin Wanliang walked to the iron gate, but instead of knocking, he kicked the bottom of the gate three times, twice hard and once lightly.

"Creak—"

The iron gate was opened a crack from the inside.

A burnt smell, accompanied by a wave of heat, wafted over.

The man who opened the door was shirtless, with bulging muscles all over his body, a fierce face, and a large pair of iron pliers in his hand.

But when he saw Jin Wanliang, he stepped aside to make way for him.

"Master Huo is inside," the burly man said in a muffled voice.

We went inside.

This is a huge workshop with a massive iron-smelting furnace in the middle. The furnace fire is burning brightly, illuminating the entire space in a fiery red glow.

Beside the stove sat a thin, old man.

He was wearing a vest so dirty you couldn't tell its original color, and he was holding a purple clay teapot, slurping tea from the spout.

What's most striking is his right arm, which is twice as thick as a normal person's and covered with burn scars, making it look somewhat grotesque.

"Master Huo, it's been a long time."

Jin Wanliang grinned and approached, casually pulling out two packs of Zhonghua cigarettes from his pocket and placing them on the table.

Old Huo didn't even lift his eyelids, merely glancing at the two packs of cigarettes, and snorted, "Nobody comes here without a reason. Fatty Jin, what kind of deity have you offended this time that you need me to hammer coffin nails for you?"

"Look at you, I've brought you business."

Jin Wanliang pointed at me, "This is my brother. He has a broken knife and would like to ask you to take a look at it."

Old Huo then raised his head, his cloudy old eyes sweeping over me.

In that instant, I felt as if I had been pierced by X-rays.

His gaze lingered on my brow and left hand for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"That's interesting."

He put down the purple clay teapot and stretched out his withered hand: "Give it to me."

Without hesitation, I took out the red cloth bag from my pocket, took out the scalpel, and handed it over.

Old Man Huo took the knife, glanced at it, and his brows furrowed.

He extended his finger and flicked lightly at the notch in the blade.

"Zheng—"

A crisp sound rang out, but the ending note carried a hint of hoarseness.

"A fine blade. Refined steel through a hundredfold process, and nourished with human blood and malevolent energy for at least sixty years, this blade is itself a semi-finished magical artifact."

Old Man Huo made a comment, then changed the subject.

"But this wound... was it bitten by a centuries-old zombie? The corpse's aura has seeped into its bones, and its malevolent energy is overwhelming. This knife is ruined."

"Can it be repaired?" I asked calmly.

"It can't be repaired with ordinary fire."

Old Man Huo threw the knife on the table with a loud clang.

"No fire can burn away this corpse's evil energy. If you try to burn it by force, the knife will be ruined and turned into a piece of scrap iron."

Jin Wanliang quickly interjected, "Master Huo, you are a titan in this industry, you must have a way. The price is negotiable."

Old Huo glanced at him sideways: "This isn't about money."

To repair this knife, we need to use strong fire to force out the corpse evil inside, and then reforge it with gentle fire.

The fire in my stove isn't strong enough.

After he finished speaking, he looked at me and a strange smile appeared on his lips.

"However, I see that this young man has quite a fiery temper."

A thought struck me.

"You mean, use my malevolent energy?"

"That's right."

Old Man Huo stood up, walked to the stove, and picked up a huge iron hammer.

"You're a corpse stitcher, aren't you? I see the evil energy in your body has already liquefied, which is perfect for using as a catalyst."

When I open the furnace later, you pour your malevolent energy into it to envelop this knife.

I'll handle the forging, you handle the cleaning. Whether it works or not depends on your skills.

That old man is really something; he saw right through me at a glance.

"it is good."

Without saying a word, I took off my coat and walked to the fireplace.

Old Huo didn't hesitate either; he used long tongs to pick up the willow-leaf knife and threw it directly into the red-hot furnace.

"Do it!" he shouted.

I took a deep breath and mobilized the liquid evil energy in my dantian.

The malevolent energy surged through my meridians to my palms, and I suddenly pressed my hands lightly against the outside of the furnace wall.

Even from a distance, the black, malevolent energy, like ink, surged into the furnace opening.

"boom!"

The originally orange-red flames turned into a strange dark blue-green the moment they came into contact with the malevolent energy.

The willow-leaf dagger trembled in the raging fire, making a hissing sound, and wisps of black smoke rose from its blade.

That was the corpse spirit left behind by General Zuo being stripped away.

"Now!"

Old Huo picked up the red-hot knife blank and placed it on the anvil.

He swung the large iron hammer, his muscles bulging like rocks.

"when!"

Sparks flew as the hammer struck.

I wasn't idle either. While maintaining the flow of malevolent energy, I used my mental power to lock onto the blade, guiding the malevolent energy to seep into the blade and fill in those tiny cracks.

"Clang! Clang! Clang!"

Old Man Huo's hammering technique was extremely fast, and every blow hit the key points.

As it was struck, the shape of the willow-leaf knife gradually returned to normal, and the originally bright blade became darker and darker, eventually revealing a deep luster like obsidian.

After half an hour.

"Quenching!"

At Old Man Huo's command, he plunged the blade into a bucket of black water beside him.

"laugh--"

Large plumes of white smoke rose, and the entire workshop was filled with a strange, metallic, burnt smell.

I withdrew my malevolent energy and felt a little weak.

This kind of high-intensity output is more tiring than fighting a battle.

Old Huo fished the knife out of the bucket and casually tossed it to me.

"Take it and try it."