Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Master of Arms

He shook his head again and said, “But weapon transformation isn’t suited for you magicians. It’s tied to your innate bloodline—there’s no forcing it!” His words came out in wheezing breaths, making Blackfeather nearly choke on a mouthful of wine.

“Huh? Does that mean I have no way to awaken my weapon?” Blackfeather asked.

“Of course not!” Rin Ao Soul slapped the table. “Do you think the secret arts of our Snowland family are something anyone can master?”

A stampede of wild thoughts raced through Blackfeather’s mind, but Rin Ao Soul continued, “However… you magicians do have ways to enhance your weapons!”

“What way?” Blackfeather pressed eagerly.

“Weapon forging, of course! But ordinary forging is nothing like what a weapon master does. Simply put, master-crafted weapons are tailored to the individual. At different stages of growth, everyone awakens a weapon form that resonates with them, also called a life-bound weapon.”

“A life-bound weapon is tied to one’s innate talent and combat habits, allowing the wielder to maximize their abilities. And only the weapon masters of our Snowland clan, skilled in the craft, can truly see this form!”

As he spoke, Rin Ao Soul suddenly grabbed Blackfeather’s hand, gazing intently at his right palm.

Blackfeather shivered, afraid his secret seal might be discovered, and quickly curled his fingers. Yet Rin Ao Soul seemed not to notice, his drunken eyes dreamy as he examined the palm for a moment, then burped, saying, “Foolish boy! You’re lucky to have met me. Your weapon has already reached the stage of transformation—you need to replace it without delay!”

“I’ve already reached the transformation stage?” Blackfeather was confused. He looked at his hand and sensed nothing unusual.

Rin Ao Soul gestured as he explained, “The degree of weapon transformation depends on one’s aptitude and talent. Some people are mediocre, and their weapon form never changes. Those with better talent, after long cultivation, see their weapon automatically shift to a second stage. Few ever achieve a third or fourth transformation.”

“What is my weapon’s current form?” Blackfeather asked with a hint of joy.

“The form revealed by weapon transformation is merely a guide. The weapon master uses it to craft the perfect weapon for you! If you want to see your weapon’s changing form… come, give me your hand again.”

Blackfeather hesitated no longer. He calmly extended his right hand. Rin Ao Soul gathered a breeze-like magic in his palm—not like any elemental magic, but a pure force—and swept it across Blackfeather’s palm.

“Now, close your eyes, focus your thoughts on your hand, and picture yourself in battle. Don’t try to imagine the weapon’s form intentionally.”

Blackfeather followed the instructions, closing his eyes. Scenes from recent battles flickered before him—the white scorpion’s sinister grin, the mutated monster after swallowing ogre potion, its fists raining blows upon him, while his staff proved useless in close combat.

He also saw the moment in the cave when he slew the black demon bear, leaping to leave a deep gash in its belly.

Countless battle scenes flashed by at random, but curiously, his mind finally settled on the confrontation with the demon clan. He’d hovered above a street, facing the demon with crimson horns, ash-gray skin, and a memorable weapon.

“There it is!” Rin Ao Soul suddenly shouted.

Blackfeather opened his eyes. His right palm now shimmered with a cloud of black mist, within which floated a weapon shaped like a trident.

“A trident?!” Blackfeather exclaimed in surprise. “Isn’t that the weapon the demon once wielded?”

“Hmm, a Hell Trident—the legendary weapon of the demon race,” Rin Ao Soul mused, stroking his chin. “Though its form favors close combat, with blades that pierce and slash, it still qualifies as a staff. Very well, I’ll forge it for you!”

“Thank you, Brother Rin!” Blackfeather was overcome with excitement, thinking, “A weapon that slashes and casts spells—this is exactly what I’ve dreamed of!”

“Let me see your old weapon,” Rin Ao Soul requested.

Blackfeather conjured his original Asura Wood staff and handed it over.

The Asura Wood was heavy, pitch-black, radiating a strange yet ancient aura. After the battle with the white scorpion, the staff was visibly damaged and warped; following the duel with Little Rain, it had been punctured by spikes, riddled with holes.

Rin Ao Soul clicked his tongue at the sight. “So this is your staff? But look at how battered it is—why haven’t you bothered to repair it?”

Blackfeather scratched his head. “I never met you before…”

“To forge a new weapon, you’ll need some materials. Your staff’s wood is good—it can be melted down as one of the ingredients.”

“What materials do I need? Tell me, I’ll jot them down and collect them during my training.”

Rin Ao Soul waved his hand. “There’s nothing worthwhile in the nearby forests! Your weapon’s dark attribute makes the materials hard to find. Only beyond the Great Wall of the Eastern Continent will you get what you need…” He thought for a moment.

“If you want maximum power, you’ll need the wing bones of a demon bat for speed, sea serpent scales for resilience, giant mantis claws for cutting, and desert scorpion tails for piercing… Tell you what, next time I go beyond the Great Wall for a mission, I’ll bring back these materials for you!”

“Really? That’s wonderful—thank you so much!” Blackfeather exclaimed.

“No need for thanks. Old Rin doesn’t like owing favors.”

Through this encounter, Blackfeather’s impression of the straightforward and forthright Commander Rin had changed. Though Rin’s temper was fierce and his methods forceful, he had acted today to save two unknown demonfolk, risking the wrath of Prince Lei Jue—a gesture worthy of respect.

The prince from the Thunder Clan they’d met today looked barely twenty, yet his strength had already reached the pinnacle of magus mastery. Commander Rin must have been over thirty, and still suffered defeat. Blackfeather himself was knocked down in a single blow.

Such a vast difference forced Blackfeather to keep the Thunder Clan firmly in mind.

The news of Commander Rin’s duel with Prince Lei Jue outside the city gates quickly spread throughout the Holy City. People everywhere discussed it in amazement. Their “Commander Rin,” a symbol of the Holy City, had actually lost a fight?

Of course, his impulsive act of removing his armor and declaring his resignation from the guard was soon retold as a legendary tale. Yet this only heightened his stature in the eyes of the city’s people, making him even more beloved.