In the Name of Chen

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"You, you! How am I, an old woman, supposed to talk sense into you? Can't a family simply sit down together and share a meal in peace?"

Dong Zhuo wore an awkward expression, waved his hand to disperse the surrounding Tiger Guards, and waddled his bulky frame over to sit beside Old Madam Dong.

"Mother, that lad is the most treacherous of all. Do you truly believe he's defecting in good faith? Clearly he has other motives—don't let him fool you."

Old Madam Dong called out softly: "Zhongying."

"Yes?"

"You've changed."

Dong Zhuo fell silent.

Old Madam Dong sighed and continued her rambling: "Back in the old days at our hometown in Lintao, when the Qiang tribesmen came to see you, you'd slaughter the family's plow ox to host them. The Qiang were so moved that they gathered over a thousand head of livestock to gift you in return. Why? Was it not because my son was righteous and generous? If you treat outsiders that well, why are you so guarded against your own family? Even if you didn't bring your armored guards, would he truly dare to harm you?"

Dong Zhuo opened his mouth: "Mother, that lad is—"

Old Madam Dong thumped her cane hard on the floor several times.

She said angrily: "This old woman isn't deaf, nor blind! Isn't he that Invincible Chen whom you'd sell your own granddaughter to win over? Is he not your grandson-in-law? The man treats you as his elder, eats your food, drinks your wine, lives under your roof—why isn't he afraid you might harm him?"

Dong Zhuo found it rather grating to hear, yet he didn't dare talk back, letting the old lady's spittle fly onto his face.

He steeled himself and said: "I'll have someone prepare a residence for him. We'll break fast together tomorrow morning and attend court together. Does that satisfy you?"

Old Madam Dong, content with her victory, shot Dong Zhuo a sidelong glance and said smugly: "Now that's more like a proper grandfather-in-law. Off you go."

...

Chen Cong left the Grand Preceptor's estate, leading fifty Flying Bear guards as he swaggered through the streets, all but writing the word "playboy" across his face.

Right in front of the patrolling armor-clad soldiers, he kicked open the sealed doors of the Cao residence.

Returning to the side hall where he had once stayed, he pried up the blue stone slab beneath the couch and retrieved the first pot of gold he had buried there long ago. Casually, he fished out a gold ingot from the chest and tossed it to Cheng Zhuo.

Cheng Zhuo looked slightly uneasy and said: "We are merely following orders as your escort. The Commandant will reward us on his end—there's no need for General Invincible to spend extra."

"We're brothers. What's all this talk of rewards? Take the lads and treat them to a good meal and drink. On the way, stop by Cuihong Tower and pick up the jade blank. Meet me back here at the hour of xu."

"Understood."

Having dismissed the Flying Bear guards, Chen Cong hoisted the gold chest onto his horse, Shadow Chaser, and galloped through the city. Before long, he arrived back at the familiar blacksmith shop in the Western Market.

Wu Xi was just as he'd always been.

Face set in a scowl, he hammered away at an iron billet with a clang and a bang, nonstop.

"Old Wu, I'm back."

Wu Xi started at the sound, nearly smashing his own hand.

He quickly dropped the tools, grabbed Chen Cong, and yanked him inside. Stretching his head out the door, he looked around carefully to make sure there was no tail, then shut the door with great caution.

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"Damn you, Chen Zining! If you want to die, die alone—don't drag me down with you!"

Clatter!

Chen Cong casually tossed the wooden chest aside. The lid burst open, scattering gold ingots across the floor.

"Same terms as before: three months, I want a weapon that will absolutely never break."

"So by that, you mean the weapons I gave you before all broke." Wu Xi frowned at Chen Cong, though without much surprise.

He had more or less guessed that the infamous Invincible Chen, feared far and wide, was the same Chen Zining who had once paraded through town with gold.

Chen Cong said: "The Crouching Tiger Blade and the Winged Tiger Spear both shattered. Only the Flying Tiger Halberd remains intact—I never used it."

Wu Xi rested his elbow on his arm, chin in hand, and fell into deep thought.

The Crouching Tiger Blade and Winged Tiger Spear were already the pinnacle of his craft. If even those two divine weapons couldn't bear Chen Cong's monstrous strength, then no other weapon could either.

If it wasn't the weapon's fault, then it could only be the man's.

"Since... no matter what divine weapon you use, it'll shatter, why not use weapon blanks? Just focus on toughness and weight. Forge ten in one batch, keep nine as spares, and replace them if any break. That way, cycling through them, you'll never go unprepared."

With that, Wu Xi rummaged around and produced a long blade, handing it to Chen Cong.

He explained offhandedly: "To forge a divine weapon: smelt for a month to form the material, hammer ten thousand times to shape the blank, hammer another ten thousand to purge impurities and keep the essence, then file and scrape to correct its form, quench to give it both hardness and flexibility, coarse-grind to smooth it, fine-grind to polish it, engrave patterns to beautify it, and finally assemble it into a finished weapon.

If you're the one using it, you only need to go as far as the quenching step to achieve hardness and flexibility. To be frank, the coarse-grind, fine-grind, and engraving that follow are all for aesthetics—and they're the most time-consuming. With a weapon blank like this, I can forge one in half a month to a month."

Chen Cong took the long blade and gave it a few swings. He didn't find it ugly—the blank still had fine raised iron texture that was slightly rough on the hand, which conveniently prevented slipping.

The blade as a whole looked hazy and dull gray, but it carried a strange, fierce charm of its own.

"Too light. And too short."

Wu Xi took the blade back and tossed it aside.

"A hundred catties, one zhang in length—how's that?"

Chen Cong thought for a moment, then said: "Make it one zhang and two chi. And can it be heavier still?"

"A hundred and twenty catties. Any heavier and it'll compromise the weapon's flexibility, and the horse will struggle to carry it."

"Fine, then. But don't make them all blade blanks—five blades and five spears."

Chen Cong didn't dwell on it. They were consumables anyway; he'd just use whatever strength he had.

It wasn't as if he could go through all ten weapons in a single battle.

Wu Xi thought it over, then said: "The term 'weapon blank' is a mouthful. From now on, let's call such finished weapons 'Chen' weapons—after all, no one else would wield something like this."

Name them after Chen?

Chen Blade? Chen Spear?

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Chen Cong's eyes lit up—bright, brilliant!

For a single instant, Shi A possessed him, and the flame of his inner chuuni spirit blazed fiercely.

Just as later generations would call the long-handled blade a "Guan Dao,"

today, a blade blank that had passed the quenching stage could be called a Chen Dao. Tomorrow, it could be a Chen Marquis Dao, or even a Chen King Dao.

None of that mattered.

What mattered was that it could become a concept, a trend—even a label belonging solely to a peerless champion!

General A: "That scoundrel—how dare he wield a Chen King Dao in his hands?"

General B: "Nothing special. He's simply too strong for ordinary weapons to bear, so he does it for convenience."

So...

A man who wielded a Guan Dao might be a fierce warrior—or might not.

But a man who wielded a Chen Dao was guaranteed to be a 24-karat genuine badass. Otherwise, wouldn't he just be a joke?

Carrying a rough blade blank and chopping with it for twenty years without it breaking? And by then, the shaft'd been polished smooth from years of gripping...

Is the unfinished haft not rough enough on the hands? Or is the family too poor to forge a proper blade?

Chen Cong smiled, brilliantly: "Old Wu, so by your meaning, you're willing to forge weapons for me exclusively?"

Wu Xi clasped his fists: "A nobody like me would be honored to ride on General Invincible's coattails and win a name for myself after death. I hope you won't refuse."

"Hahaha! Well said, well said. I have to say—you've got one hell of an eye."

Er...

Chen Cong waved his hand and continued: "Then get to work. I'll come find you when I leave."

"Wait."

Wu Xi bent over, gathered the gold back into the chest, and pushed it toward Chen Cong: "I'm the one taking advantage of you. How could I take your money on top of that? Take it back."

"Oh?" Chen Cong looked at him seriously. "That's not what you said last time."

Wu Xi burst out laughing: "I'm just a blacksmith. I was blind and didn't recognize a hero. Don't hold it against me, don't hold it against me."

Chen Cong laughed too: "My name is Chen Cong. From now on, when you walk the world, drop my name—it works! This time, it really works."

The laughter died down.

The two looked at each other for a moment, then solemnly clasped fists.

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