Charlie glanced over his shoulder at Atuel, giant smile never faltering. His eyes twinkled with curiosity. “What brings you here to my smithy, kinda devil boy? Don't tell me you came here to die?”

He spoke to him directly, but never turning his body from whatever place Zhu Wei stood. The extreme caution was clear, as though at any moment, a battle could still take place.

At that moment, Atuel could not help but curse the cultivator, the hope he had, and worse, the worthless piece of trash he had received. It had been three months and still, nothing about his situation had changed. He would cultivate every night, but the seemingly bottomless hole in his chest just kept sucking the Qi in his body dry.

He was still as weak as before, maybe even worse considering the lack of sleep he was getting every day. His mother had noticed his deep black and blue eye bags, but she never really pried, content to watch him leave when the sun set.

“Boy!”

Atuel jumped. He had zoned out.

“Did you hear me? Why are you here?” Charlie said, eyes narrowing slightly. The workers had started whispering like chattering housewives.

“I…” Atuel gulped, his heart had started to beat like a runaway horse and hands slick with sweat. He wiped his hands on his trousers and gathered his courage. He was here already, nothing to lose. “I am here to buy a weapon!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

The entire group winced.

Charlie patted his shoulder, still refusing to face away from Zhu Wei. “A weapon? Sure-”

“Over my dead body.” Zhu Wei said, his tone low and filled with intent. “Filth like him would only kill to sate his evil desires.”

“C’mon, Zhu Wei. Money is money. What difference…” Charlie froze mid sentence. “Are you really choosing this hill to die on?”

Zhu Wei’s eyes narrowed, the saying rocketing over his head. “It will not be I that shall die, old friend. He shall not stain any jian or glaive with his hands. No knife, Miaodao either!”

Charlie nodded sagely. He rubbed his wild beard, attempting to look scholarly. It did not work. He started counting Zhu Wei’s conditions with his fingers. “That’s it?”

Zhu Wei thought for a long moment, before finally nodding.

Atuel stared at the weird duo. If they always fought, why did they work together? Wouldn’t it be much more efficient to make separate stores? He would never get his response, nor would he want it. He just wanted to get out of this place.

It had been a mistake coming here. It had to be the weirdest, most extreme smithy. He had assumed the foreigner would be easily tricked into selling him one, never did he expect the exact opposite.

Normal smithies would have long kicked him out giving him enough time to search for another more susceptible person. Instead, he was here stuck in the arms of a giant that completely wrapped around him giving him no chance to escape.

Charlie snapped his finger, an epiphany. “A scimitar! You guys hate them right!”

Zhu Wei suddenly smiled like a demon. “Yes, a disgraced blade for the lower ilk. A grand idea, Charlie. I did not believe you were capable of it.”

The red man coughed into his hand, releasing Atuel. He rushed to the back of the smithy and began to cause a large commotion. The workers and even Zhu Wei were far too occupied with the mess he was making to bother with Atuel. A cloud of dust had even begun spreading.

Charlie emerged out the cloud of dust, everyone was hacking, holding a dirty thin scimitar sheathed in an engraved scabbard with a ring in the middle. The handle was a leathery brown that needed an enormous amount of cleaning and shining to make it pleasant to the eye.

The triumph in his eyes was only shadowed by how old the blade looked. In his other hand was a round shield, three feet in diameter, that was equally covered in engravings in a swirling design. It also had four round bolts that held it together.

It was equally dusty and in clear disrepair.

Atuel could not help but gape at how terrible they looked in general. Had they been collecting dust and rust for the past century? He would be quite inclined to believe it.

Zhu Wei, on the other hand, could not help but break out in a mad cackle, eyes burning bright. “Yes, they will be perfect.” he turned to look at Atuel from a raised chin and a smirk that begged to be slapped. “Now, hand over all that you carry.”

Atuel grabbed the scimitar with a hopeless look, understanding how much ecstasy the workers were taking in seeing him in that state. But, a weapon was a weapon, he could not complain.

He reached into his shirt, pulling out a puch he had tied to his chest. He threw it on the ground and ran as fast as his legs could take him. Atuel had thrown his most pitiful set of coins he had on him. Nothing but a few scant bronze change and maybe a single silver coin.

If he had a thousand of those pouches, it would not equal the wealth the cultivator had casually thrown out to him that day. This was the only thing he could do to get back at all the threats and close calls he had with them.

Atuel could not help but smile, it felt good to get the last laugh.

His mother had often said that it would be bitter and cold in the end after a thousand battles, but he could not deny how ecstatic he felt at this moment.