Chapter 238: Damian Just Took The King Out
Damian looked at Vulkara for a while longer, still feeling slightly stunned by her ridiculous growth.
Her massage was not exactly gentle.
Actually, it was rough as hell.
Several times, Damian genuinely felt like she was trying to knead his bones into powder instead of helping his injured body relax. Even so, she was actually doing it.
For a proud tsundere like Vulkara, that already counted as progress.
More importantly, her favorability had already reached seventy-six points. Since she was also his disciple, Damian decided not to tease her too much for now.
He leaned back in the chair for another moment before finally waving one hand. "Alright, enough."
Vulkara immediately pulled her hands away and let out a relieved snort. "Good. My hands were getting tired."
Damian glanced over his shoulder at her. "Your master is the injured one here."
Vulkara folded her arms. "You asked for it."
Damian coughed lightly. "Fair enough."
Garron stood off to the side with his thick arms crossed, watching the two of them with obvious amusement.
Damian slowly straightened in his chair, his expression shifting as well. The playful look in his eyes faded slightly as his attention settled on Vulkara.
Vulkara noticed the change and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Damian did not answer immediately. Instead, he lifted one hand and called out casually, "Hey, hammer. Come out."
The moment his voice fell, a crimson-black light suddenly erupted inside the forging room.
BOOM!
Terrifying heat surged outward.
The flames inside the furnace were violently pushed backward, while the various metal tools hanging along the walls began trembling against their hooks.
CLATTER! CLATTER!
Even the half-finished piece of metal resting on Vulkara’s anvil released a sharp metallic hum, as though it had sensed the arrival of something far beyond its own level.
HUMM!
Vulkara’s eyes widened.
Garron’s expression changed instantly.
A massive crimson-black hammer slowly emerged from the light and floated in the center of the forging room.
Dark red fire-metal chains were wrapped around its enormous body, while burning patterns crawled across its surface like streams of living lava. Every pulse of its aura carried both overwhelming heat and crushing metallic weight.
The pressure descending from it made the entire forging room feel as though a dormant volcano had suddenly awakened beneath their feet.
For several breaths, nobody spoke.
Vulkara stared blankly at the hammer, her mouth already slightly open, yet no words came out.
Garron stared even more intently. As a blacksmith, he could sense things from the weapon that ordinary cultivators probably would not even notice.
A moment later, the hammer spirit’s rough, domineering voice echoed throughout the room. "So this is the girl you wanted to gift me to, huh?"
Vulkara’s body stiffened.
The massive hammer slowly rotated in the air until its head faced her directly. "Hey, kid."
Its heavy voice made the surrounding metal tools tremble again. "My name is [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer]."
The entire room shuddered with its next words. "Your master might want to gift me to you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll automatically accept you."
Dark crimson flames suddenly flared along the hammer’s surface. "I still need to see whether you actually have what it takes to wield me."
Vulkara remained frozen.
Even with her usual fiery temper and stubborn personality, the sudden appearance of a talking King Grade hammer had clearly overloaded her brain for a moment.
Her eyes remained locked onto [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer], and her lips moved slightly as though she wanted to speak, yet absolutely nothing came out.
Garron, on the other hand, recovered first.
His eyes widened so much that it looked like he had just seen a ghost crawl out of his own furnace. "Damian!"
The shout nearly shook the room harder than the hammer had.
Damian blinked innocently. "What?"
Garron immediately jabbed a thick finger toward the floating weapon, his normally rough voice nearly cracking with sheer disbelief. "You damn brat! Where the hell did you find a King Grade hammer?!"
Damian blinked again, as if Garron had asked something obvious. "Huh? Of course, from the Sword Tomb."
Garron’s face twitched.
Damian tilted his head slightly. "You’re an elder of the Heavenly Sword Sect. You should know about the forbidden area inside, right?"
For a moment, Garron looked like he wanted to grab Damian by the collar and shake him until the truth fell out. "Damn it, I know about the [Forbidden Deep Tomb]."
Damian nodded. "Good. Then there’s no problem."
Garron’s eyebrow jumped. "No problem?"
Damian looked even more innocent. "Yeah."
Garron took a deep breath as his clenched, thick fingers relaxed a bit. "Fine then, let me change the question. How the hell did you manage to bring out a King Grade hammer?"
Damian casually pointed toward [Infernal Forge Tyrant Hammer]. "I just took it out."
Garron froze.
Vulkara, who had been silently listening beside them, slowly turned her head toward Damian as well.
Even the hammer spirit went completely silent for half a breath.
The forging room suddenly became strangely quiet.
Damian looked around at the three of them with genuine confusion. "What’s the matter?"
Garron opened his mouth but soon closed it again, struggling to think of what to say.
There were so many things wrong with Damian’s ridiculously simple answer that Garron did not even know where the hell to begin.
The [Forbidden Deep Tomb] was not some ordinary treasure warehouse where disciples could walk in, grab whatever weapon looked expensive, and stroll back out.
If bringing out a King Grade weapon were that fucking easy, the Heavenly Sword Sect would have emptied the place generations ago.
Garron really wanted to argue with the brat.
He wanted to demand an actual explanation.
Yet the longer he stared at Damian’s completely natural expression, the more he could feel his blood pressure rising.
Knowing this bastard, arguing would probably only lead to an even more infuriating answer.
In the end, Garron decided to ignore him.
Otherwise, he genuinely felt like he might cough up blood today.
With a tired exhale, the old blacksmith turned his gaze away from Damian and focused back on Vulkara instead.