In the usually quiet and serene part of Cape City, a heated, one-sided argument was brewing.

“What the hell is this toy?” a bald and burly man berated, staring daggers at the young man in front of him. “You dare call this a cleaver?!”

“No, mister. Like I said, it's a special 'Butcher's Knife'!” the young man—probably not even in his twenties—replied earnestly, seemingly unaware of the man’s temper opposite him.

If the young man was a pebble and was thrown into a lake, considering his dense nature, he would probably sink deeper than any other stones. It was either he was oblivious to everything or was feigning ignorance. Either way, his words were clearly infuriating the other party.

“You're the local butcher, right? This knife would be very useful to you. I'll go as far as to say you'd gladly consider this your family heirloom for the future generations to fawn upon!” the young man added proudly, patting the burly man’s shoulder.

Heirloom? Heirloom my ass! This little knife right here? This won't even pass as a toothpick!

The bald and burly man, Ben Jurr the Butcher, had been hesitant to come to this remote part of the city just to look for a replacement scimitar. His was broken at the moment, and quick repairs were impossible.

Due to an accident, his trusted blacksmith buddy was injured and his smithing shop had to close down temporarily, leaving Ben no choice but to look for an alternative.

A simple repair would have sufficed but... What was this? He came here looking for a blacksmith, but instead, he met a clown! Is this even the right place? It would seem his apprehension wasn’t unfounded. He looked up at the shop sign to double-check—

[Ten's Blacksmithing Shop]

“I know I said it's a special knife, but for a person of your caliber, I'll gladly give you a discount! How about this, I'll sell it to you for two gold credits instead of four. Pretty good deal, ri—” Before the young man could even finish half his practiced sales pitch, a loud 'whiz!' sounded and a fist was coming straight at him, aiming for his innocent face.

Without another thought, the young man ducked to avoid the attack. A second too late and it would have squarely hit his head!

‘Boom!’

The punch was indeed fearsome, but it lacked the speed and grace a proper fist technique should contain. It was only able to create a whistle and a ‘sonic boom’ due to the compressed mana in it. If not for this, how could a mere [Lvl 1] person dodge an attack from a [Lvl 12]?

‘Mister, what have I ever done to warrant your hostility?!’ If Ben could hear the young man’s thoughts, he’d be incensed even further.

...

The loud commotion naturally attracted a curious crowd, “Tsk tsk, it's that Ten guy again…” a man blurted.

“You know him?” a passerby asked.

The man nodded, “He arrived a month ago and rented the entire first floor of that building. At first, I thought he was some wealthy wandering merchant seeing how quickly he was able to fork out an advance payment. Who knew he was just another crook?”

“Crook?”

“Yup. Did you not hear how exorbitant his prices are?”

Two gold credits for a knife? That amount of money could even feed a family of five for a month! And yet he was charging such a ludicrous price with a straight face? What else could he be but a crook?

Hushed whispers sounded as the crowd eyed the young man.

…

“You nimble little fuck!” Ben spat in anger. Surprisingly, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t land a single punch. His fists were only hitting empty air.

Tired and frustrated, he eventually left, leaving behind only curses for the swindler of a blacksmith.

‘It seems today’s yet another day without a sale…’ Ten stood in front of his shop with a bitter smile on his face as he looked at the vanishing silhouette of the burly butcher.

Had it been this way for one or two weeks, it would have still been tolerable. But for almost a month without selling a single thing… It was getting a little awry.

Not only was he running low on funds to sustain the shop, even his basic needs were drying up as well. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the current Ten did not have a cent to his name.

“Well, it’s not like I can do anything. God knows I’ve tried!”

His neighbors might call him a crook or a swindler for his extortionate pricings. But in truth, it was not up to him really.

Huan Ten—or more accurately, Hal Winson from Earth whose soul had transmigrated and was now occupying Huan Ten’s body—had woken up to this strange, game-like world with a system that governs everything smithing related. It was this very system that had prohibited him from selling anything below the imposed ‘suggested retail price’.

He had tried selling a weapon for cheap, but it suddenly turned to dust as soon as it left the shop. Seeing that, Ten knew he couldn’t circumvent his way around the rules.

After letting out a long sigh, Ten resumed his daily routine. The fiasco from earlier would surely ward off any potential buyer, and so there was no point wasting his time manning the shop.

It didn’t take long before the sound of sonorous hammering reverberated inside the workshop.

Aside from the overbearing smithing system, Ten had also transmigrated in a body with an insatiable urge to become ‘the best blacksmith there is’.

From what he could gather from the memories of the previous Ten, it was this very passion for smithing that led this young man to venture far away from his home and comfort zone.

Huan Ten, the genius young master of the Huan Clan, had left the Rising Sun Continent and his bright future to pursue his dreams, ultimately abandoning his cultivated strength to enter the other half of the world—the Twilight Continent.

‘What a whimsical decision that was,’ Ten couldn’t help but shake his head as he hammered the weapon he was forging to its final shape.

Tang!

“The youth sure has the tenacity to do the impossible,” he muttered with a smirk on his face. Without a second thought, he plunged the weapon into a bucket of water to quench it.

Sizzle!

A thick mist abruptly rose as the weapon cooled. Ten pulled out and hammered the charred surface, revealing an exquisitely crafted blade.

…

‘[Blue Steel Shortsword] - (High Tier Fighter)’ - A well-crafted blade made of [Cold Steel] reinforced with [Cobalt Dust]. It is heavier than most of its counterparts, making it the preferred alternative for dual-wielders with tighter grips. This [Fighter] weapon has reached the ‘High’ quality tier.’

…

“It actually reached ‘High’ tier!? That’s awesome!” Ten celebrated. It was a relief he was able to successfully forge a weapon higher than ‘Intermediate’. He thought he would end up being the same mediocre Hal Winson from back then—an untalented business major who wasted his twenties fumbling around searching for his glorious purpose and ended up achieving nothing of significance till the day of his untimely death.

He was about to shed a tear reminiscing his tragic past when a sudden sharp ring sounded in his ear.

Ding!

Beginner Quest: A Thousand Strikes (10/10)

Description: Be not afraid of a man that knows a thousand techniques, but a man that practices one and repeats it a thousand times.

Requirement(s): Successfully forge 10 weapons of ‘Intermediate’ or higher quality within 30 days.

Reward(s): Unknown.

…

Quest Complete!

Results—

Time Taken: 28 days. Grade: E

Weapons Crafted: 9 ‘Intermediate’, 1 ‘High’. Grade: D

‘You’re far from becoming the world’s best, but the path your taking isn’t off either.’

…

[Passed!]

[Activating the main features of the Ascendant Smithing System…]