When Zhang Luan reached the blacksmith’s shop, the smith happened to be selling weapons to a group of adventurers right at the entrance. Spotting Zhang Luan from afar, he hastily shoved the weapons into the adventurers’ hands and gave a slight nod toward him.

Though puzzled why the stubborn smith suddenly dropped his prices, the adventurers happily took the deal—no one ever complained about saving coin. But their expressions froze the moment they saw Zhang Luan and Nan Fenghua clinging to his side.

“Is that… the Holy Maiden? And this must be… the Holy Son?”

The young leader of the adventurers hadn’t expected to encounter Akamana Temple’s two most powerful figures here. He swallowed hard, staring dumbly as the pair approached.

“Make way?”

“Ah? Oh! Right—!”

He was nervous. To young adventurers in Acamana City, the Akamana Temple was sacred—yet so distant. Opportunities to meet its leaders were rare. Missing this chance might mean never seeing them again.

Once the path cleared, Zhang Luan led Nan Fenghua straight to the blacksmith. After a quick glance confirmed the man showed no signs of shattered faith, Zhang Luan relaxed and cut to the chase:

“My custom arrows?”

“Finished, Holy Son. Please, step inside.”

As Zhang Luan pushed the shop door open, one foot barely over the threshold, the young adventurer’s trembling voice stopped him.

“W-wait! Holy Son and Holy Maiden, please!”

The blacksmith scowled at the pest. This kid had haggled for ten minutes over a single gold coin earlier. Out of respect for the Holy Son’s arrival, he’d practically given the weapons away—and now the brat dared to disturb him?

“Scram! Don’t bother them. I didn’t even charge for those swords. What more do you want?”

The adventurer’s companions flinched as the smith brandished his warhammer. They’d only fought slimes for a day or two; a direct hit from that hammer would shatter every bone in their bodies.

“Let’s go, Sen Luo. If you want to be a Guardian, apply at the Temple. Don’t trouble the Holy Son and Maiden here.”

His friends urged him to leave. Annoying these two could end their adventuring careers before they began.

But Sen Luo shoved their hands away, shouting with nervous determination:

“Holy Son! Just a moment of your time!”

Annoyed, the blacksmith strode forward, hefting his hammer to scare the boy off—

“Hold on. What’s your name?”

Before the hammer could fall, Zhang Luan zipped past the smith’s massive frame. With a flick of his wrist, he raised [Wind Flower Snow Moon], pinning the hammer mid-swing.

The young man’s throat went dry. He hadn’t even seen Zhang Luan move. A flicker of awe sparked in his chest.

“I—I’m Hei Sen Luo! Holy Son, please listen—”

“No need. Report to the Temple tomorrow. I’ll tell Yanat to accept you.”

Zhang Luan clapped his shoulder, wearing an encouraging smile.

Sen Luo stood frozen, stunned speechless. By the time he processed the words, Zhang Luan had already vanished into the smithy. His companions stared at him with burning envy. If they’d known the Holy Son was this approachable, they’d have begged too. Becoming a Guardian meant never risking their lives for pennies hunting slimes again.

Inside the shop, Nan Fenghua eyed Zhang Luan curiously.

“Brother Zhang Luan… do you know him?”

Zhang Luan shook his head, chuckling silently. Of course he knew him. In his past life, this young Sen Luo would rise as a legendary hero—the mighty Ancient Twinblade. Meeting him here, raw and untested… a small favor now might yield great returns later. Would altering his path weaken him? True strength endured change. And this change was for the better.

“Holy Son,” the blacksmith called from the back courtyard where finished items were stored, “you vanished for three days. I thought you’d abandoned the arrows. I’ll fetch them now.”

While waiting, Nan Fenghua examined the forge with wide eyes—her first time in such a place.

“Brother Zhang Luan… can this blacksmith make custom gear?”

“He can. Why? You want some?”

She shook her head.

“No. My godmother provides mine. I’m just curious. She said only master artisans craft custom gear… Acamana City shouldn’t have any. Yet here he is.”

“He’s a Mountain Sealing Smith. Lost his certification once, but regained it recently. Here—study this.” Zhang Luan pulled a divine tome from his system inventory. No need to hide it; spatial storage gear was common in this world, some even holding living creatures.

Nan Fenghua’s face fell at the sight of the book.

“Do… do I have to learn this?”

“No choice. It’s good for you. Aren’t you a genius?”

With a pout, she hugged the thick tome to her chest.

“But some spells are creepy! Like ‘Cross Hands’—it summons giant holy arms everywhere. Ugh! Just imagining all those hands…”

Zhang Luan sighed. Others would kill for this knowledge, yet she called it creepy? The spell wasn’t scary—it was just her excuse.

“Will you study it?”

“Can I say no…?” She peeked up at him hopefully.

“Sure. But don’t talk to me again. No big deal, right?” He smiled sweetly, tapping her head. If she refused, he’d give her a “loving punch” to drive his point home.

“I’ll study it! Brother Zhang Luan is so mean… but I’m a genius anyway. Hmph! (╯^╰)╯”