Chapter 30: The Forge of Knowledge
[The Heretic Inquisitor of Eternal Truth laughs energetically, says you are a very sketchy child, like a cunning crawler of the ground. He expresses concerns for your methods]
Kage glared at the message, his lips curving downward. For a fleeting moment, he wondered what these Sovereign gods looked like. One thing was certain—most were ancient. He quickly dismissed the idle thought and smirked.
"Why use brute force when you can triumph through pure deception? When strength becomes necessary, I’ll wield it gracefully."
[The Wolf of the North calls you shameless]
[The Weaver of Sorrow chuckles softly, shedding a single tear]
[The Heretic Inquisitor of Eternal Truth asks, what is it about this squad you wish to create, though?]
Kage arched an eyebrow.
"And why should I reveal that to you? Shocking, but apparently I can still catch you all off guard."
He grinned. The words came out casually, but he meant them far more than he let on. Now that he realized the Sovereign gods remained oblivious to thoughts that sparked spontaneously—those he hadn’t considered beforehand—he immediately crushed any further speculation.
Kage smiled genuinely at them through the window message the proxy displayed. Then he retrieved his book and resumed reading.
He devoured pages throughout the entire day. When lunch arrived, he set the book aside, then continued reading while eating, his attention split perfectly between both tasks without either suffering.
Strangely, he maintained that exact posture for well over ten hours. Only after dinner did Kage finally stand, stretch, then proceed to bathe.
That night, Kage avoided cultivation entirely—no Qi absorption, nothing. He simply went to bed, reading briefly before sleep claimed him mid-page.
The following day mirrored the first: him reading while the Sovereign gods pestered him with pointless questions.
They posed irritating historical inquiries, like whether he’d ever heard of the Black Flower Society. That particular question came from the Weaver of Sorrow.
Curious, but Kage knew no Black Flower Society—only the Black Lotus, which was a war he’d reenacted, not a society. Two entirely different things.
The Wolf of Truth also inquired whether Mount Tessai still existed. It did, though renamed to Northern Peak. The Sovereign god seemed pleased it endured but offered nothing more.
Despite their usual banter over the past two days, Kage detected subtle tension and distance growing between the Sovereign gods and himself. This confirmed his suspicion—there had to be deeper reasons for their presence in his soul.
Kage remained ignorant for now and felt genuinely threatened. He wasn’t arrogant enough to believe he could outwit twelve gods.
The mere fact they bore the title "gods" proved they were likely the most powerful beings to ever exist. Perhaps even stronger than his father...
The thought unsettled him—twelve entities capable of individually defeating his father now inhabited his soul.
Chilling to contemplate.
However, Kage refused to dwell on it. Whether they helped him or not made little difference. Even if they did assist, he remained utterly alone in this world.
The gravest mistake he could make was believing any human lacked their own selfish agenda.
He knew it existed. He welcomed it—after all, he’d do the same.
On the third day, Kage finally finished the book he was reading. He tore the last blank page of the book, took a brush and dipped it in ink while looking at the paper purposefully.
Then Kage began to write delicately on it.
[The Heretic Inquisitor of Eternal Truth marvels at your writing skills, asks what you are trying to write]
"An old language..."
[The Heretic Inquisitor of Eternal Truth smirks, says what an odd cryptic response]
After a while, Kage finished and looked at the paper in dissatisfaction, he rumpled it in his hands and threw it into the inner layers of his robes.
Then he departed his quarters and headed toward the Forge of Knowledge.
The Forge of Knowledge lay nestled deep within the main clan’s territory, requiring over thirty minutes of travel to reach.
It was embedded in the southern wing of the main clan, carved deeper into the mountains yet maintaining a clear, constructed path.
The Forge of Knowledge stood as a fortress unto itself, its many-tiered roofs and crimson eaves gleaming beneath lantern light.
The stronghold clung to the cliffs like a crown of stone and timber, walls layered in terraces that climbed higher and higher toward a grand building blazing with firelight. Mist surged from the chasm below, veiling the lower gates in drifting white.
Against the descending darkness of the sky, lanterns floated, their orange glow scattering like fallen stars.
Kage walked amidst rows of trees that lined the path like columns. He suddenly remembered midway that he had a trash in his clothes, then looked at the middle tree along the pathway and threw the rumpled paper towards it before he continued walking.
Moments after he walked away, two men in black attires, covering their entire body landed close to the tree.
One looked at the paper and picked it up, opening it. He carefully went through it, furrowing his brows.
"What jargon is this?"
The other responded with a sharp and begrudging tone.
"He’s been reading for the past three days, is there really any reason to follow him to the Forge of Knowledge. He’s just probably here to pick another book to read."
The first one looked at his partner and said with a stern tone.
"Our instructions were clear. We are not to leave the young lord’s side until he leaves the main clan."
The two looked at each other once again and vanished after a sigh.
As Kage approached the enormous gate carved into the cliff face, the door—a colossal slab of stone resembling a monolith more than an entrance—slowly ground open.
By the time he finished climbing the stairs, the door yawned wide, inviting him inside.
The guards required no additional identification. The robes Kage wore spoke for themselves—black outer robes with grey undergarments, grey line patterns threading over the black fabric, silver bracers and silver belts cinching his garments.
The moment they glimpsed his attire, they recognized him as direct bloodline and granted immediate entry.
This marked Kage’s first venture into the Forge of Knowledge, though he’d heard countless tales about this place. Today, he sought something specific.
The Forge of Knowledge could be considered the renovated incarnation of Blacksteel Fortress—the repository where all valuable knowledge and texts concerning Ironstorm and the broader world were preserved.
The internal courtyard sprawled vast and intimidating, ancient trees spiraling into the dark sky, glowing lanterns dangling from their branches like luminous ornaments.
Before the entrance to the main library, several figures had already assembled. They wore flowing hanfu ensembles of pale white silk, layered with wide, trailing sleeves that drifted like mist. Tall black court hats crowned their heads, and all radiated grace as they bowed toward the approaching young lord.
The man leading them stepped forward, a practiced smile gracing his features.
"Young Lord, welcome to the Forge of Knowledge. We are the Forge’s attendants—the Firekeepers. I am the highest-ranked Firekeeper and am honored to serve you. Since this marks your first visit to the Forge, shall I provide you with a tour?"
Kage nodded with a gentle, disarming smile.
"Yes, please."
The Head Firekeeper lifted his head and declared:
"Follow me."
The attendants behind him parted, creating a path as he escorted Kage into the colossal library.
"The Forge of Knowledge contains five floors and three sublevels. Each floor houses secret chambers which I am forbidden to reveal without direct orders from the High Patriarch, or until you achieve the required access level. Currently, only five Heir Lords possess clearance for certain chambers."
The man—with his narrowed, calculating eyes and unsettling smile—studied Kage briefly as they entered the vast ground hall, where lanterns descended from soaring ceilings like suspended stars.
"The first floor serves as the Welcome Hall."
He gestured toward the right side, where a central desk commanded the space.
"There stands the Firekeeper’s station, where we receive and guide visitors."
He pointed ahead.
"Beyond that gallery lies an open-air reading pavilion where you can lose yourself in delicate inks on pristine pages, surrounded by ancient trees and the crisp mountain breeze."
Kage smiled faintly.
They advanced, and the young lord paused in the gallery—a grand arching corridor connecting the Welcome Hall to the Reading Pavilion.
The walls flowed like ocean waves, and upon each crest, delicate inscriptions honored every Ironstorm Patriarch from the founder onward.
The waves numbered countless, spreading across the gallery’s entirety at different heights—far too many to examine properly. Hours would vanish if one dared attempt it.
Cozy alcoves nestled in the gallery’s corners, where readers could settle with gentle tea.
After highlighting these features, the Firekeeper suggested they ascend to the second floor.
Kage agreed.
He’d expected the Firekeeper to lead them to a staircase. Instead, the man approached the wall and began tapping it in precise rhythms.
As he did, the waves began to flow. It seemed almost illusory, but the sculpted waves extended, forming a door that sealed both sides—blocking views from the Welcome Hall and Reading Pavilion alike.
Suddenly, Kage felt himself being propelled upward. In that instant, he understood.
The gallery itself was the library’s lifting mechanism.
Kage couldn’t suppress his awe at such ingenious architecture.