The Strange and Supernatural Paths of Xuanchen Dao

Dusk was like a piece of velvet soaked in ink, slowly spreading over Qingshi Town. In the blacksmith's shop at the eastern end of town, sparks still leapt through the gloom, lighting up the boy's sweat-soaked face.

Li Sanfeng gripped half a piece of red-hot refined iron, the muscles in his arms taut as a drawn bowstring. He was sixteen, sturdier than boys his age, with an unyielding toughness hidden beneath his bronze skin. Sparks from the anvil landed on his bare arms, but he didn't even blink. He simply raised the hammer and brought it down hard…