Chapter 32: The Saber Grip
Time: One Month Later.
Location: The Green Willow Courtyard.
Winter had descended upon Green Willow City. The wind howled through the alleyways, carrying biting frost that froze the puddles in the streets into jagged mirrors of ice. The mortal residents huddled indoors, burning charcoal to survive the season, while the poor in the slums froze to death in silence.
But inside Luo Feng's courtyard, it was warm.
A subtle array, powered by low-grade Spirit Stones buried at the four corners of the house, kept the temperature mild. It was an extravagance that no ordinary commoner could afford, but for Luo Feng, it was a necessity.
His son, Luo Tian, was exactly thirty days old today.
In the customs of this world, the "Full Moon" celebration—the one-month birthday—was a major event. It signified that the child had survived the most dangerous period of infancy. Wealthy clans would throw banquets, inviting guests to inspect the baby's root bone.
Luo Feng threw no banquet. He invited no guests.
He sat at the small wooden table in the center of the main room, sipping a cup of hot tea, watching his wife and son.
Luo Xia was sitting on the thick rug near the brazier, holding Luo Tian. She looked healthy, her skin glowing with the vitality of a cultivator. The Spirit Milk and Mutated Yams had not only restored her post-birth body but had pushed her own cultivation to the threshold of Qi Refining Layer 2.
"Look at him," Luo Xia smiled, dangling a colorful toy in front of the baby. "He doesn't like the rattle. He just stares at it."
Luo Tian was sitting up—something a one-month-old shouldn't be able to do. His spine was straight, his neck muscles fully developed. He was wrapped in a quilt made of Spirit Silk, his dark eyes tracking the toy with an intensity that was unsettling for an infant.
"He finds it boring," Luo Feng said, placing his teacup down. "He is not a normal child, Xia. Stop trying to treat him like a village baby."
"He is a baby," Luo Xia argued gently. "He needs to play. Look, I bought this from the market yesterday. It's a clay warrior. It's painted with red lacquer. Very festive."
She held out the toy. It was a well-crafted clay doll, shaped like a smiling general holding a spear. It was hollow, with a little bell inside that chimed when shaken.
Luo Tian looked at the clay warrior.
He didn't smile. He didn't gurgle.
Slowly, he reached out with his chubby, pale hand.
"See?" Luo Xia beamed. "He likes it."
Luo Tian's fingers wrapped around the clay warrior's torso.
Then, his eyes narrowed.
CRACK.
It wasn't a fumble. It was a deliberate contraction of muscles.
The sound was sharp, like a dry branch snapping. The clay warrior exploded in his hand. Dust and shards of red-painted pottery scattered onto the rug. The little copper bell inside fell out, rolling across the floor with a pathetic tink-tink-tink.
Luo Xia froze. Her mouth opened in shock.
"He..." She looked at the dust in the baby's hand. "He crushed it."
Luo Tian didn't cry. He didn't look startled by the noise. He opened his hand, looked at the red dust on his palm, and then looked up at his father. His expression was indifferent, bordering on disappointed.
Luo Feng stood up and walked over. He crouched down, inspecting the baby's hand. Not a scratch. The clay shards were sharp, but Luo Tian's skin was tougher than cured leather.
[Passive Trait: Natural Iron Bones]
"I told you," Luo Feng said quietly, dusting off his son's hand. "His bones are denser than iron. His grip strength is already comparable to an adult mortal. If you give him clay, he will crush it. If you give him glass, he will shatter it."
Luo Feng looked at the broken toy.
"He has the Metal Spirit Root," Luo Feng analyzed. "Metal governs structure, hardness, and killing. He naturally tests the durability of things he touches. Weak things offend him."
Luo Xia looked worried. "But... what can he play with? If he crushes everything, he will hurt himself. Or he will grow up thinking everything is fragile."
"He needs a toy that respects his strength," Luo Feng decided.
He stood up and walked towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"To the workshop," Luo Feng said, putting on his boots. "I will make him something that won't break."
The Carving.
Luo Feng entered the small woodshed in the corner of the courtyard. He locked the door and touched the token at his waist.
Whoosh.
He vanished and reappeared in the Farming Space.
The air here was thick with Qi. The 10 acres of crops were swaying in the artificial breeze. Luo Feng walked past the corn and the grapes, heading towards the edge of the field where he kept his stockpiled materials.
He found what he was looking for: a log of Black Iron-Wood.
This wasn't a plant he grew; it was a material he had bought from Fatty Wang weeks ago for repairing the shed. Iron-Wood was notoriously difficult to work with. It was as heavy as stone and fire-resistant. Mortals used it for ship keels or battering rams.
"Perfect," Luo Feng muttered.
He placed the log on a flat rock. He drew his Spirit Iron Dagger.
He didn't use a saw. He channeled his Fire Qi into the dagger, heating the blade until it glowed a dull orange.
Slice.
He cut a chunk of wood about the length of his forearm. The wood hissed as the hot blade passed through it, smelling of burnt charcoal and metallic sap.
Luo Feng sat cross-legged on the ground. He began to whittle.
He didn't carve a doll. He didn't carve a rattle or a ball.
He carved a saber.
He followed the shape of his own weapon—the slightly curved, single-edged blade meant for chopping and slashing.
He worked with obsessive focus. His Spirit Sense guided the knife, shaving off millimeter-thin curls of the dark, hard wood. He smoothed the handle, creating grooves that would fit a small hand perfectly. He rounded the tip so it wouldn't be lethal, but he left the edge defined enough to look real.
It took him three hours.
When he was done, he held it up.
It was a Black Iron-Wood Saber. It was only ten inches long, a miniature weapon. But because of the material, it weighed nearly two kilograms. For a normal baby, it would be an immovable anchor. For an adult, it would be a heavy club.
Luo Feng tested the balance. It was perfect.
He didn't stop there.
He placed his finger on the flat of the wooden blade.
"Enchant."
He didn't know high-level enchanting, but he knew how to infuse Qi. He pushed a stream of his Earth Qi into the wood. Earth represented stability and weight. The wood absorbed the energy, turning a slightly darker shade of black.
"Durable. Heavy. Unbreakable," Luo Feng nodded.
He polished the wood with a cloth until it shone with a matte finish. It didn't look like a toy. It looked like a training tool for a sect disciple.
"This suits him."
The Test.
Luo Feng returned to the bedroom just as the sun was setting.
Luo Xia had cleaned up the clay shards. She was rocking Luo Tian, trying to get him to sleep, but the baby was wide awake, his eyes open and restless. He seemed agitated, his small hands opening and closing as if grasping for something that wasn't there.
"He won't settle," Luo Xia sighed, looking exhausted. "He keeps looking for something."
"He feels empty," Luo Feng said. "A warrior without a weapon always feels naked."
Luo Feng walked over to the crib.
"Here."
He didn't hand it to Luo Xia. He held the wooden saber out directly to the baby.
Luo Xia gasped. "Husband! That's heavy wood! You'll crush his ribs if you drop it!"
"Watch."
Luo Feng lowered the saber handle toward the baby's hand.
Luo Tian's reaction was instantaneous.
The moment the wooden handle touched his palm, his fingers snapped shut around it.
It wasn't the clumsy grasp of an infant. It was a lock.
Luo Tian felt the weight. Two kilograms of dense Iron-Wood. His tiny arm didn't buckle. Instead, his muscles—hidden beneath the baby fat—tensed. He pulled the saber toward his chest.
His eyes, which had been restless and wandering, suddenly focused. He looked at the black wood. He felt the texture. He felt the solidity.
For the first time in his thirty days of life, the corner of Luo Tian's mouth twitched upward.
It wasn't a giggle. It was a smirk.
"He..." Luo Xia stared, disbelief written on her face. "He's holding it. It's almost as big as he is."
"It's five pounds," Luo Feng said proudly. "And he holds it like a feather."
Luo Tian adjusted his grip. He hugged the saber against his chest, the flat of the blade resting against his cheek. The cold, hard wood seemed to comfort him in a way the soft blankets never could.
His breathing slowed. His eyelids began to droop. The agitation vanished, replaced by a profound sense of security.
Within minutes, he was asleep.
He didn't suck his thumb. He didn't hold a blanket. He slept clutching the hilt of the saber, his knuckles white, ready to swing even in his dreams.
The Vow.
The room was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the charcoal in the brazier.
Luo Xia looked at her sleeping son, then at her husband. Her expression was complicated—a mix of motherly fear and acceptance.
"You are raising him to be a killer," she whispered. It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of fact.
Luo Feng walked to the window, looking out at the dark, frozen courtyard.
"I am raising him to survive," Luo Feng corrected her. "Xia, look at this world. The Wang Clan fights for power. The Alchemy Guild crushes competitors. The Bandits eat the weak. I spent thirty years kneeling, begging for scraps, afraid of everyone stronger than me."
He turned back to face her, his eyes burning with the fire of his ambition.
"My son will never kneel."
He walked back to the crib and looked down at Luo Tian.
The boy looked peaceful, but the weapon in his arms was a stark reminder of his nature. He was born with Iron Bones. He was born with three offensive Spirit Roots. The heavens had not designed him to be a scholar or a farmer.
Luo Feng reached out and brushed a stray hair from the baby's forehead.
"Sleep well, Luo Tian," Luo Feng whispered, his voice low and heavy like a sacred vow.
"I will farm the land. I will brew the wine. I will handle the business and the coin."
He touched the wooden saber hilt that his son was gripping so tightly.
"But you..."
Luo Feng straightened his back, envisioning the future. He saw not a merchant, not a rogue, but a commander. He saw armies breaking against a wall of iron.
"You will be a General."
"You will be the sword of the Luo Clan. You will conquer what I buy. You will kill what I cannot."
Luo Xia walked over and leaned her head on Luo Feng's shoulder. She looked at the dangerous "toy" in the crib and sighed, finally accepting it.
"A General needs an army," she said softly.
"I will buy him one," Luo Feng replied without hesitation. "I have the Phoenix Spirit Pavilion. I have the Infinite Resources. By the time he can lift a real sword, I will give him a mountain of Spirit Stones to stand on."
Luo Feng blew out the candle.
Darkness filled the room, but the image remained burned in his mind: the infant and the saber, united in sleep.
The path was set.
The Father would be the King of Wealth.
The Son would be the God of War.
[End of Chapter 32]
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