Chapter 3: Broom
After eating and drinking some wine, I feel satisfied and rise from the chair where I was seated. I walk towards the door to leave the house. I cross the primitive room, devoid of appliances or modern comforts, until I reach the door. I raise my arm and grasp the wooden knob with my right hand, turning it sideways.
A clicking sound emerges, and then I push forward, opening it. The cobblestone street unfolds before me, with several people coming and going. Some are engaged in lively conversations, while young ones dart through the passersby.
Suddenly, something chills my heart, and abruptly, I freeze in place. Two individuals stand out in the crowd. The first is an elderly man, walking with difficulty, leaning on a wooden cane. I recognize him immediately: he is the village leader of Spirit Village, the elder who cares for the children. Beside him is the protagonist of this world, Tang San, dressed in blue attire and carrying a primitive backpack.
Tang San senses my gaze and instinctively turns his face towards me. Our eyes meet, and the atmosphere grows tense for a moment. He soon sighs, ignoring me, as he senses no spiritual energy emanating from me. He and old Jack continue walking, while a light breeze gently moves Tang San's dark hair.
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"Tang San and Jac, image here"
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I furrow my brow and think to myself, "So I'm at the beginning of the story. It seems like only a few weeks have passed since Tang San underwent his Awakening ceremony, and now he's coming to the city of Nuoding to enroll in the academy, starting his journey as a spirit master!"
I clench my fists, determined, "In the future, sooner or later, we will meet again, and when that happens, I will kill him in the most bloody way possible. Having this bastard alive in this world is really uncomfortable. Or maybe I should allow him to live just to find his daughters and forcibly make them my wives, while I dissect Tang San in front of his pathetic family and friends?"
"A villainous smile spreads across my lips. 'After all, having your beautiful and innocent daughters defiled by a common human would be the worst offense against him.'
With those thoughts dismissed, I shake my head, pushing those ideas to the back of my mind. Before wanting to dominate the world, I need to start my technological constructions. I turn and lock the door with the key, tucking it into my pocket.
I begin walking towards where my father worked as a blacksmith. He has a large forge and left behind many useful tools that I can use to forge a water wheel.
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I start walking through the bustling streets of Nuoding, a vibrant city pulsating with its own energy. The environment is filled with shops of all kinds, each displaying its own primitive version of goods, from fresh food to rustic crafts. The constant sound of blacksmiths hammering hot iron echoes through the air, creating a metallic symphony that accompanies my steps.
"Clang~~" Sound of iron being hammered.
Despite the hustle around me, I continue my journey undistracted. My steps are determined, guided by a clear purpose that leads me to a dirty, dusty garage. A large iron grate blocks the entrance, but it poses no obstacle to me.
My hand moves with the confidence of someone familiar with every detail of the lock. I retrieve the key from my pocket and insert it into the lock, turning it with precision. The familiar click reverberates through the space, interrupting the lively conversations among curious passersby.
"Hey, isn't that boy the son of the late Thomas Edison? The blacksmith who died from spiritual beast attacks outside the city last year?"
"What is he up to?"
"Will he restart his late father's legacy?"
"Or will he just sell off the tools his father used for a few spiritual coins?"
The voices around me try to decipher my movements, but I serenely ignore them. I am a stranger in this world, distant and immersed in my own intellect. I have no time for trivial disputes with passing onlookers.
With calculated effort, I lift the grate to reveal the dusty interior of the garage. *Cough~~* Dust rises around me, causing me to briefly cough as I assess the state of the place.
I sigh deeply, observing the disorganized chaos before me. "This place needs urgent cleaning!" I murmur to myself, aware that my work has only just begun.
The air is thick with the acrid smell of metal and old oil. Light filtered through dirty, fogged windows reveals a cluttered space filled with tools and metal parts of all kinds.
Around me, worn and stained workbenches display a jumble of equipment: the main anvil, worn from use, faintly gleams under a layer of grease and soot. Hammers of various sizes hang from rusty hooks on the wall, each bearing scars from multiple repairs. Piles of gears and cogwheels accumulate in dark corners, some still gleaming with the light filtering through the window, others covered in a patina of rust.
In the center of the room, a lifeless, extinguished furnace that once held a beautiful red flame that would illuminate the room, casting shadows on the walls covered in cobwebs, Nicolas compares the current blacksmith shop with his memories.
Arms crossed, I observed the dusty disorder of the garage. Before undertaking any serious work, I knew that cleaning was crucial. I looked around, assessing the tools at my disposal. I chose some sharp knives and a small axe, preparing myself for the task ahead.
With determined steps, I exited my forge, ensuring to securely lock the door before venturing outside. Nuoding was a small city nestled amidst a vast forest. The world of Doulou Dalu might be strange and full of mysteries, but here nature thrived, a comforting contrast to the concrete jungle of the big cities I once knew in my past life.
I walked towards the city's main gate, where the forest stretched before me in all its magnificence. A gentle smile curved my lips as I contemplated the surrounding landscape.
The forest was a spectacle of life and color. Majestic trees soared overhead, their interlocking branches forming a green canopy above me. The ground was a carpet of soft leaves and moss, punctuated by wildflowers in vibrant hues. The melodious song of birds echoed through the branches, filling the air with a natural symphony.
First, I selected a bundle of sturdy, dry branches from a nearby tree. With my iron axe, I cut each branch precisely, maintaining the necessary length and shape for the broom bristles. Next, using one of the sharp knives, I carved small holes into a thick wooden stick to secure the bristles.
Then, I wrapped the ends of the branches around the stick, ensuring they were securely fastened. To reinforce the assembly, I used woven ropes made from plant fibers to tie the bristles in place, creating a robust arrangement that would withstand daily use.
For the handle of the broom, I chose a straighter branch and carefully carved it with my knife, removing bark and imperfections, making it comfortable to grip. Skillfully, I attached the handle to the bristle assembly, ensuring the broom was balanced and easy to handle.
And thus, I created a broom.
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