Synthesis-type adventurers

Chapter 11, Step 1 of the plan is done.

Rod slammed the heavy piece of scrap iron onto Torin's beloved anvil with a loud thud.

"I don't have any connections within the guild, so I can't help you with that," Rhodes said again just before Torin was about to explode. "But I do have this."

He pointed to the scrap iron on the anvil and said slowly, "Would you believe me if I said I could turn this kind of trash into fine iron that even the Virian Royal Guard would covet?"

Tolin was stunned.

Immediately, a sneer with a heavy nasal tone came from beneath his unkempt beard: "Refined iron? You, a human bean sprout who can't even hold a hammer properly? Ha! If you can turn this pile of dog shit into refined iron, I'll eat it raw!"

Torin clearly mistook Rhodes for the kind of alchemist who swindled people with his words, and turned to grab a broom from the corner to chase him away.

"Give me five minutes, and I'll use your stove," Rodd said firmly.

He pulled out two gold coins he had looted from Kyle from his pocket and slammed them onto the greasy table.

"This is the deposit. If I fail, the money is yours, and I'll swallow this pile of scrap metal. If I succeed..." Rhodes paused, his gaze piercing through the cracks in his goggles to meet the bloodshot eyes. "We need to talk about how to divide the money in those noble lords' pockets."

Tolin's broom stopped in mid-air, the two gleaming Ducats standing out starkly in the dimly lit workshop.

For a blacksmith who hadn't made a sale in three months and was surviving on pickled vegetables, this was an irresistible temptation.

Five minutes.

Tolin grabbed the gold coins from the table, stuffed them into the pocket of his tattered leather apron, then stepped back, crossed his arms, and adopted a posture of watching a good show.

"If you stay more than a second longer, I'll shove your pretty little head into the furnace as fuel."

Rhodes took off his coat, revealing a specially made linen battle suit underneath. He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the fire tongs, picked up the scrap axle, and stuffed it into the roaring furnace.

"Turn around and guard the door," Rod coldly ordered. "This is a secret technique of my family, never to be passed on to outsiders."

Torrin turned around, cursing, and walked to the door, blocking it like a gatekeeper, muttering things like "a pretentious liar."

Rod took immediate action after confirming that his line of sight was obstructed.

The high temperature of the furnace scorched his face, and sweat dripped down his face.

He mentally focused on the piece of iron that was gradually turning red in the furnace.

[Analysis View] Fully open, gray entries cling to the core of the material like parasites: [Severe Corrosion], [Structural Fatigue], [Excessive Carbon Content]... These are all impurities that prevent it from becoming a good material.

"Strip it away," Rhodes muttered to himself.

Within the space of consciousness, his mental energy penetrated to the microscopic level, and the dizziness caused by peeling away multiple terms made his vision go black for a moment.

The iron block in the furnace was undergoing strange changes.

The gray mist representing rust and impurities was forcibly stripped away, and the gray words drilled into Rhodes' consciousness space, while the other part turned into fine black smoke, which was discharged through the chimney.

The originally dark red and mottled surface quickly became pure and transparent under the licking of the flames.

Its volume was reduced by one-third, useless waste was removed, and what remained were only tightly packed iron elements.

At the last moment, Rhodes used the synthesis system to combine the two separated [micro-hardness (white)] into a [dense structure (blue)] and loaded it back.

"That's about it."

Rod used tongs to pick up the piece of bright red metal that had an eerie luster, and dipped it into the cooling oil drum next to him.

"Sizzle—"

Thick white smoke rose into the air.

After the smoke cleared, Rhodes, holding the cooled metal, tapped the anvil.

"when--"

A clear, resonant metallic clang echoed through the small workshop.

Before the metallic clang had faded, Torin, who was blocking the doorway, rushed over.

He rudely pushed Rod away, not caring whether he would be burned by the residual heat, and grabbed the piece of metal from the anvil.

This discarded axle, which was originally full of honeycomb-like impurities, now presents a deep silver-gray color.

Its smooth surface reflected Torin's face, which was contorted with excessive excitement.

There were no pockmarks, no cracks, and not even a trace of discoloration.

Tolin's hands trembled slightly as he grabbed a black corundum file with extremely high hardness from the workbench and forcefully poked it into the metal surface.

"Sizzle—"

The file, powerful enough to crush ordinary steel, slid past, leaving only a barely visible, pale white mark on the surface.

"This hardness..."

Tolin immediately raised the hammer again and gently tapped the edge.

"bite--"

The echo is pure.

"Impossible, this is impossible..." Torin blew his beard and stared wide-eyed. "Even the raw ore dug from the deepest part of the deep iron mine, after three days and three nights of refining in a master-level furnace, couldn't reach this purity! What exactly did you add to it? Mithril? Or adamantite?"

Torin suddenly looked up, and the contempt and anger in his eyes as he looked at Rhodes were replaced by an almost fanatical longing.

Rod slowly adjusted his cuffs, having anticipated Torin's reaction.

“I told you, this is a family secret technique.” Rhodes pulled another piece of scrap iron from his bag and tossed it in his hand. “I don’t need a guild’s license or expensive imported ore. As long as I have this junk, I can provide you with this level of raw material in an endless stream.”

He walked up to Torin, took the piece of refined iron from the dwarf's hand, and said, "I'll take care of turning trash into gold, and you'll take care of crafting the gold into handicrafts that will make us money."

Rod looked down at the dwarf, a professional smile on his face, and said methodically, "We don't need to worry about anyone's opinion. We just need to put these things on the shelves, and those fools who once looked down on you and blocked you will be begging us to sell to them."

"This is my business. Now tell me, Master Torin Ironforge, is your hammer still sturdy? Or is it really only good for hammering horseshoes?"

Torin's chest heaved rapidly. He glanced at the mountain of scrap in the corner, then returned his gaze to the piece of refined iron in Rhodes' hand.

They were so poor they could barely afford food. The next step would be to be driven to desperation and forced to join the adventurers, risking their lives to plunder the underground labyrinths overrun by monsters.

How could he possibly pass up such a golden opportunity?

The dwarf stretched out his large, calloused, and scarred hand.

"Deal, human bean sprout... uh, I mean, partner." Torin's tone was unusually excited. "Give me that piece of refined iron. As long as you can supply enough of this material, even if the gods of Ulduar came, I can forge them armor that's incredibly strong!"

Rhodes grasped the rough, large hand and smiled, "It's a pleasure doing business with you."

Step one done.

Rhodes mentally crossed out one item from his plan.

He released his grip, tossed the piece of fine iron back to Torin, and stated his request: "As a condition of our cooperation, I would like you to forge two sets of equipment for me."

"Haha! As long as you can provide me with enough materials!" Tolin patted his broad chest and laughed heartily. "As for the processing fee, I'll waive it for you! Consider it a partner perk!"

Rhodes bluntly pointed with his fingers: "A full set of heavy plate armor, for tank classes. There's only one requirement—it has to be tough, tough enough to withstand a troll's club. Then there's the matching heavy shield and one-handed sword."

"Give me the other set, a light and durable light armor, and the weapon is a one-handed sword. The rest of the material is yours, do whatever you want with it."

"I never let my partners suffer losses, so this batch of materials will not be included in our subsequent profit sharing. It's a token of my sincerity."

"No problem!" Tolin grabbed the large forging hammer. "Get the bellows up! Today I'll show you what real dwarven craftsmanship is all about!"

"boom--"

The flames of the furnace shot skyward as the bellows pounded the flames.

After three months of silence, the blacksmith shop was once again filled with the roar of engines.