Queen O's Timid Fugitive A - Chapter 13

13

After hammering away last night, someone came knocking today, seeking a blade.

Jiang Ciqing sat in the guest hall, facing a male Alpha around forty years old, with a square-jawed face, resolute eyes, and movements that were crisp and decisive—utterly without hesitation.

“…I’ll trouble Master Jiang with this,” Chen Ya finished stating his request and thanked her again, his expression solemn and grateful. How fortunate he was to have a longsword forged by the Jiang family before heading to the battlefield—this was something every soldier in the Imperial Star dreamed of. Not only did it mean a greater chance of earning military merit, but it also increased the odds of survival.

“You flatter me, General,” Jiang Ciqing replied, carefully tucking the paper filled with requirements into her sleeve.

Chen Ya’s request wasn’t particularly difficult, just slightly unconventional in design—a long juan dao, a rare type of blade. Its shape was peculiar, with the hilt nearly as long as the blade itself, the body slightly curved. It was a two-handed sword specifically designed to counter cavalry, ideal for cutting down horses’ legs. The only challenge was Chen Ya’s request to extend the blade from five to six feet.

Jiang Ciqing asked, “What about the magic core?”

An unwritten rule in the Imperial Star—if you wanted someone to forge a blade for you, you had to provide the materials yourself.

“I’ve brought it with me,” Chen Ya quickly replied, pulling out a prepared bundle and placing it on the table.

Jiang Ciqing’s gaze fell on the scattered items—a thumb-sized diamond-shaped magic core, as dark as obsidian, standing out starkly among the chunks of iron.

She raised an eyebrow, surprised. “A third-tier magic core?”

She had assumed the man could only produce a second-tier core. After all, Chen Ya was a general from a humble background, having climbed the ranks through sheer military merit. His family’s wealth was meager, and as one of the rare loyalists in Southern Liang who refused to take sides in the power struggles between the crown princes, he was ostracized by all factions in the court. The ruler was incompetent…

Good assignments never fell to him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been sent to lead troops at such an unfavorable time.

Li Zhile had even worried that Chen Ya wouldn’t be able to gather the materials and privately told her friend that she would cover anything he couldn’t provide.

Jiang Ciqing had also mentally prepared herself for this, never expecting Chen Ya to surprise her like this. A third-tier magic core was worth a fortune—a rare item even wealthy aristocratic families might struggle to acquire.

Did Zhile secretly help him?

Jiang Ciqing couldn’t help but wonder.

Perhaps too elated, Chen Ya instinctively explained, “When I was in the Barbaric Wastelands, I happened to slay a third-tier magical beast.”

At these words, Jiang Ciqing’s expression froze. Hidden under her robe, her hand clenched tightly, fingertips digging into her palm as she suppressed a surge of emotion. She forced a compliment: “General Chen is truly mighty. Third-tier magical beasts are formidable—ordinary people wouldn’t stand a chance against them.”

“That thing was indeed troublesome. If I hadn’t brought troops with me…” Chen Ya suddenly stopped, finally remembering this was a secret not to be divulged. He coughed a few times and awkwardly cut himself off.

Jiang Ciqing lowered her gaze slightly, a complex emotion flashing in her eyes. She smoothly shifted the topic, and the matter was brushed aside.

…

The sun climbed higher, birds chirping incessantly.

Dressed in simple, close-fitting work clothes, Jiang Ciqing sat on a rickety, broken stool with one leg shorter than the others, silently staring at the charcoal furnace. It was August, yet she didn’t seem to mind the sweltering heat.

After a long wait, someone finally knocked on the door. “Master.”

Jiang Ciqing snapped out of her thoughts and immediately called out, “Come in.”

Creak—

The door hinges screeched as a plainly dressed guard tiptoed in and bowed respectfully. “Master, we’ve finished investigating.”

“Speak,” Jiang Ciqing replied without preamble, her tone urgent.

The guard was slightly taken aback—it was rare to see Jiang Ciqing so impatient. But he didn’t dare delay. “Three years ago, Chen Ya did indeed disappear suddenly for a period, roughly between May and July. It was said he was recuperating at home due to old injuries flaring up.”

Jiang Ciqing’s expression darkened, but she motioned for him to continue.

“But what’s strange is that he claimed to be recuperating at home, yet never once called for a physician or visited an apothecary for medicine,” the guard added, frowning as he relayed the information.

“Although Chen Ya isn’t well-regarded in court, he does have a few close friends. Yet none of them visited him during that time—either they didn’t go at all, or something came up last minute. So, not a single person saw General Chen Ya during that period.”

“And as for the northern barracks you mentioned—during that time, several hundred soldiers suddenly went missing. Things only returned to normal after August.”

“I see,” Jiang Ciqing murmured.

All the clues converged. She waved her hand dismissively. “Uncle Ling has forged a few good blades recently. Go pick one for yourself.”

The guard’s face lit up with joy. He clasped his fists in gratitude before hurrying off to Xu Ling’s workshop, more excited than he’d been on his wedding day.

…

The scorching flames engulfed the charcoal, sparks flying unpredictably. The black pupils reflected the fiery glow, a shadow of gloom flickering within them. The atmosphere around her was oppressive, as if she were suppressing immense fury.

Though she had suspected that Xu Fusheng’s betrayal and thousand-mile pursuit years ago wasn’t simple, she hadn’t expected Southern Liang to be involved—and for Chen Ya himself to have led the troops…

What about Northern Di? Eastern Xia?

Those bastards would never sit idly by.

A searing pain tore through the scar on her back, her brows furrowing with gloom. She thought back to the dire straits she and Xu Fusheng had been in—surrounded by ferocious magical beasts, with relentless pursuers hot on their heels.

Forge a blade?

Jiang Ciqing smirked coldly. With a kick, the materials originally meant for Chen Ya’s blade were sent flying into a corner. After rummaging through the wooden table for a while, she finally picked out a few steel ingots and a noticeably smaller magic core.

The steel ingots, already hammered free of impurities, were placed directly into the blazing furnace along with flux.

For an Alpha who had learned blacksmithing since childhood, forging blades wasn’t just a family tradition—it was her passion and life’s work. Throughout the Jiang family’s history, there had been heirs with mediocre talent, but what truly solidified Jiang Ciqing’s resolve was the hammer in her hand.

Clang!

A heavy strike rang out. The usually aloof and reticent Alpha now seemed dazzlingly radiant, her dark eyes reflecting the flames like a bonfire lit in the wilderness—intense and confident.

The muscles on her arms were honed from years of hammering, their lines sleek but not bulky. Only when touched would one feel their rock-solid firmness.

Her left foot shifted slightly back, legs bent like a drawn bow. Though it seemed only her right arm was swinging, her entire body coordinated the motion. While most imagined blacksmiths as burly and fierce when hammering, watching Jiang Ciqing was like witnessing a dance set to the rhythm of metal.

An Alpha who spent years wielding a hammer couldn’t possibly be so easily subdued by an Omega—even if there was a vast gap in their ranks. Jiang Ciqing had the strength honed from countless hours in the forge.

Another hammer strike, and the red-hot steel lengthened further.

Jiang Ciqing attributed everything to guilt toward the Omega—she hadn’t even held a grudge over being kicked into the water.

If not for me, she might still be in the Barbaric Wastelands, ruling as the untouchable Queen of the Desert.

Soft steel wrapped around hard steel, the repeated hammering gradually revealing faint, intricate patterns. This was one of the Jiang family’s proudest techniques. While Damascus steel wasn’t exclusive to the Jiang clan in the Imperial Star, only they could fuse soft and hard steel so flawlessly, forging such vivid and dazzling patterns.

Tongs flipped the blade-shaped steel over, rhythmic hammering falling like rain. A few sparks landed on her exposed arms, but Jiang Ciqing paid them no mind.

Her earlier agitation and gloom gradually settled into calm. Now, the only thing that mattered was the blade in her hands.

Moments later, Jiang Ciqing’s expression grew more solemn. Gripping the glowing blade blank, she plunged it into a nearby vat of quenching oil.

Sizzle—

The oil crackled violently, steam billowing up.

Grabbing a white cloth from the table, she wiped her face and forehead roughly before tossing it aside. Then she lifted the now-cooled blade blank—its shape was squared, covered in rose-like patterns without a single crack.

Success.

Jiang Ciqing exhaled in relief, then placed the blank back into the furnace. The next step was critical—determining whether the blade could pierce through a magical beast’s hide.

The steel turned red-hot once more. Jiang Ciqing picked up an engraving chisel, the scent of fresh bamboo mingling with the charcoal-filled air as her spiritual energy enveloped the chisel’s edge, carving intricate grooves.

This step wasn’t easy. If the blade blank cooled, the steel would harden, making engraving difficult. But if left too close to the flames, the heat would become unbearable. Not to mention her left hand, gripping the tongs—the weight of a six-foot blade was no joke, yet she had to hold it steady in midair without the slightest tremor. And her spiritual energy was depleting rapidly.

The ability to infuse spiritual energy into the engravings was the key to embedding the magic core. This step couldn’t be skipped—nor could any mistakes be made.

Beads of sweat reappeared on her freshly wiped forehead, gathering into streams that dripped down her jaw, accentuating its sharpness. The veins on her neck stood out faintly, her close-fitting work clothes clinging even tighter to her curves.

Clatter!

The engraving chisel was tossed aside carelessly. Her right hand snatched the smaller third-tier magic core from the table. Unlike its hard appearance, the core felt like fine clay—crumbling into dust with a squeeze.

Normally, Jiang Ciqing would grind the core into fine powder before forging. But today, she had other plans. She crudely broke it into uneven chunks and scattered them into the carved grooves.

Even cores of the same tier varied in quality. Some were stable and calm, making the forged blade easier to wield. Others were violent and untamable—embedding them in a blade was like planting a ticking time bomb, ready to shatter and backfire at any moment.

The blade blank was submerged in quenching oil again. Without even glancing at it, Jiang Ciqing wiped her sweat with the white cloth and strode out.

The guard outside was startled by her speed—this was the first time he’d seen Jiang Ciqing leave the forge so quickly. A beat late, he called out, “Master.”

“The blade is forged. Have Uncle Ling handle the rest,” Jiang Ciqing said curtly before walking away.

The guard instinctively replied, “Yes—huh?!”

His face twisted in disbelief. The master usually oversaw every step, from forging to scabbard-fitting, tolerating no mistakes. Why the sudden change today…?

…

Cool winds rushed over her, dispelling the stifling heat. Jiang Ciqing exhaled heavily.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to complete the remaining steps—she just wasn’t sure she could restrain herself.

What if she “accidentally” loosened the hilt? Or chipped the blade? Or left a crack in the steel?

Wouldn’t that be too obvious?

Beneath her feet, dried leaves crumbled to pieces. Jiang Ciqing’s eyes darkened, lost in thought.