On her way back, Mu Zhili stopped by the blacksmith. Even from the outside, she could hear the banging of the hammer on metal sounding from within. She immediately felt the significant rise in temperature as she entered.

“Do you want to buy anything, Miss?” The man talking was about forty-five years old. He was shirtless, revealing his rippling muscles dripping with sweat. It was obvious that he was the person hammering.

“Uncle, I’d like you to help me forge a set of silver needles.” Mu Zhili’s face was now covered behind a veil. She knew of her reputation in Luo Tian city; she couldn’t just parade around with a bare face since she snuck out by climbing the wall.

“May I ask how you like your needles made?” The man didn’t show much surprise at Mu Zhili’s request, as requests to forge all sorts of things were the norm these days.