My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 451: Getting Reputation

"Old timer, let's promote this blade. Fetch some folks from the village and tell them a true work of art has been forged. Invite them to come take a look," Ethan instructed.

Harold was the old man's name.

He paused briefly, stroking his chin as though pondering a grave matter.

"This could stir up plenty of problems, young one. You prepared for it?" Harold questioned, his eyebrows furrowing deeply.

"No need to fret. Simply gather the people."

With a deep sigh, Harold stepped outside. He'd spent his life in this settlement. The locals all recognized him. Rounding up a handful of intrigued villagers wouldn't pose much challenge.

Ethan lingered in the shadowy workshop, his fingertips gently tracing the knife's edge. His thoughts raced forward already.

Starting now, he'd need to establish power. Followers would be essential. A large number of them. Supernatural powers like energy or cultivation were off-limits. He'd rely solely on brute force and sharp wits.

Traversing the vast world without instant travel would prove a hassle.

So be it.

He'd transform into a force like Saitama.

In due time, deities themselves would shatter like pulp under one blow from him.

Thirty minutes passed before Ethan caught the sound of approaching steps and mingled chatter from beyond the door.

"Harold, you've lost your marbles. You seriously believe anyone in your place crafts blades that slice through iron bars like soft cheese?" a robust fellow bellowed.

"Yeah, old timer. Time to shut down that forge and step away. Spend your days in quiet rather than spinning tales," a younger voice chimed in, his tone carrying sympathy over scorn.

Their words dripped with doubt, but intrigue drew them nearer all the same.

The door of aged wood groaned as it swung inward.

Within the grimy interior, a strikingly attractive youth stood, clutching an exquisite blade in one grip like it was everyday fare.

"He the fellow you meant?" the sturdy man inquired.

"That's him," Harold answered, a subtle yet assured grin on his face.

The burly visitor advanced. "Kid, is Harold telling the truth?"

"Test it out for yourself. Grab an iron bar. Or pick something tougher. I'll prove if the elder's fibbing or not," Ethan responded steadily, a subtle smirk playing on his mouth.

The man's gaze sharpened. "You seem sure of yourself. But I'm not convinced. Let me examine it."

He approached the stack of metal bars in the corner, choosing the heaviest. For certainty, he struck it with several standard blades from the store, confirming its integrity and lack of tricks.

"Fine. Slice this one. Succeed, and I'll spread the word across the village. You have my word," he proclaimed.

The younger fellow observed intently, his arms crossed.

Ethan moved ahead.

He lifted the blade high and swung it down in a deliberate, measured stroke.

The bar parted without resistance.

Each segment dropped with a resounding thud.

Quiet fell over the room.

The pair gaped as if beholding the unbelievable.

Harold waited nearby, beaming like a satisfied elder.

"May I inspect it?" the younger man requested, his voice urgent.

Ethan agreed and passed the knife along.

Grasping it firmly, the youth approached a severed piece and struck once more.

The metal divided neatly again.

He gulped noticeably.

"What's the cost?" he inquired.

"1000 gold."

"O... one thousand gold?" he stuttered, almost letting the blade slip before setting it down gently.

"Spread the news, please. Once it sells, you two get 20 gold each," Ethan offered warmly, his smile inviting.

Their eyes grew large.

"You mean it? I'm heading out now," the robust man declared. For folks like them, twenty gold equaled years of earnings.

The duo hurried away.

Ethan faced Harold. "Display this one. I'll craft additional arms, prepared for demand."

Back at his task he went.

When he completed a sword, a saber, a spear, and a gauntlet, the metal reserves were depleted. Every piece possessed the identical devastating sharpness.

Emerging from the shop, Ethan found a throng of hundreds milling about outside.

"Harold, is it real?" a voice called out.

The elder appeared daunted by the assembly. "It's real enough. Though I doubt many here can pay for it. The price is steep."

Ethan proceeded and performed the feat anew, cleaving iron as if it were bean curd.

Whispers rippled outward.

Now, he felt certain the tale would reach those with real wealth.

In the gathering, a lad from Henry's forge lingered. He'd been en route to his shift when whispers caught his ear, compelling him to witness it firsthand.

At this point, he bolted.

He dashed straight to Henry's establishment, gasping as he recounted the events.

Henry's scowl deepened. "You've gone mad. No such talent shows up in our little hamlet. If I check and you've fabricated this, you're dismissed on the spot. No wages for this month."

"Master, just come see," the apprentice pleaded.

Accompanied by a group of smiths, Henry trailed him back.

They shoved through the masses and stepped inside.

"That the gadget you hyped?" Henry demanded, gesturing toward the prominently shown knife.

The apprentice affirmed with a nod.

Henry drew near. "Old fellow, hand over that trinket."

"It ain't no trinket, Henry. It's a legend you couldn't forge even at the cost of your soul," Harold retorted sharply.

Henry's face hardened. "Really? Then wager on it. I'll fetch my top blade and clash it with yours. If yours prevails, I buy it. If not, it's mine. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Ethan affirmed promptly.

Buzzing anticipation filled the space. The town's premier smith faced off against an unknown rival.

Henry beckoned an aide, who dashed off to retrieve his prized creation.

After a quarter hour, the helper arrived with a dark case.

Henry unveiled it carefully.

Nestled within was a golden-hued knife, buffed to a shine that caught every ray.

He hefted it and eyed Harold. "Final warning. Retract your claim."

"Prior to your attempt, my blade costs 1000 gold. Got that sum? If yes, lay it down first. If not, skip the trial," Ethan stated coolly.

"1000 gold? Are you insane? Who pays that for a plain knife?" Henry barked.

"Lacking funds? Then depart," Ethan dismissed with a casual flick of his wrist.

Henry clenched his teeth.

"Very well. I lack the full amount here. I'll sign an IOU. Payment in two days if it holds up."

"Hand over 100 gold upfront, and note 900 on the paper," Ethan bargained.

Following a strained silence, Henry consented.

He set a pouch of coins on the counter and drafted the note.

Gripping both blades securely, he struck them together.

No resounding ring echoed.

For an instant, all appeared unchanged.

Then the golden blade fractured neatly in twain.

Shocked intakes of breath filled the air.

Henry gawked at the ruined sections in his grasp, dread etching his features.

"Youngster," he uttered deliberately, steadying himself, "I'll claim this blade. Your payment arrives in two days. Join my forge. I'll name you partner."

"Unnecessary," Ethan answered serenely. "Merely deliver the gold."