C447 President of the Blacksmith's Association Mo Erte!

The smithy was filled with a heavy air, and Amish's bright eyes met those of Zhang Xing, who seemed to read his thoughts with unsettling clarity. A chill settled in Amish's heart, and he was seized by a wave of irritation. He was about to steer the conversation elsewhere when a voice called out from behind, "Master Amish, the President requests your presence!"

Turning