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Blizzard Workshop is a recently renowned magical weapon forge within the Beastman Alliance, owned by my father's friend, Arubatho Blizzard Wolfe. However, it was Arubatho's father, Zirag Blizzard Wolfe, who truly brought fame to the Blizzard name.

This legendary elder was not a blacksmith nor a mage. In fact, before his sixty-fifth birthday, Zirag was just an ordinary shaman. Although his innate talent allowed him to ascend to the clergy, it was evident that his abilities had reached their peak.

Despite decades of effort, his divine arts remained at the intermediate level, unable to advance further. Of course, even within the War God Temple, where honesty was paramount, divine power was not the sole criterion for evaluating a shaman's status. With political maneuvering, one could still attain higher positions. Unfortunately, this elder lacked both the aptitude and inclination for such pursuits. Thus, ten years ago, at sixty-five, Zirag chose semi-voluntarily, semi-compelled, to retire and return to the shores of Snow Wolf Lake, where he was born and raised.

As the old saying goes, "Misfortune may turn out to be a blessing in disguise." While bored at his son's forge, Zirag began studying the iron weapons crafted there. To his surprise, he discovered a latent talent that had lain dormant for decades – enchantment of weapons. His mediocre divine arts unexpectedly harmonized with metal, allowing him to inscribe divine patterns and seals onto weapons, making the magic nearly permanent.

It must be known that except for a few rare magical metals, almost all others possess high antimagic properties. As a result, mages can barely equip any metal weapons or armor. Though divine arts are less restrictive than magic, allowing clerics to use armor and weapons, divine power still struggles to remain within metal.

Zirag's ability to enchant weapons, though limited to basic divine arts, proved invaluable since a shaman's basic divine arts were often combat-enhancing supportive spells. Consequently, every weapon he touched became highly sought after by warriors.

My connection with Blizzard Workshop began five years ago when I successfully hunted my first magical beast. Zirag approached me, hoping to obtain magic beast cores and other components from me to support his development of high-level magical equipment. Ordinary iron could only accommodate basic divine arts, and having stumbled upon his talent, Zirag was unwilling to stop there.

Given the elder shaman Zirag's reputation and wealth, acquiring high-quality materials was effortless. However, weapons enchanted with basic divine arts held little allure for top-notch experts and noble chieftains. Hence, Zirag could live comfortably. If word got out about his work on advanced magical weapons, his peace might be disrupted.

At over seventy years old, Zirag, while interested in magical weapons, had no grand ambition and didn't wish to risk his and his family's freedom. Thus, he dared not openly acquire high-level magical materials. Upon discovering my ability to hunt magical beasts, he naturally planned to establish a secret supply channel.

Back then, I was frenziedly cultivating the Golden Bell Shield, not really caring about the various magical weapons that the old Shaman had promised. I merely considered that I would eventually face diverse battlefields, and having one more means of preparation couldn't hurt. Thus, I agreed. After all, I spent my days challenging all sorts of magical beasts. Although I failed five out of ten times and let three or four of them escape, I still managed to successfully hunt one or two. The old Shaman had no need to worry about a shortage of resources. Later, when I participated in the assault on the Half-Orcs' lair, I also gathered many living souls and sacrifices for his dark divine arts rituals.

Though the magic creatures I hunt aren't of high value, and those foolish and filthy Half-Orcs are far from being ideal offerings for a dark ritual, the Old Shaman doesn't possess advanced divine arts either. Utilizing premium materials would merely be a waste in his case. Thus, we're evenly matched, and our collaboration is rather harmonious.

Employing the materials I provided, the seasoned Shaman conducted numerous experiments and ultimately succeeded in crafting two exquisite series of magical weaponry.

Crafted from the crystal cores of magical beasts and the bones of the fallen, it is none other than the realm of —— Warcraft: The Struggle for Dominance.

Crafted through Dark Arts and sacrificial rituals —— the Diablo series.

Initiated by me, these high-end magical weapons were discreetly funneled through reputable merchants to various markets across the Beastman Alliance. Through the merchants' promotion and hype, they became highly sought-after luxury items. Some even found their way, via smuggling, onto the auction blocks in the human world.

The aged Shaman was a man of rigor and perfection, constantly striving for breakthroughs. In recent years, with the maturation of the trading network, more wondrous magical ingredients have silently found their way into Elder Qilag's hands, enabling him to make innovations time and again.

Up to this point, the Warcraft series has seen three generations, and the relatively late-comer Diablo series has also released two installments. Furthermore, the Old Shaman persistently fine-tunes and improves the existing models of magical weapons, introducing various versions in pursuit of creating a genuinely perfect masterpiece.

However, perfection is unattainable, and Master Blizzard Cottage also has a notorious flaw – delays. Promised release dates often slip again and again, causing his devoted fans immense anxiety, pain, and prayers for divine intervention, leaving them in a state of mental unrest.

Indeed, it is "Blizzard-made, assured excellence, release dates, always postponed."

Yet, nobody was aware that the renowned Blizzard Hut Master was actually a retired Shaman in his twilight years. Likewise, no one connected the Blizzard Hut with Snow Wolf Lake, a tiny village with but a hundred or so inhabitants.

Chapter 3: The Fluttering Profound Array of Illusion

The master's tent could only be described as spartan and modest, embodying the principle of keeping wealth hidden and cultivating humility. Unfortunately, this was of no use against me, his partner who knew him inside out. Kicking aside the wooden fence that blocked my way, I barged into the hut, only to find the Shaman and the blacksmith father and son duo engrossed in their work.