Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 54
Chapter Title: Deception at Namdo Iron Gate
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The delegation stared at the shattered sword blades, unable to close their gaping mouths.
They had never even imagined that all the precious swords they brought as tribute would be destroyed the moment they set foot in the Heavenly Demon Hall. The scene unfolding before their eyes felt like a dream.
Why?
And.
'How?'
Setting aside the reason why the Cult Leader had smashed the swords, the delegation was even more shocked by the mere fact that he had done so.
On top of that, he hadn't applied external pressure but had damaged them solely by infusing internal energy.
At the very least, none of them had ever witnessed such a feat in their entire lives.
The watching Divine Demon Blood Death Squad, Jang Wi, and Sima Jin also showed no outward reaction, but they were just as rattled inside.
Whether one wielded swords or not, they could all sense that the swords presented by the delegation contained far from ordinary energy.
They were undoubtedly fine blades worthy of being called famed swords.
Yet no matter how dissatisfied the Cult Leader might be, there had to be some sincerity from the master of Namdo Iron Gate, who crafted them. They couldn't fathom why he would smash such treasures to pieces.
Unable to grasp his intentions, they simply watched in silence.
"You said they were from Namdo Iron Gate's Third Elder."
"...Yes, that's correct."
Wi Taegon responded to Hyeok Mulin's question in a slightly roughened tone.
His voice carried a sharp edge of tension.
'Can't blame him.'
The swords they had brought so carefully as tribute to the Cult Leader had been utterly demolished right before their eyes.
Smashing painstakingly forged swords was tantamount to trampling on a smith's pride.
But what could they do?
They were the ones who lied first.
"Can you swear that not a single word you spoke to me in this Heavenly Demon Hall was false?"
Wi Taegon flinched.
At Hyeok Mulin's stern words, his shoulders trembled for a moment.
He swallowed hard, then slowly parted his lips.
"I don't know what you mean..."
Wi Taegon avoided Hyeok Mulin's gaze, trailing off.
Playing dumb to the end, huh.
Interesting.
Hyeok Mulin stepped closer to the evasive man and spoke clearly.
"Those swords weren't made by your sect master, were they?"
"...!"
"What!"
At those words, the Divine Demon Blood Death Squad guarding the surroundings widened their eyes in unison.
Meanwhile, the delegation's panicked gazes wandered aimlessly, and Third Elder Wi Taegon broke out in cold sweat, his body trembling uncontrollably.
Every eye in the Heavenly Demon Hall turned to Wi Taegon.
"Th-that's..."
Under the onslaught of stares, he rolled his eyes frantically, desperately searching for a way out of the situation.
'The swords are already smashed, so there's no evidence left.'
He considered just feigning ignorance, glancing sidelong at Hyeok Mulin.
But the moment their eyes met, he realized it.
The Cult Leader already knew the full truth.
"Forgive us! Please spare our lives!"
Wi Taegon gave up and prostrated himself flat on the ground, begging for mercy.
The rest of the delegation immediately followed suit, not daring to lift their heads.
As Hyeok Mulin's piercing question proved true, those inside gasped in shock, staring at him.
Hyeok Mulin looked down at the delegation with an impassive face and issued a firm command.
"Imprison them in the underground thunder prison. Their crime of lying and insulting me before the Cult Leader's presence will be punished severely later."
"Yes, sir!"
"C-Cult Leader! Please show mercy...!"
The delegation was dragged away with despairing expressions.
Once they were completely gone, Sima Jin approached Hyeok Mulin with a dazed look.
"Cult Leader, how did you know those swords weren't made by the sect master? They looked like famed swords to me, so I naturally assumed they were."
Hyeok Mulin nodded at the question.
'I thought the same in my previous life.'
It was only later, after the Namdo Iron Gate master died and his disciple took over as sect master, presenting new swords as tribute, that he realized.
The three swords offered to him back then had been made not by the master, but by his disciples.
And at that time, the current master wasn't ill at all—he simply hadn't acknowledged Hyeok Mulin and thus hadn't sent any swords.
But even without that.
"You can tell just by looking."
Having mastered the Pure Soul Divine Demon Art and attained perfect energy sense, Hyeok Mulin could clearly feel the limits of any weapon he held.
The swords they presented were all show, flashy shells with no substance—like mere ornaments.
The vessels to contain internal energy were narrow and fragile, so he couldn't believe the master of Namdo Iron Gate had forged them. It was easy to deduce the true makers.
"What does that even...?"
Sima Jin tilted his head, unable to comprehend Hyeok Mulin's words.
Hyeok Mulin smirked faintly and glanced down at his waist.
It was the sword he had worn since becoming patriarch of the Hyeok Clan.
Not quite a peerless blade of the world, but worthy of being called a fine sword—yet even this was too small a vessel for Hyeok Mulin's full power.
"Hm..."
After a moment of contemplation, Hyeok Mulin reached a decision and ordered Ji Wolhon.
"Order the Divine Demon Blood Death Squad to prepare. Destination: Namdo Iron Gate."
"Understood!"
Namdo Iron Gate's sect master, Heavenly Sword Craftsman Gun Dosang.
A precious face he had never seen in either his previous or current life.
Finally, he would lay eyes on him.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
A regular, rhythmic sound echoed through the air.
A gaunt old man with a face as hard and unyielding as a lump of iron hammered away in his workshop.
His bristling eyebrows and stiff beard revealed a bull-tendon-like stubbornness. This was Namdo Iron Gate's sect master, Gun Dosang.
Sitting before the blazing furnace, left hand gripping tongs and right wielding a hammer, he mercilessly pounded the iron ore.
Dressed only in thin hemp cloth, sweat dripped from him like a waterfall amid the vibrating heat.
Yet even as sweat streamed into his eyes, he didn't blink once—his gaze remained sharply focused on his hands.
"..."
Behind him, a young man watched the hammering.
Though barely in his thirties, he was Sim Hyo, the youngest disciple ever recognized by the sect master, assisting in the workshop.
"Hoo..."
When Gun Dosang paused his hammering to catch his breath, Sim Hyo hurried over with a cup of water and wiped the sweat from his face with a towel.
"Thank you."
Gun Dosang quenched his thirst with the cool water.
Sim Hyo looked at him worriedly and spoke.
"Please rest a little before continuing. You've already been hammering for over five hours today."
"Still a long way to go. Today, I plan to hit ten hours."
"Sect Master...!"
To spend ten out of twelve hours a day just hammering.
Sim Hyo was awed by his resolve but worried for his health.
There were no visible issues with his body yet, but in this line of work, smiths often died suddenly from overwork, lost in their craft.
The previous sect master had passed that way, too.
When Sim Hyo raised his voice, Gun Dosang dismissed it as needless worry and changed the subject.
"By the way, the Third Elder should have arrived by now, but he's running late."
The delegation had left Namdo Iron Gate half a month ago.
They should have visited the Heavenly Demon Palace and returned by now, yet not even a message of their approach had arrived.
"Will they be alright? If the Cult Leader finds out that you didn't make the swords they presented..."
"Don't worry. The current Heavenly Demon lacks the eye to discern that."
Gun Dosang brushed off Sim Hyo's concerned question nonchalantly.
Someone who hadn't risen to the Heavenly Demon's seat by his own power wouldn't notice that level of difference.
Gun Dosang smirked, handed back the cup, gripped his tongs and hammer again, and resumed work.
Just then, Sim Hyo sensed movement outside.
He glanced at Gun Dosang, immersed once more in hammering, and slipped out quietly to avoid disturbing him.
There, he spotted a smith rushing toward the entrance.
It was a familiar face—the smith who assisted the deputy sect master.
"What is it?"
Sim Hyo asked the flushed-faced smith.
The man shouted urgently.
"The Cult Leader has arrived!"
"...Pardon?"
Stunned by the sudden news, Sim Hyo asked again.
"The Cult Leader has arrived? What do you mean?"
"We don't know the details, but that's exactly it. We thought it was the delegation returning when we saw people approaching the entrance, but it was the Cult Leader and his guards who appeared!"
He added that Namdo Iron Gate was in an uproar over the unannounced visit.
"That's why I'm here to report to the sect master. Step aside."
"Wait, this isn't the time."
"What do you mean, not the time?"
Sim Hyo didn't want to interrupt the sect master, who had just restarted his work and was focusing deeply.
"The report to the Cult Leader already said you're battling an illness. He won't bother seeking out someone on their deathbed. I'll inform the sect master later, so go ahead."
"...Alright."
The smith nodded and retreated. Sim Hyo hurried off toward the entrance.
There, he spotted the deputy sect master moving briskly as well.
"Deputy Sect Master!"
Tak Segon, seeing Sim Hyo running from afar, spoke in a voice both pleased and tense.
"You're here too. Have you told the sect master?"
"He's focused on his work, so I haven't yet."
Tak Segon nodded.
"Good call. He hates interruptions during forging more than anything."
"Yes. And if he asks for the sect master, we can politely refuse, saying his condition is critical and no visitors are allowed in his chambers."
Thud! Thud thud!
After quickly aligning their stories, they dashed forward, and soon unfamiliar figures entered their view.
It was Hyeok Mulin and the Divine Demon Blood Death Squad passing through the entrance into the grounds.
"We pay respects to the exalted Cult Leader."
The deputy sect master and Namdo Iron Gate's smiths bowed in unison.
Sim Hyo offered his greeting while stealing a glance at the Cult Leader.
'So that's the current Heavenly Demon.'
Unlike the rumors, Sim Hyo sensed an indescribable, extraordinary aura from him.
It was a completely different kind of energy from that of other warriors or smiths who visited Namdo Iron Gate. His eyes sparkled.
"Are you the sect master?"
"I am the deputy sect master of the main sect, Tak Segon. To what do we owe the honor of Your Excellency's visit to this distant place...?"
"Where is the sect master?"
When Hyeok Mulin cut straight to the sect master's whereabouts, Tak Segon sensed something ominous and hesitated.
Then he spoke.
"Unfortunately, the sect master's condition is critical, so we've restricted access around him. If there's anything you wish to ask, we can relay it on your behalf."
Critical condition, huh.
Hyeok Mulin turned his head and spread his energy sense across the entirety of Namdo Iron Gate.
He detected an intensely hot area in the central depths, isolated from the rest.
Over there.
"Never mind. If you won't tell me, I'll find him myself."
Whoosh—!
Hyeok Mulin shot forward like the wind.
As he headed toward the workshop, Tak Segon and the others stood frozen in shock, their minds blank.
Snapping out of it, they whirled around.
Wearing panicked expressions, they scrambled after him—but Hyeok Mulin had already reached the source of the heat.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gun Dosang continued hammering with unwavering rhythm, utterly absorbed.
Then.
Clang!
The tongs suddenly slipped, dropping the iron ore.
Worn from prolonged use, the tongs had finally given out.
"Not even half a year, and it's broken again."
Gun Dosang tossed the tongs into the furnace and reached back for a new pair.
"Bring me a new set of tongs."
But despite waiting a reasonable time, nothing—and no response—came.
Huh.
Thinking his disciple was slacking off, he sighed and slowly turned his head.
"If you don't focus during work right now—"
At that exact moment, his eyes met those of the unfamiliar man standing behind him.
Hyeok Mulin looked down at him and said calmly.
"You look perfectly fine for someone on their deathbed."
Gun Dosang's stone-hard face stiffened like iron ore.