Chapter 90
Chapter 90
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 90
Chapter Title: The Blacksmith's Advice
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Yuk Jin-yang slipped out of the Chief Steward's Office, leaving the commotion behind. Just then, he ran into Won Yeong passing by. She greeted him warmly first.
"Where are you coming from?"
"I stopped by the Chief Steward's Office because they said they had something for me. What about you, senior?"
"I'm heading to the Armament Workshop for a bit. My weapon's pretty beat up."
Won Yeong pointed to the iron spear slung over her back.
"I was just on my way there myself. I got a pass for the Armament Workshop and the Weapon Vault as a mission reward."
"Really? Then we can go together. We're both headed to the same building anyway."
The Armament Workshop and Weapon Vault were located on the northern outskirts of the Kaifeng Branch. They sat near the foothills of Manse Mountain, which stretched all the way to the city walls.
The two walked for quite a while.
The Armament Workshop building they reached after passing the residential areas was tall and imposing. Nestled into the mountainside, it resembled a fortress. The stone walls surrounding it and the watchtowers rising high only reinforced the impression.
"It's probably one of the most secure spots in all the Alliance's branches."
Won Yeong remarked casually.
"Not only are all the new weapons made here, but legendary arms used by our predecessors are also stored away."
Like the Chief Steward's Office, the Armament Workshop had a gate guard blocking the way. He held out his hand to the pair.
"Please present your passes."
"Here. Junior, hand yours over too."
After verifying their identities, the gate guard inserted the passes into a tube-like slot. No sooner had they dropped in with a clunk than the intricate mechanisms of gears and cogs meshed and turned with a whir.
Kiiik.
The massive iron gate slid open on its own. The guard offered a word of caution.
"You may enter and exit the Armament Workshop freely for repairs. However, weapon forging requests and withdrawals from the Weapon Vault are limited to once per pass. Choose wisely."
Beyond the gate stretched a long passageway. The ceiling was open to the sky, but high walls on either side made it narrow. The walls blocked the sunlight, casting long shadows overhead.
'Defenses against intruders? A few archers on those walls would turn this into a deathtrap.'
With that thought, he hurried through the passage. Upon arriving at the Armament Workshop, a sweltering heat hit his skin. Waving away the faint steam revealed the interior.
A massive furnace blazed at the center. Bronze reliefs of beasts lined the walls, from which artificial waterfalls cascaded.
The duty blacksmith was a short man with a bushy beard. Though small in stature, his muscles bulged like those of a warrior wielding a heavy or broadsword.
Mid-swing on the anvil, the blacksmith suddenly paused. Still staring down, he spoke.
"Who goes there?"
"Uncle Do, we were hoping you'd take a look at our weapons."
Only then did the blacksmith look up at them. His eyes flicked toward Yuk Jin-yang.
"And him?"
"Yuk Jin-yang, wood-tag warrior of the Geon Ryeong Division."
"A Yuk clansman? I'm Do Yung-hu. Do Hong-gyeong of the Yang Kingdom is my ancestor."
Do Hong-gyeong of the Mosan Sect was legendary both as a master and a blacksmith.
He had applied his sect's secret arts to smithing, forging countless famed blades, and compiled the Records of Ancient and Modern Swords, cataloging the world's blades.
Do Yung-hu added,
"Not direct lineage, of course. He had no heirs. But the craft was passed down."
Evidently, that's why he became a blacksmith—family tradition.
Do Yung-hu squinted at him appraisingly. Then, without warning, he approached.
"You've been rough on that sword."
The blacksmith's keen gaze lingered on Silver Dew. Yuk Jin-yang unfastened it from his belt and handed it over without thinking.
Do Yung-hu snatched it wordlessly and examined it closely.
"The hilt's quite loose. The fixing pin's snapped—must've taken some serious impacts. You don't favor one hand over the other, do you? Both edges are worn evenly."
"……."
"Still, for a novice, you've got some skill. The iron's held ki well and toughened up. Otherwise, the blade would've shattered long ago."
His diagnosis poured out relentlessly, showcasing the expertise of a master smith.
"It's too good a sword for a wood-tag warrior to mistreat like this. Here's a bottle of camellia oil. Wipe it down regularly with a soft cloth. Blood and sweat oil the iron and cause rust. And when you get back, replace the pin where the hilt meets the guard."
"No other repairs? Like honing the edge?"
Do Yung-hu turned and nodded toward the back instead of answering. Weapons lay scattered there.
"Repairs and honing requests have spiked lately. We're backed up at least a month. If you can wait, I won't stop you, but a warrior should know how to maintain his own weapon."
"Wait, a whole month?"
Won Yeong asked urgently.
"That's right. Fights breaking out everywhere—what can you do?"
"Oh no, I came here specifically because I picked a time when you'd be around, Uncle."
"Your iron spear looks fine. Edge is a bit dull, but you can handle that yourself."
"But it feels different when you hone it!"
Do Yung-hu's face twisted.
"You call that a reason? Know why I'm stuck here alone? Everyone else is laid out flat!"
"We've been out there fighting for our lives across the land!"
As the two bickered, Yuk Jin-yang was lost in thought. Do Yung-hu grumbled before asking slyly,
"Sentimental about it?"
"A gift from my uncle."
"A weapon from kin! Not bad for a present. Though with your clan name, they'd set you up properly anyway."
Scoffing, Do Yung-hu turned toward a table. There lay the passes they'd shown earlier. The tube from the entrance connected inside.
Do Yung-hu tilted his head and picked up Yuk Jin-yang's pass.
"Thought you were a new recruit tagging along with your senior for repairs. But you've got a full pass already?"
"How else would I have gotten in?"
"Everyone does that for minor fixes. No strict procedure."
"Since we're here, why not look into a new weapon?"
Yuk Jin-yang stroked Silver Dew's hilt. The sudden change in tone puzzled him.
"What do you mean?"
"If I'm overstepping, sorry. But familiarity isn't always best."
Do Yung-hu spoke bluntly and firmly.
"Your weapon's guard is worn on the receiving side. Either you've got a habit of supporting with your off hand, or your sword style demands it."
"That's right. You can tell that from the weapon alone?"
"Decades handling steel—what wouldn't I know? If that's the case, wouldn't a two-handed sword suit you better? You've probably felt the inconvenience."
Yuk Jin-yang had no retort; he'd hit the mark.
"True masters aren't bound by weapons—that's a fool's notion. Legends always had their favored blades. Craftsmen choose their tools; it's natural."
"There's the tale of Yeo Dong-bin slicing the heavens with a reed."
"That's why warriors are warriors! Are you Yeo Dong-bin? Say it after reaching divine mastery."
Do Yung-hu snorted.
"Until then, tools must evolve with the master. A peak smith doesn't swing his boyhood hammer."
Yuk Jin-yang gripped Silver Dew's hilt. The words carried weight.
His clan art, Moon Maiden Swordsmanship, used any blade—mastery of all forms was the virtue. But his personal style, Sword Petal Annihilation Art, shone with two hands.
Until now, he'd improvised. Maybe it was time for a change.
"Forging would take time, right?"
"Of course. Even repairs take a month. A custom weapon? I wouldn't hand you anything less than perfect, nor you settle."
Do Yung-hu turned.
"I'll guide you to the Weapon Vault first. Check there. If nothing suits, then consider forging."
The Weapon Vault lay underground beneath the Armament Workshop. Unlike the fiery heat above, a bone-chilling cold seeped in.
Yuk Jin-yang rubbed his arms, sensing it tactilely. It wasn't just temperature. His senses tingled, like battlefield killing intent raising goosebumps.
Likely the sharp auras emanating from the weapons.
Do Yung-hu grinned and advised,
"Don't let the weapons bewitch you."
But when the door opened, Yuk Jin-yang couldn't help but gasp in admiration. The auras from the wall-mounted racks blended into a brilliant halo.
Yuk Jin-yang scanned about wildly. Every weapon in the vault was top-tier. One glance told him so.
Do Yung-hu spat bluntly,
"All weapons here are of supreme quality. Don't rank them. Pick what fits your needs and purpose."
"Understood."
Yuk Jin-yang slowly perused the racks. One sword caught his eye.
The blade measured three feet long, tapering from one inch wide.
The hilt was one foot and five inches, ample enough for two hands side by side without overlap. A classic southern two-handed longsword.
Its body bore no ornamentation, just glossy black lacquer—even the scabbard. Despite the plain look, it inexplicably drew his attention.
Noticing his gaze, Do Yung-hu frowned.
"……Of all things, that one."
"Aren't they all supreme quality?"
"Supreme, yes!"
He raised his voice suddenly. As Yuk Jin-yang scowled, Do Yung-hu hurriedly added,
"But it's a failure. My master's last work, too."
"A failure and his final piece."
Yuk Jin-yang drew it. The dark blade emitted a subtle sharpness. Clearly forged from premium tempered steel.
To inspect closer, he held it to a wall torch. Amid swirling cloud patterns, gilded inscription emerged.
Bi-jae-mak-neung (非才莫能). Only those with true talent may wield it.