Three Days of Preparation
It took three days to prepare.
I felt it in my bones. Once this began, there would be no time to reorganize for a while. Even as I tasted a moment of peace, I could feel the danger coiled inside it. Mara Jin's warning had left me sharp and alert even as I lay on a soft bed.
The Tugwi is approaching.
Mara Jin had told me to try surviving it if I could. Whether that being was human or not, I didn't know—but the words of something that had stepped beyond humanity were not to be ignored. Nothing was certain. And if—though I hoped otherwise—a meeting with the Tugwi was already written into my fate, then it was possible I would encounter it during this very infiltration.
I had to prepare everything I could. Overprepare, even. I had always been the weak one, thrashing at the bottom of the food chain so I wouldn't be eaten. Preparing for battle in times of peace had become my creed.
"I've heard the general outline from Master Yun Hyeon. Young Master, you're leaving for somewhere far away."
Before me stood experts from every trade, the blacksmith among them. All of them were older. There wasn't a young face in the lot. They waited calmly, hands folded, each man in his turn. Yun Hyeon had clearly already decided what to leave out and what to add when he brought them here, and finished the necessary talk on his own.
Behind them, fully stocked under the Namgung Family's unreserved support, a workshop stood ready. Fire licked up from the forge.
"Everyone I've brought is among the top three in their field in all of Luoyang," Yun Hyeon said quietly. "And more than that—each of them carries the trust and the sealed lips that come with their years."
I nodded. A blacksmith with one eye covered by a patch stepped forward, took out paper and a writing brush, and asked,
"Shall we start with weapons and armor?"
From this moment on, request everything exactly as I tell you.
I nodded.
I've watched your attack habits, your quirks, your improvisation—everything. In this world, no one knows the Host better than I do. And when I still served the Heavenly Demon Cult in the field, preparing for war was what I cut my teeth on.
The forge fire roared. I spoke without hesitation to the experts of each craft, following Mumyeong's words. The blacksmith recorded everything I said in rapid shorthand, building a complete order sheet as we talked.
"Preferences?"
"Rougher rather than fine."
"So strength matters more than the keenness of the edge."
The blacksmith adjusted his eye patch.
"Master Yun Hyeon told me beforehand that you favor Hebei-region ironwork for your main arms. But recently Changbai Mountain has been producing excellent coal and iron ore. I've already checked the stock of the Han iron and Muksang iron you mentioned."
"For blades longer than four hand-spans, use the Hebei stock. For anything shorter, and for the double- and quadruple-layered pieces, repair will be hard—so raise the proportion of Han iron."
Metal clinked. I picked several of the sample swords the blacksmith had laid out and tossed them to his side. He looked them over and scratched his sweat-slick forehead with the tip of his brush.
"The weight will go up a little. Will that be all right?"
"If we mix Han iron and Muksang iron two to one, the weight should be—"
"The added weight will be a little under half a catty," the blacksmith answered.
"Then it doesn't matter."
His brush flew across the page. The movements of a man who had done this for decades.
Clang. Clang.
The blacksmith set to work. Red-hot iron was beaten flat and began to take shape.
"You hold loosely with the left hand crossed over, so for the left-side spikes and cutting tools I'll wrap the grips in sheepskin as usual, and the opposite side in cowhide."
He glanced at my hands, then returned his eyes to the paper.
"Blood grooves?"
"Three and a half lines."
"Edge orientation?"
"Single-edged."
"Cutting face?"
"Left."
He finished his scrawl, folded the paper, and tucked it into his coat. Then he brought over a thick bundle of papers bound with cord from a nearby desk and spread them in front of me.
"Having heard the circumstances, I brought every specification sheet and blueprint for the weapons you requested. Pick only what you need from these and hand them to me…"
I flipped through the stack at speed, pulled out exactly three sheets, and shoved the rest back at him. The blacksmith stared.
"Only three? Unexpected. Given the scale of the materials you requested in advance, I came in rather tense—but this is fewer than I thought."
"Everything except those three."
"…"
The blacksmith looked at me, speechless.
"And there's one more thing I should tell you."
He checked my grip strength and a few points of my physique, then scratched his head.
"I'll be honest. With my skill alone, I don't think I can make a weapon that perfectly matches your strength or the level you've reached. Given the urgency I'll forge what I can, but—"
He handed me a crumpled map.
"When you have time, go find this person. They'll be able to give you the weapon you actually want."
I looked at the map.
"Who is this?"
The blacksmith pointed at my left hand.
"The one who made those gloves you're wearing."
The forge fire surged and writhed like a hungry ghost.
"A pleasure, Young Master Biryu."
A deeply lined, elderly woman tailor approached with a respectful bow. She held a measuring tape and took the measurements of every part of my body at speed.
"I'll increase the layers of protection over the right ribcage. About four."
The tape snicked shut. She measured my ribcage again and shook her head.
"Four layers would be too thick—movement would suffer. Your upper arms are shorter than the average man's, so your range of motion is already limited. I'll make it two and a half layers, using cowhide tanned twenty-two times, with a wire core worked in."
I nodded. The tailor glanced at my face.
"I'll remake that clumsy mask of yours as well. Better if it has some defensive value. And—"
Through white-streaked bangs she looked at me.
"Any color you want for the new martial robes?"
I didn't have to think.
"Black. Black will do."
She set down a stack of paper and regarded me.
"Is this work an official beginning? Or a private, secret, personal one?"
"Why do you ask?"
At a gesture from the elderly tailor, dozens of assistants began cutting cloth. They tanned leather dense and layered it, reinforcing with tough fabric wherever steel could not protect, while still leaving the whole thing easy to move in.
"I need to know the wearer's intent if I'm to make something that actually helps the client."
I turned and looked at Yun Hyeon. He nodded and said briefly,
"You can trust her."
After a short silence I faced the tailor again and spoke slowly.
"I want a very private, very quiet visit. If that's possible."
Yun Hyeon took a scroll from a basket and unrolled it on the table.
"Information bought through the Lower Gate for a third of a gold bar."
He smiled quietly.
"A complete map of the Ju Family's main residence."
"Good."
The map was three sheets. Every structure was recorded from top to bottom.
"It's made up of three main compounds, and the towers are three stories high. The walls are granite mixed with clay, and they stand over ten chi tall."
"Nearly fortress walls."
"I recommend beginning with a quiet visit," Yun Hyeon said in a low voice. "The number of known private guards alone exceeds that of a decent sect."
"I think so as well."
"Then."
Yun Hyeon led me out of the stables and closed the door. Beyond it, the faint sounds of leather being cut and iron being struck cut off as cleanly as if sliced by a blade.
"I've prepared things as you requested."
We stood in an open courtyard. Three martial artists waited there. Yun Hyeon flipped through a booklet.
"All of them are roughly Second-rate. As for the techniques you wanted, they've trained them to the extreme. Demonstrating martial arts in front of others is normally taboo, but—"
He made a coin-shape with his fingers.
"For them, living expenses matter more right now than pride or principle."
He pointed them out one by one.
"Each man has agreed to demonstrate exactly one technique for you, three times only. The pay for three demonstrations is generous enough that they shouldn't complain much. Is there anything else you'd like?"
I quietly sifted through old memories and laid out the details.
"First time at normal speed. Second time as slowly as possible. Third time, even if the form breaks a little, put maximum force into it and strike hard. Between each movement, open and close cleanly. Once they start, don't stop in the middle—flow through to the end as if it were real combat."
Yun Hyeon answered without hesitation.
"That won't be a problem."
"Will there be any pushback over this?"
At my question he smiled.
"In this world there's nothing money can't do. If it still doesn't work, the amount simply wasn't enough. So—"
He nodded.
"You need not worry, Young Master."
"And the chance of betrayal—or of word leaking out?"
"That won't happen."
Yun Hyeon drew three contracts from his coat.
"They agreed to a clause that says the moment a single word of this gets out, they accept being treated as the culprit and cut down without objection."
"And they signed that… willingly?"
"Young Master Biryu."
Without the slightest waver, Yun Hyeon answered.
"Having climbed from dishwasher in the Luoyang branch all the way to where I stand now, assisting one responsible officer after another as they came and went—what I can tell you is this."
Only then was I certain. The man in front of me, Yun Hyeon, carried a far more worn and weathered scent than Dokgo Mu, who had introduced him. Dokgo Mu, the so-called overall manager, was only a figurehead superior. This man was the real power of the Luoyang branch. He clearly had never trained in martial arts. He had nothing to do with physical strength or raw force. But what seeped from him was a presence equal to any jianghu veteran—the air of someone who had survived a rough world.
"Whatever people—including yourself—imagine, money is more powerful than that."
"And Master Yun Hyeon is the specialist in that field."
He beamed.
"I am. More than you think."
"…Impressive."
"I find you equally impressive."
"…"
I took the paper he held out. On it, the techniques each martial artist practiced were listed in careful order. Not the high-level supreme arts I might have wanted. What mattered now was variety. I wasn't looking for some supreme technique that could flip a situation on its head. Copying arts like that overloaded the brain and body terribly. Right now, when I needed to keep myself in peak condition, greed would only leave me worse off than if I hadn't tried at all.
Yun Hyeon spoke.
"So when will you depart, Young Master? Any particular weather you prefer?"
"Weather."
I folded the paper and tucked it into my coat.
"I do have a preference."
The torrential rain came two days later.
Lightning stabbed down. Wrapped head to toe in black cloth, I took the white winter rain that fell like a waterfall. White breath steamed from my mouth. With every exhale, water sprayed from my lips. Rain that hit the ground and rebounded struck upward against my chin.
Thunder rolled. Pure white lightning split the dark, lit the world, and died. Crouched on a high branch that swayed in the gale, I watched the scene ahead. Far off, the whale-back roofs of the Ju Family compound came into view. In the driving winter rain the guards hugged themselves for warmth, and every sound was washed away.
I pulled my stiffening hands into my coat. Inside were heated river stones I'd prepared so the cold wouldn't lock my fingers. I worked them in my palms and loosened my hands. Red light leaked from the eyeholes of my mask. In the dark I muttered in a hoarse voice,
"Freeing the Kunlun Sect's Hidden Dragon from his debtor's life…. Shall we begin?"