The Blacksmith's Bells
“You there. Would you mind stopping a moment?”
I had been hurrying back to the lodging where So Yeomgyo would be waiting.
I stopped in my tracks.
Chirp-chirp.
The sound of insects spread through the grass. Pale blue moonlight spilled in through a gap in the communal ceiling. Everything that had been so raucous during the Dark Fighting Tournament now lay as still as death, as if the whole affair had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Being underground, the place filled with a silence that night made absolute—far deeper than anything on the surface.
“You’re Biryu, aren’t you?”
Beneath the blue moonlight, a figure slowly stepped out of the darkness.
I answered in a low voice.
“Who might you be?”
Without meaning to, I had come to hold two identities in this Jianghu. As with most things, the beginning had been modest. It was probably just a temporary identity I had been given on the spur of the moment.
The first was, of course, my true self: Moyong Bi, the fourth son of the Moyong Family, born to a concubine.
The second was the identity of Biryu—a fourth-rank field investigator of the Blood Death Sect.
That second name had taken on a life of its own, accumulating renown in the Jianghu one step at a time, whether I intended it or not. Before I knew it, more people were approaching me by that second name than by my real one, and more than a few of them carried grudges tied to it as well.
There had been a time when I asked why, of all things, fourth rank. The Blood Death Sect’s Munju’s answer had been simple.
‘In the assassin trade, where the idea of disposables is already strong, the strongest “disposable among disposables” image belongs to the fourth ranks. They’re not even properly recorded on the official registers—only the direct Twenty Division Artisans hold the real lists. In short…’
She had laced her fingers under her chin and smiled.
‘It’s the perfect position for saying, “Oh, that person? We don’t have anyone like that in our organization.” It’s also used “strategically” from time to time—not just by us, but by other assassin houses too. You know, right? Assassin groups run more like families than orthodox sects. We’ve got our own deep-rooted little world.’
And now the old man standing before me, a full head shorter than I was and stooped at the waist, was also calling me “Biryu.”
“You’re quite the celebrity. It’s been terribly hard to get a meeting. Or rather… I should say everyone around me kept trying to stop me.”
The old man chuckled and stroked his long beard. At a glance he looked well past eighty. The long white hair, the white beard, and the deep wrinkles spoke of a long life lived. Yet the arms exposed by his sleeves and the prominent muscle there radiated an uncommon presence—as if the life of a scholar who had spent his days with brush and stringed instrument had been haphazardly mixed with the life of a battle-hardened warrior only just retired from the mud and blood of the battlefield. That chaotic blend sat firmly upon him.
“Forgive the rudeness, but who might the honored elder be?”
“Who am I, you ask?”
His long white brows twitched as he countered.
“You entered this tournament without even knowing who I am?”
“…What I do know is that when every participant was gathered earlier, you were not among them.”
If a man like this had been in the waiting room, there was no way I would have missed him. The unique aura rolling off the old man in front of me was that distinct.
As if sensing what I wanted, Mumyeong whispered quietly into my mind.
There is no one within three jang who carries killing intent. Do not worry.
It did not seem he had approached with malice. I cupped my fist in salute.
“My apologies. I am still a newcomer to the Jianghu and lack the common knowledge others might take for granted. If I have committed any unintended discourtesy, allow me to offer my apologies in advance.”
“….”
Instead of accepting the apology, the old man gave me an unreadable look.
“When a man waits for a first meeting with someone,” he said beneath the moonlight, “he usually keeps that person’s temperament in mind. He pictures the conversation that might unfold and prepares his words accordingly. The older you get, the stronger that habit becomes.”
He stroked his beard and tilted his head.
“You—are you the Biryu of the Blood Death Sect who just fought Gwak Ido?”
“I do not quite understand the intent of the question.”
“Is he simply deep and calculating, or is he that….”
The old man smacked his lips.
“Twisted? This is not the reaction I expected.”
“….”
“I thought you’d be fierce and rough. Instead you’re this calm and rational, and it’s throwing me off.”
“That would be because it was a match—”
“I am I-ta-bang.”
I stopped speaking and looked at him.
In the waiting room the black-path martial artists had constantly clustered and whispered whenever they had the chance.
‘So that old man is the I-ta-bang….’
One of the principal reasons so many strong fighters had flocked to this Dark Fighting Tournament now stood before me. He was one of the most renowned blacksmiths in the Jianghu—famous for being as upright as bamboo and thoroughly eccentric. One of the things that defined him was that he forged weapons only for those who pleased him.
There were plenty of eccentric smiths who crafted famous swords and armor and sold them only to those they recognized. But he was the only one who refused to begin forging at all until he found a subject who stirred his heart and inspiration. He was famous for not lifting a hammer until someone capable of rousing his creative drive appeared.
“…I failed to recognize Elder I-ta-bang. Forgive me.”
“You really must be new to the Jianghu. It’s a little embarrassing to say with my own mouth, but people usually whisper that they can spot me from ten li away.”
“….”
It would have been hard to miss him. His face and clothes were those of a kindly scholar, yet beneath them his body writhed with muscles ready to burst—creating a jarring sense of dissonance, as if mismatched pieces had been forced together.
“So what business does Elder I-ta-bang have with me?”
“The more I watched from the preliminaries on, the more my interest grew. And now that I’ve seen your gear up close, even if I didn’t have business, I’d have to invent some.”
I-ta-bang stepped closer as he spoke.
“The Go-a on your hand, the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap, and that chest armor—you got them all from different places, didn’t you?”
“…?!”
I flinched and instinctively backed two or three steps away from him. I-ta-bang smacked his lips again.
“What’s with the shock? You’re making the man talking feel awkward.”
“….”
“A man who lives by metal recognizing that much is only natural.”
Without hesitation he pointed to the equipment on my limbs and continued.
“That glove on your hand, woven like a metal net—that’s the Chiljong-heukjusa-gap I made for Dokgo Jun twenty-seven years ago. And the Go-a stuck brazenly right on top of it, advanced with four downward strikes and one upward—that’s Yunjin’s nasty handiwork. As for the armor covering your chest… heh.”
I-ta-bang strode right up and tapped my chest. There sat the breastplate protector I had been using so usefully all this time—the one I had obtained through a connection at the Namgung Family’s Luoyang branch.
“Hm?”
He tilted his head. His hand ran over the protector. I had changed clothes many times, but the protector itself I had kept, replacing the worn leather straps again and again.
“…The right thoracic plate has gone from four layers… down to two and a half, and you’ve put in steel-wire cores along with cowhide tanned twenty-two times? That’s Luoyang work. And even a protector made that solid has been reduced to complete rags. You don’t end up with something like this unless you’ve been through life-and-death grounds like they were daily meals… but in this day and age, can a martial artist like that even exist?”
I-ta-bang’s head snapped up like lightning.
“I like you.”
“Pardon?”
“Just make it through the main tournament. Then come find me while ringing these.”
What settled into my hand were two uniquely crafted silver bells made of porcelain. I-ta-bang spun on his heel. As he turned, he held up two fingers.
“I’ll gladly meet you twice. One meeting per bell. The place—the moment you leave that annex, turn right, think of me, and run while ringing a bell. You’ll find your way to me on your own. Everything’s already arranged that way.”
“Elder, I’m not exactly so free that I can go chasing after some—”
Afraid of causing a misunderstanding, I hastily added the words. At that, the footsteps of I-ta-bang—who had been stretching away into the distance with some mysterious footwork—came to an abrupt halt. He turned around with his mouth hanging open, unable to believe what his ears had just heard.
“What did you just say?”
“…That is, I’m not a free man…”
“Huh.”
I-ta-bang gave a dry laugh.
“So there really is a bastard in this Jianghu who talks back and says he’s busy when I tell him to come find me. Well now, living this long has been worth it after all.”
He clicked his tongue.
“Then again, that’s why all those miscellaneous peddlers are coming up behind you. In the dead of night, not even sleeping.”
I-ta-bang pointed behind me. In the distance a group of people could be seen approaching with torches lit.
“You there! Just a moment! Wait a moment, please! We have something to say!”
Having spotted us, the short, stocky man at the head of the group shouted and came running. I-ta-bang clicked his tongue again and spoke rapidly.
“Whether you come looking for me or not is none of my concern. I’m leaving first, so if you’ve got any sense, remember what I told you clearly, you bold little bastard. And on the premise that you really are new to the Jianghu and truly know nothing, let me stick my nose in one more time.”
I-ta-bang turned without the slightest hesitation.
“Before you start asking useless questions, run. Meeting those fellows will only get troublesome.”
With that, I-ta-bang vanished into the darkness like the wind. Left alone, I looked back. I stared at the countless torches.
Flutter.
Hesitation lasted only an instant.
The black martial robes whipped violently in the night wind as if they would tear.
“What? There were clearly two people just a moment ago?!”
It was before the shadows had even fully scattered. Everyone had been running and watching clearly. The stooped old man with well-developed limbs and the man like black mist with black martial robes streaming had been standing under the pale blue full moon, conversing in low voices.
“This is an open space with nowhere to hide on any side—how…!”
It was not even under the shadow of a building. There were not many structures nearby. It was simply an empty lot. They had glanced at the people running toward them from afar, and then—
The old man had run off first into the distance. That much they could accept. After all, their target had been the one fluttering black martial robes like black mist—the preliminary qualifier.
“….”
Right after the old man vanished, right after the man looked their way, something like the shadow itself seemed to ripple—and the man dissolved from the spot like a mirage and disappeared.
“Did you see that? Just now?”
“That’s the footwork from the tournament.”
“Good heavens. How can footwork like that even exist? If he came around behind me with that and cut my throat, I’d be dead without a chance to move.”
People milled about the empty plaza, murmuring over the unbelievable sight they had just witnessed.
“Kh… kuh.”
The stocky man’s face flushed red and blue as he held his torch. He had been waiting for someone.
Thud-thud-thud.
From a distance one of his subordinates came running. The man shouted.
“Did you confirm it?!”
“Escort Bureau Chief Jinyeong. We checked—the participant in question already expressed that he would no longer use the annex lodging for contestants and has checked out.”
Those words were enough to snap the last thread of reason left in Escort Bureau Chief Jinyeong.
“Y-you… you useless bastards!”
Chief Jinyeong hurled the torch in his hand to the ground and stamped on it like a madman.
“Hey, you sons of bitches! You can’t even grasp one simple thing properly, run around in circles, and end up losing him! What if some other bastards make contact first—are you going to take responsibility?! Huh?!”
The stocky chief who had led the group jumped up and down in fury. Beside him a man who looked like a subordinate kept bowing his head, not knowing what to do.
“C-Chief… th-that is… it’s still only the preliminaries, so there’s plenty of time. Please calm yourself a little….”
“You bastard! Is that something you say out loud?!”
Thwack.
Chief Jinyeong smashed a fist into his subordinate’s head.
“Aagh! Chief!”
“Get lost and just die already! Don’t you dare go around saying you work as an escort anywhere!”
The chief began thrashing his subordinate in earnest.
“There are hundreds of eyes watching from the stands—you think we’re the only ones looking?! This is a big fish we finally found! The further he goes into the main tournament, the higher his price will soar and the more eyes will be on him—we have to make the first move as soon as possible!!”
The subordinate writhed on the ground amid the dust. Chief Jinyeong pounded his own chest with a fist as if rage were choking him.
“Keeping a halfwit like that as a subordinate is rotting my insides. What are you all standing around for?! The target is Biryu—the fourth-rank field investigator of the Blood Death Sect! Just this one man! We don’t need anyone else!! With thirty years of eyes in this business, I can tell you this tournament is a guaranteed profit and more if we just land this one person!”
“Understood.”
Chief Jinyeong waved a hand and barked the order.
“I don’t care how much money it takes! Find out where that participant is staying—bribe the organizers, grease palms, whatever—secure the lodging solidly before any other flies swarm in! Arrange a contact opportunity somehow before the next match. If you can’t, it’s mutual destruction for all of you—got that?!”