Chapter 358
Chapter 358
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 367
Chapter Title: The Sacred Tree Scabbard
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The heavyweights of the Iron Divine Sect hurriedly gathered in the sect leader's quarters due to the commotion that had erupted in broad daylight.
The atmosphere among them, who had rushed in haphazardly, was as heavy as if a lump of lead had sunk into it.
The chief steward muttered.
"Just what possessed you to accept such a thing..."
Ban Ho-jung pressed his temples firmly at the question laced with resentment and sighs.
The master smiths chimed in one after another.
"Where are we supposed to find spirit-infused materials on such short notice?"
"Even spirit herbs have dried up, and now we have to source materials for a scabbard?"
"Sect Leader, you have to find a way to refuse it."
Ban Ho-jung let out a deep sigh at the smiths' words.
"...You all."
The low, weary voice made the smiths flinch.
The voice of Ban Ho-jung, always brimming with energy and composure, now sounded like a sickly chicken wheezing!
As the smiths looked on in bewilderment, Ban Ho-jung spoke up.
"Do you not know what happened to the Wudang Sect Taoists?"
"...!"
"Ugh!"
"Urgh!"
The smiths' faces turned pale.
Mentioning Wudang here left them speechless.
Who could have known that the Radiant Dragon would thrash the Taoists of Wudang—one of the Nine Great Sects, called one of the Two Great Peaks alongside Shaolin—so brutally?
Even iron wouldn't have been beaten that badly.
The smiths swallowed dryly, recalling the scene the Radiant Dragon had wrought.
"They call him the Radiant Dragon, and now I see why."
"What kind of person..."
"Oh dear, and now what about Wudang..."
It was a mountain of troubles upon troubles.
Frustrated, the smiths shook their heads.
Ban Ho-jung watched them quietly before speaking.
"Setting all else aside, this concerns the honor of the Iron Divine Sect."
"Mm..."
"We must acknowledge that we lack the knowledge, experience, and time to handle that demonic sword. But surely we can manage a scabbard?"
Ban Ho-jung's expression turned complicated.
The smiths groaned in response.
It felt strangely off-putting that they, hailed as the finest smiths, couldn't even repair a single sword and had to pour their all into a mere scabbard.
"...We can make it."
"Of course. If we can wrap it up that way, nothing could be better."
"Making the scabbard isn't the issue. The problem is whether the Radiant Dragon will be satisfied with it..."
"Honor and fate. Ha, haha."
At this point, it was hard to tell if the Radiant Dragon or the demonic sword was the real problem.
Wudang was trouble enough, yet why did those two names make it seem trivial?
One of the smiths spoke up.
"Still, five days is too short."
"That's why we negotiated it to six days."
"...Five or six days, it's still too short."
No matter how many brilliant smiths the Iron Divine Sect boasted, what could they make without materials?
Ban Ho-jung groaned.
"We have to find a way somehow. After all, weren't we the ones who forged that sword like that?"
"...You led it, Sect Leader."
That stung.
Ban Ho-jung glared at one smith to silence him, then spoke lowly.
"Either way, for those reasons, we must procure sacred materials as quickly as possible!"
"You're just repeating the same thing, Sect Leader. Any solutions...?"
Silence fell over the room once more.
No one could easily propose a solution and they hemmed and hawed.
As time dragged on endlessly, a small muttering voice pierced clearly into everyone's ears.
It felt like thunder in the silence.
"...Sacred wood."
"What?"
"What wood?"
The startled group gasped.
"S-Sacred wood?!"
"What nonsense is this!"
"No to the sacred wood, Sect Leader! We can't use the sacred wood!"
"Cut the sacred wood for a scabbard?! What are you saying?!"
The smiths flew into a rage.
The sacred wood was like the guardian deity protecting the Iron Divine Sect.
Didn't their ancestors establish the sect right there because of the sacred wood?
Chop it up for one demonic sword scabbard?
Madness, utter madness!
"I'll go see that Radiant Dragon right now and hash it out!"
Ou Woo-jong, one of the Ten Great Smiths of the Iron Divine Sect, shot to his feet.
His burly, brutish appearance evoked a warrior donning armor as he bulged his eyes.
"It's true we failed to handle the commission properly! But surely they'll consider our circumstances! I'll get the deadline extended as much as possible!"
The group admired Ou Woo-jong's boldness.
"Ooh! As expected!"
"That's right, that's the spirit!"
"Of course, just asking for a bit more time shouldn't be a big deal!"
"Yeah, yeah!"
Ou Woo-jong declared confidently.
"Isn't the Nangong Clan a place of chivalry? Negotiating a bit more time should be easy through talk! Unless they're thugs, they wouldn't resort to force against mere commoners, right?"
It sounded reasonable at first glance.
At first glance...
Ou Woo-jong said.
"I'll persuade him. Trust me!"
"Sect Leader, let him go!"
"Yes! He's at the workshop anyway? We can say we need a spare sword at least."
Nothing to lose.
Ban Ho-jung glanced at Nangong Hyeok visible outside the lounge.
He was swinging the demonic sword in one hand and an Iron Divine Sect sword in the other.
Ban Ho-jung nodded.
Ou Woo-jong steeled his gaze.
"Just wait a moment!"
He flung open the lounge door energetically and strode toward the workshop.
"Ooooh!"
"What spirit! Youth is grand."
"Of course! So reliable, so reliable!"
"Isn't Master Ou always right? Sect Leader, no need to worry!"
"We're not shirking responsibility; just asking for more time, so trust and wait!"
The smiths nodded with pleased faces.
"I'll be right back!"
Ou Woo-jong shouted vigorously as he dashed out. Even a triumphant general wouldn't exude such grandeur!
Ban Ho-jung harbored faint hopes too.
Who wouldn't after seeing that...
Bang!
The closed door burst open, and Ou Woo-jong trudged back in.
He said he'd be right back, but this was too soon?
...Huh?
"...Master Ou?"
"Master Ou..."
"Eugh..."
Ou Woo-jong, his eyes swollen like ping-pong balls, returned to his seat with a crumpled face that was hard to tell if he was crying or smiling.
His expression twisted further with pain at every step.
One smith, mouth agape, stammered.
"...Th-the deadline?"
"..."
"What happened with the deadline?"
"I barely negotiated it back to six days from three."
...You madman, that's the same!
Everyone stared at Ou Woo-jong in disbelief.
"You got beat for asking to shorten it?"
"...I raised my voice a bit..."
"Just your voice?"
"...I swore a little..."
"..."
"Don't play games and fix it in six days, he said."
Ou Woo-jong hunched under the smiths' piercing glares and sniffled quietly.
The group stared blankly at the sniffling Ou Woo-jong.
...He deserved it.
Was this stubbornness or foolishness?
Ban Ho-jung looked at the Iron Divine Sect heavyweights.
"...Let's cut it."
Even those who had resisted nodded.
"...Yes, we have to."
"...We can replant the tree. It's not like it's a human life. Ha, haha..."
"Leave the roots."
A craftsman's pride only matters when it's feasible.
Groans echoed everywhere, but the tide had turned.
They were just about to agree to using the sacred wood.
Kwaaaang!
Kuuung!
A massive quake shook the sect leader's quarters.
Ban Ho-jung and the others cried out in alarm.
"Huh, heok!"
"Earthquake!"
"What's this?!"
Earthquake?
An earthquake!
A sudden roar and quake in the quiet Iron Divine Sect.
Could heaven be angry at their decision to cut the sacred tree?!
Perhaps the ancestors raged at their descendants' recklessness.
Ban Ho-jung and the others rushed out in a panic, making a fuss.
"Divine punishment, divine punishment..."
Divine punishment...
Ban Ho-jung gaped at the collapsed wall.
Through the gaping hole, Nangong Hyeok stood drawing the demonic sword.
The writhing demonic energy swept around like a predator seeking prey.
Nangong Hyeok's irritated voice, face twisted in annoyance, carried over.
"Damn it, shit! I just swung my arm once, why the hell does this thing fly off! Driving me insane, for real!"
Sssak! Sssaak!
Shuk shuk!
Ban Ho-jung watched the demonic energy licking like a tongue up to the building's eaves and turned to the heavyweights.
"Everyone."
"Y-Yes, Sect Leader."
"...Shorten it to three days, not six."
"..."
"Or the pillar roots will get sliced too."
The heavyweights nodded weakly.
Replanting the tree did seem right.
* * *
A vivid dragon, as if alive and about to move, climbed the scabbard body resembling the night sky.
The faint spiritual energy emanating from the scabbard enveloped the ascending dragon, drawing the viewer in just by looking.
Srrung!
Nangong Hyeok slowly drew the demonic sword from the scabbard.
Kkumeul kkumeul!
Along with a blinding sword gleam, dark energy billowed intensely.
Chak!
As Nangong Hyeok sheathed the demonic sword again, the writhing demonic energy vanished completely.
Wuuung!
A subtle vibration hummed from the scabbard.
It was surely suppressing the demonic energy from the sword.
"...Sacred wood, with sacred wood..."
Ban Ho-jung muttered hoarsely a few times before trailing off.
Looking a decade older in just three days, he barely continued.
"...We remade the body based on the sacred wood. And the frame uses cloud iron... cloud iron to balance the weight."
Srring! Chak!
"Originally, the scabbard attached to the sword served as the seal..."
Srring! Chak!
"...But..."
Srring! Chak!
Shuk! Chak!
Shuk chak!
Damn kid, really.
Ban Ho-jung wore a listless expression watching Nangong Hyeok repeatedly draw and sheathe the sword.
Haa, not even energy to curse.
Nangong Hyeok grinned.
His gaze swept over the gathered smiths.
"See? Told you it could be done. You finished it in three days, not six."
...Can't you see how we look?
Everyone had aged drastically in three days.
Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, slumped shoulders, hair turned white—did they even look like the people from three days ago?
But they couldn't voice it.
He wouldn't understand, and they were the ones who shortened the deadline.
Nangong Hyeok marveled.
"Wow, perfect!"
"Ha, haha. I poured every technique as a smith into it."
"It's so perfect I can't tell."
Nangong Hyeok fondled the scabbard in wonder.
Faint smiles crept onto the weary smiths' faces.
Yes, if the customer is satisfied...
"Until you draw it."
You bastard!
Srring!
Chwaaak! Kkumteureureu!
The smiths recoiled in horror as demonic energy burst forth.
Nangong Hyeok eyed them calmly before sheathing the sword again.
Chak!
"It just pops out like this when you draw the sword."
"..."
"Well, this seems to be the limit, so what can you do."
"...Ha, haha. S-Sorry."
Yes, sorry, so sorry!
Sorry for making it a real demonic sword!
Nangong Hyeok shrugged and smacked his lips.
"I get it to that extent. Can't make the impossible possible, right?"
"Y-Yes. Ha, haha!"
"So, what do I usually carry into battle?"
"..."
Yeah, what do you carry?
'Fists work fine.'
"Th-Then..."
What now?
Nangong Hyeok glanced at Ban Ho-jung and said.
"You saw with Wudang, but drawing this sword every time isn't ideal, right?"
True. That much is true.
"So, it'd be nice to have a decent everyday sword."
"..."
"Stick two on your waist, pick whichever. Nice idea, huh?"
"G-Good..."
"But I don't have one like that. Just one more! One more would be perfect!"
"..."
"Right?"
"..."
"Got one?"
Ban Ho-jung forced a smile.
'Just take the damn pillar roots too.'
You bastard.
Ancestors, what sin have I committed?
Huh?
He wailed inwardly, but no ancestral voices answered.