Hendrick's Secret and the Sage Cannon

Sage Cannon... Haah. Joo Hyejin closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Where on earth did this young man with such a pure brain come from?

She could somewhat accept the ghost's story as mere nonsense, but what he was saying now were issues that couldn't just be glossed over quietly.

"...So the blind craftsman taught you about gunpowder and firearm techniques."

"Yeah, that's right."

"... "

He wasn't even trying to hide the major details that could influence this trial; he was spilling them all out without any filter. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She had no idea how to take it.

"...Sorry for interrupting. Please continue."

How many more problematic issues were lurking in the rest of his story? Unease was already creeping in.

Setting aside his thrilling adventure tale straight out of a storybook, she was on pins and needles wondering what other massive bombshells might drop.

*

The winter in the southern lands was mild. Thanks to that, life continued peacefully, much like before.

Bang! Bang!

Every few seconds, the cannon spat flames.

The explosion was incomparably cleaner than the crude Bamboo General from before, echoing in all directions.

Startled by the unnatural roar, seabirds flapped away in a frenzy, fleeing the area.

Thud. The fired shot pierced the heart of a human-shaped monster with an ox head, dropping it dead on the spot.

"Full bloom."

The Twin Cannon Assembly looked like a matchlock but was bulkier and more primal, almost like a modern shotgun.

Its hallmark was the two barrels fused together without a trigger, allowing rapid successive shots as long as it was loaded.

The smell of gunpowder wafted on the sea breeze.

Through trial and error, and gaining knowledge I hadn't known before, many things had changed. First off, weapons like swords and spears commonly used in the murim world relied heavily on stats like Strength and Agility.

But this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠firearm category, while Strength mattered, made the special stat 'Dexterity'—handiwork—play an even bigger role. I realized this after dozens of shots.

Thanks to perfect synergy with the Heavenly Mechanism Star ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠constellation, every shot was a bullseye. With weapon quality reaching a decent level, monster hunting became a breeze.

Unlike disposable Bamboo Generals, proper maintenance allowed reuse, so my arsenal kept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠growing.

The most basic pistol form, the Three-Barrel Cannon. The Victor's Cannon Assembly, similar to a matchlock but distinct. The unique double-barreled Twin Cannon Assembly, and more.

Not just numbers—my crafting skills and firearm handling know-how improved too, pushing my combat power upward.

Subjugating the monster 'Wu Nok' would've been impossible with just my martial arts skill, even if I died and revived a hundred times. I'd have just died for good.

"Even if lovers betray me, you'll never betray me. Let's make this last forever."

Truly, the fruits of civilization are amazing—they enforce equality. Aigoo, my pretty ones. I shoved a rod into the barrel to clean out the powder residue for my hardworking weapons. Feels good, right?

Every time I got affectionate with my weapons, even Hendrick would shut up, freak out, and leave. Ignoring the shuddering ghost fleeing, I stowed the maintained weapons into the ship's hold one by one.

Thus, I wrapped up the fourth subquest. It took time, but I felt closer to my goal.

Of course, they couldn't compare to precision firearms made for regular armies elsewhere. But producing this level on a resource-poor island was satisfying enough.

It was all thanks to the constellation—without the Heavenly Mechanism Star, I'd have died in the first subquest.

'Still, something feels off.'

On the other hand, a sense of incongruity nagged me. How to put it? Things didn't add up.

Even with the Heavenly Mechanism Star's blessing, these weapons from such harsh conditions subdued monsters with ease.

So what happened to Hendrick and his crew, who had more men and far better weapons?

The sealed gunpowder in the ship and the lack of bodies anywhere made it seem unlikely they were monster victims.

Starvation or plague? No traces anywhere. Does that even make sense?

If they died, bodies should be somewhere. And why was Hendrick's soul alone here while others vanished?

I glanced at Hendrick's profile as he chatted about future plans.

Once, I'd subtly probed about the forest, and he'd dodged the topic. It tied into my nagging doubts, giving me one certainty.

That night I questioned him about the forest, when Hendrick vanished sometimes—what was he doing?

As I tracked his movements, I spotted him.

"Hendrick, what are you doing there?"

At the beach entrance, he stared blankly at the island's center forest, where monsters gathered to avoid the heat, entranced.

For the 15 minutes—or maybe longer—I watched before calling out.

I'd suspected he was hiding something, but this seemed no small matter.

'Never enter the island's central forest. Absolutely.'

Hendrick's repeated warning echoed in my mind.

I'd explored everywhere: the shipwreck beach, coastal bamboo grove, west forest path, even the northern cliffs I avoided due to trauma from Namgung Yeona's betrayal.

The only unvisited spot was there.

Soon enough, I'll have no choice but to head there, my gamer instincts told me.

To end this opportunity, I'd have to break my promise to Hendrick.

*

Unlike early quests rushing to the next, this one's dragged on for a reason—not some grand mastery or enlightenment.

Just two simple facts.

Utterly realistic reasons.

First: material gathering.

Crafting a medium cannon required absurd quantities dwarfing Bamboo Generals or Victor's Cannons, fitting its massive size.

Plus the Heavenly Mechanism Star's passive consumed extras, delaying the quest repeatedly.

"One, two, three, four."

Thus, for grinding materials, I allowed zero inefficiency.

Melting rusty crew weapons minimized waste; I dismantled the ship just short of ruining it for nails and brass.

No coal? I endlessly made high-purity charcoal substitutes. I trekked forest paths for days hauling resources.

Repeating such sweaty routines daily, eventually I gathered everything.

On a fine work day, I hauled out all hold materials and began casting.

Using mountain clay and beach sand for molds, I poured the properly mixed molten metal slowly.

The tiny furnace forced segmented production despite risks. No blaming the environment—just do my best.

Too focused to reply to my master's advice. Failure meant back to grinding—must succeed desperately.

"No, shit."

Soon after that thought, a heart-sinking mistake: uneven heat, color off.

Checking the casting:

The constellation's grace fixed my temperature failure when I nearly despaired. I'd kowtow to the starry sky a thousand times.

Pouring more molten metal into finished segments, I finished up. Cooling metal met hot, contracting and expanding.

Extracting the barrel from the mold, I fitted iron hoops and fired it in the furnace, correcting cracks with heat.

Clang, clang! Fierce hammering on the glowing barrel. It grew smoother and more precise with each blow.

Arms aching, sweat pouring, on the verge of collapse—how much time passed?

After endurance, I fitted the final ring. Segments united into one. Imperfect due to conditions, but my best—enough.