Shopping and the Stalker
A single sheet of paper. A crisp permission slip stamped with the trembling seal of the prickly county magistrate.
This flimsy scrap was the most powerful license in Joseon, one that could alter the course of the nation's fate. In this era, being able to freely handle gunpowder ingredients meant stockpiling power itself.
I neatly folded the paper and handed it to Seo Baek-seol.
"Alright, let's go shopping."
She took the paper, tucking it away, and asked, "Making gunpowder? Do you even know what ingredients you need?"
"Nah, no clue."
I answered with total confidence. Seo Baek-seol nearly tripped over her own feet. She looked up at me with utter bewilderment.
"......Pardon? What did you just say?"
"I said I don't know. Just mix stuff that goes boom, right?"
"Ha... you're driving me insane."
She pressed a hand to her forehead and let out a deep sigh.
"Why'd you even get the permit if you don't know the ingredients? What kind of mysterious guy are you? Got a plan?"
"Of course I do. You. Aren't you the one who owns the Damyang underworld? You must know where to buy gunpowder stuff."
I patted my belly shamelessly. She let out a disbelieving chuckle.
"Wow... your shamelessness pierces the heavens. What if I didn't know? What sin did I commit in a past life to partner with a guy like you?"
She grumbled, but her feet were already leading the way. As expected of my partner—complaints aside, she got things done.
"Follow me. Sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter soil. That's the three. I'll handle getting them; you just carry the load."
"Let's roll. Porter ready."
We slipped into a dingy alley at the back of Damyang's market.
It wasn't your typical apothecary. No sign, just the stench of herbs wafting from a rundown warehouse. Seo Baek-seol exchanged a few coded words with the owner, then we were led deep inside.
"Got sulfur? Not the skin remedy stuff—the kind for pyrotechnics."
The owner narrowed his eyes, sizing us up.
"Got official permission? Selling sulfur carelessly gets your head chopped off."
"Right here."
Seo Baek-seol shoved the permit forward. The owner relaxed upon seeing "[For Wild Boar Extermination]" and the magistrate's seal.
"Well, the magistrate himself stamped it. How much do you need?"
"All of it."
The owner's jaw dropped at her bold order.
"All? Everything in the warehouse?"
"Yeah. And charcoal too—not scrub wood, but good-burning, long-lasting willow charcoal. You can get it, right?"
Seo Baek-seol haggled like a pro, slashing the price and scoring extras. Her skills were art. I stood by, ready to play porter, admiring the show.
Soon, five sacks of yellow sulfur powder and bulky bags of black charcoal piled up before me.
"Carry."
Her curt command. I slung them over my shoulders without a word—sulfur on the left, charcoal on the right. The stench was foul, but bearable.
"Next?"
"Blacksmith. Need a cauldron. A really big one."
We headed to the forge at the market's edge.
Acrid smoke and the clang of hammering iron filled the air. As we entered, an old man—bare-chested, pounding glowing metal—glanced our way. Lean but roped with muscle like twisted ropes, he looked stubborn as hell.
"What do you want?"
He set down his hammer gruffly. He didn't flinch at my size—impressive.
"Here for a cauldron. A massive one."
"Massive? How massive?"
"Big enough to boil a whole cow."
He snorted.
"A whole cow? Household pots won't cut it."
He jerked his chin toward the yard corner.
"See that beast over there? The county ordered it, then rejected it for being too heavy."
There sat a massive black iron cauldron, upside down. Its diameter matched my height—less a pot, more a tank hatch. Twice as thick as normal, rust from the elements, but still imposing.
"Perfect. Looks sturdy. We'll take it."
"You gonna be able to carry it? Solid iron—four grown men struggle. Bring a cart or hire laborers."
The blacksmith tsked, eyeing us like we were nuts. Seo Baek-seol paled at its size.
"Whoa... too big. We'd need an oxcart to move that."
"No cash for that. I'll just carry it."
"Huh? That? You're already loaded down."
I adjusted the sulfur and charcoal on my shoulders.
"This is nothing. Step back."
I stomped over. Up close, it was enormous. Cold iron chilled my palms.
No handles—just protrusions on the rim.
I bent, gripped both ends.
"Hey, kid! You'll wreck your back! Don't be a fool—call a cart!"
The blacksmith yelled in alarm. I ignored him.
Deep breath. Qi surged from my dantian. Thighs and back tensed like steel cables.
"Hup!"
With a shout, I poured on the power.
Kirrrrk!
Heavy metal scraped the dirt. Then—
Wooong—
The massive cauldron lifted off the ground.
I didn't stop, hoisting it overhead. Veins bulged, joints screamed, but momentum held.
Thud.
I slung it onto my back like a pack. Sulfur and charcoal underneath, the iron lid crowning it all.
A human tortoise. No—a human tank.
"......"
Silence.
The blacksmith dropped his tongs. Jaw agape, he stared up at me. A lifetime with iron, and he'd never seen this.
Seo Baek-seol facepalmed.
"Ha... not human."
"She'll settle up. Cut us a deal."
I flashed the stunned blacksmith a grin and strode off. Each step cratered the dirt.
Exiting the market, eyes locked on me.
"What the hell is that?" "A guy's carrying a cauldron?" "The world's strongest man! He's here!"
Rumors spread like wildfire: Kim Deok-ryeong, tiger-slayer, now hauling house-sized pots. I savored the stares, strolling leisurely.
"Not heavy?"
Seo Baek-seol panted, catching up.
"Good workout. All muscle gains."
"Can't stop you. But you've noticed the tail since earlier?"
Sharp as ever. A merchant's instincts were fearsome.
I knew too. That sticky gaze since the apothecary. Now bolder after my forge show.
"Yeah. Ignore it."
"Who? Officials? Thugs?"
"Neither."
I glanced back sidelong.
A man in a shabby gat hat, worn dopot flapping. Keeping distance but persistent. When I lifted the cauldron, his shock turned to certainty.
No killing intent. Just curiosity. Intense scrutiny.
Grease, iron, faint gunpowder whiff.
Na Dae-yong.
Confirmation. Only he'd reek like that around here.
He was studying me: bulk-buying sulfur and charcoal, superhuman strength. He'd pegged me as no ordinary man.
Follow if you dare.
I smirked. Luring him outright was no fun. I'd craft a scenario no engineer could resist—make him burst out on his own.
Back at the inn, sun high noon.
"Boss is back!"
Choi Ga rushed out, then gawked at my load and the iron behemoth.
"Gasp! What the—gonna boil a cow?"
"Something more precious."
I dropped the cauldron in the yard center. Ground quaked like an earthquake. Yiho Army rushed out, gaping.
"Attention!"
My clap lined them up. I handed out shovels and forks, ordering a "treasure hunt": under the floorboards, barn, outhouse nearby—stale soil. Saltpeter soil.
"Ugh! Boss, outhouse dirt?!"
Groans erupted, but "No dinner otherwise" scattered them with shovels.
By dusk, yard piled with dirt mountains. Sour, rank stench hung heavy.
"Good. Let's begin."
I stuffed firewood into the cauldron's furnace. Flames roared. Muddy water bubbled inside.
Seo Baek-seol pinched her nose, approaching.
"Boil this and you get gunpowder? Know the ratios?"
"Nope."
"Huh?"
"Told you. Just mix roughly, right?"
I bellowed loudly—for the eavesdropper outside.
"This mud water first... hell, whatever!"
I grabbed a sulfur sack.
"This stuff's pricey, yeah? More means bigger boom! Dump a whole sack!"
She grabbed my arm in horror.
"Crazy?! That's expensive—add little by little!"
"Screw it! Real men go big! Charcoal too—dump it all!"
I hoisted the sack over the cauldron, ready to pour.
"No! Stop!"
She pleaded, but I ignored.
"Let's make fireworks!"
Then—
"Hey! Stop that!"
Desperate shout from the gate.
I grinned. Hooked.
Engineers can't stand waste. Especially botched processes ruining good materials. Knew you'd jump.
Gate burst open. Shabby gat, ragged dopot, grease-stained hands. Na Dae-yong. He rushed, blocking me.
"Madness! How can you do that? Dumping precious sulfur in shit water?!"
His face twisted in fury—genuine rage.
I feigned ignorance. "Who're you to backseat my work? My money, my call."
"Your money, sure—but wasteful! Wrong order too! Filter and concentrate saltpeter first, then mix. Not like dumping in soup!"
He pounded his chest in frustration.
"Too much water, no ash filter for impurities! You'd make fertilizer!"
Expert. Spotted every flaw at a glance.
I slyly set the sack down.
"Then you know better? This is our best shot."
"Heh. I've breathed gunpowder longer than you've lived."
He tsked, peering in.
"Sulfur's prime. Willow charcoal too. Top materials, crap chef."
He eyed me.
"You look strong, but gunpowder's brains and skill, not muscle."
"Then teach us. Show, don't tell."
"Not for free. This knowledge ain't cheap."
He played coy. I glanced at Seo Baek-seol—her eyes sparkled. She knew he was the real deal.
I stepped closer.
"No free rides. But..."
I snatched an iron poker by the cauldron. Twisted it casually into a pretzel before his eyes.
Kirrrk.
Horrid screech—iron mangled. His eyes bulged.
"I'll get what you want. My strength, her money."
I nodded at Seo Baek-seol.
"Looks like you've got dreams but no funds or materials. Right?"
His face hardened—hit the mark. Court ignored his turtle ship blueprints. No cash or manpower; he'd burned inside. That's why he tailed me—faint hope.
"You... knew I was following?"
"Knew. Wasn't here for shit-water show."
I extended my hand.
"Kim Deok-ryeong of Damyang. Make us gunpowder. I'll launch your dream ship."
Na Dae-yong stared—my hand, twisted poker, boiling cauldron. Then he burst laughing.
"Hahaha! World says tiger-slaying monster... didn't know you fished for men too."
He got it—I'd botched on purpose to reel him in.
"Deal. I'll bet on your reckless gamble. But you supply the iron ribs for my ship. County scraps won't cut it."
"Whatever it takes. Heavy lifting's my specialty."
He gripped my hand hard. Rough, callused engineer's palm.
This wasn't mere meeting. Joseon's land guardian, money master, sea engineer—Peach Garden Oath reborn.
Cauldron bubbled furiously; furnace glow lit three faces red.
History's wheel began its furious spin.