Twin Dragons Seek Their Master (1)
The sun rose. The dew that had fallen all night lifted, and the forge's hearth blazed red once more.
I tore into a wild boar's hind leg for breakfast as I stepped out into the courtyard.
"Seo merchant!"
At my call, Seo Baek-seol emerged from the inner quarters, her face puffy from lack of sleep. She'd stayed up late poring over the ledgers.
"Why are you yelling first thing in the morning? My eardrums are gonna burst."
"Pack up. We've got a delivery to make."
"A delivery? Where to?"
"Yeosu. Jeolla Left Naval Command."
Seo Baek-seol's eyes lit up. Sleep vanished in an instant.
"To Admiral Yi Sun-sin? You're not going empty-handed, right?"
"Of course not. Who do you think we are? We've got our pride."
I pointed to the warehouse.
"Remember that haul we got from Governor Yi Kwang in Jeonju Castle? Iron ingots, gunpowder, and half the grain rations."
"What? All of it?"
"Yeah. Load it all up. Might as well make a real show of it. Label the sender 'Damyang Righteous Army Commander Kim Deok-ryeong' in huge letters."
"No way... Do you know how much that's worth..."
Seo Baek-seol's face crumpled. To a merchant like her, handing over the entire stockpile felt like carving flesh from her bones.
But I was firm.
"Don't be stingy. That's all paying for our lives. If the sea falls, our money turns to toilet paper. You know that. The admiral holds the line for us, so we can dig in here and keep trading."
"I know, I get it... But my precious rice... That could feed our kids for a month..."
She pouted but soon started barking orders to the Yiho Army troops.
"Hey! Teams one through five! Open the warehouse! Load the carts! Straw for the fragile stuff! Check the rice sacks for bursts!"
Her knack for work was unmatched. In no time, a dozen carts were stacked high and neat. Governor Yi Kwang would clutch his neck and faint if he knew, but who cares? It was his stuff we were flaunting anyway. This was creative economics.
The supplies were ready. Now for the most important gift—the main event.
—
The forge was sweltering. Na Dae-yong sorted through iron lumps.
"This one's too soft... Too many impurities in this... Hmm."
He tested them with hammer strikes, listening to the ring, even tasting them with the tip of his tongue. Top-grade refined iron stolen by Black Mountain bandit scum from the magistrate's stores.
"Brother. Any good ones?"
"Plenty. Check these out."
Na Dae-yong held up two fist-sized lumps. Rough scrap at first glance, but a subtle blue sheen hinted at their quality.
"Heart iron. Takes melting a thousand pounds of pig iron to get one— the heart of steel. No impurities, toughest there is. Swords from this slice rock like tofu."
"Ooh, rare item. Perfect. Let's get started."
They ignored my odd phrases now. Figured it was just my quirky Japanese lingo.
I stripped off my upper garment. Muscles rippled eagerly.
"Ready?"
I'd heard his sword-forging lectures until my ears blistered. We'd pulled real blades before.
"Anytime."
Na Dae-yong shoved the lumps into the hearth.
Whoosh!
The bellows roared, heat soaring. Iron glowed red, then white-hot.
"Now!"
He yanked it out with tongs, slamming it on the anvil.
I held my breath. This hammering was different. No mindless flattening like tank armor. Fold and pound to pack density to the limit—true forging.
The Hero will wield this blade.
My hammer: twenty kilos of steel warhead. Light as a feather to me.
"Hup!"
I swung. BAM!
No mere clang. Air ripped with explosive force. The lump screamed, flattening under pressure.
"Fold it!"
Na Dae-yong folded it quick.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Steady rhythm, apocalyptic power. Each blow spat impurities as sparks; steel fibers knit tight. Days of a normal smith's work, crushed in strikes.
Hydraulic human press. My superhuman strength shone here. Iron bent, folded, stretched to my will.
Sweat poured like rain, stinging eyes—no time to wipe. Na Dae-yong, drenched too, checked heat, shaped it.
Our breaths synced perfectly. No words needed. This wasn't mere metal. A treasure to grace history's page.
Hammer rang from noon to dusk. Reheat the rough blade form, pound, quench—dozens of cycles.
Hiss—
Final temper: blade plunged. Steam billowed white.
Na Dae-yong fetched the whetstone. Polishing time.
Shick, shick. Shick, shick.
Rough skin sloughed off, revealing steel's heart. Mirror sheen rippled with hammer-wave patterns from countless blows.
"...Beautiful."
Na Dae-yong murmured, entranced. He plucked the string.
Ting—
Clear, pure—not metal, jade beads rolling. Yet chilling menace prickled skin.
"I forged it, but... this is divine craft. Impossible without your strength. It'll never rust, not in a millennium."
"Your skill, brother. I just swung hard."
I wiped sweat, eyeing the twin blades. Twin Dragon Swords. One three feet five inches, the other three-three. Worthy namesakes.
"Last step now."
"Right. Inscriptions. A famed sword needs a name."
Na Dae-yong prepped chisel and hammer. Precision work.
"Mi-ryeong!"
She scampered over, brush, ink, vermilion powder ready. Sharp as ever.
"Write some characters. Super important—this goes to the admiral. No mistakes."
"Don't worry. I'm a master calligrapher. Teacher's daughter, remember?"
Mi-ryeong unrolled paper, gripped brush.
"This is the main sword. Write: ' '."
I recalled the real inscription from my past life. History's words.
"'Casting the Twin Dragon Swords, a heroic spirit for a thousand autumns.' Wow, so cool."
Mi-ryeong nodded, dashing it fluidly. Elegant yet forceful.
Na Dae-yong traced it onto the blade, chiseled delicately. Tap, tap, tap.
Merry pings as grooves formed. Intaglio engraving.
"Good. Now the secondary."
I pointed to the other.
"Personal touch here. One side: ''."
"Humility and yielding virtue? Nice words."
"Opposite: ''."
Mi-ryeong tilted her head.
"Humility and contentment... Fits the admiral's character, but too tame for a sword?"
Na Dae-yong paused. "Exactly. 'Serve to live' or 'one strike, one kill' better?"
I chuckled.
"Double meaning, brother."
"Double?"
"''—ripe rice bends low. Message to the Japanese: 'Bow your head before me, or lose it.'"
Na Dae-yong's eyes widened.
"''—'Know your place. Stay in your island hellhole, don't covet our land.'"
"Ha... hahaha! Better than dreams—these hit home!"
He slapped his knee, roaring.
"Just like you. Polite mask, bone-crushing bite. Love it."
Grinning, he engraved the secondary.
Now, the finishing touch.
"Mi-ryeong. Wrap it up."
"Yes, Uncle!"
She mixed vermilion with oil into sticky red paste. Thin brush filled the grooves.
Hush fell. From her hand, blood-red script bloomed on black steel.
. . .
Black blade, red letters—vivid contrast. The sword seemed alive, breathing.
"Done!"
Mi-ryeong beamed, setting down the brush.
"Great job. Beautiful."
I ruffled her hair, hefted the twins. Heavy, perfect grip.
"Name them."
"Names?"
I flicked the secondary. Ting.
"This one's 'Geumyang'."
"Geumyang? From humility?"
"Nah. Surname Geum (), yang () for lady. Miss Geumyang."
"Hah! Clubs are for boys, swords like daughters? You're a mystery."
Na Dae-yong bellowed.
"No wonder the rumors—Mi-ryeong's your wife! True after all! Ha ha ha!"
I shrugged it off with a grin.
"Not wrong. Send her as Admiral Yi Sun-sin's foster daughter. Raise her well, let her swim big waters."
"Smooth talker."
Na Dae-yong spread silk wrap.
"Take care, Miss Geumyang. Serve the admiral well. Don't hold back on Japanese necks."
The blade hummed ung— as if understanding.
All set. Carts brimmed; silk-wrapped twins cradled in Na Dae-yong's arms.
"We'll deliver. On my life."
Na Dae-yong's face hardened.
"Count on it. Greet the admiral for me. Tell him the mainland's safe—General Yiho's watching fierce. And..."
I smirked.
"Ask if Miss Geumyang's doing well now and then."
"Got it. Bring back dragon spirit."
Na Dae-yong and the convoy left the inn, vanishing into dusk. I exhaled long.
Out of my hands now. When those blades reached Admiral Yi Sun-sin, Joseon's seas would turn ironclad.
"Uncle."
Mi-ryeong stood beside me.
"Will the admiral like them?"
"Of course. You breathed soul into them. He appreciates fine script."
I draped an arm over her shoulders.
"And I'll get a gift too."
"A gift?"
"Yeah. You go, I get."
History said Yi Sun-sin gifted bows to allies like me. What for Twin Dragons? Excitement brewed.
I gazed south at the starry sky. Brighter than usual.
Wait for her, Admiral. Miss Geumyang will teach the Japanese humility soon.