Ten Out of Ten Compatibility

"Ten out of ten compatibility?!"

Beom Jo-ang’s voice rang out, thick with shock. Every eye in the room snapped toward him. The young, talented swordsmith was drenched in sweat, his brow glistening under the forge-light. He was channeling every ounce of his Mystic Energy, concentrating the vibration into his index finger.

His finger had become a glowing crimson brush. A searing, red light bled from his fingertip, moving with agonizing slowness across the surface of the silver greatsword. He was currently engraving the character for "Virtue" as Bukjin had requested, but he had only just managed to complete the second stroke.

'How is this possible?'

A tempest of disbelief raged in Beom Jo-ang’s mind. He suddenly recalled the words his master, the Great Master Beom, had spoken when teaching him the Soul-Carving Art.

"When a swordsman’s will inherits the will of the heavens and seeks to carve that intent upon a blade, the act of naming will be fraught with immense difficulty! You will feel a titanic resistance with every stroke, a weight as heavy as moving a mountain!"

'Could it be? Did this single word—Virtue—chosen by this boy from Unmong ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠City actually summon the will of the gods?'

Countless thoughts flashed through Beom Jo-ang’s mind. He looked up at Bukjin, his voice strained.

"H-Help me!"

"Huh?" Bukjin blinked, caught off guard. "How am I supposed to help?"

'You didn't need help engraving the names on anyone else's swords. Why do you suddenly need me?' Bukjin just wanted to stay out of the spotlight.

"Grip the sword and inject your Mystic Energy!" Beom Jo-ang roared, cutting through Bukjin’s hesitation.

Startled into action, Bukjin reached out, grabbed the hilt of the greatsword, and began pouring his Mystic Energy into it. The silver greatsword Bukjin had chosen was no ordinary weapon; it was a specially crafted piece embedded with a Mystic Array. Because of this, its energy conductivity was leagues beyond the standard-issue blades or the Green Tide Swords common in Unmong City.

The energy flowed in with startling ease. As the Mystic Array activated, the blade erupted in a brilliant, silvery radiance that shimmered like moonlight. With the sword now resonating, Beom Jo-ang’s task became significantly easier. His finger blurred ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠as he traced the remaining strokes across the metal.

Then, it happened. Something no one could have predicted.

Clang—! Clang—! Clang—!

Every sword within a thirty-foot radius of Bukjin began to vibrate violently. It was as if the blades were desperate to tear themselves free from their scabbards, struggling to fly toward the silver greatsword currently receiving its name.

The faces of everyone present ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paled. The younger students scrambled to pin down their vibrating weapons. The veteran swordsmen released their cultivation, desperately trying to suppress the resonance.

Clang—! Clang—! Clang—!

The sound of clashing steel echoed incessantly. Jo Pacheon initially tried to maintain his composure, standing tall, but soon found that his mental strength alone wasn't enough to control his Heaven-Piercing Sword. He eventually had to reach down and physically clamp his hand over the hilt. Even then, the tremors wouldn't stop.

Dong Bang-jeon was using both hands to press down on his sword, his face contorted with effort. He was gripping the hilt with every bit of strength he possessed. The other students—Hyeol Yeom, Song Gyeol-il, Song Cheong-bong, and Im Hae-dang—were all fighting a losing battle to keep ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠their weapons from flying away.

Baek Geum-un was holding her sword with one hand while using the other to anchor herself to a stone pillar, resisting the pull with everything she had. She looked like a child clinging to a kite in a gale.

Then, the breaking point arrived. Despite their best efforts, people like Ha-hu Chung and Ha-hu Ang finally lost their grip. Their swords tore free and streaked toward Bukjin.

Whish—!

It looked like a scene out of legend, as if an immortal were performing Sword Flight. Dozens of blades sliced through the air, converging on Bukjin before stopping abruptly to hover in a perfect circle around him.

Cho Heun had nearly drawn his own weapon in shock when the swords first flew, but he let out a sigh of relief when he saw them stop.

At that exact moment...

"It is finished!"

Beom Jo-ang’s triumphant cry rang out. He had finally carved the last stroke of the character for "Virtue."

Drenched in sweat and his face flushed crimson, the swordsmith gasped for air. His eyes, however, shone with an irrepressible joy. The process had been grueling, but for a smith, such a moment was a rare, divine opportunity. Collaborating with the sword's master to complete the Soul-Carving Art was, for a craftsman, equivalent to a martial artist breaking through a major cultivation bottleneck. His smithing skills had leaped forward; with just a bit more training, he might even master the legendary Sword-Soul Infusion.

As Bukjin held the hilt of the Virtue Sword, he felt a sudden, profound connection. It was as if the weapon had become a part of him. The massive silver greatsword, which should have required two hands to wield effectively, now felt like a natural extension of his arm.

He felt a sense of Body-Union. It was the most comfortable he had ever felt holding a weapon. It reminded him of his past life—the feeling of finally looting an ultra-rare item that perfectly matched his character's build after countless failed raids.

'Every swordsman has a blade meant only for them.'

Bukjin finally understood the weight of those words. He gave the sword a casual, experimental flick.

C-C-Crash—!

In that instant, the dozen or so swords hovering in the air shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Huh?"

Only then did Bukjin notice the bizarre spectacle surrounding him.

'...Wait, did these people try to ambush me with flying swords while I was distracted?'

Bukjin’s mind whirred at high speed. Without a second's hesitation, he opened his mouth and let the nonsense fly.

"This is outrageous! Did you all see that? It’s the fault of those swords that were floating in the air! My Virtue Sword had absolutely no intention of colliding with your weapons! I refuse to pay for those low-quality blades that just broke on their own!"

Bukjin stood his ground with a face so thick a needle wouldn't draw blood.

'Getting money out of this guy is going to be impossible...'

'Utterly impossible...'

Ha-hu Chung and the others could only look on with tearful eyes. Their swords hadn't been legendary treasures, but they were high-quality blades they had carefully selected and spent a fortune on. To see them reduced to scrap metal by some freak phenomenon was devastating. They felt like weeping blood.

Beom Jo-ang’s eyes were filled with genuine admiration. He offered a deep, respectful bow with a bright smile.

"A Body-Union Sword? What's that?" Bukjin asked, his eyes wide.

"Hoho, you will come to understand its profound meaning in time." Beom Jo-ang didn't elaborate, simply keeping his mysterious smile. "Now, let us continue with the other two!"

'Was this guy always this friendly? That’s a hell of a personality shift.' Bukjin felt a bit weirded out, but he handed over the standard-sized silver sword regardless.

"I'll name this one Doran."

Beom Jo-ang blinked. "The Doran Sword?"

"Yes. It's a good sword for the early game," Bukjin said, looking lost in thought.

'Good for the early game? What does that even mean?'

Confusion clouded Beom Jo-ang’s face. The onlookers were equally baffled by the strange name.

'Doran?'

'What a weird name.'

'Who is Doran? A person? A place?'

"Very well. I shall carve it as you wish." Beom Jo-ang didn't press for details. As a smith, his duty was paramount. He performed the Soul-Carving Art once more, etching the characters for "Doran" onto the blade.

This time, there was no dramatic display of nearby swords bowing in mid-air. However, the moment Bukjin gripped the Doran Sword, the silver Mystic Array flared to life. As the blade 'awoke,' a clear, lingering hum vibrated through the air.

The sound of the sword's cry echoed through the government office. It was far louder and more resonant than the sounds produced when Jo Pacheon or Baek Geum-un had taken their weapons.

The crowd’s expressions shifted yet again. Jo Pacheon’s face turned a sickly shade of blue. Then, Beom Jo-ang let out another gasp of disbelief.

"A-Another ten out of ten? A second Body-Union Sword?!"

Beom Jo-ang stared at Bukjin as if his eyes might pop out of his skull.

'Is it possible? Is the boy standing before me a legendary Pure Sword Soul?'

A Pure Sword Soul was a rare genius born with a natural, perfect affinity for all swords. The probability of such a person existing was infinitesimally small. Even in White Cloud City, no such talent had been seen in generations.

Bukjin gave the sword a light test swing. The feedback was incredible. The blade moved exactly as he willed it, as if it were a part of his own body. It was a perfect fit.

'This feels great!'

For a fleeting second, Bukjin actually felt a pang of regret about his plan to sell these. He then handed the small silver dagger to Beom Jo-ang.

"And this one... let's go with Jeong-i."

'Jeong-i? Another bizarre name?' Beom Jo-ang’s smile froze. The others looked equally stumped.

Finally, Baek Geum-un spoke up, her voice dripping with disbelief. "The Jeong-i Sword?"

Bukjin turned to look at her. "What was that? Say it again."

Baek Geum-un enunciated each syllable clearly. "The Jeong-i-geom!"

"One more time?"

"Jeong! I! Sword!" Baek Geum-un shouted, frustrated. "Did you hear it properly that time?"

"Hahaha! Yes, I heard it perfectly." Bukjin laughed with satisfaction before turning back to the smith. "Please name this one the Jeong-i Sword."

In his past life, Bukjin had been a huge fan of the actor Ekin Cheng—known as Jeong Yi-kin. Even though it was just a name for a dagger, hearing it out loud made him feel a strange sense of nostalgia.

And so, Bukjin walked away with his three newly christened weapons: the greatsword Virtue, the silver sword Doran, and the silver dagger Jeong-i.