The Guest
Cheol Jin-gi's face went blank.
'Make a sword purely from Hyeoncheol? Is this kid insane?'
He'd heard as much infamy about Jin Okryong as his fame.
Recalling it all, it was clear the guy wasn't right in the head.
'But this is too much!'
Cheol Jin-gi refused flatly.
"No can do."
"Why not?"
"You want me to uproot the manor's pillar just for one sword?"
"Ah. Guess Iron Blood Manor is poorer than it looks."
"...What?"
"I'll chip in a bit extra. That settles it, right?"
"...Settles what!"
Cheol Jin-gi fumed but barely calmed himself.
"Here's the deal. I'll mix in three taels of Hyeoncheol."
"Too little."
"...Five taels!"
"That tiny amount won't even make a difference."
Cheol Jin-gi recalled every rude bastard he'd met in life.
Compared to them, Jeong Gwang was still better—or so he tried to brainwash himself.
But.
'This punk's already surpassed them!'
Cheol Jin-gi decided to endure one more time.
"...That sword you picked is pretty heavy. Two catties three taels. Make it pure Hyeoncheol? It'll jump past twenty catties easy."
"Exactly twenty-one catties fourteen taels."
"...Quick with the math. Anyway, can you even handle it properly?"
Jeong Gwang answered matter-of-factly.
"Guan Yu swung an eighty-two-cattie Green Dragon Crescent Blade, didn't he?"
"You believe that? It's from Romance of the Three Kingdoms!"
"It'll work."
As Cheol Jin-gi was about to explode, Jeong Gwang glanced around and said,
"Nothing handy here. This'll have to do."
"...?"
Jeong Gwang gathered nine more swords like the sample one.
Ten in total.
Watching, Cheol Jin-gi sneered.
'Gonna swing ten times the weight to prove he can handle it? How's he gripping that with one hand?'
Sword hilts were sized for human hands.
Grabbing ten at once with one hand? Impossible!
But.
"...Gasp!"
Jeong Gwang did it.
"...Holding the blades backward?"
Grabbing the blades, not the hilts!
Sure, that let him hold ten at once, but his hands should be shredded...
They weren't?
Cheol Jin-gi forced his gaping mouth to move.
"...How are your hands fine after gripping ten blades?"
"Held 'em right."
"...Right how?"
"Don't know Weapon Grip Technique? Not clenching like an idiot—cradle 'em like eggs."
Cheol Jin-gi had heard of it, of course.
'But that's about not overgripping, right? How do you swing a sword like that... Huh?'
Jeong Gwang was swinging them.
Not simple chops or thrusts.
He unfolded Kunlun swordsmanship—graceful, stylish, yet fierce!
'Impossible!'
Cheol Jin-gi's shock was natural.
Swords were long weapons, weight distributed along their length.
Twenty catties was liftable for a youth, but a sword that long? Tough.
One-handed, at will? Even masters struggled.
Yet Jeong Gwang pulled it off.
Blade-first!
With the heaviest part—the hilt—now at the tip, making it heavier!
Cheol Jin-gi let out a hollow laugh.
"Haha... Rumors can't be trusted, indeed..."
Usually said because tales exaggerated—but Jeong Gwang exceeded them.
He was a monster!
Cheol Jin-gi's eyes deepened.
'Someone reaching that realm at his age?'
Never seen or heard.
Even the dead Jin Cheonma probably hadn't.
'I have to snag him. Big bleed now, but whatever it takes!'
Just then, Jeong Gwang finished his sword dance and turned.
"Believe me now?"
"...I do."
"Haha. Like I said—I'll chip in a bit, so be generous."
He emphasized 'a bit' hard.
Normal Cheol Jin-gi would've snapped, but not now.
"...I'll consider it positively. Stay at the manor till Father returns."
"When's that?"
"Few days. Need anything?"
Jeong Gwang started to shake his head, then froze.
Something came to mind.
"You'll make Junior Brother's first, right?"
"Of course."
Cheol Jin-gi agreed readily; Jeong Gwang added,
"But he hasn't gotten his Dao title yet."
"...So?"
"Means he's a layman."
"...?"
Jeong Gwang clasped his hands.
"Amitabha. Junior Brother loves meat dishes—load him up."
Iron Blood Manor lived up to its fame.
They didn't just copy Baek Seung-mu's sample—they accommodated even tiny requests.
"Hey, young hero Baek. Your fingers are slender and long. How about shortening the hilt a bit and thickening it?"
Not just talk.
Cheol Jin-gi wrapped leather bit by bit, checking Baek Seung-mu's preference.
"Ah! That's perfect."
"Got it. Next issue."
"Huh?"
"I don't know Kunlun arts well, but from you and that Jin Okryong punk's swordplay—elegant, stylish, yet strong."
"Haha, thanks."
"Got me thinking. You rarely clash blades and push, right?"
Jeong Gwang answered for Baek Seung-mu.
"Sharp eye, Vice-Lord."
"...Thanks. So, reduce the ancient bronze. Tiny difference, but speeds up the sword."
In battle, slivers decided life or death.
Jeong Gwang approved; Baek Seung-mu nodded along.
Baek Seung-mu inwardly marveled.
'This is a true craftsman.'
Making a sword just for him.
His chest swelled.
But it didn't end there.
"Good. Next."
"...Huh? More?"
Cheol Jin-gi's careful face soured.
"What do you take my swords for? That easy?"
"N-no, that's not..."
"No excuses! I'm the swordsmith! Act like this, I can't work!"
Baek Seung-mu froze at the shift, pleading to Jeong Gwang.
"S-Senior Brother..."
Jeong Gwang nodded reassuringly, then faced Cheol Jin-gi boldly.
"Vice-Lord."
"What? You got something to say?"
Of course.
"Junior Brother's a bit slow. Forgive him."
"Sigh... For you, I'll hold back."
"Thanks. Junior Brother, what're you doing? Apologize quick."
Betrayed, Baek Seung-mu looked ready to cry as he bowed.
"V-Vice-Lord! Sorry! I'll be careful!"
"Fine. But no repeats."
"O-of course!"
Issue settled, Jeong Gwang grinned.
Seeing a true craftsman stirred past-life memories.
'Reverse Heaven Demon Craftsman probably died by now. Wonder about his son.'
Smart kid—likely survived.
Grown right, he'd rival Cheol Jin-gi.
'Iron Blood Manor Lord needs that level to pull it off.'
Pure Hyeoncheol sword wasn't easy.
Jeong Gwang could only hope.
'Till then, might as well watch.'
Cheol Jin-gi finished with Baek Seung-mu and turned to Jeong Gwang.
"Starting now."
"Can I watch?"
"Suit yourself."
Cheol Jin-gi led; Jeong Gwang and Baek Seung-mu followed.
Baek Seung-mu tilted his head, transmitting,
-Senior Brother. Don't smiths hide their work? Why's Vice-Lord showing us?
-He's real. Or half-real—lacks the years.
-Huh?
Baek Seung-mu puzzled; Jeong Gwang explained.
-True masters' work you watch but can't copy.
-Ah!
-Martial arts too. See a form, mimic the shape? But inner methods differ, qi paths unknown?
-...You could.
-'Cause it's me.
Baek Seung-mu shot him a not embarrassed? look.
Jeong Gwang stayed brazen.
What? It was true.
Baek Seung-mu sighed, asked more.
-Why block watchers during manor training then?
-Just in case.
-...
-Not my level, but some genius might copy.
Baek Seung-mu gave up.
-...Got it.
-Vice-Lord too. We're no threat. Real Reverse Heaven Demon Craftsman? No show.
-...Reverse Heaven Demon Craftsman? Who?
-Someone like that.
Baek Seung-mu pressed, but they reached a massive forge.
Open-walled, roofed; bare-chested musclemen sweated buckets.
Noise deafening up close.
"...Amazing!"
Baek Seung-mu awed; Cheol Jin-gi turned.
"This makes hatchets."
"...Pardon?"
"Follow."
Cheol Jin-gi named a few smiths.
They stopped, followed him.
Others seamlessly continued—pre-planned perfection.
Iron Blood Manor's fame renewed.
Cheol Jin-gi pointed.
"This way."
Smaller forge appeared.
Oversized furnace standout.
Smiths pumped bellows; flames roared white-hot.
Cheol Jin-gi bared his torso.
Hammer-forged, bronze-skinned, burn-scarred—his experience etched.
Jeong Gwang nodded, eyes sharpening.
'What's this aura?'
Faint, alien energy flickered.
'Moving.'
Turning to check? Foolish.
Jeong Gwang spread his senses.
Fire-attuned clan— all bore flame qi.
Filtered them; traced the oddity.
Soon, eerie energy clear.
Still shifting, but not escaping him.
'From that guy?'
Jeong Gwang welcomed guests properly.
First, isolate.
"Junior Brother."
"Yes, Senior Brother."
"Help out."
"Huh?"
Baek Seung-mu blinked; Jeong Gwang chided.
"Your sword. Lend a hand."
"...I know nothing—won't I just hinder?"
"You can bellow. Forgot my refinement?"
"...No, but."
"Do it. You'll gain."
Jeong Gwang meant muscle pain from hard pumping.
External training, right?
But tool-grabbing Cheol Jin-gi took it deeper.
"True Jin Okryong. Spot on."
Baek Seung-mu stunned; even Jeong Gwang baffled.
Cheol Jin-gi, prepping, missed their faces.
"Overattach to weapons? Bad. Neglect? Worse. Watch and aid its making—fosters right mindset."
"...Junior Brother. Hear that?"
"...Yes, Senior Brother."
Baek Seung-mu stripped upper, pumped bellows.
Pale unlike smiths, but muscles matched.
Smiths' sour looks warmed.
"Young hero. Not bad. Let's do this."
"Please! Hot hot!"
Baek Seung-mu yelped, singed already.
Jeong Gwang ignored, bowed to Cheol Jin-gi.
"Heading to quarters."
"Sure. Later."
Jeong Gwang reached the room—decent.
Flopped down, grinned.
'Too cautious. Weak gut?'
No matter.
He'd make the move.
His form vanished.
Reappeared on a distant hall roof.
"Why lurk outside? Come in."
No reply to his air-talk.
"Oh? Fleeing? Can't have that."
Light flashed from his waist, slashing void.
Cross-cut; masked man appeared, eyes bulging.
Light struck points.
Acupoints sealed, he tumbled like a log.
"Urk! Such swift sword..."
Jeong Gwang sheathed, asked,
"What brings Sima Lian here?"
"...!"
"Ah, tight-lipped type."
"... ."
Jeong Gwang sealed his mute point, whispered,
"I like heavy-mouthed folks."
"... ."
Man eyed puzzled; Jeong Gwang smiled white.
"So don't disappoint."