The Road to Guya Manor
Having already received the Geumgyegyeong, Namgung Woo’s psychological resistance toward any further clues had greatly diminished. He accepted the Five Tigers Token without hesitation.
The token, forged in the spirit of the Paeng family, was made not of precious gemstones or jade but of iron. Paeng Hu-sang was visibly delighted that Namgung Woo had taken it without any show of false modesty. Though rather late, he finally answered the question his son-in-law had asked him for advice on earlier.
“You were looking for a place that could process the horn of the Mangcheonhu, weren’t you?”
“Ah, yes. That’s correct.”
“A few places come to mind. The closest would be the imperial palace. With the blacksmiths and sorcerers in their service, even a Mangcheonhu horn wouldn’t be beyond them. But that’s probably somewhere you’d prefer to avoid.”
The Grand Imperial Dowager Consort Han Gye-ran wanted to take Namgung Woo as her son-in-law. For a man who still found the idea of marriage burdensome, it was a place he wished to steer clear of. Paeng Hu-sang shared the same opinion.
“That leaves two choices. One is the Tang family in Sichuan. Those experts in poison and metallurgy should be able to process a Mangcheonhu horn somehow. The drawback is that their skill as weapon-smiths is comparatively weaker.”
The name was famous enough that an image instantly formed in Namgung Woo’s mind. The Sichuan Tang clan—renowned for their poison arts and hidden weapons. If he entrusted them with the horn, perhaps its sorcerous toxicity would be drawn out, leaving the remainder to be crafted into throwing daggers or concealed blades.
“The final option is a place called Guya Manor in Namjikrye.”
Guya Manor. The sacred ground of blade-smiths who worked exclusively with swords and sabers. Martial artists and commoners alike throughout the world hailed it as the greatest blade workshop under heaven.
“Since ancient times, many famous swords have been born in Gangnam. The reason blades from the Wu and Yue kingdoms of the Warring States period are still considered the epitome of renowned swords is that the mountains and rivers there are perfectly suited for forging them. Among all the smithies of Gangnam, Guya Manor stands supreme.”
The name itself, taken from Guya Zi—the progenitor of all blacksmiths and the patron deity of blade-smiths—set it apart from every other workshop. It was an arrogant declaration that they alone were the true successors of the legendary founder. Yet after engraving that proud name on their signboard and holding their ground for centuries, the arrogance had become simple truth.
“Guya Zi forged the Yongyeon, Gongpo, and Tae-a blades at the foot of Jasan in Gyeong County. The distance is considerable, but there is no more reliable place.”
“But the Mangcheonhu’s horn isn’t metal. Will that be a problem?”
“Guya Manor does not discriminate when it comes to materials, so long as a blade can be made. They work with metal, stone, wood, bone, and even byproducts of demonic beasts. If you wish to turn that horn into a blade, Guya Manor is more suitable than the imperial palace.”
Paeng Hu-sang’s own beloved weapon, Shingwol, had also come from Guya Manor. Its name, derived from one of the legendary swords forged by Guya Zi—Geogwol—served as proof of its origin.
“However, Family Head, isn’t Guya Manor a place that refuses to forge blades for just anyone?”
The duel between two supreme masters, Namgung Woo and Paeng Hu-sang, was a spectacle no amount of money could buy. To martial artists it was nothing short of a divine opportunity. Therefore, with Namgung Woo’s permission, Paeng Hu-sang had allowed members of the Hebei Paeng family to observe. Direct-line descendants—Paeng Ja-ryeong, Paeng Ha-ryeong, Paeng Ye-ryeong—and even Paeng Mu-ho, who had just spoken, were among the spectators.
“I know. They’re skilled, but their noses are just as high.”
When the Chongwang—Emperor Seonghwa’s own younger brother—had demanded a blade, Guya Manor had refused outright, showing their backbone. They could not be coerced by a prince’s name, let alone the Emperor’s. Their pride in the weapons they created was immense, and they possessed the backing to support that pride.
Even Paeng Hu-sang before him wielded a Guya Manor blade. Heonwon Gang, head of the Heonwon family and the strongest of the Orthodox faction, also treated their weapons as his treasures. Stir up trouble at Guya Manor and the entire Murim would move. Conversely, if any Murim faction tried to pull strings there, the imperial court would immediately exercise its authority.
Guya Manor created divine armaments that transcended ordinary weapons. With the realm already in chaos over the Ghost Gates, the imperial family could hardly look kindly on the Murim deliberately mass-producing such treasures to expand its power. Because of these delicate dynamics, Guya Manor had become a neutral zone—something like a jointly administered buffer that neither the Murim nor the government dared disturb lightly. Split as the Murim was between the Orthodox and Black Sects, the workshop had found a precarious balance in the gap between three competing powers.
“They’re the sort who wouldn’t flinch even if you shoved the Five Tigers Token in their faces. But have you forgotten? Four times a year, they throw their workshop gates wide open to the world.”
“…The Four Seasons Bidding.”
Paeng Mu-ho muttered as though he had momentarily forgotten.
Paeng Ha-ryeong had approached without Namgung Woo noticing and whispered in his ear, explaining to the man who lacked knowledge of the place.
“Guya Manor receives outside guests at the start of each season—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. That’s what Uncle meant by the Four Seasons Bidding. Enormous crowds gather then. Normally they refuse custom orders and only contact people they wish to sell their pre-made blades to, but during those periods they accept commissions from outsiders.”
In essence, it was like open enrollment across the entire Central Plains. The seasonal nature of it somehow reminded him of fighting for tickets to return home during the holidays, or trying to reserve a table at a famous restaurant.
“Heh. Though my Shingwol was not obtained through the Four Seasons Bidding, but received directly,” Paeng Hu-sang declared, puffing out his chest with pride.
This time Paeng Ye-ryeong spoke softly from Ha-ryeong’s other side. “They gave one to every member of the Three Ultimates and Twelve Supremes. It’s Guya Manor’s survival strategy for building connections.”
“Ahem! Ye-ryeong, I keep telling you the master of Guya Manor was so impressed by your father’s Five Tigers Severing Gate Blade that he sent it as a gift of gratitude for the inspiration it gave him.”
Ignoring Paeng Hu-sang’s aggrieved protest, Namgung Woo calculated the dates. It was the tail end of July. August would arrive soon. The Start of Autumn had not yet come, but the distance made it impossible. That left the Start of Winter, yet even that window was tight.
Reading the concern on his face, Paeng Hu-sang set aside his lengthy tale of past exploits and how he had obtained Shingwol, speaking generously instead.
“What are you worrying about? You have the Paeng family behind you, benefactor.”
“We can travel by canal,” Paeng Ja-ryeong added, offering crisp figures as befitted the man who handled the family’s practical affairs. “From Tianjin to Jinjiang along the Grand Canal takes thirty days at the fastest, forty at the slowest. The average journey from Beijing to Nanjing is also forty days, so the times align. From Jinjiang to Gyeong County by horse should take no more than ten days. All told, it will not exceed two months. We can reach Gyeong County before October, when the Start of Winter begins.”
Paeng Ja-ryeong flashed a confident smile that somehow resembled his father’s.
“Do not worry about securing passage. In Tianjin, there are few merchant groups beyond the Paeng family’s reach.”
It was reassuring. The Hebei Paeng family truly was an unshakable comfort.
“I am grateful for your help.”
When Namgung Woo clasped his hands and bowed, Paeng Ja-ryeong bowed even more deeply in return.
“The grace our family has received from you is far greater, so such words are still difficult to accept.”
As the two men exchanged warm bows and courteous words, Paeng Ha-ryeong’s voice slipped between them.
“Since the subject has come up…!”
“Do you not regret it?”
At Namgung Woo’s question, Paeng Ha-ryeong smiled brightly and answered with one of her own.
“Regret what?”
“Well… many things.”
Seeing him awkwardly fumble for words, Paeng Ha-ryeong let out a soft laugh. The river wind sweeping across the deck tugged at her hair.
This was a first for her. Being somewhere without a single Paeng family member nearby, standing on a boat sailing the canal, and wanting to be with someone who was not her family.
“Benefactor, I have always stayed only within Hebei.”
If she traveled too far, the time until she could see Paeng Ye-ryeong again would shrink. She had only ever left Tianjin when a Ghost Gate opened inside Hebei.
“Spending time with a healthy Ye-ryeong would be wonderful. Yes, that really is a dream-like story. It is a moment I have always longed for. But it seems I was secretly wishing for something else as well.”
To simply leave for the wider world without worry, anxiety, or guilt.
“Besides, I have never taken maids with me anyway. Our Paeng family may have freer rules than other clans, but we are also expected to bear matching responsibility.”
Even when she had gone to Muan County, she had traveled with the Bukcheon Squad warriors rather than any maids.
“So please don’t worry. I will never become a burden.”
“I never thought of you that way.”
Namgung Woo turned from her and let his gaze rest on the passing scenery. Yet the landscape did not truly register in his mind.
The party that had left Tianjin and boarded a boat on the Grand Canal numbered four: Namgung Woo, Yang Kvae, Yang Jeong, and Paeng Ha-ryeong.
After the duel with Paeng Hu-sang, Ha-ryeong had declared before the entire family that she wished to accompany him. No one had opposed her. On the contrary, Paeng Hu-sang had pushed her forward with a hearty “Go see the world,” as if welcoming the decision. Even her mother, Moyong Hye, had approved.
Paeng Ye-ryeong had then announced she would follow her senior brother, but the reaction had been the complete opposite. Moyong Hye had dissuaded her, and Paeng Hu-sang had refused. Ye-ryeong’s comprehension was extraordinary, yet because of her open Heavenly Gate she had never properly learned martial arts. In other words, she lacked the power to protect herself. Even if Namgung Woo and Paeng Ha-ryeong stayed together, they could not be at her side every hour of the day.
Paeng Ye-ryeong was still too fragile to step into the Jianghu. Within Hebei the family might have pitied her for growing up stifled inside the clan grounds and permitted limited travel, but Gangnam was another matter entirely. The south was the territory of the Black Sect. Just as the north—where the Orthodox Murim held sway—was not free of the Black Sect, the south was not free of Orthodox sects. Yet in terms of raw influence, the power of the Black Sect grew stronger south of the Huai River.
The Jianghu was a den of demons where anything could happen. How would a girl with heavenly talent but currently weak strength appear in such a place? Even in Namgung Woo’s opinion, Paeng Hu-sang’s judgment had been correct.
“Oh, right.”
Namgung Woo stopped his reminiscing and spoke to Paeng Ha-ryeong.
“How about we stop with the ‘benefactor’ title now?”
“Mm, that’s true. It would feel too unnatural to keep using it outside the family. Then what should I call you?”
“Since you’re temporarily joining the Changcheon Squad, ‘Squad Leader’ might be appropriate.”
“I don’t like that.”
Paeng Ha-ryeong answered instantly. With a slightly pouty expression, she brought out the title she had secretly decided on long ago.
“…Gaga. I’ll call you Gaga. And will you call me by my name, Benefactor—no, Gaga?”