Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Armaments and the Hell Horse
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That sight must have sparked jealousy again, as Chu-a suddenly popped up above the horse's head before vanishing with a pfft.
"Hahaha!"
So Gun-ak felt that the two spirits' personalities matched their appearances perfectly. Hwarang was like a loyal dog, while Chu-a was the very picture of a mischievous little girl.
"Ah, maybe!"
So Gun-ak slowed the horse slightly and opened his bag, pulling out a crystal the size of his fist.
"Hwarang, want to try melting this?"
Hwarang leaped from his bosom and settled onto the crystal clutched in his hand.
Whoosh.
Its fur bristled, and flames surged fiercely. Strangely, So Gun-ak felt no heat. Hwarang strained for a moment before slumping limply.
"Hmm, no luck, huh."
Hwarang spat flames a couple more times, but the crystal didn't melt in the slightest.
"That's enough."
Hwarang vanished dejectedly, and So Gun-ak gazed wistfully at the fist-sized crystal.
Just then, Chu-a reappeared, tilting her head at the crystal as if she knew what it was.
"Do you know what this is?"
Chu-a scrunched up her face and kept cocking her head. So Gun-ak knew from Jamie's memories that communication with spirits happened through intuition, but his affinity was still too low to read their minds clearly.
He waited expectantly, but after about ten minutes, Chu-a clawed at her hair in frustration.
"If you remember later, let me know."
So Gun-ak made the request with a sliver of hope.
Chu-a nodded before vanishing with another pfft. Though the spirits had hidden themselves, So Gun-ak could sense their faint presence always lingering around him.
It felt like traveling with two escorts whose stealth skills were beyond compare.
'When I train from now on, I can have them stand watch.'
These spirits were an unexpected boon.
They would adventure and grow in this world through him, eventually returning to the spirit realm to challenge for spirit king. For So Gun-ak, gaining such fine partners was a win-win.
Viscount Jamby's territory bordered Crokshu Mountain to the north and Todun Mountain to the south.
Todun Mountain held two high-quality iron mines, the source of the Jamby family's wealth.
A river curved around the mountain's west side—the Dur River, a tributary of the Yuke River, the kingdom's lifeline.
Near the Dur River stood Todun City, named after the mountain.
With miners and blacksmiths from the mines, plus abundant river water enriching nearby farmlands, the area naturally became the most prosperous city around.
Its large population and heavy traffic in goods fostered booming commerce, making it the premier city in the region.
By the time So Gun-ak reached Todun City, night had fallen. No matter where you looked in the city, Todun Mountain loomed to the east.
The commercial streets were lined with shops, but at this late hour, only inns still had their lights on.
With so many travelers and merchants passing through, the main thoroughfare boasted no fewer than seventeen inns.
Some bustled with good business, while quieter ones had staff calling out to passersby from the street.
Horses weren't allowed in the city at night on pain of fine, so as So Gun-ak led his mount by the reins, a boy in his late teens approached.
"Fine knight, sir—we've got cheap rooms. Care to rest?"
The boy called him a knight, but he didn't truly believe the young man before him was one.
Anyone with a horse and lance a knight?
Mercenaries often dressed like So Gun-ak. Luring a supposed knight with cheap rooms was laughable, but he handed the reins to the boy anyway.
"Give him good feed."
"Yes, sir! Right away."
The boy took the reins, only for a stablehand from behind the building to take them and lead the horse back the way they'd come. Stables were typically at the rear.
Screech.
Pushing open the wooden door, So Gun-ak entered the ground-floor dining area, which doubled as a tavern. Only two tables had drinkers; the rest was empty.
Spotting him looking around, the sharp-eyed boy asked,
"Dinner first, sir?"
"Unpack my gear first."
Under the boy's guidance, So Gun-ak entered his room and unpacked. Then he summoned Hwarang.
"Hwarang."
Whoosh.
Hwarang appeared instantly at his call.
"Guard the luggage."
Hwarang nodded as if to say leave it to me. So Gun-ak stroked its head once before heading back downstairs.
Sitting at an empty table, the boy hurried over.
"Drink, sir?"
"Bring whatever sides you recommend."
"Yes, sir. Room, feed, drinks, and sides—all prepaid."
"How much?"
"Seven pennies total."
Even in previous villages, rooms ran about one penny a night, feed another penny.
Adding drinks and food made it pricier than before, but reasonable.
So Gun-ak pulled two silver coins from his pouch. Two shillings equaled forty pennies.
"How many days will you stay?"
At seven pennies a day, it covered five nights. The boy's eyes lit up, and he brought extra sides as a "service."
The tart fruit wine wasn't bad at all.
After a light late meal, So Gun-ak retired to his room.
His twenty-five years of internal energy flowed as naturally as breathing for circulation exercises.
It was enough to infuse his sword with sword qi without strain. As dawn broke, he ate lightly and set out early. His destination: a smithy.
With the spirits' protection, he could train on the road, but it wouldn't match closed-door cultivation.
For now, he wanted to hole up in a spiritually rich mountain for intensive training to recover his martial prowess quickly.
To do that, he needed to wrap up other matters first.
Regaining his internal energy level didn't mean full recovery. He needed a weapon from this world, honed until it felt like an extension of his limbs.
Just building energy wasn't enough. He had to balance essence, qi, and spirit evenly—or risk qi deviation.
Most shops were still shuttered, but hammer strikes echoed from the smithy.
So Gun-ak stood before the door, eyes closed, savoring the rhythmic clangs like a musician's performance.
He opened them when the door swung open and a man in his thirties emerged.
"Who might you be?"
The man had come out to open the attached weapons shop and startled at So Gun-ak standing there.
"Here to have something made."
"Come in."
The hammering continued inside—clearly not the man's work.
"Yawn... That stubborn old codger's so diligent, he drags me out early too."
Rubbing his eyes, the man glanced at So Gun-ak. Customers this early were rare, piquing his curiosity.
"Father! Customer!"
Clang! Clank! Clang!
The hammering stopped at his shout.
Ssssh.
Steam hissed from hot iron quenched in water, and a gray-haired middle-aged man appeared.
His pursed lips and furrowed brow screamed artisan stubbornness.
"What do you want?"
"A few weapons and some armor."
"Got blueprints?"
"Right here."
So Gun-ak unrolled his pre-drawn designs.
"Quite a list."
They showed a greatsword, one-handed sword, seven daggers, four throwing axes, wrist-mounted small shields, a lance, leather-padded plate breastplate, and a longsword.
Far too much for one person.
"Can you make them?"
The smithy owner was lost in the blueprints, eyes alight with curiosity.
'Came to the right place.'
So Gun-ak waited patiently. After a long study, the artisan nodded.
"Intriguing. Ten days."
"How much?"
The artisan grinned slyly.
"Pay what it's worth; I'll make them accordingly."
So Gun-ak reached into his bosom, grabbing two pouches—one of gems, the other gold and silver.
"Here."
"Eek?!"
The artisan's son gaped at the pouch. It brimmed with priceless gems.
The artisan was stunned too. Studying So Gun-ak gravely, he said,
"Need more time. Come back in two months."
So Gun-ak nodded readily.
Production time had sextupled, but the artisan's fervor promised meticulous work.
It would be worth every penny.
Leaving the smithy, So Gun-ak headed to the horse market. Mostly pack mules traded there, but veteran warhorses and hunters' mounts appeared too.
He picked a young horse just shedding its pony look.
Untrained, but sturdier than the rest.
Best of all: glossy black coat save for white ankles.
'Perfect.'
Decision made.
Selling his old brown mount actually netted him one gold and two shillings after the purchase.
He bought more supplies: clothes, sturdy bags, needles, and bells.
Then scoured apothecaries for herbs mimicking Central Plains effects, buying what worked.
Back at the inn, he spent the day mixing, producing two pills and five potions.
A few minor pills too, but unsatisfactory—more research needed.
"Done."
Emerging from seclusion, he took the pills to the stable for his new horse.
The stablehand napped; he was the only guest with a horse.
Tipping him for a quality saddle, the man dashed off.
Alone with the horse, So Gun-ak began. To the Black Dragon Corps, where mounted combat ruled, horses were vital weapons. Theirs were hell horses.
Tamed via the Fire Worship Cult's secret spells, their hides were rhino-tough, stamina endless, fearless in charges, agile and easy to handle.
"Rough version, but it'll do."
With time, he could replicate Central Plains methods fully, but now he just needed a decent mount.
"Look at me."
Locking eyes, So Gun-ak unleashed the Soul Subjugation Demon Drum Great Law.
A beast-taming spell to dominate the soul, drawing out absolute obedience and endurance limits.
The horse's pupils dilated, focus vanishing as its body stiffened.
For completion, So Gun-ak swiftly needled its vital points—using bulk tailor needles for lack of proper ones.
He fed it the two pills; it swallowed unconsciously.
Then sprinkled the five potions over its body.
Hiss.
Steam rose with sizzling wherever they touched. Ideally thirty-five herbs for armor-like hide, but five would suffice.
This much would shrug off brush or branches without pain.
Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.
Half-lidded, So Gun-ak shook the bell to fully enact the law.
To crush the nascent hell horse's mind and let willpower alone command it.
Crack!
As the spell ended, his eyes flashed, light sucked into the horse's pupils.
Its hazy gaze sharpened, newfound power gleaming.
So Gun-ak removed the needles and patted its neck.
"Your name is Mu-yeong."
The horse whinnied as if understanding.
Soon the stablehand returned with the saddle. No riding yet, so So Gun-ak asked it stored beside Mu-yeong.
"Keep feeding him top feed till he's full."
"You got it!"
Handing over two silvers, So Gun-ak left. The stablehand bowed deeply, grinning ear to ear.
How much could one horse eat? At least one silver would be his—pure delight.
Whistling, he filled the trough with premium mix of veggies and hay.
Whinny. Snort.
Mu-yeong devoured it ravenously—a far cry from before.
"Whoa, he's scarfing it down."
The stablehand figured it was just starved. But as it ate endlessly, he ended up short on feed—and had to beg So Gun-ak for more coin.