Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: 전생혈마-35화
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: 8. The Discarded People (4)
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Swish.
Yoo Jeong-yeong took hold of the sword.
With careful hands, he lifted it up and began scrutinizing every inch with sharp eyes.
'The base looks remarkably similar to an old F-rank longsword...'
This was a smithy.
They naturally knew the items they handled inside out, but unlike its familiar appearance, the blade's sharpness was chillingly impressive. A gleaming edge. It felt like it could slice through ordinary skin with effortless ease. No way this was the same item, so he immediately checked its stats.
"Huh?"
E-rank.
The rank was different right off the bat.
That alone could be chalked up to a different item, but the real shock was the special effect.
'An E-rank item with a special effect?'
This wasn't normal.
Items occasionally had special effects, but anything D-rank or lower usually just functioned as basic weaponry. Sure, exceptions existed from unique environments, but the effect on this sword clearly fell into that 'exceptional' category. And if it was a bleeding effect? That made it top-tier for E-rank, no question.
His mind grew complicated.
He'd accept it if someone just said an item like this existed, but the issue was that Kang San had done something to it.
Especially a blade this razor-sharp—it screamed the maker's intent. Yoo Jeong-yeong could form one hypothesis.
'This guy spent a full week in this workshop, obsessed solely with the sword. So the result sitting here must be something he poured his heart into crafting himself, not some market-bought trinket. What the hell did he do? It wasn't your standard durability boost. No mana stones melted down for the process, no following typical forging patterns either. Hell, even as a fellow craftsman, I could read the satisfaction in his eyes. So then...'
Really.
It was just a hypothesis.
A hypothesis that the item's abilities might have originated from Kang San himself.
Couldn't be an outright upgrade from F to E, but adding that edge to grant a special effect? That possibility had some ground. Of course, it flew in the face of common sense. If he hadn't witnessed the process firsthand, Yoo Jeong-yeong never would've entertained such an absurd idea.
Artisans knew.
Through their work.
What the craftsman meant to convey.
This sword brimmed with purpose, unmistakably born from Kang San's hands.
Couldn't pin down exactly how, but something had definitely happened—that much he was sure of.
Yoo Jeong-yeong spoke up.
"By any chance... could you tell me how you made this sword?"
He'd crossed the line again.
If he heard the process, he'd understand the result.
The response was, predictably...
"Impossible."
A flat refusal.
The world had its common sense.
Blacksmithing techniques couldn't imbue any sort of 'ability' into items—that was the general consensus.
In that light, Yoo Jeong-yeong was remarkable.
From the item's familiar look and the work he'd glimpsed, he'd leaped past common sense into the realm of the irrational and asked about the process. It showed years of family trade in the smithy. Without that long tenure here, he wouldn't have reacted with such bafflement to Kang San's creation.
Kang San acknowledged Yoo Jeong-yeong's experience.
But...
'Doesn't mean it'll lead to him spilling the method.'
The end product.
A revolution.
Not magic, but humans directly enhancing item abilities—what possibilities might that unlock? Unimaginable. Just think: D-rank items fetched over ten million won in cash. If Kang San could buy a D-rank weapon and add a special effect like this, its value would at least double the purchase price, guaranteed.
An enormous privilege.
One he couldn't share.
The reason he'd shown it anyway? To get a technician's honest evaluation of his work.
And thanks to that, conviction solidified.
Conviction that this was something monumental.
At Kang San's refusal, Yoo Jeong-yeong spoke urgently.
"If you're worried about tech leakage, we can draw up a 'Scroll Contract.' I swear on my life, no leaks from me. I just want to verify the potential I see in this sword. As you know, folks don't think highly of what I do. It's just restoring durability—no real change possible. But if you've added something special to this blade, I want to learn it sincerely. I don't even need ownership of any resulting techniques. I just want to confirm there's new potential in my craft."
It was genuine.
Kang San stared straight at Yoo Jeong-yeong.
Yoo Jeong-yeong had coincidentally watched his work, he was a man who'd inherited his family's smithy trade for generations, and by chance, Kang San's crafting skill had that rare 'Transfer' ability. Pure coincidence? Just as he'd had to bear the Blood Demon's karma, maybe fate's threads had woven this encounter.
A Scroll Contract.
If terms were spelled out clearly, accepting the proposal wasn't a loss.
'What I've gained is just the potential of a new world. My hands-on crafting skills are sorely lacking. But combine that smith's expertise with this new forging method? The swords I make could unlock even greater stats than this.'
If that were possible.
The ideal outcome.
Kang San couldn't make smithing his life's work, so he needed someone to pour time into it in his stead.
Even so.
He couldn't accept right away.
"One condition."
"Name it. I'll do anything."
"One week from now. In that week, show me a sword you've forged yourself. Doesn't have to be some fancy 'item' by this world's standards—I'll judge it purely on its merit as a steel blade. If it matches the skill level I have in mind, I'll seriously consider your proposal."
That was enough.
A chance, even after his arrogance.
Yoo Jeong-yeong replied vigorously.
"Understood. I'll see you in a week."
The next day.
Yoo Jeong-yeong took leave immediately.
He was always diligent, so the smithy master grumbled but approved it anyway.
Then he rented a private workshop.
No mountain of backlog, no quota hanging over him—in that freedom, a strange emotion washed over him as he stroked the anvil.
'There was a time when I truly loved this work.'
Bestowing new value on scraps.
It was thrilling.
Finishing a splendid sword or suit of armor, seeing the fresh value it held—it brought immense satisfaction. He remembered having that passion right up until adulthood. But when awakening as a hunter proved impossible and he started job hunting, reality hit: his skills were worthless. The first ten years, he'd thrashed about trying to prove himself, but the brutal truth—that his work was just scrap next to real items—forced him to accept it.
Late thirties now.
These days, he worked like a machine.
No room for growth, no hope for the future. No drive to push harder.
But now.
Things had changed.
He had no idea what sorcery Kang San had worked, but even a sliver of hope set his heart pounding.
"...Yeah. This is who I am. I know I'm treated like dirt, but that's why I can't leave this place."
Grip.
He seized the hammer.
His late parents.
When memories resurfaced, the image of his father placing the hammer in his hand was vivid.
Sweat-drenched after leaving the workshop, his mother handing him iced water—she'd been so lovely.
Passion surged.
Even just the possibility of change.
Vitality gleamed in Yoo Jeong-yeong's eyes.
The future hadn't changed.
Reality was still a cesspool.
But at least.
'I'll prove that as a blacksmith, no one's skill surpasses mine.'
Kang San's challenge.
No intention of failing it.
And so.
Whoosh.
Roar.
Like Yoo Jeong-yeong's aspirations igniting, fierce flames roared up in the furnace.
The one week promised to Yoo Jeong-yeong.
Kang San spent it investigating the man.
He hadn't given a firm answer because, no matter the product, a person's true nature mattered most.
He commissioned the errand center right away.
In this day and age, a job and name were all it took to unearth someone's past.
A common tale.
Kang San's parents, Yeon Woo-bin's mother—they'd all fallen to this hellish world, innocent lives snuffed out. Yoo Jeong-yeong was just like Kang San: another victim. Orphaned and raised in a home, he kept at the smithy to carry on the family trade his parents left him. According to the info, he'd been ambitious in his twenties, but when his orphanage started faltering financially, he needed cash. Joined Iron Smithy, funneled most of his steady paycheck back to the kids.
'Impressive guy. No real obligation to those orphanage brats.'
Already thirty-eight.
Grateful for the orphanage's grace, sure—but few kept that sense of duty going this long.
Yoo Jeong-yeong was different.
He saw the director as a parent, treated the orphanage kids like true family. Even after losing his dreams, slaving away like a cog in a machine. He never vented about reality because he knew his earnings gave hope to that family.
The intel was extensive.
The deeper he dug into Yoo Jeong-yeong's life, the more parallels he saw to his own.
'Truth is, this is the normal life. Hunters who awaken and step into a new world? Privileged elite. Most folks are like me. Like Yoo Jeong-yeong. Enduring wretched days, scraping by one at a time. Because we're alive. Can't just die. Media yaps about hunters' bright futures every day, but the discarded? They grind on anyway. That's life.'
The shadow side of existence.
Those born with special gifts? The world's cruelties probably handed them wealth and glory on a platter.
They were the exception.
The few.
The masses were like him.
Like Yoo Jeong-yeong.
Maybe calling something 'abnormal' fit the 'hunters' better than people like him.
'Personality-wise, no red flags. Straightened his path through hardship—no contract headaches likely. Scrolls bind words and deeds, but people? Variables that no paper can fully leash.'
Pass.
If his history had disqualifiers, no amount of skill would've swayed Kang San. People were always the issue. Like nearly dying to an F-rank monster tagging along with a talentless mage—Kang San knew a person's core was everything.
Which left skill.
He had to verify if Yoo Jeong-yeong could spark special effects through raw craftsmanship—the kind he himself lacked.
The week flew by.
On the promised day.
Kang San headed to the smithy, true to his word.
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