Friends Can Be a Blessing! (4)
"Plum Blossom Sword Saint?"
At the old man’s abrupt words, Baek Cheon looked at him with a puzzled expression.
What was this old geezer suddenly talking about?
"Who are you talking about right now?"
"Seems like Chung Myung?"
"Huh?"
Baek Cheon turned to look at Chung Myung, then tilted his head.
Then why is that guy suddenly sweating buckets like that?
As far as he knew, Chung Myung had never looked like this.
Wasn’t this the same man who could be dragged before King Yama himself and still calmly try to swindle him?
What the hell is going on?
Baek Cheon looked back at Dang Jo-pyeong with renewed suspicion.
"Plum... Hm? What was it I called him?"
In the old man’s eyes, which had seemed to be dimming out like a dying light, a sudden storm of emotion rose. Tears even gathered at the corners of his deeply wrinkled eyes.
"S-Sword Saint..."
The old man trembled as tears streamed down his face, then suddenly froze.
And frowned.
"Huh?"
"..."
"...No?"
"..."
The atmosphere turned icy in an instant.
"Hahaha. Hahaha..."
When Chung Myung let out an awkward laugh, Dang Jo-pyeong tilted his head.
"Am I right?"
"..."
"Or maybe not?"
With every word he said, Chung Myung flinched.
How the hell am I supposed to dance to this beat?
When dealing with someone whose mind wasn’t sound, even Chung Myung was at a loss. First the old man had to understand the words, and then maybe there’d be something he could do.
"Plum... Hm? Who did I say you were again?"
In the end, Tang Gun-ak, who had been standing nearby, let out a long sigh and stepped in.
"Great-Uncle. The Plum Blossom Sword Saint died over a hundred years ago."
"...Did he?"
At those words, the tears in Dang Jo-pyeong’s eyes dried up in an instant.
"I see, yes. So he wasn’t. Well, the Sword Saint never did look so handsome. He had a face that looked nothing like a Taoist’s—more like a swindler, really..."
No, hold on, what?
"But if you knew him properly, he was a truly Daoist man. Strong, and noble."
"Heh heh heh. Right."
"...His personality was a little bad... no, very bad. Very."
"..."
The veins on Chung Myung’s forehead bulged.
"...I miss him. It feels like only yesterday the Sword Saint was patting my head, and yet so much time has already passed."
Dang Jo-pyeong muttered wistfully, gazing up at the distant sky. Everyone grew solemn at the sight of his lonely expression.
Everyone except one person.
Who is he?
After a moment of serious thought, Chung Myung finally smiled in satisfaction.
No idea.
Who cared? How was he supposed to remember every little thing from a hundred years ago?
He had once or twice drunk with the Tang Family because of that bastard Tang Bo, so they must have crossed paths somewhere along the way.
From the way he talked about having patted his head, the old man must have been a tiny kid back then—yet now he’d become a white-haired elder who looked one step away from the grave.
It was kind of moving...
"So who are you again?"
...not.
Then Tang Gun-ak quietly sighed and got to the point.
"Great-Uncle, that’s not important right now. We need to make swords from Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron. And we need to forge a few additional high-grade hidden weapons."
"Cold Iron swords and high-grade hidden weapons, huh..."
Dang Jo-pyeong repeated the words in a daze, then trailed off.
Moments later, the old man’s once-clouded eyes sharpened like a blade.
"The family head is making an unreasonable request of an old man who’s practically on his deathbed."
"I know it’s a difficult request, Great-Uncle. But even if the Cold Iron swords can be left aside, the high-grade hidden weapons are not something I can entrust to anyone else. I acknowledge their skill, of course, but who among them could compare to your hands?"
At Tang Gun-ak’s sincere persuasion, Dang Jo-pyeong said nothing at all and instead looked past him toward the workshop behind his back.
"Have you secured the Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron?"
"Yes."
Dang Jo-pyeong slowly nodded.
"I thought there would be no more need for me to lift a hammer in my lifetime... and yet I am also a member of the Tang Family. If the family head says so, I have no choice but to listen."
"Thank you. Thank you, Great-Uncle."
Dang Jo-pyeong nodded heavily again.
"Still, setting the hidden weapons aside, what are you planning to do with the Cold Iron swords? It’s not as if the Tang Family has taken up swordsmanship."
"The Tang Family has formed ties with Mount Hua. The ones who brought this Cold Iron are from the Mount Hua Sect, and they asked for the swords to be made."
"What?"
The calm in Dang Jo-pyeong’s eyes shattered all at once.
"For whom did you say you’re making these swords?"
"Mount Hua..."
"You’re saying you’ll use the Tang Family’s skills to forge Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron swords and hand them to another sect? Does that even make sense? Tang Family weapons are for the Tang Family and no one else. Dang Myung, you brat! How dare you spew such blasphemous nonsense!"
Dang Jo-pyeong jabbed an accusing finger at him, looking ready to foam at the mouth.
"Not over my dead body! I’ll make as many high-grade hidden weapons as you want, but not the Cold Iron swords!"
"G-Great-Uncle! Mount Hua and the Tang Family already formed an alliance..."
"That’s no concern of mine. Enough. Go home!"
Tang Gun-ak quickly stepped back, thoroughly rattled.
The aura pouring out of the ancient man’s body was no joke. Worse, his position as his nephew’s grandson made the whole thing even more awkward.
This is bad...
Then Chung Myung, who had been deep in thought, slipped up beside him and gave a small hand signal, as if saying he had something to say.
Tang Gun-ak dipped his head toward Dang Jo-pyeong.
"Great-Uncle, just a moment—"
"And who were you again?"
"..."
Tang Gun-ak stared at the old man in sullen silence for a beat. Then, after pushing Tang Pae up to Dang Jo-pyeong, he stepped back a little.
Chung Myung and the Mount Hua disciples crowded around and asked,
"What’s going on?"
"Hmm. It seems Great-Uncle has no intention of making the Cold Iron swords."
At Tang Gun-ak’s clearly troubled answer, Chung Myung said in a disgruntled voice,
"It’s not that he has no intention. It sounds more like he has no thoughts at all."
"Still, he does recover his senses about once a day."
"...Is that supposed to be comforting right now?"
Chung Myung, unable to hold back any longer, shot fire from his eyes.
What was he supposed to do? He had asked for Cold Iron swords and they’d dragged him to some senile old relic who couldn’t even understand words.
"Then let’s just have someone else make them. It’s not like this old man is the only artisan here."
But Tang Gun-ak shook his head, apparently thinking differently.
"Ten Thousand Year Cold Iron isn’t something so easy to work with. More than that, drawing it into thin sheets and tempering it requires an extremely high level of skill."
"Mm..."
"Of course, as you said, other craftsmen could still make the swords. But if we’re going to use such a precious material, shouldn’t we make the best swords possible?"
"Th-that’s true, I guess."
"We only need to persuade him. If we can somehow convince Great-Uncle..."
"No, but that doesn’t make sense. How are we supposed to persuade a senile old man who can’t even follow a conversation? If that old man saw you, he’d probably throw a stone and say even the noblest gentleman is hopeless!"
"...Aren’t you a Taoist?"
"If Lord Laozi saw this, he’d probably tell us to just leave him be! It’s all about wuwei ziran, isn't it?"
Chung Myung ground his teeth.
From what he had seen so far, the old man would stare vacantly into space, mutter nonsense, then suddenly fly into a rage and stubbornly insist on complete nonsense.
That was exactly the sort of person Chung Myung found hardest to deal with.
If the words got through, he could at least lie down and make a scene until something happened—but what on earth was he supposed to say to someone whose mind kept slipping in and out? Reading scriptures to a cow would be easier.
Baek Cheon, who had been listening quietly, let out a deep sigh.
"Chung Myung, I’m afraid this doesn’t look easy. Just from the way he called you the Plum Blossom Sword Saint earlier, it’s clear his condition isn’t good. He can’t even tell people apart."
Yoon Jong agreed.
"If he only couldn’t recognize people, that would be one thing, but it seems he’s lost his sense of time as well. The past and present are all tangled up in his head. There’s no way to persuade someone like that."
"...I’m really going to lose my mi—"
Chung Myung cut himself off mid-grumble.
"Hm?"
With Chung Myung suddenly falling silent, Baek Cheon was gripped by a bad feeling.
That’s the face this bastard makes when he’s thinking of something rotten.
Chung Myung was even muttering to himself as if chewing over something alone.
"He can’t tell people apart... and the past and present are tangled together..."
A moment later, Chung Myung broke into a sly grin.
"Right. That’s it. So he’s not in his right mind."
At that wicked smile, Baek Cheon tensed and asked,
"...What are you planning now?"
Chung Myung only shrugged and smiled.
"You’re trying to scam someone again?"
"Scam?"
Chung Myung thought about it for a moment, then grinned as if amused.
"Well, from the senior brother’s point of view, I guess it would look like a scam."
"...What the hell does that mean?"
But this wasn’t a scam, really.
Heh heh heh heh.
Smiling, Chung Myung glanced to the side. Dang Jo-pyeong was once again staring blankly into space with dazed eyes.
"So who are you again?"
"...Tang Pae."
"Where’s Myung-yi gone?"
"..."
Suppressing a sigh, Tang Pae looked up at the sky.
This is hell.
Please, let this end soon...
Hm?
Then he spotted Tang Gun-ak and the Mount Hua disciples approaching.
Huh?
Something about it was strange. Every single one of them wore awkward expressions. As if... they were up to no good.
"Family head, what exactly are you—"
"Shh."
Tang Gun-ak quickly pressed a finger to his lips, signaling for him to keep quiet.
"..."
In that instant—
"Ahem! Ahem!"
With a loud fake cough, Chung Myung emerged from behind the workshop with his hands clasped behind his back. His stride was strangely grand and boisterous, unlike usual.
Huh?
Chung Myung walked forward boldly and stood in the middle of the courtyard before calling out in a ringing voice, hands still behind his back.
"A-pyeong! Where is A-pyeong?"
A-pyeong?
It was a respectful way of addressing an old acquaintance. But where on earth was there a child here...?
"Gah!"
Tang Pae whipped his head around.
As if he had never been half-asleep a moment ago, Dang Jo-pyeong had jerked upright and was staring at Chung Myung.
"W-Who...?"
Chung Myung looked straight at Dang Jo-pyeong and nodded.
"There you are!"
"And who might you be?"
Dang Jo-pyeong kept studying Chung Myung with his hazy eyes.
Then Chung Myung lightly tapped the plum blossom embroidery on his chest, showed it off, and barked,
"You old fool! You don’t even recognize me anymore? It’s me, the Sword Saint!"
"P-Plum Blossom Sword Saint...?"
Dang Jo-pyeong blinked, checking Chung Myung over and over again. Chung Myung took a single step forward, as if sealing the deal, and let a dignified aura flow from him.
"S-Senior!"
Dang Jo-pyeong shot to his feet and rushed toward Chung Myung. Trembling all over, he seized Chung Myung’s hand and burst into tears.
"Senior... Senior, where have you been all this time? How long has it been since I last saw you? My heavens..."
The Mount Hua disciples and Tang Gun-ak, watching the scene, all wore strange, hollow expressions.
Wow, that worked.
He’s even scamming him in a custom-fit way now.
I’ve lived a long life, and this is the first time I’ve seen someone scam a senile old man.
Then Yoon Jong turned to Jo Gul and whispered in a puzzled voice,
"By the way, wasn’t that bastard absolute trash at acting?"
"It was painful to watch."
"So why does he actually look kind of natural right now?"
"How the hell should I know what that bastard’s up to?"
The two of them sighed at the same time.
And then...
G-Great-Uncle...
Tang Gun-ak watched it unfold with complicated feelings. He had no real choice, so he’d agreed to it for now, but seeing this cheap fake Taoist conning a grand elder of the family made his stomach ache all the same.
"Enough with the chatter! Where is that Tang Bo brat?"
"My grandfather is... well, I’m not sure? Right now he—"
"Tsk! Useless."
Tang Gun-ak’s cheek twitched.
That bastard?
He’s crossing the line.
He had told Chung Myung to act a little, and this was what came of it. If anyone saw this, they’d think the Plum Blossom Sword Saint had actually come back from the dead.
"I hear you’ve got a bit of talent with your hands, so listen well. We’re short on swords for fighting the Demonic Sect. I’ve brought the Cold Iron, so can you make the Cold Iron swords for us?"
"Oh, Senior. Who are you that I’d ever dare refuse? If I refused you and Grandfather found out, I’d be done for."
"Then cut the chatter and get moving!"
"Yes! Yes! I’ll start right no—"
Just as Dang Jo-pyeong was nodding and trying to rise, he suddenly cocked his head to the side.
"But... you seem to have become a little more handsome?"
"...A-advancement in martial arts changes one’s appearance as well."
"Ah, of course. I’ve heard that before. Hee hee. You’ve become quite handsome indeed. Much better than before."
"..."
Well, damn.
It was a compliment, but somehow that made him even angrier.
"I’ll light the furnace right away. Please wait a moment!"
"...Very well."
Dang Jo-pyeong spun around, and when his eyes met Tang Gun-ak’s, he asked,
"Who are you?"
"I am..."
Tang Gun-ak opened his mouth to explain, but Dang Jo-pyeong shook his head before he could finish.
"Never mind. It’s urgent. If you know how to handle metal, then come into the workshop. I’ll need twenty people just for the bellows and hammering. Summon the elders as well! We need to heat the furnace!"
"Yes! I’ll have it done at once."
Dang Jo-pyeong straightened his hunched shoulders.
His bent back unfurled, and a craftsman’s presence, one that had not been visible before, began to pour from his body.
"Prepare the White Furnace! We’re melting the Cold Iron!"
"Yes!"
As he strode into the workshop with great dignity, Chung Myung grinned.
"Looks like it worked, doesn’t it?"
"..."
Tang Gun-ak shot him a sidelong glare that was equal parts dazed, furious, and annoyed.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself very much."
"Heh heh. Piece of cake."
"Anyone watching would think you were the real Plum Blossom Sword Saint."
"Hahaha. Well, not quite that much."
"Hngh."
Tang Gun-ak shook his head.
"Still, if this means the problem’s solved, then I’m relieved. I’ll help Great-Uncle, so you handle the Plum Blossom Sword Saint act in between."
"Sure, got it."
Acting...
Chung Myung thought about it for a moment, then gave a slightly bitter smile.
As Tang Gun-ak headed for the workshop, the Mount Hua disciples clicked their tongues and pointed at Chung Myung.
"Look at that bastard. Pretending to be the Sect Founder and swindling an old man."
"At this point he’s just a blatant con artist."
"Trash."
Amid the pouring insults, Chung Myung lifted his head a little and looked up at the sky.
Senior Brother.
I’m getting cursed for pretending to be me.
Does that even make sense?
What are you talking about? You con artist!
"Damn it all!"
You guys know nothing, that’s what!
Tsk.