He Who Ties It Unties It (1)
Jeong Cheolmin had once said, even in his past life, that there was no famous sword to rival Wol-a.
Caught off guard by Han Bin's reaction, Jeong Cheolmin asked, "Are you alright, lad?"
"Yes, I'm fine. I just got a bit excited because I like the sword so much. Thank you, sir."
"Haha. Since you and I made it together, half your thanks will do."
"……."
Han Bin stared at the sword wordlessly.
Moonlight seemed ready to slice against the flowing edge of the blade.
Even the clear aura that appeared ready to absorb any foul energy.
It was definitely Wol-a.
Of course, right now it was a nameless newborn sword.
The fact that it had come to him instead of going to Seomun Mugeol, who would later be called the Sword Saint, meant the future had changed.
And in a way that favored Han Bin.
Gripping the scabbard tighter, Han Bin calmed his pounding heart and offered a fist salute to Jeong Cheolmin once more.
At that moment, Jeong Cheolmin gave an awkward smile.
"But, well……."
Trailing off, Jeong Cheolmin wore a strange expression, prompting Han Bin to ask, "What's wrong?"
"It's the finest thing I've ever made, but it feels like something's missing. I just can't put my finger on what."
"You mean it feels empty?"
"Like drawing a dragon but forgetting to dot the eyes? Haha, forget I said anything."
Running his eyes quickly over the blade at Jeong Cheolmin's words, Han Bin saw no flaws anywhere.
Shaking his head, he replied, "No, it's perfect as far as I can tell."
"And I have one request."
"Please, go ahead."
"I'd like to see your sword dance."
"……."
"Is that too much to ask?"
"Not at all. I'll show you right now."
A short while later.
Han Bin, with Wol-a at his waist, stepped out into the forge's front yard.
Glancing once at the moonlight, he drew his sword.
Shing.
Wol-a revealed its form beneath the moon's glow.
A sleek blade reminiscent of a woman's nude form.
Yet it carried no seductive allure.
For Wol-a embodied pure sword intent.
Whoosh.
Han Bin slashed through the air as if cleaving the moonlight itself.
His lips curved into a satisfied smile as he toyed with the blade.
This was the feel of the world's greatest sword.
Of course, for Wol-a to become the greatest, he would first have to become the greatest in the world.
Whoosh.
Turning, Han Bin stepped through the cardinal directions, unfolding his sword forms.
This was the One Sword Eight Forms he had mastered in his past life.
A sword art containing eight variations in a single motion.
On one side of the forge yard, Jeong Cheolmin, Sim Miho, and Cheolno watched Han Bin's swordplay.
Sim Miho's jaw dropped as she observed.
Though his inner power was lacking, Han Bin's technique was flawless, without a single superfluous motion.
Had Han Bin ever practiced the sword within the Paeng family?
As Sim Miho gaped at the display, Cheolno poked her side.
"Deputy Commander Sim, is it really that impressive?"
"Of course. I've never seen movements like that. His inner power is second-rate, but those forms could rival a Peak realm master."
"Whoa, that good? See? All that care I put into raising the young master is paying off now."
As they chatted, Han Bin's sword thrust toward the moon overhead, sending a sharp whoosh echoing across the yard.
Bam!
With that final motion, Han Bin sheathed Wol-a.
Jeong Cheolmin approached slowly.
"Now I see what felt missing."
"What was it?"
"The one who wields it. Watching your sword dance, it feels like the dragon's eyes have finally been dotted."
"……Thank you for the praise."
Bowing his head slightly, Han Bin turned to Sim Miho and Cheolno.
Cheolno's eyes sparkled, while Sim Miho stood with her mouth agape in a daze.
As Han Bin approached, Sim Miho asked, "What was that sword art called?"
"Want to learn it?"
"Would you teach me if I asked? Or is this one secret too?"
"Nah, no secret this time. I'll teach you, don't worry."
"Oh, but come to think of it, I use a saber, not a sword……."
"It's fine. It was originally a saber art anyway. Look forward to it—I’ll properly pass it on once we're back."
He meant it.
One Sword Eight Forms had originated as a saber art.
The One Saber Eight Forms was a technique unique to the Ghost Sword Squad, unbound by rigid forms.
It would suit the guards well.
Though learning it would come with some pain.
Chuckling, Han Bin headed inside.
Watching his back, Sim Miho felt an inexplicable chill.
"What's wrong? Feeling under the weather?"
"I feel it too, Deputy Commander Sim."
Cheolno shivered slightly at the odd sensation.
An hour later.
Han Bin stepped out of the forge.
"Lad, why leave in the dead of night?"
"Sorry, I have something urgent to check."
"Even if it's urgent, leaving now feels a bit hurtful."
"I'll visit again soon."
Offering a deep fist salute, Han Bin departed the forge.
Just then, the voices of Jeong Cheolmin and Jeong Soyeon reached his ears.
"Grandpa, I want to marry Brother Paeng!"
"Alright, I'll make sure to bring him here somehow."
Jeong Cheolmin replied.
They spoke loudly, as if ensuring Han Bin would hear.
Hastening his steps at their words, Han Bin moved quickly, with Sim Miho hurrying after him.
As she caught up, Sim Miho asked, "My lord, why leave now?"
She'd held back until now, given Han Bin's many secrets.
With a sly curl of his lip, Han Bin answered, "Something to check."
"At Guigok—no, Cheonsu Manor?"
"Right, Deputy Commander Sim. No time to waste—gotta hurry."
Finishing his words, Han Bin picked up speed.
Sim Miho, realizing no more info was coming, matched his pace.
Only Cheolno lagged a bit behind.
"Wait for me!"
Ignoring Cheolno's call, Han Bin pressed on.
Soon, they arrived before Cheonsu Manor.
The eerie nighttime landscape felt even more sinister.
The fallen gate had been repaired by So Daeseop and stood firm.
Han Bin opened the main gate.
Creak.
At the sound, So Daeseop rushed out from inside.
Panting, he offered a fist salute to Han Bin.
"My lord!"
"Good work. Squad Leader So."
Han Bin patted So Daeseop's shoulder, and he looked up.
Moonlight revealed So Daeseop's face.
Seeing it, Sim Miho and Cheolno recoiled in shock.
"Ah."
"Gasp."
Han Bin asked, "What's with you two?"
"Um, why does Squad Leader So's face look like that?"
Pointing at So Daeseop, Sim Miho got a casual laugh from Han Bin.
So Daeseop's condition was dire.
His eyes were deeply sunken, skin dry and ashen—one might mistake him for a jiangshi.
He looked as if he'd pulled several all-nighters.
And rightly so—few could endure the extreme yang energy here.
Plus, the ghostly wails that echoed every night had likely kept sleep at bay.
Wind or ghosts? The indistinguishable cries filled Cheonsu Manor.
Hee-hee—urk!
Whooo—eeee!
Sim Miho's face paled.
"Ah, what was that sound?"
"That's why I haven't slept for days. It's why this place became Hebei's most infamous ruin. Really……."
So Daeseop shot Han Bin a resentful glare.
Sim Miho looked at him the same way.
You knew and left him alone like this?
The reason for leaving So Daeseop solo was simple.
A guard captain needed top-tier courage, naturally.
Enduring this would make him unflinching in most situations.
Meeting their gazes, Han Bin declared, "Shift change!"
"……."
Everyone stared blankly.
Not understanding, Han Bin continued, "So Daeseop, you come with me to the main house. Deputy Commander Sim Miho takes over here. Looks about half done anyway—I'll trust you with the rest?"
"Y-yes, my lord!"
Sim Miho's saluting fist trembled slightly.
At the same time, in Hebei's Cheonhwaru.
The pavilion right next to where Han Bin had dealt with Yi Seomyeong.
This was Cheonhwaru, said to be Hebei's most lavish.
With food prices doubling per floor, floors above the fifth were rarely opened.
Yet tonight, the lights blazed on the top ninth floor.
A rich wine aroma seeped through the slightly open window.
Strong enough to fell a flying bird, it ill suited Cheonhwaru's ninth floor.
Glug.
A burly man downed a cup in one go.
Gulp.
In the empty ninth floor of Cheonhwaru, only the sounds of pouring and drinking alternated.
Then the door opened.
Slide.
A figure entered slowly.
The drinker turned.
It was no waiter or courtesan—a graying man in white scholar's robes.
Yi Seomyeong, the King of Ronin.
Yi Seomyeong sat.
Snacks and a white porcelain bottle awaited him.
Opening it released a clear fragrance filling the air.
Pouring himself a cup, Yi Seomyeong wet his lips appreciatively.
His counterpart spoke. "Doesn't the title 'King of Ronin' embarrass you? Sipping like that."
"Haha. Have you ever covered my tab, Blade King?"
Yi Seomyeong quickly recorked the bottle lest the aroma flee.
Across from him sat Paeng Kangwi, head of the Hebei Paeng family.
Rumored bitter enemies to the world, they were in truth close confidants who bared their hearts.
They shared quiet drinks, discussing worldly affairs.
And the occasional discreet deal.
Paeng Kangwi said, "It's been ages since you called me out. What's this about?"
"One of your sons."
"My boy?"
Yi Seomyeong fiddled with his cup, eyeing Paeng Kangwi as he tilted his head.
Meeting the gaze, Paeng Kangwi opened his mouth in bewilderment. "Hiding your intentions and probing me after so long?"
"You really don't know."
"Know what?"
"The last Soga-ju candidate came to see me."
"Hm."
"Well, he made a deal with me. Not sure yet if it's gain or loss for me."
"Why tell me? If you set him as a candidate, he has the say……."
"Feels like a win, but also like I'm being had. A deep schemer taking a loss? Doesn't add up."
"I'm not stopping the fledgling tiger I sent to test his claws."
"You know what?"
"What?"
"Mukcheol showed up at one of my shops."
"Hm."
As Paeng Kangwi's brow twitched, Yi Seomyeong teased, "Figured I'd tell you. Can't have you claiming I held back later, right?"
Composing himself, Paeng Kangwi replied, "That was him too. None of my business—handle it yourself. If that's all, let's drink."
Paeng Kangwi grabbed the bottle of fiery liquor.