Chapter 132
Half a month later.
At dawn, in the forge of the Beautiful Farming Institute.
The sound of hammering echoed through the forge at a time when no one should have been present.
It was the young blacksmith, Bu Eun-seol, who had been assigned to the workshop after doing menial labor.
Clang, clang, clang.
Placing a piece of red-hot iron on the anvil, he began shaping it with his hammer.
With each strike of the hand hammer, the iron folded and stretched repeatedly.
Creak.
Just then, the old door opened, and a figure in gray robes entered the workshop. It was Yuk Man-ho.
"Chief Blacksmith."
As Bu Eun-seol set down his hammer and bowed his head, Yuk Man-ho raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you here instead of resting in your quarters?"
"I was trying to make things I couldn't finish during the day."
"What do you mean, couldn't finish?"
At Yuk Man-ho's question, Bu Eun-seol lowered his head.
"The other blacksmiths don't want me making things..."
"Hmm."
Despite the Chief Blacksmith's stern orders, it seemed the workshop's blacksmiths were still preventing Bu Eun-seol from crafting anything.
"Fine. What were you making?"
"A sickle."
Yuk Man-ho picked up the sickle lying beside Bu Eun-seol.
"Hmm. It's slightly heavier than the sickles made by the other blacksmiths."
After carefully examining it, he nodded.
"You made the handle shorter and the tang longer. That's why it's heavier. Why this shape?"
"Farmers use sickles not just for crops but also for cutting light wood. Made this way, it'll last longer without damage."
Yuk Man-ho inspected the sickle again.
The uniformity and density were remarkably refined, as if crafted by a blacksmith with years of experience.
'He has talent.'
Setting the sickle down, Yuk Man-ho spoke to Bu Eun-seol.
"Don't come to the forge at this hour anymore."
Before Bu Eun-seol could respond, Yuk Man-ho patted his shoulder and added,
"I'll make it clear to my blacksmiths. Starting tomorrow, you'll be allowed to make tools properly."
Despite the trust in Yuk Man-ho's voice, Bu Eun-seol remained expressionless, merely bowing his head in silence.
Around noon, numerous blacksmiths poured out of the forges inside the Tangshan Iron Family.
It was lunchtime, and they were lining up to eat.
A middle-aged man in brown robes watched them from a stall displaying various farming tools. It was I Bok, the Chief Steward of the Tangshan Iron Family.
"He certainly has talent."
Clicking his tongue, he examined the stall where Bu Eun-seol's tools were displayed. Though their shapes were rather crude, many had already been sold due to their popularity.
When asked why they bought them, farmers consistently replied, "The shape is nothing special, but it's comfortable to use," or "It fits perfectly in the hand."
"He stripped away all the excess and focused purely on practicality."
Having worked at the Tangshan Iron Family for years, I Bok's discernment was no less than that of any blacksmith.
As Chief Blacksmith Yuk Man-ho had said, the young man truly had talent.
Yet, I Bok wasn't entirely pleased with Bu Eun-seol's tools.
"Tools each have their own inherent beauty in form..."
Bu Eun-seol lacked almost any aesthetic sense a blacksmith ought to have, crafting tools solely for function.
In short, his creations were as blunt and inflexible as his personality.
"He'll never become a master blacksmith."
Clicking his tongue, he turned to leave—
"Are you inside?"
Just then, a man in pale blue martial robes entered the Tangshan Iron Family.
Though his gaze was cold and fierce, I Bok greeted him with utmost deference, as if welcoming nobility.
"Master Yeon, what brings you here?"
The man in martial robes was none other than Yeon Myeong-jin, one of the five instructors teaching disciples at the Zhongnan Sect's Tangshan Martial Academy.
"I've come to have my sword repaired."
"I see. Please, take a seat here."
Despite Yeon Myeong-jin's stiff tone and icy demeanor, I Bok treated him with the courtesy reserved for an elder.
This was only natural—one of the Tangshan Iron Family's biggest clients was the disciples of the Zhongnan Sect's Tangshan Martial Academy, who constantly trained with their swords.
As an instructor of those disciples, Yeon Myeong-jin's influence could not be ignored.
"Why not send a disciple instead of coming yourself?"
"How could I entrust my sword, which is like an extension of myself, to mere disciples?"
Though Yeon Myeong-jin was only in his thirties, he spoke to I Bok—who was well past forty—as if addressing a subordinate.
"Perhaps because I overchanneled my True Qi during training, the blade suffered some damage. It needs proper attention."
The Zhongnan Sect's sword techniques were notoriously fierce, often causing swords to shatter or warp during practice.
Thus, until its martial artists mastered the precise control of True Qi and sword strokes, frequent repairs at the forge were inevitable.
"May I examine the sword?"
"Handle it carefully."
"Understood."
Taking the sword from Yeon Myeong-jin, I Bok carefully drew it from its scabbard and inspected it closely.
Though all Nine Great Sects used swords, each employed subtly different designs.
The Zhongnan Sect's swords were slightly longer and thicker than others.
Yet, not only was the edge damaged, but even the sturdy blade had warped slightly.
'He must have pushed it to the limit.'
There were fine cracks not just in the blade but also in the tang and the guard.
The sword had been reasonably well-maintained, but the traces of reckless use were impossible to erase entirely.
"It won't be difficult to repair, but... it will take some time."
"Time? How much?"
"All the blacksmiths are currently eating, so we'll start the work as soon as they finish."
"How long will it take?"
"We'll have it repaired and sent back to the Martial Hall by tomorrow at the latest."
"You're saying it'll take that long?"
As Yeon Myeong-jin's eyebrows shot up, I Bok bowed his head and explained,
"The edge can be resharpened quickly, but the force applied laterally has also damaged the blade and the fittings securing it."
Yeon Myeong-jin's expression darkened.
"What about the Chief Blacksmith?"
"The Chief Blacksmith has gone to Zhejiang... He won't be back for at least a month."
With visible displeasure, Yeon Myeong-jin snapped,
"Call a blacksmith now and have it finished today. Immediately."
I Bok's face twisted in discomfort.
The blacksmiths of the Iron Weapons Workshop were all highly skilled—and equally proud.
Even if he begged and pleaded, none of them would toss aside their chopsticks mid-meal to repair a sword.
"They've only just started eating... Could you wait just a little longer?"
"I skipped my own meal to get here quickly."
"I see."
Suppressing his disbelief, I Bok bowed his head.
What a temper.
Steeling himself, he cautiously suggested,
"If you're in a hurry, perhaps you could take one of the new swords we've already made?"
"Do you think I came here personally because the Martial Hall has no swords?"
"That's not what I meant—I was thinking of offering Instructor Yeon a fine sword free of charge..."
"Enough nonsense. Do you think I came here just to get a new sword?"
"My—my apologies."
I Bok hastily lowered his head again.
Seeing a man well into his forties bowing as if about to prostrate himself, even Yeon Myeong-jin realized his attitude had been excessive.
"My apologies. My nerves are on edge..."
He paused briefly, then sighed.
"Truthfully, there's an important martial demonstration at the main hall tomorrow. Even an elder from our main sect will be attending. Do you understand what that means?"
Weapons are like words—the more they're handled, the more they become attuned to their wielder.
Especially for martial artists who haven't yet mastered their sword techniques, the difference between a familiar blade and an unfamiliar one is significant.
"I understand the situation perfectly. Then let me try persuading the blacksmiths..."
Just as I Bok rose to approach them, a figure in gray robes approached from the opposite side.
It was Bu Eun-seol.
"Ah, here's a young blacksmith."
Spotting Bu Eun-seol, Yeon Myeong-jin brightened.
"We can just entrust the repairs to him."
"No, he's—he's..."
"Another excuse? There's no time—just hand it over."
I Bok hesitated, then fell silent.
Come to think of it, if he could make farming tools to a passable standard, repairing a blade and reinforcing the sword body shouldn't be too difficult.
No, even so, this is unacceptable...
No matter what, entrusting weapon repairs to a blacksmith from the Beautiful Farming Institute was unthinkable.
If something went wrong, how would they handle the aftermath?
But Yeon Myeong-jin snatched the longsword from I Bok's hands and thrust it toward Bu Eun-seol.
"Here! This is urgent—set aside whatever you're doing and repair my sword first."
Bu Eun-seol stared blankly at the sword for a moment, then nodded.
"Understood."
This kid?
I Bok had assumed Bu Eun-seol would refuse.
But seeing him nod shamelessly at the sight of the longsword, he couldn't hide his disbelief.
"Blacksmith Bu. Can you truly take responsibility for this repair?"
At I Bok's question, Bu Eun-seol glanced down at the sword in his hand, then replied indifferently,
"It should be done in two double-hours."
"Two double-hours?"
I Bok nearly burst out laughing.
Repairing a Murim master's weapon was delicate, meticulous work.
Even the skilled blacksmiths of the Iron Weapons Workshop took a full day—yet this kid, who only made farming tools, claimed he could finish in two double-hours?
Fine. Maybe it's time to teach him a lesson.
"Then you'll take full responsibility?"
Swallowing a sneer, I Bok handed over the sword.
"But if the repairs go wrong, it's entirely on you."
A blacksmith must take responsibility for the items they handle.
Even if Yuk Man-ho tried to cover for him, this wasn't something that could be brushed aside.
This is my chance to finally get rid of this thorn in my side.
Whether he sensed I Bok's scheme or not, Bu Eun-seol nodded calmly.
"Understood."
Then, as if nothing had happened, he slowly turned and walked toward the forge.
Bu Eun-seol entered a small warehouse slightly removed from the Beautiful Farming Institute.
Though he crafted farming tools there—thanks to Chief Blacksmith Yuk Man-ho's consideration—his relationship with the other blacksmiths was far from amicable.
So he worked alone in this old, isolated warehouse.
Click.
But something was strange.
Even if he started immediately, time was tight—yet Bu Eun-seol sat motionless, intently examining the sword.
"..."
His gaze as he inspected the blade was solemn beyond measure.
After a long while of laying the sword flat to examine its damaged sections, his eyes suddenly gleamed.
Most orthodox sword techniques condense true qi like dew at the tip of the blade. But this one spreads true qi across the entire sword and rotates it.
He tilted the blade into the light.
Instead of focusing on the tip, it uses rotational force to sweep the sharpened true qi sideways, utilizing the entire blade.
As he held the curved longsword, a vision of a fiercely rotating sword stroke—sweeping everything aside—unfolded in his mind.
One of the Zhongnan Three Great Sword Techniques—the Emerald Rain Sword!