Chapter 25
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Commissioning a Spear
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The two old men, neither of whom were immortals, shared a rather peculiar relationship.
A martial artist and a non-martial artist.
The former was Dang Cheol-son, the renowned Tang Poison Dagger King of the Central Plains Murim, a figure whose stern temperament was known to all among the famed experts.
"Who is he?"
The other was an old man who seemed insignificant compared to his prestige. Ga Bul-hyeon, born and raised in Sichuan, blinked his clear eyes that belied his age as the young man passed by and glanced back at his old acquaintance.
"How should I know."
Dang Cheol-son shrugged. He was feigning nonchalance, but in truth, he was quite startled by this young intruder.
'Seo Mun...'
The Seo Mun Clan in Shandong, beyond those mountains and rivers.
Having spent his life immersed in the murim world, he had heard rumors and news, directly or indirectly.
"I'm Seo Mun-ha."
"Introduced by that fellow Kang Mo at the guest inn?"
"Yes."
Dang Cheol-son's expression shifted by the moment as he eyed the two.
"I'd like to commission something from you, old sir."
His face shifted from bewilderment and fluster to one brimming with fascination.
'Heh...'
Dang Cheol-son was a man who ranked above the Hundred Great Heroes of the world.
The Star Heaven Ten Seats.
These positions in the Beyond Heaven Palace, passed down through the ages, were symbols of supremacy among the vast murim and the era's famed warriors.
The fact that this youth had blended into his domain without triggering his senses was extraordinary. Ga Bul-hyeon might not have noticed, but for Dang Cheol-son himself, every word and action from this young man screamed uncommon prowess.
"You're Seo Mun-ha, right?"
After observing quietly, Dang Cheol-son wedged himself between the two.
"Yes."
His face now tinged with thick mischief on top of curiosity.
If the one who had deceived the Tang Poison Dagger King himself and led him to defeat didn't irk him, then that grand title would weep in shame.
"Do you know who I am?"
He couldn't have just one go-to friend for Go games in his twilight years.
"I'm ignorant and lack worldly experience."
In response, Seo Mun-ha bowed politely, artfully wrapping his "ignorance."
"Of course. It must be so."
Dang Cheol-son nodded repeatedly.
"What an amusing brat."
He wouldn't have dared such recklessness if he knew.
The Sichuan Tang Clan was said to forget family names but never grudges.
And Dang Cheol-son's prickly, finicky nature needed no further mention.
"Hm? You're just leaving?"
Thus, Ga Bul-hyeon asked in surprise.
The Tang Poison Dagger King, whom all revered and feared, casually brushed off his rear and stood.
He had expected a bloodbath disguised as instruction, but his eccentric friend simply turned away in silence.
"Lost my interest."
"Learned some humility after losing?"
"He was your guest from the start, and upon reflection, it'll be more fun to settle it with that friend next time. I'll hold you accountable then."
"Guest, my foot...!"
Ga Bul-hyeon bristled, but Dang Cheol-son waved him off.
In other words, Ga Bul-hyeon was a bosom friend of the illustrious Tang Poison Dagger King.
That alone set him apart from the ordinary, a master artisan in his field with none in Sichuan to match him.
"Who knows, he might hand you the hammer again."
"Hmph! As if!"
Snorting and grumbling, the two old men reminisced about their long-shared bond.
"You two must be close."
"A tiresome bad blood!"
With Dang Cheol-son gone, Seo Mun-ha reiterated his purpose.
"Let me say it once more. I wish to commission a spear from you, old sir."
Creeeak.
Opening the private gate, the distinct metallic scent of a forge wafted in.
A faint smell, as if unused for ages.
The musty earth and dust hit strongly, suggesting neglect unbecoming of a inhabited place.
"Sit wherever."
Ga Bul-hyeon gestured casually from the porch of the modest main building.
A bottle of clear liquor was clutched in his gesturing hand.
Unstoppering it released a pop and a sharp aroma that filled the rundown house.
"So, that Kang Mo introduced me to you?"
Unable to believe it, Ga Bul-hyeon repeated himself.
And rightly so—the innkeeper at Ga Won Guest Inn was one of the few who knew his circumstances, alongside Dang Cheol-son.
"Yes. I've visited several forges already. All in vain."
Seo Mun-ha answered the repeated question calmly.
"The innkeeper said to ask you."
Without a hint of annoyance.
"I don't know what that kid said, but it's all nonsense. To young artisans, we're just feeble old wrecks on our last legs."
Ga Bul-hyeon gulped down the clear liquor with Seo Mun-ha right there.
"No matter what you or he say, my answer remains the same."
Tilting the bottle, he voiced what he'd implied subtly.
"Impossible."
His firm resolve unshaken. Anyone else would have faced stern rebuke.
He'd unexpectedly lent aid and honored the innkeeper's face by bringing him this far—that alone was plenty.
"I see."
Was it because of that?
"Understood."
The rare guest withdrew simply, as if comprehending.
"Eh?"
Seo Mun-ha was anything but ordinary.
Give up this easily?
Regret would be normal, yet this youth seemed relieved, unburdened.
"From Shandong to Sichuan, I've met hundreds of smiths along the way. All renowned artisans."
Seo Mun-ha dispelled Ga Bul-hyeon's doubt nonchalantly.
"If even Sichuan's top artisan says it's impossible, no one in the world can do it. Clinging to the impossible is foolish. No regrets means I'm freer now."
To Seo Mun-ha, time was precious to all.
Unwittingly irking Ga Bul-hyeon, the old man's resolute brow twitched.
"Impossible for me...? What on earth are you trying to make to cause such a fuss?"
The one who'd dismissed him now asked first.
"Didn't you say no business?"
"Let's hear it. What marvel has Sichuan's smiths all turning tail?"
"Curious?"
"Very."
Seo Mun-ha smiled faintly and belatedly offered a bottle.
"The innkeeper sent this for you. Don't mind."
Jade Pot Spring was one of the famed liquors.
"Thought you were a tiger, but you're a fox. Sly as they come."
Grumbling, he still accepted the fine brew to fill his empty hand.
Bamboo Leaf Clear was a Sichuan specialty. Among its many local products, its liquors stood out, and Jade Pot Spring especially so.
"Kang Mo must think highly of you."
"I'm grateful."
"Spare the pleasantries. You want a spear."
Sichuan boasted many fine smiths. But spears were relatively unfamiliar compared to Qingcheng or Emei swords.
Was it for nothing that spears, the King of Ten Thousand Weapons, lost to swords?
Swords branched diversely with clear pros unlike spears, and swordmasters devoted to mere steel forged murim history alongside them.
"What I seek is..."
Seo Mun-ha described the image in his mind.
Sturdy yet flexible.
"I've seen tribute items from the West."
An item from his past life. One of the imperial treasures bolstered his vision.
"What you're saying is..."
"Yes. Swords have similar ones, don't they?"
The serpent-belly sword. A divine weapon called the soft sword.
"You're greedier than you look."
Merely an example. He wanted a fully detachable shaft.
"Rigid spears are surprisingly easy to find. But flexible ones with sharpness? Rare."
"...Why do you think that?"
"Hard to forge, right? And tricky to wield."
"Not just hard—impossible!"
An absurd demand. Like wielding demonic and divine arts in one—like pure fantasy.
Everyone knew nothing was perfect, even three-year-olds.
Seo Mun-ha challenged the truth of all creation's harmony.
"Heh..."
Naive as it was, Ga Bul-hyeon didn't mock him.
Its specificity helped, but those assured eyes burned into his mind.
Strongly above all.
"Impossible, as expected? Even for Sichuan's best."
Provoking his competitive spirit, this green youth irked the heart seasoned by countless trials.
"I heard you've retired long ago... My mistake bringing it up."
Pride, that was.
No intent to ape lofty artisans, but he took pride in his achievements and the blades through his hands.
"Mystic Iron... No, the shaft needs cold iron. Even with blood troughs, it'll be heavy. Can you even swing it?"
It had to exist.
"I'm no martial artist, but I've heard it guzzles true qi. Warriors seek light, strong swords for that reason."
Ga Bul-hyeon had no mind to craft useless ornaments.
"It needs to be that substantial."
The old man, bottle set aside, stroked his chin.
"...Hmm."
He could try, challenge it.
Wasn't this the youth who'd caught the Tang Poison Dagger King's eye, however briefly?
True or false, paying dearly wouldn't be for mere decoration.
'The issue is...'
Deep in thought, Ga Bul-hyeon spoke.
"I get what you mean."
"..."
"Even I can't guarantee such a thing. If you're set on it, I could try."
Back to square one, he lifted the bottle again.
"But only if I feel like picking up the tools."
Can or can't wasn't key. Willingness was.
"I heard from the innkeeper."
Knowing this, Seo Mun-ha continued.
"You've set aside smithing long ago."
"Heard the reason too?"
"That's your private affair."
"Polite act. Warriors are all the same. Central Plains or not, they keep face while raising sly foxes like you."
Seo Mun-ha nodded in agreement.
"What do you want in return?"
For crafting the spear. Nothing but money in mind, he asked directly.
"That's your homework to figure out... Honestly, nothing. At all."
"Figured as much."
"What's honor or money to a dithering old man?"
Ga Bul-hyeon eyed Seo Mun-ha head to toe anew.
Great artisans like him were picky about people. Whose hands their works fell into, how they'd be used.
"There was a smith like you once. Smithied his whole life."
In that vein, Seo Mun-ha shared a past life's tale.
"Just to eat, he hammered spears and swords daily. His skills grew, rumors calling him a genius."
Rumors weren't always good.
"Era of war. Became bandit prey, lost his family to rogues fattening their gangs."
Lost souls wander—a common, clichéd tale.
"So, what became of him?"
"As you think. He smithied on. No other choice. Took commissions for famed swords in exchange for vengeance for his kin. After, only enough work to not starve."
He'd deceived himself and his craft. What made him quit entirely was a child seeking "revenge."
"Amusing, right? His life's work birthed one just like his family's killers. Realized his arrogance slew them."
The smith made no more weapons after. Knowing they'd harm, create more refugees no matter whose hands.
"Boring tale. Can't handle that in smithing, what use anywhere?"
"Weakness makes the heart endlessly frail."
"Did he join a temple or Taoists then?"
"Died."
"What?"
"After forging one spear. For atonement. Nothing grand—just hoping to protect the powerless."
War era. No warrior, he entrusted a living sword and crafted his life's masterpiece.
"I see..."
Moments later, as Seo Mun-ha fell silent, Ga Bul-hyeon spoke as if waiting.
"Boring or not, I listened well. One question?"
"Yes, sir."
"Sounds like personal experience, but impossible. What turned that smith around?"
Seo Mun-ha answered without hesitation.
"A person, probably."
Only people heal wounds from people.
As place shapes man, the smith didn't just make weapons—he shaped people.
"Smooth talker. Not a musician or poet, yet you'll have women weeping."
Ga Bul-hyeon clucked his tongue. The youth's refined looks suited romance.
'A smith who makes people.'
A lofty phrase for a rough trade.
"Fine. But two conditions—alright?"
Permission granted at last, Seo Mun-ha grinned.
No reason to refuse.