A Deep Sleep That Caught Mi So-jeo's Interest
It was a deep, perfect slumber that drew Mi So-jeo's attention—the first true rest he'd had since plummeting into this mad age of chaos.
"Crunch."
Stretching out, the stiff joints from his spine to his shoulders popped satisfyingly. The bone-deep exhaustion from hammering black iron all night in the subspace forge and crawling under the massive carriage at dawn, assembling metal parts amid the morning dew, was completely gone.
He washed his face and changed into the fresh casual robe provided by the merchant guild. And without forgetting, he wrapped the E+ grade black iron dagger he'd forged himself last night in rough hemp cloth and securely bound it inside his left ribcage.
The first holiday I've been given. Can't just hole up in my room. Yeom Cheol had strictly ordered him not to set foot in the forge today and to rest, so no wielding the hammer. But wasting time idly wasn't his style.
He wanted to see this world with his own eyes—the massive castle walls of Xu Province, the people's level, and above all, the market prices for "scrap metal" and "materials" available in the back alleys.
Stepping out the main gate of the Mi Merchant Guild headquarters, the dizzyingly vibrant grand market of Xu Province Castle stretched out endlessly.
"Cheap deal! Silk-like gauze robes for just thirty coins!"
"Freshly baked meat buns! Juices dripping out!"
The merchants' hoarse shouts and hawking cries mixed with the acrid yet lively air of spices and roasting meat. It was the hidden underbelly of a prosperous city protected by great powers—completely severed from the hell outside the walls, where bandit hordes roamed and starving corpses littered the roadsides.
He blended naturally into the crowd, strolling slowly through the market. His gaze lingered longest, as expected, on the stalls selling ironware and weapons. In his porter days, he wouldn't have dared even glance at the gleaming ring-pommel swords and shiny blades. But through the eyes of an F-rank blacksmith with bonus perception, enhanced by the artisan's insight he'd glimpsed from Yeom Cheol yesterday, those weapons were just crude chunks of scrap metal.
Trash. He inwardly clicked his tongue at a greatsword hanging from a passing mercenary.
The blade thickness isn't uniform, so the weight centers in the middle. Two hard clashes and the central axis will bend.
He frowned at the spearheads on display.
Poor tempering leaves micro-cracks on the surface. It won't pierce bone—touch a thick leather armor and the tip shatters.
The mass-produced weapons flooding the market all failed to properly remove iron impurities; they shone on the outside but offered no durability guarantee in real combat—shoddy junk.
The F-rank dagger I hammered from roadside scrap yesterday is three times tougher and sharper than that ten-silver-coin sword hanging there.
Confidence welled up inside him. His subspace-forged weapons far surpassed this era's average—confirmed with his own eyes. As he scanned the stalls and turned into a deep alley,
"Thief! Thief!! My money pouch! Someone catch that bastard!!"
Suddenly, from dozens of paces ahead, an old man's ear-splitting shriek erupted. At the same time, the market crowd parted like the Red Sea amid curses and screams.
"Outta the way, you fucks!! Clear a path unless you wanna die!!"
A skinny man with a filthy headscarf and a prominent knife scar on his face shoved through the throng, sprinting straight toward him. In one hand dangled a hefty money pouch freshly snatched from what looked like a silk merchant elder; in the other, he menacingly swung a cheap, sharply honed dagger.
"Eek!" "Get away! He's got a knife!"
Broad daylight in the market, yet no heroes stepped up against the thief charging with bloodshot eyes and bared blade. People screamed and scattered, clearing the way.
The thief's escape route led straight to the narrow alley mouth where he stood. Flanked by merchants' stalls, there was nowhere to dodge.
"Hey, you dumb fuck standing there! Move? Wanna gut wound?"
As the distance shrank to a dozen paces, the thief spotted him planted squarely in the path, staring blankly. He raised his dagger threateningly, radiating killing intent.
A clumsy porter or average citizen would crumple under that menace, legs giving out. But the thief's movements looked laughably slow and sloppy compared to the Yellow Turban remnants he'd faced in the forest before.
Wrist angle on the knife too high. Lower body unstable, weight shift for thrusting completely off-axis.
Agility 11. His dynamic vision, evolved from yesterday's mad black iron hammering, analyzed the thief's sloppy form in slow motion. Enraged at the unmoving target, the thief bared his teeth and slashed down at his shoulder.
"Die!!"
Shiiik—the blade cut the air. But his body moved reflexively like a trained machine, before his brain even issued the command.
Paht! Standing in place, he merely twisted his upper body left by half a handspan. The thrust merely grazed his hemp robe's collar, slicing empty air.
"Wha...?"
In that split-second flicker of confusion in the thief's eyes, his right hand flashed into his robe like lightning, drawing forth the hidden azure edge.
Ching! The pitch-black E+ grade black iron dagger, tempered in pig fat. The chill blade, absorbing even sunlight, danced like a beast in his grip.
He didn't aim for the thief's wrist or body. His target was singular: the mid-blade of the cheap dagger slicing empty air—the thinnest, stress-concentrated weak point.
On construction sites dismantling steel H-beams, unyielding spots got cracked at the center with a pry bar for leverage. This cheap dagger's structural flaws were crystal clear.
Botched tempering—high hardness, zero elasticity. Trash steel that absorbs shock without rebounding.
Kaaang!! A piercing, chilling crack that tore eardrums shook the alley. The flat of his black iron dagger struck the thief's blade side squarely and heavily. Strength 11's power plus black iron's insane density in one focused blow.
Craaack, kwajik! Like shattering glass. The instant it clashed with his black iron dagger, the immense destructive force overwhelmed it—the steel sword cracked spiderweb-like from center, exploding into dozens of azure shards scattering everywhere.
"Aaaahhh!!"
The horrific vibration at shattering transmitted up the wrist; the thief screamed in agony as his hand tore, flinging the hilt to the ground. But he didn't stop. Simultaneously shattering the blade, he shot out his right foot, kicking the thief's collapsed center of gravity—precisely the back of the knee pit.
Thud!
"Guhk!"
The thief's leg buckled; he dropped to his knees. Spinning, he pressed the black iron dagger's icy edge to the beast-crouched man's nape. The razor-sharp black iron chilled and dented the carotid skin. One deeper breath, and blood would fountain from the throat.
"Move, and I dismantle your windpipe, not your joints."
His voice emerged dry and cold. Overwhelmed by the black iron's dread menace at his neck and the single blow pulverizing his steel, the thief trembled like an aspen, not even breathing.
"M-mercy... The pouch is here...!"
He dropped the hefty pouch with a thud and raised both hands high above his head. The one-sided, overwhelming takedown unfolded in seconds. The panicked market crowd fell deathly silent at the unbelievable scene.
"Huh..." "What the hell just happened?"
Murmurs broke the suffocating quiet, spreading like waves.
"Did you see? Shattered a steel knife like glass with a dagger!" "What steel is that pitch-black blade? So brutally tough it doesn't even reflect light—pure savagery!"
The crowd's awestruck stares poured not on the prone thief, but on him and the ink-black black iron dagger in his hand.
"Hey, that young guy's familiar!"
A porter-like man in the crowd pointed and shouted.
"Saw him in the Mi Merchant Guild caravan entering Xu Province Castle a few days ago! Thought he was just pulling carts, but yesterday he was forging iron next to old man Yeom at the smithy!" "What? Apprentice at the Mi Guild forge? An apprentice with that monstrous power? And that blade's from the Mi Guild smithy?!"
Rumors spread like wildfire. A young monster apprentice at the Mi Merchant Guild forge wielding bizarre weapons that shattered bones and steel—amplified in real-time on market lips.
Trouble. He inwardly tsked. His body improved, modern memories unconsciously sharpening him. Not to their level, though.
He swiftly rewrapped the black iron dagger in hemp and tucked it away. Kicking the fallen pouch lightly, he slid it to the gasping silk merchant elder arriving late.
"Take it."
"Oh, aigoo! Thank you, young man! How to repay this grace...!"
The elder reached, but he waved it off and backed away. Rough footsteps of gate guards approached. Tangling with officials meant pointless scrutiny—no gain. He slipped into the back alleys with quick steps. The crowd buzzed excitedly at his vanishing back.
Meanwhile, at the Mi Merchant Guild headquarters in Xu Province Castle. In the lavishly decorated inner quarters' spacious room, faint plum tea aroma wafted.
Mi So-jeo, in elegant purple silk, paused her teacup mid-lift as a cautious voice came from outside.
"Miss, escort captain Kang Bi from outer patrol requests audience."
"Enter."
At her permission, the door opened; a sharp-eyed warrior with leopard-like grace entered and knelt on one knee. No ordinary guard—he was the skilled intel captain her brother Mi Chuk had personally assigned to gather street whispers and trends.
"What is it? I just returned after safely delivering the carriage to Governor Do Geom's wife. If not urgent, later."
Mi So-jeo murmured lowly, teacup to lips.
"Report on that forge apprentice 'Aman' you ordered rewarded this morning."
At the name, her teacup halted just before her lips. The young porter-apprentice who'd performed the miracle of levitating the massive official carriage like clouds before her eyes at dawn.
"Aman. What trouble did that boy resting by Yeom Cheol cause?"
"No trouble. But... I witnessed a bizarre commotion in Xu Province market moments ago."
The captain steadied his breath and reported the scene in vivid detail without omission: Aman's eerily precise dodge against the charging thief's blade; the overwhelming strike pulverizing the enemy's knife like glass with the drawn black dagger.
"I doubted my eyes, miss."
A faint tremor laced the captain's voice.
"His movements were no lumbering smith's hammer swings. That cold killing art pinpointing vitals and toppling centers of gravity—beast instinct honed on battlefields stripping countless bones and flesh."
The captain swallowed dryly.
"Above all, that pitch-black dagger he drew... A horrific density and hardness shattering steel ring-pommel swords in one blow—unseen in our warehouses or anywhere in Xu Province. Market folk already buzz it's a miraculous weapon forged at our guild's smithy."
"......"
Mi So-jeo silently set her teacup down. A strange curve etched her flawless jade-like face.
"A black iron dagger crumbling steel like mud. Lithe killing that dismantles joints."
In her mind rose that arrogant, steely gaze of the soot-covered youth staring straight into her eyes. Yesterday, he'd infused tough iron with rubbery elasticity for cloud-like ride; this morning, he'd rebuilt the complex carriage undercarriage in one go, showing monstrous assembly skill. And that wasn't all—he wielded self-forged weapons with flawless slaughter technique.
"No mere artisan."
Mi So-jeo's chest rarely thrilled with such pleasant tension. Leading this vast guild, she'd met heroes and greedy officials aplenty, but none so bottomlessly enigmatic, unveiling new cards each time.
"Captain."
"Yes, miss."
"Don't suppress this rumor. Let it spread—nay, encourage it. Word of a Mi Guild forge genius crafting blades slicing steel like tofu will bring massive profits to our arms trade."
Mi So-jeo tilted her chin slightly, a deep eye-smile forming.
"Give that boy a broken but usable sword as a personal favor request for repair. I must confirm."
"Understood, miss."