Opportunity Knocks
“What in blazes is that black lump of iron you're holding?”
Yeom Cheol halted at the forge entrance, his bushy brows furrowing deeply. His piercing gaze locked onto the D+ grade wrought iron hammer I'd forged in the Subspace Forge last night, refusing to budge.
“It's a hammer, old man. I needed a tool that fits my hand, so I hammered together some scrap last night.”
I answered flatly, lightly extending the hammer toward him. Yeom Cheol took it gingerly in his pot-lid-sized palm. The moment the hefty lump settled there, his eyes widened in shock.
“This... this insane density... It's way heavier than it looks for its size. And this striking face—perfectly level, with the balance point dead center! You forged steel into symmetrical perfection like this?”
Gripping the oak handle, he swung it experimentally through the air.
Whoosh! A sharp whistle cut the air as the concentrated weight at the hammerhead sliced a clean arc.
“The centrifugal force doesn't leak a damn bit—it's all funneled straight to the impact point. This isn't some slapped-together chunk of metal. It's a monster tool, meticulously calculated and carved for devastating strikes!”
His voice trembled. The old master smith, who'd swung hammers tens of thousands of times in his life, instinctively grasped just how brutally perfect its design was.
“Wasn't your hammer too heavy, didn't fit my grip right?”
“Your tools are excellent, old man, but they're made for your thick bones and massive frame. With my skinny wrists and swing angle, I couldn't pour all that power onto the anvil. A true craftsman doesn't borrow another's gear—so I carved one to fit my own sorry skills.”
Yeom Cheol let out a hollow chuckle at my steady reply.
“Sorry skills? Ha! You don't crank out top-grade ring-pommel swords overnight, and now you're whipping up custom masterpieces like it's nothing. Every time I see that eye of yours for metal, it chills this old man's blood.”
He handed the hammer back with evident regret.
“Fine. You've got a fresh tool now—let's hear how sweetly that black beast sings. Stoke the furnace higher!”
“Yes, old man!”
I grinned and yanked the bellows handle with gusto. That morning, the guild forge rang with sharper, more destructive strikes than ever before.
Clang!Clank!CLANG!!
The new D+ grade hammer felt like an extension of my body. With my strength at 12, each downswing unleashed the condensed mass to pulverize the glowing metal effortlessly. It bent to my will—thinning to my desired gauge, angling precisely as I envisioned.
This is it. This is what gear carry really means.
The vicious recoil traveled up my wrists, but the curved oak handle and iron wedges absorbed it perfectly. My stamina of 54 held firm, supporting endless swings. Yeom Cheol, wide-eyed at my blistering pace and precision, hauled usable scrap from the warehouse without pause.
We lost track of time, hammering away in a frenzy, forging weapons nonstop. The sun, once overhead, now slanted westward.
“Sorry to interrupt your work.”
A voice came from the entrance. I paused mid-swing and turned. Escort leader Kang Bi stood there, face impassive. At his belt hung the D+ grade ring-pommel sword I'd repaired, proud and secure.
“Leader, what brings you? Trouble with the sword?”
I wiped sweat from my brow. He shook his head.
“The blade moves better than my own limbs. This isn't personal—it's the young lady's summons.”
He glanced around, then whispered,
“She wants to see you. Brush off the coal dust and follow me to the inner quarters. Now.”
Mi So-jeo wants me? My mind raced. I'd expected this—Kang Bi must've shown her the repaired sword, boasting of my skill. A shrewd merchant like her wouldn't let talent like mine rot in a corner forge. Things were escalating.
“Got it. Give me a minute to wash up.”
I suppressed a cheer, keeping my face neutral. At the well, I scrubbed the grime from my face and arms with cold water, changed into clean work clothes, and trailed Kang Bi.
The Mi Merchant Guild headquarters dwarfed its outer appearance—vast warehouses, training grounds for guards, leading deep inside to a serene garden of ponds and jagged rocks. At its heart stood an exquisite wooden pavilion wafting orchid scent.
“Young lady, I've brought Aman.”
Kang Bi bowed deeply before the pavilion. Through sheer silk curtains, Mi So-jeo sipped tea with elegant poise.
“Send him in.”
Her voice was clear and cool, brimming with refinement. I removed my shoes, entered, and knelt respectfully on one knee.
Her flawless, keen eyes bored into me. Kang Bi placed the repaired sword on the table before her.
“This blade... you poured black iron into its broken frame, reforging it into something far superior to its original glory, they say.”
Mi So-jeo folded her fan and spoke softly.
“I knew your handiwork was no trifle when you fixed Governor Do Geom's carriage axle. But I never imagined such mastery over weapons. How heaven's whims strand a talent like yours pulling carts—truly inscrutable.”
“In these chaotic times, survival comes first. No need to flaunt my meager skills, young lady.”
A faint smile curved her lips at my measured, pointed reply.
“Meager skills... Calling mastery over steel and black iron 'meager.' Humble or arrogant—take your pick.”
She toyed with her teacup, easing into the heart of it.
“Aman. Do you know the mood in Xu Province city these days?”
“Word is, at Governor Do Geom's call, local powers and volunteer armies are flooding in to crush Yellow Turban remnants.”
I'd pieced it from guild rumors. Xu Province was a powder keg, drawing warlords and ambitious clans fleeing chaos or chasing glory.
“Spot on.”
Her eyes flashed sharply.
“The city's crawling with rich local lords, cocky volunteer captains hungry for fame, and warriors itching to flaunt their might. They all share one thirst.”
“Strong weapons.”
She nodded approvingly at my curt response.
“Exactly. Warriors facing war will pay fortunes for arms and armor to guard their lives. But market scraps won't sate their picky tastes. They crave the unique—bespoke masterpieces forged solely for them. Proof of status and prowess on the battlefield.”
Her eyes gleamed with the Mi clan's signature greed—shrewd, insatiable pursuit of wealth.
“So, here's my proposal.”
Leaning forward, she whispered,
“I'll give you prime real estate in Xu Province city for a custom boutique forge—yours alone. No mass-producing common spears or swords. An elite workshop crafting one-of-a-kind luxury weapons, tailored to the bodies and whims of rich, powerful lords and warriors.”
My breath caught.
“No worries on materials. We'll stock your warehouse with top-grade steel and black iron using our networks. You just unleash that monstrous talent—forge weapons so overwhelming they'll empty their purses. We'll split the profits.”
She fanned her face, but her piercing gaze cut through.
“What say you, Aman? Can you craft endless custom arms to humble those haughty lords, make them grovel and beg with coin in hand?”
It was insane. No—a godsend miracle. Just days ago, post-awakening in the forest, my biggest worry for grinding EXP was material supply. Scavenging scrap to scrape by. But now? Under the guise of perfect masterpieces, unlimited top-tier guild materials, legally delivered to my furnace.
Could any setup snowball my growth more perfectly? Thump-thump, thump-thump! My heart pounded like it would burst from my chest. Deep inside, euphoria and raw ambition erupted like a volcano. I tamped it down, forcing a cool, arrogant smile as I met her eyes head-on.
“Young lady. Give me the finest iron, and I'll forge not just their wallets empty—but their souls laid bare. I'll have every power in Xu Province lining up till your threshold wears thin.”
My ironclad words echoed heavily in the pavilion.
“Splendid.”
A rich, seductive smile bloomed between her crimson lips. Through my beastly glare, she instinctively knew my arrogance was no bluff. The slave Aman, whipped while hauling carts, shed his ragged shell. Here, on this grand stage, his new life as the monster artisan of the bespoke forge—toying with天下's heroes with mere metal—unfurled in splendor.