Chapter 209
Chapter 209
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 209
Chapter Title: Wuchang
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The time remaining until the next sparring match was three days. Even though Jeong Taeryeong had injured his leg, it was too precious a stretch of time to waste lying idle.
Hyeon-gong, Namgung Myeong, and Hong Geolgae provided guidance to Jeong Taeryeong, Jeong Oryeong, and Wang Jincheong. Of course, they took care not to overtax Jeong Taeryeong's leg.
"Hold on. In this situation, you can't respond that way."
"Why not?"
"You always have to keep in mind the possible directions the opponent's movement could extend. If you block like that when a sword path opens to the right, you could lose your balance—and losing balance leads straight to defeat."
"Ah, I see."
Hyeon-gong's instruction stood out in particular. Both he and Jeong Taeryeong had trained in defensive swordsmanship, and Hyeon-gong's hand-to-hand combat skills far surpassed Jeong Taeryeong's.
Of course, it wasn't that Hyeon-gong was exceptionally prominent while Hong Geolgae and Namgung Myeong were subpar instructors.
The Baewon School, where Jeong Taeryeong and Jeong Oryeong belonged, had not a single transcendent expert among its ranks. Receiving guidance from three masters, including two transcendent experts, was truly an incredible opportunity.
Even in sects with multiple transcendent experts, such concentrated instruction was rare. The masters themselves had to devote their efforts to advancing to the next realm, so they couldn't afford to invest excessive time mentoring juniors.
While the others focused on training, Dang Mujin sat at a corner table in the inn, tapping his toe idly.
'What should I make?'
The first idea that came to mind, as always, was a sharp, keen sword. That alone could offset Jeong Taeryeong's leg injury to some extent.
But Dang Mujin soon shook his head.
'A sword would help, but it wouldn't be enough. If the opponent pulls away the distance like last time, he'd be exposed to the same weakness.'
What about making metal shoes out of metal?
That would easily handle hidden weapons scattered on the ground.
People might stare oddly at metal shoes, but others' gazes weren't a concern for Dang Mujin. After all, he wasn't the one who would wear them—it was Jeong Taeryeong.
'No. That would still restrict footwork just the same.'
The essence of footwork boiled down to three key elements: control of internal energy, foot placement, and weight distribution using the ball and heel of the foot and toes.
Covering the feet in metal armor would hinder flexible foot movement and cause serious issues with weight distribution. It would be self-sabotage, restricting footwork to avoid restrictions on it.
'I need a different approach.'
In the end, Dang Mujin's thoughts turned toward a more proactive direction. The weapons Dan Seoryeong had crafted—like the Heavenly King Needle Case, for instance.
Dang Mujin pondered deeply.
'...It should be fine to use in the tournament, right?'
Dang Mujin wasn't one to be bound by preconceptions, but displaying such items in front of everyone warranted some consideration.
Swords were foreign objects, and the hidden weapons someone—whose name he could barely recall—had thrown on the ground were foreign objects too.
But the other weapons Dan Seoryeong had created were too radical to dismiss as mere "foreign objects."
It would be like bringing a fully grown eagle with official rank into a cockfighting pit and insisting it was just another chicken, demanding to enter the match.
After some deliberation, Dang Mujin made up his mind.
'Whatever. They won't change the rules mid-tournament.'
If any issue arose, he could always claim it was a desperate measure in a losing situation. Besides, he wanted to see the looks of shock on people's faces.
Dang Mujin returned to his room and unpacked his baggage. It was filled with items Dan Seoryeong had made.
When he had set off north following Hong Geolgae, it had been almost certain that trouble would arise, so Dan Seoryeong had packed a great deal.
Feeling Dan Seoryeong's touch and affection in every item, Dang Mujin felt as fluffy and light as a cloud.
The first item that caught his eye was the Five Poisons Divine Sand, which he had used effectively not long ago. Dan Seoryeong had conceived it, and Dang Mujin had made it.
'Anything but this.'
It was far too vicious for use in a tournament. The Five Poisons Divine Sand was already steeped in five deadly poisons, so he couldn't even swap out the toxins. If someone got doused in it, they would die nine times out of ten—but killing an opponent in the tournament meant disqualification.
There was also the high risk that Jeong Taeryeong might poison himself while trying to wield it. In the worst case, both he and his opponent could die together.
Next to catch his eye was the Storm Pear Flower Needle, an improved version of the Heavenly King Needle Case. Aside from its size, the round cylinder looked almost identical, but it had been refined in several ways.
It held thirty needles—more than the Heavenly King Needle Case—and unlike its predecessor's scattered spray, the needles fired in a concentrated burst toward the aimed direction.
The launch speed was much faster too, and its compact size fit easily in a woman's palm.
'This seems best.'
Dang Mujin disassembled the Storm Pear Flower Needle and inspected it meticulously.
Over a year had passed since it was made, and it had been soaked and dried countless times in the rain, so problems were inevitable.
'As expected.'
Several parts were faulty. The once-elastic leather straps had stiffened, and the wooden components showed faint cracks.
If time had been short, it would have been tricky, but he had time now, so it was fine.
'I can't develop weapons like Dan Seoryeong, but I can replicate them from observation.'
Dang Mujin headed out to procure replacement materials.
*
Dang Mujin walked through Wuchang's bustling central market, teeming with merchants.
Voices from all over assailed his ears: merchants speaking in Zhejiang dialect, those with Fujian accents, others dressed in Hebei style.
There were plenty of colorfully attired foreigners, and even merchants whose origins were impossible to guess. The atmosphere was far more vibrant and chaotic than Luoyang.
Wuchang was the foremost hub of commerce across the Central Plains.
While cities like Luoyang or Chang'an were larger in scale, Wuchang surpassed them in the volume of trade.
Straddling the Yangtze River and positioned at a strategic nexus accessible by land routes to nearly every region of the Central Plains, it thrived.
Of course, goods weren't as cheap as in the mountains. But for the widest variety, Wuchang was unmatched.
From seafish to mountain herbs and exotic Western wares—given enough money, one could obtain anything in the world without leaving Wuchang.
Dang Mujin scanned his surroundings.
He had initially planned to work with decent cowhide and well-dried wood, but with so many tempting items around, greed stirred. Since he was making it anyway, he wanted to use the finest materials—a craftsman's pride.
As he wandered among the merchants, their eyes subtly turned toward him.
His demeanor and attire made him look like the perfect easy mark to fleece.
One merchant called out to him.
"What are you looking for, glancing around like that?"
"Good materials."
"Good materials, eh? What kind?"
Dang Mujin thought for a moment before replying.
"Sturdy ones. Something that stretches well when pulled but doesn't snap, and snaps right back when released. Or anything with a clear strength."
Dang Mujin rarely came to Wuchang. This might be his last chance in life.
He planned to buy up all the rare materials he could and stockpile them back home.
But the merchant found Dang Mujin's words vague despite their specificity. Anything good would do? He seemed like a fool ignorant of the world.
The merchant eyed Dang Mujin's hands. As expected, not a craftsman's. Some calluses, but no burn scars like a smith's, no iron rust under the nails.
'A rich young master's son dreaming of fateful encounters. Stocking up on pricey stuff to forge a sword, probably?'
Feigning warm friendliness, the merchant said,
"In that case, would you like to see my meteor iron?"
Meteor iron varied in quality. Some were extraordinarily precious, while dubious lumps were lumped together under the name.
Suddenly, Dang Mujin recalled the meteor iron he had taken from the gang that sold fake cinnabar back then—he had killed them and kept it, but stashed it home unused and forgotten.
Meteor iron wasn't easy to come by, so stocking up preemptively was wise. Dang Mujin readily agreed.
"Sure."
"Here, take a look. Rare stuff. More valuable than gold of the same weight."
The merchant proffered a palm-sized, flat lump of metal. Its color indeed differed slightly from ordinary iron.
"May I touch it?"
"Go ahead."
The merchant said this while desperately suppressing a laugh. Gauging metal quality by touch? Absurd, unless it was fruit.
Dang Mujin closely examined the surface, slowly hefted it to gauge weight, then flicked the edge a couple times with his finger.
Contrary to the merchant's expectation, Dang Mujin frowned.
"Meteor iron? Looks like ordinary iron mixed with junk."
"First time seeing meteor iron? No shame. This came from Fujian."
"Nonsense."
Dang Mujin closed his eyes and flicked it again.
His ears blocked out ambient noise to focus on the metal's ring, his fingertips absorbing the sensation fully.
Finally, rubbing the surface with his thumb confirmed it.
"White copper and Wu copper mixed in. Some other impurities too... Mixing in Wu copper ruined it—worse than plain iron, I'd say. No idea what they were thinking during smelting."
The merchant's eyes widened.
Even skilled smiths didn't assess iron quality that way. They might judge good from bad, but not identify exact alloys.
He wanted to bark, "What do you know?" but the precise callout of white and Wu copper unnerved him.
As the merchant hemmed and hawed without retort, Dang Mujin said indifferently,
"Seems you sold some to an earlier customer. Better check if they got scammed."
Catching one sucker was turning into a mess. Panicking, the merchant blurted,
"Wait!"
"What? Got more meteor iron?"
"Sorry for trying to fool you. I'll connect you with someone who has what you'd like—overlook this once?"
At the merchant's desperate plea, Dang Mujin pursed his lips.
"We'll see."
The merchant sighed in relief.
"Over there. At the Yaun Inn, there's an Elder Tae staying. He loves collecting oddities—might have something to catch your eye."
"Hm."
Dang Mujin smirked and returned the lump.
The merchant exhaled in relief, then scanned for a real mark.
*
Dang Mujin entered the Yaun Inn.
Without asking around, he immediately spotted Elder Tae.
An old man sat in the corner, organizing items into a wooden box with multiple drawers. Two straps on one side suggested he carried it over his shoulder daily.
Dang Mujin sat opposite and asked,
"Are you Elder Tae?"
Elder Tae didn't reply, merely flicking his eyes toward Dang Mujin. Silence could mean assent.
Dang Mujin stared at the box's contents.
Two drawers held exquisite ornaments; the lower one brimmed with unrecognizable trinkets. Dang Mujin couldn't identify more than half.
"Things for sale?"
"Some to sell, some not."
"May I take a closer look?"
"As long as you put them back neatly."
Dang Mujin carefully examined each item.
Elder Tae seemed disinterested at first glance but occasionally glanced to see what held his attention.
Soon, intrigue lit Elder Tae's eyes. Dang Mujin ignored flashy ornaments for seemingly worthless junk.
Dang Mujin picked two particularly odd ones: a large, dark stalactite-like stone, and a twisted gray rope.
He muttered,
"These two seem the most precious..."
"What makes you say that? The buyao hairpin or comb beside them are worth more than their weight in gold."
"Those can be made with materials and time. But rare ingredients can't be crafted, no matter the smith's skill."
Elder Tae chuckled amusedly.
"Just materials and time? An average craftsman couldn't make the likes in a year of trying."
"That's for those surrounded by average smiths. Doesn't apply to me."
Sensing no bluff, Elder Tae stopped organizing and focused on Dang Mujin.
Dang Mujin asked again,
"Anyway, what are these?"
"The black one's whale bristle, the rope-like one whale tendon. Hang the tendon on a willow branch and dry a full year. Mismanage it, and wild beasts snatch it."
Dang Mujin had heard of whales but never seen one.
Tales said they dwarfed the largest ships, ten houses combined no match for one whale's bulk—truth or exaggeration unknown.
Tendons made sense, but bristles were stranger.
They looked nothing like whiskers. He might have believed "giant bamboo shoot."
"These are whiskers?"
"Yes. Not on chin or upper lip like humans—inside the mouth. Whales being huge fish, their whiskers match."
"How do you catch such a massive fish? Can't even load it on a ship."
"Small ones, who knows. Large ones only wash ashore dead occasionally."
"...May I squeeze harder?"
"Go ahead."
Permission came readily.
Dang Mujin rehandled the bristle and tendon, pulling boldly.
The bristle was firm yet springy; the tendon supple yet unbreakable. Dang Mujin's mouth gaped in awe.
"Truly rare. I'm no merchant, but worth ten times top jade."
A pleased smile graced Elder Tae's lips. Few recognized unknown treasures' value.
"I must have these. How much?"
"No set price. Got them by luck; never seen others trade them."
Dang Mujin urged,
"Name a price. I'll buy now."
"Before knowing it?"
"Worth it."
Elder Tae burst laughing.
In decades as merchant, he'd never met one ignoring price or market, fixated on value alone.
Nor one bartering so bluntly.
"Why laugh?"
"People fixate on flashy jewels. Even sharp ones chase metal lumps. I've carried these over ten years—you're the first to see their worth."
But Dang Mujin half-ignored him. Where else to find such? Eagerness showed.
"Anyway, how much?"
Just then, a server brought steaming noodles, standing by the table. Elder Tae shifted items aside.
He had been sorting while awaiting food.
Elder Tae asked the server,
"This noodle bowl—five coppers or six?"
"Five coppers. Another bowl?"
"No, that's fine."
The server set it down and left. Elder Tae turned to Dang Mujin.
"Five coppers."
"Pardon?"
"Price doesn't matter. Treasures belong in knowing hands."
Dang Mujin hesitated, then drew five gold pieces. Elder Tae shook his head.
"Not five gold—five coppers."
"But..."
"Seller sets the price."
Elder Tae picked up his chopsticks, signaling no more talk.
Dang Mujin placed five coppers on the table, pocketed the bristle and tendon, clasped hands to the dining elder with a slight bow, and left the inn.
Elder Tae paused his chopsticks, watching Dang Mujin's back, murmuring,
"We'll meet again soon."
He resumed eating as if nothing happened.