A Fair Deal
"Did you say... no?"
In the freezing atmosphere, Dang Gyeong-ak asked me.
His face was filled with a mixture of bewilderment and sheer embarrassment.
If you help open the vault, I will give you a top-grade weapon inside.
To such a proposal, I had immediately spat out a refusal.
That was the part Dang Gyeong-ak found utterly incomprehensible.
"Yes. I refuse."
I repeated my refusal, as if confirming his confusion was entirely justified.
"...Are the terms not to your liking?"
"Yes."
I nodded.
At my response, the furrow between Dang Gyeong-ak's brows deepened.
"May I ask which part of the terms you find unsatisfactory?"
Even in this situation, his tone and volume remained perfectly level.
It meant he was not a man easily shaken by such trivialities.
"The reason..."
Several reasons came to mind, but in the end, they boiled down to one.
"Because it's a bit underhanded."
"What?"
Dang Gyeong-ak's expression shifted at my words. Underhanded. That word crossed the line in more ways than one.
This was the great Sichuan Dang Clan.
It was not a word one dared utter to its lord.
And Dang Gyeong-ak, who knew this better than anyone—
Rumble!
—began to unleash his aura.
"It seems you need to pay closer attention to the weight of your words."
"..."
I swallowed hard. It was my first time realizing this.
That one could infuse their very voice with raw energy.
...Wow.
I couldn't help but marvel. So you really can crush someone to death with pure aura.
Seeing the Poison King in person made me realize it was entirely possible.
"It is good to know your place, but perhaps you should remind yourself of where you are standing."
Where I was standing.
The Sichuan Dang Clan. In other words, the territory of the Dang Clan, with the Poison King standing right in front of me.
It meant he could kill me whenever he pleased.
One wrong word now, and I'm dead.
I was certain of it. The goosebumps rising on my flesh and the cold glare of the Poison King made it crystal clear.
Cold sweat pooled in my palms.
I lightly clenched my fists to hide it.
A single slip meant death. The sheer terror and dread of that reality washed over me.
Were my fingertips trembling right now?
What about my lips? What kind of face was I making?
My awareness began to fade.
It felt as though my five senses were growing dull.
Just then.
Yoo Chun-gil asked me.
His voice was unusually low, carrying a rare gravity.
He sounded as if he would truly resort to any means necessary if I asked.
But.
No.
I shook my head slightly.
I unclenched my fists.
My fingertips were steady.
The cold sweat had already been swallowed by the chill, leaving no trace.
My fading senses rushed back to me.
They called it the boundary of death.
I had played tug-of-war on that very line more times than I could count.
If someone asked me if I feared death now, the answer was no.
It had always been that way.
Death was not scary.
If anything, it was life that terrified me.
Struggling to live a slightly better life while constantly staring death in the face.
That was far more terrifying and exhausting.
Therefore...
"Think about my position?"
I did not fear the Poison King.
"I do not believe you are in any position to say that to me."
"..."
Creak! The Poison King's aura intensified even further.
I could feel him holding back. We were at a distance where he could snap my neck in an instant.
Yet, the fact that he restrained himself to this degree meant one of two things.
Either my backing, Cheongwol Gate, is that powerful...
...or the Poison King needs me that badly.
"You—"
"No, think about it."
I cut him off right in the middle of his crushing aura.
"Offering something you were already supposed to give me as a reward for a request... does that seem right to you?"
"...!"
At my words, the Poison King's aura wavered for an instant.
The relentless pressure violently distorted.
It was as if the aura itself was mirroring his inner turmoil.
A smirk played on my lips as I watched him.
The pressure that had sought to bind me had already vanished.
"Am I wrong?"
"...What do you mean by that?"
The Poison King feigned ignorance. Looking at his face, one might actually believe he had no idea, but...
The very man who had clued me in on this situation was standing right behind me.
Yoo Chun-gil had told me everything on our way to Cheolgang this morning.
And now, I threw those exact words right back at the Poison King.
"The lost secret technique of the Dang Clan."
The moment the words left my mouth, the Poison King flinched.
Enjoying his reaction, I continued.
"In exchange for restoring the Mancheonhaewoo, he promised to give a weapon from his vault."
"..."
"I believe that was the promise the Poison Sovereign made to my master, the Sword Saint. Was it not?"
Once I finished speaking, no answer came from the Poison King.
However, his expression spoke volumes.
"...How did you..."
Just as the Poison King was about to ask how I knew that—
"Keke-haha!"
Dang Ji-cheol, who had been quietly watching the spectacle, suddenly burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! Well, well... It has been a long time since I last saw the Family Head look so flustered."
"...Elder."
"Family Head, you've been thoroughly beaten."
Dang Ji-cheol patted the Poison King's shoulder and walked over to us.
"Young man, how did you find out about that?"
"Does it matter how I know?"
I asked, tilting my head slightly.
"Isn't the fact that I know it the only thing that matters?"
"True enough."
Dang Ji-cheol nodded without denying it.
"I apologize if we offended you."
"No, it's not that I'm particularly offended."
Normally, anyone would be furious at an attempt to swindle them, but I wasn't.
If I were in their shoes and had information the other party didn't, I would have used it too.
They knew, and they thought I didn't.
Only an idiot wouldn't take advantage of that.
So I wasn't angry. However...
"Since the fact that I have this information is what matters..."
If I knew their game despite their attempt to deceive me...
"...shouldn't you adjust the terms properly now?"
Make a proper deal.
It was a clear warning directed at Dang Gyeong-ak.
I know far more than you think.
That was the message.
"..."
Dang Gyeong-ak stared at me in silence.
How would he react?
Would he apologize? Or would he double down on the pressure to intimidate me?
As I watched him with amusement, he spoke.
"What do you want?"
It was neither of the two.
It was clear now.
This man is a merchant at heart.
A merchant with a dash of a swindler.
He was skilled in politics and knew exactly how to handle people.
In short...
He's a tricky one.
He was a bit difficult to deal with, but...
"I don't think that's for me to say."
...that didn't mean he was impossible to handle.
"In this situation, you should make an offer first to pique my interest."
Name your price.
Hearing that, the Poison King said,
"Would two weapons from the vault suffice?"
He was offering to add one more to the original agreement.
Normally, that would have been a fair compromise, but...
"Come on."
Right now, that was nowhere near enough.
Yoo Chun-gil had said it, didn't he?
That if we went to the Dang Clan, we would bleed them dry.
I had been a bit anxious when I heard that, but...
"Why don't you sweeten the deal a bit more?"
...bleeding people dry happened to be one of my specialties.
Around the time Bang Seong-yeon was locked in negotiations with Dang Gyeong-ak.
Clang! Clang!
In the deepest corner of Cheolgang.
In a secluded, hidden spot, a loud racket echoed continuously.
Clang!
Dang Ye-ran, her hair tied back tightly, swung her hammer down with all her might.
Clang!
Sparks flew with every strike.
Unfazed by the flying embers, she poured all her strength into her arms without pause.
Her eyes were fixed solely on the lump of iron before her.
Clang! Clang-clang!
Her slender arms showed no signs of fatigue.
Though she was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, Dang Ye-ran didn't care.
Only the object before her.
She focused every ounce of her concentration on the creation that would be born from her own hands.
Clang! Clang!
Gradually, her strikes fell into a steady rhythm of speed and power.
At the same time, her breathing grew slightly more labored.
She lacked strength. Her stamina was draining.
Even so, she did not use her internal energy.
Though she was a martial artist, she relied solely on her physical strength when working with iron.
Iron is sensitive. If you use shortcuts, it will notice immediately and warp.
If you want to forge what you desire, you must do it with your own strength alone.
That was the lesson Dang Ye-ran had taken to heart.
Clang!
Slowly, the shape began to form. Carefully and gently, yet firmly, to prevent even the slightest imperfection.
And yet, with raw intensity.
Clang! Clang!
A spark of life returned to Dang Ye-ran's eyes.
Watching the iron transform, she thought,
This is fun.
As always, bringing something into existence solely through one's own power carried a profound meaning.
Just a little bit more.
It felt like she was just a few steps away.
If she kept going like this, step by step, then one day...
Surely, one day, she would be able to achieve what she truly wanted.
With that thought, she raised her hammer once more, but—
Useless girl.
"..."
Clang!
A sudden memory flashed through her mind, causing her hammer to strike off-center.
Drip... drip.
Sweat dripped from her chin. Dang Ye-ran froze in place, staring blankly at the iron bar.
Though her eyes were fixed on the metal, voices echoed in her head like a haunting refrain.
Why are you wasting your time on such useless things?
You have no talent.
Are you not ashamed to be a member of this family?
"..."
Thud.
Dang Ye-ran let go of the hammer.
It clattered to the floor.
"Huuu... Haa..."
Exhaling her held breath, Dang Ye-ran sank to the ground.
It was suffocating. It felt as if invisible shackles were tightening around her neck.
Sweat continued to pour from her heated body.
As the sweat stung her eyes, the droplets seemed to grow heavier.
"Ssshh..."
Dang Ye-ran swept her hair back, trying to hide her exhaustion.
Her delicate features were clouded with a storm of emotions.
It was always like this around this time.
If things get hard, just ignore them.
Ever since that dry, raspy voice stopped offering comfort...
The words of those fools who know nothing are meaningless anyway. All that matters is proving yourself.
Now that the only person who had ever believed in her was gone...
Dang Ye-ran realized that the pillar supporting her fragile spirit had vanished.
Ye-ran. You can do it.
"..."
Thinking of the voice she would never hear again, Dang Ye-ran buried her face in her hands.
"...I don't know."
Could she really do it?
Now that there was no one left to believe in her, Dang Ye-ran had lost faith in herself.
She was lost.
"...I don't know, Grandfather."
She whispered in a weary, trembling voice.
And watching her...
...was a thin, sharp-looking elderly man standing right behind her.
His eyes were filled with profound pity and sorrow.