Martial God of the Sun and Moon - Chapter 266

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 266
Dokgo Myeong prided himself on having seen plenty of madmen in his time, but Heo Yong-do was a different breed of insane altogether.
One moment he seemed furious, the next he burst into laughter, then abruptly ushered me inside.
“Shall I offer you some tea?”
“I would be grateful.”
“Truth is, I don’t have any tea.”
“….”
“Heheheh! You there! Fetch some cold water!”
It was a small room inside the smithy.
The interior was crammed with all manner of junk, and the room itself was stacked high with books like mountains.
‘Geography texts, historical records, martial arts manuals… the Northern Star Celestial Technique? That’s a forbidden secret from the Sinister Path. There really is every kind of book imaginable here.’
While Dokgo Myeong was momentarily distracted, the cold water arrived.
“By the way, where did you drag this one from this time?”
“He is my son.”
“You had a child?”
“I did.”
“So he really was your son?”
“….”
Only then could Dokgo Myeong be certain.
‘Now I understand. This man missed his window for treatment—the illness has already reached his brain.’
At this point, mere words won’t cure him. His skull needs cracking.
As Dokgo Myeong’s eyes gleamed, Dokgo Wi-hak responded as if accustomed to this.
“Ah, so you’re the child of that sword demon?”
Heo Yong-do suddenly sprang to his feet.
Then, taking a couple of steps forward, he crouched down beside Dokgo Myeong.
“Hmmmm?”
With his chin gripped, he scrutinized Dokgo Myeong with eyes full of interest.
“Could you… step back a bit….”
Just as Dokgo Myeong tried to shift away.
Heo Yong-do suddenly seized the hem of my dragon-scale robe.
“What!?”
Dokgo Myeong flinched.
‘I almost struck him.’
Dokgo Myeong slowly relaxed his clenched fist.
Whether or not Heo Yong-do knew that I had just dipped my feet into Samdocheon in that brief moment, his bloodshot eyes blazed with excitement.
“Where did you get this?”
“Through a connection with Gi-wang, I inherited it….”
Heo Yong-do suddenly roared.
“My eyes don’t deceive me! The dragon-scale robe of the Ancient Sage! Why does the final legacy of Yeo Singong rest with you?”
“You recognize it?”
“Of course I know. There isn’t a single master craftsman worth his salt who hasn’t heard the legend of the Dragon Scale Cannon. Do you have any idea how many divine weapons went into creating this?”
Heo Yong-do swallowed hard.
“It was nothing but rumor, yet it actually exists! So this is what it looks like!”
His hands trembled as he turned the Dragon Scale Cannon over in his palms.
“True energy circulation and amplification, self-repair, enhanced regeneration for the wearer, water and fire immunity—those are obvious, right? There were rumors it granted resistance to most sorcery. Have you experienced that? Tested it?”
Dokgo Myeong reluctantly answered.
“…When true energy is channeled into it, it does exhibit such functions.”
“Just as I thought! That’s because this thing itself is practically a martial artifact or a magical treasure.”
It was only much later that Heo Yong-do finally released the Dragon Scale Cannon from his hands.
Then he looked directly at Dokgo Myeong.
“So what’s your name?”
“I am Myeong-i of the Dokgo Family.”
Dokgo Myeong composed myself and introduced myself first, then broached the main topic.
“I’ve come today to commission the creation of various tools and weapons….”
“Enough. Your hand.”
“Pardon?”
“Are your ears worse than mine? Show me your hand.”
Dokgo Myeong’s brow furrowed sharply.
“What am I, a dog? You ask for my hand and I just give it?”
That’s when Dokgo Wi-hak spoke up.
“Myeong-i. Do you remember what I said before I came in?”
“Ah… Yes, I understand.”
Dokgo Myeong exhaled shortly and extended my hand.
“You should have given it sooner.”
Knead, knead.
Heo Yong-do suddenly began massaging the hand.
‘In this lifetime, I’ve never felt a woman’s hand like this before.’
Dokgo Myeong let out a deep sigh.
Somehow my hand was being kneaded by this dark-complexioned old man.
* * *
There were several reasons why Heo Yong-do was called the Demon Craftsman.
Not only had he reached the pinnacle in creating superior weapons, but he had also mastered all manner of obscure knowledge and heterodox sorcery.
He researched foreign artifacts from barbarous lands treated as outsiders in Zhongyuan without hesitation, and accepted commissions regardless of morality or legality.
And one last thing.
-The Demon Craftsman creates not what is wanted, but what is needed.
It was something Dokgo Wi-hak had cautioned before entering the forge, and something Dokgo Myeong had already heard.
The problem with this was that the standard of necessity lay not with the client, but with Heo Yong-do himself.
Every martial artist had their own mastered techniques and weapon skills, but Heo Yong-do completely ignored all that and made things as he pleased.
When someone protested this, he would say things like, ‘Then you chose the wrong path.’
-Yet his eye has never been wrong.
So then, grant what he asks for now. If it merely piques his curiosity, there’s no loss for you.
Yet with Dokgo Wi-hak’s admonition given, Dokgo Myeong could only hold out his hands passively.
Crunch!
Heo Yong-do pressed and prodded his hands this way and that as if kneading dough, then spoke again.
“The other one.”
“Really now… here.”
Even after offering both hands, Heo Yong-do tilted his head in puzzlement.
“Stand up.”
“Turn around.”
“Your soles.”
“Throw a punch. Imagine an enemy standing right before you.”
Only after performing this entire display did Heo Yong-do settle back into his seat.
“What kind of fellow is this?”
Heo Yong-do furrowed his brow, regarding Dokgo Wi-hak.
“What troubles you?”
“I can’t get a sense of him. How exactly did you educate this child?”
“He grew on his own. I’ve done shamefully little, truth be told.”
“Then he must have been born with extraordinary strength from the start.”
Heo Yong-do spoke, wrinkling the bridge of his nose.
“One moment he gleams like a divine blade honed razor-sharp, the next he appears as a blood-stained sword of slaughter, and then again like a dull, lifeless blade.”
Heo Yong-do’s eyes brightened as he fixed his gaze upon Dokgo Myeong, who sat in an awkward posture.
“You—your primary discipline isn’t bare-handed combat, is it?”
In that instant, Dokgo Myeong stiffened.
“It seems you chose bare-handed techniques simply because fighting without weapons felt more liberating. Whether circumstance, habit, or a characteristic of your martial art—which is it?”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes widened.
How had he discerned this so easily?
“…That’s all there is to it. I’ve always been rough with weapons, and there was no one capable of handling my strength.”
“Naturally, no weapon could withstand your grip.”
“Yes.”
“And your martial art developed not through sparring but through actual bloodshed.”
Dokgo Myeong glanced cautiously at Dokgo Wi-hak before answering.
“…It simply fell into place that way. So I chose a path unbound by weapons.”
On the battlefield, weapons were consumables. Even a finely forged blade lasted less than half a year. Divine weapons were serviceable enough, but opponents worthy of such arms already wielded divine weapons of their own.
So he fought bare-handed.
Not that he aspired to become a bare-handed master. Possessing the Cheonoe Gyeong—a martial art capable of wielding all weapons—he kept his hands free to utilize whatever he could grasp.
Then Heo Yong-do shook his head.
“You didn’t choose a new path—you seized one you’d already grasped, didn’t you? Though how you selected it at such an age, I cannot fathom…”
“…!”
“Now I begin to see it.”
A gleam of recognition kindled in Heo Yong-do’s eyes.
He stared intently at Dokgo Myeong and muttered.
“I see a keen sharpness standing straight in your eyes. There is only one weapon for a martial artist like you.”
“…?”
“A sword.”
Dokgo Myeong was suddenly seized by an inexplicable feeling and held his breath.
“One day, you will wield a sword.”
Words that sounded like a prophecy.
It was as if the words spoken by the blacksmith, entranced by the sorcery of fire and steel, had branded themselves somewhere deep in his mind.
Heo Yong-do turned to look at Dokgo Wi-hak and spoke.
“You’ve brought quite a troublesome fellow.”
“Is there something that doesn’t suit?”
Heo Yong-do hesitated for a moment, then shook his head firmly.
“No, there isn’t. Find another craftsman.”
“What do you mean?”
“It is my iron rule. I cannot hand over something that doesn’t fit.”
“Then create a new one for me.”
“I refuse.”
“….”
Dokgo Wi-hak fell silent with an unreadable expression.
Then, without any change in his face, he spoke a single word.
“Is it that you dislike it, or that you lack confidence?”
“What did you say?”
“Either way, the name of the Master Craftsman will suffer. Since we are both growing old, I cannot fault your hesitation.”
Twitch.
The wrinkles on Heo Yong-do’s face contorted.
“What are you going on about?”
Crack!
Heo Yong-do’s eyes flashed open. His gaze blazed like sparks of fire.
For a moment, Heo Yong-do locked eyes with Dokgo Wi-hak.
Then a phlegmy laugh escaped him.
“Krhehe! That was quite a good provocation.”
“….”
“Fine. But let’s make a wager instead. I’ll test your son’s eye for talent.”
He rose from his seat and looked down at Dokgo Myeong as he spoke.
“What are you doing, boy?”
“Yes?”
“Get up quickly. I have no intention of finding it for you—you choose for yourself.”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes widened in surprise before he quickly regained his composure.
“But wait, I said I had something I wanted to commission first?”
“Let’s see what you choose first.”
“Who am I speaking with right now?”
“The storehouse is this way. Follow me.”
“Has this old codger really lost his mind? Why do you keep ignoring what people say…!”
Heo Yong-do paid no heed to Dokgo Myeong’s words and trudged forward.
* * *
Soon Dokgo Myeong followed Heo Yong-do to a storehouse built separately behind Cheolbang like an annex.
‘A formation?’
A strange aura emanated from this storehouse of all places.
Click, click!
Only after disengaging all manner of complex mechanisms did the thick iron door swing open.
“…What could be inside that you’ve hidden it so thoroughly?”
“The works of my lifetime.”
Heo Yong-do gestured with his chin.
“Pick one for yourself.”
“Pick what?”
“What else? Choose a sword you can use. If you pick something mediocre, be prepared. I won’t accept a single request from that client or whoever it is.”
“But that’s a matter between you and the Sect Leader. Why are you dragging me into this?”
“It’s my prerogative.”
Dokgo Myeong’s fingers twitched.
‘Should I just close my eyes and swing blindly?’
One strike might do it?
‘No. I must endure. His skills seem decent, so I should entrust him with Cham Ma’s weapons.’
Doesn’t the saying go that patience three times over saves a man’s life?
‘Yes, I’ll do it on the fourth time.’
Isn’t that what the proverb means?
One more chance remained.
Dokgo Myeong swept his gaze across the storehouse.
‘Good. Let me see his skill.’
Honestly, he was confident he could find one quickly.
A divine weapon is one that channels qi, and a renowned blade reveals itself the moment you grasp it.
“…This is troublesome.”
His confidence proved hollow as Dokgo Myeong found himself in a predicament.
The craftsmanship was as he’d expected. Clearly the work of no ordinary artisan.
But even so.
‘Remarkable.’
Renowned blade beside renowned blade, divine weapon beside divine weapon.
When one caught his eye, the next immediately drew his attention, and when he drew one to swing it, the one beside it seemed even superior.
“Choose quickly. Do you know how much time has passed?”
“Well… couldn’t I select a couple more while I’m at it?”
“Not a chance.”
Dokgo Myeong swallowed hard.
Just one?
If I had my way, I’d steal them all.
‘I can’t choose.’
Distinguishing superior from inferior was simple enough.
But selecting the right one proved difficult. Every weapon possessed an astonishingly high level of completion.
As I wavered indecisively and drew a single sword from the display case.
‘What is that?’
Behind the display case, on the floor, I spotted some cloth.
It appeared to be wrapping something elongated—another sword, it seemed.
As Dokgo Myeong lowered his body and reached out his hand, Heo Yong-do suddenly startled and pressed down on his shoulder.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“What’s wrong all of a sudden?”
“You can’t do that. You’re supposed to choose from what’s displayed up here. Why would you pick something shoved down there?”
Interesting, now that I think about it.
Come to think of it, he hesitated slightly at the Sect Leader’s words earlier. Was there something more to this?
Dokgo Myeong’s lips curved upward.
“But you said to choose from what’s inside here, didn’t you? This was inside too, so I’d like to take a look.”
“I said no! Ugh, wait!”
Heo Yong-do, visibly flustered, even channeled his inner strength as he gripped my shoulder, but I simply lowered my body using my core strength and reached out.
Scrape!
“…!”
Dokgo Myeong’s eyes widened.
It was heavy.
It didn’t appear particularly thick, so I’d applied less force and ended up scraping the ground.
Holding the sword, Dokgo Myeong stood and looked at Heo Yong-do.
“What is this?”
“…An incomplete one.”
“May I take a look?”
“If I forbid it, you won’t look?”
“Then I’d want to look even more, wouldn’t I?”
“You cunning brat….”
Dokgo Myeong unwrapped the cloth without hesitation.
Whoosh!
The cloth fell away.
At the brilliant dark luster that gleamed, Dokgo Myeong momentarily forgot to breathe.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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