The Great Heavenly Sword Emperor - Chapter 48

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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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Episode 048. A Dialogue Beyond the Mist (2)

“Yes, exactly! Why not make a sword sheath while you’re at it? Haven’t I mentioned this before?”
Bukgung Danya spoke with evident delight.
But Cheon Mujul didn’t answer, only holding Cheol No’s gaze.
“You’d rather not?”
At Cheol No’s question, Cheon Mujul gave a slight nod.
“That’s right.”
At this reply, Cheol No let out a soft laugh.
“Exactly. The Cheonsingeom is a perfect blade without a sheath—it needs nothing more.”
He continued, gazing at the Cheonsingeom wrapped in leather wrapping. “Though it’s covered in leather, I can tell without seeing it. Even after all these centuries, the Cheonsingeom hasn’t suffered the slightest damage.”

“That’s true.”
At Cheon Mujul’s confirmation, Cheol No’s smile turned satisfied.
Though he hadn’t forged it himself, it was his ancestor’s masterpiece, and he couldn’t hide his pride.
“Your ancestor who made the Cheonsingeom must have considered a sheath. Yet he never made one. There must have been a very good reason.”
“Then why speak of making one now?”
“Because the Cheonsingeom of then and the Cheonsingeom of now are different.”
At Cheol No’s words, Cheon Mujul stared at him intently.
“Different how?”
Bukgung Danya couldn’t contain her curiosity and asked.
“The original Cheonsingeom was merely a blade. It was perfect unto itself, and a sheath would have diminished its worth. But the Cheonsingeom as it stands now…”
Cheol No looked toward Cheon Mujul.
His eyes said: you understand, don’t you?
“Because of Cheongeom Dae Je’s soul?”
Cheon Mujul’s question drew a nod from Cheol No.
“The Cheonsingeom as a blade and the Cheonsingeom as a vessel are not the same. Now that it has become a vessel rather than a blade, it requires a sheath.”
Bukgung Danya’s expression grew uncertain at words she didn’t quite grasp, while Cheon Mujul watched Cheol No in silence.
“All things in this world must exist in their rightful place. Trees and grasses grow, flowers bloom, water flows, and stones rest where they belong. Iron doesn’t lie upon the earth but within it; air exists in the sky; clouds drift through the heavens.”
“You’re saying the same applies to a blade?”
“Of course. When anything loses its proper place, it degrades and falls into ruin. For a blade, the sheath is like its rightful place.”
“Its rightful place.”
“Yes. For a blade, the sheath is both home and garment. Without home and garment, a person grows anxious and uncomfortable. A blade is no different. And a blade that is a vessel—doubly so.”
“Without a sheath, the Cheonsingeom—or more precisely, the soul within the blade—would deteriorate?”
“Without a sheath, the blade cannot find stability. An unstable blade means the soul dwelling within it suffers those same destabilizations without exception.”
Then Cheol No smiled faintly.
“I’m not claiming absolute truth. I’m simply saying this is the way of nature, the nature of all things.”
Cheol No spoke in a lighter tone, as if trying to ease the gravity of the moment.
But Cheon Mujul couldn’t dismiss what he’d said.
Even once, the whisper from the Cheonsingeom that he’d heard in Danae Valley continued to weigh on his mind.
The blade’s own words made sense too—that it had only spoken of the most efficient and quickest method for that circumstance.
But this wasn’t a matter of logical consistency or inconsistency.
The quality, emotion, and atmosphere he’d felt in the Cheonsingeom’s words were different from before.
He didn’t know whether it was just that one moment, or whether, as Cheol No suggested, Cheongeom Dae Je’s soul was truly beginning to change—but it stayed with him, a persistent unease.
“Very well. Please, make it for me.”
At Cheon Mujul’s answer, Cheol No nodded with evident pleasure.
“At last, such a day has come.”
Cheol No couldn’t hide his excitement.
To see with his own eyes and craft a sheath for the Cheonsingeom—recognized not merely as a fine blade but as a divine one—was an honor for Cheol No, whose family had worked steel across generations.
Cheon Mujul unwrapped the leather wrapping that had bound the Cheonsingeom.
As the leather fell away, the Cheonsingeom revealed itself, and Cheol No’s eyes gleamed.
“Let me hold it.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Didn’t you ask me to make a sheath for it?”
Cheol No asked, bewildered.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that not just anyone can touch it.”
Cheon Mujul could wield the Cheonsingeom, but no one else could even touch it.
Hadn’t there been an instance at the Cheongeomjang, the very day he first encountered the Cheonsingeom, when an intruder had tried to seize it only to fail?
“I see. I got ahead of myself. Please, set it down over there.”
Cheol No gestured toward a table at the side.
Cheon Mujul placed the Cheonsingeom on the table.
Unable to touch it with his hands, Cheol No leaned his face close and examined it carefully.
“A truly extraordinary blade. And a troublesome one at that. Rough-looking, yet sharp and keen. The leather wrapping has held up remarkably well.”
“The leather isn’t simply wrapped around it. Each time, I’ve bound it using Inner Power.”
“As I thought.”
At Cheon Mujul’s answer, Cheol No nodded as though he’d expected nothing less.
Bukgung Danya, meanwhile, shook his head in disbelief.
He’d watched Cheon Mujul remove the leather wrapping from the Cheonsingeom several times.
And each time, he’d bound it again using Inner Power.
He doubted he himself could manage anything of the sort.
“The length is approximately three feet, the width one inch. I’ve verified it all.”
Cheol No withdrew his gaze from the Cheonsingeom as he spoke.
“You can determine the length and width precisely by eye alone?”
Bukgung Danya asked, wonder plain in his voice.
Cheol No smiled slightly and replied, “For one who has spent a lifetime working with metal, it’s possible.”
Though Cheol No said this, in truth not every blacksmith—however skilled—could do such a thing.
Most would estimate by eye, then go through a verification process to confirm their measurements. Cheol No was in no position to do that.
Yet his voice held utter certainty as he spoke of the length and width.
“Making a sheath for this blade will be exceedingly difficult. It will take considerable time.”
“We don’t have time.”
At Cheon Mujul’s words, Cheol No looked at him for a moment, then continued, “Would you care to watch me make the sheath?”
It was an odd response to a statement about lacking time.
Cheon Mujul stared at Cheol No, who had offered such an unexpected suggestion.
“The process of making a sheath might offer you further benefit.”
“I know nothing of such matters.”
At Cheon Mujul’s reply, Cheol No smiled.
“I only know this from what I’ve heard, but the Cheongeom Dae Je is said to have watched his ancestor’s side throughout the entire process of forging the Cheonsingeom. Whether he merely observed or gained something from that process, I cannot say.”
At Cheol No’s words, Cheon Mujul’s eyes flickered with interest.
“Personally, I’m certain it would benefit you. This isn’t merely the banging of metal, after all.”
Yet Cheon Mujul did not respond.
What mattered now was time, not the process itself.
“Besides, you’ve had no proper rest in quite some time, have you? This place is sheltered from the harsh winds of the world. It’s an excellent place to recharge for the journey ahead.”
Bukgung Danya also voiced his agreement with Cheol No’s words.
They’d already decided the sheath would be made, and the craftsman said it would take time.
There was no way to artificially shorten that span.
“Very well.”
Cheon Mujul accepted Cheol No’s proposal.

* * *

The sound of hammering that had echoed up Gyeongseok Mountain now rang through the workshop.

The process of hammering, reheating, and hammering again stretched on considerably.
He’d been at it for days—he’d lost count.
Though tedious, Cheol No showed no sign of strain.
If anything, as time passed, he seemed to grow more vital with each stroke.
Cheon Mujul watched from the side, missing nothing of the process.
He saw the dull, shapeless iron gradually flatten, grow thinner, and take on form.
With each transformation, something new stirred within him.
“Steel becomes thinner the more you strike it, yet its density increases and it grows stronger still.”
Cheol No spoke as he continued his relentless hammering.
‘It grows stronger,’ Cheon Mujul reflected silently.
As Cheol No’s hammer blows persisted and the steel transformed before him, it seemed to mirror his own journey.

Twenty years spent beneath Cheongeomjang, and all the countless trials since stepping into the world and journeying toward Dongbangsega.
It occurred to him that this was all like hammer blows, forging himself into something harder and more resilient.
Heat the metal, strike it, cool it, heat it again, strike it once more.
Cheol No—repeating this simple process thousands, tens of thousands of times.
Through that endless repetition, the iron was gradually taking on the shape of a sword sheath.
The process of bending and joining the flattened steel was no different.
He found himself reflecting on his own nature—one that had only ever been expansive and unyielding until now.
Humanity, as Bukgung Danya and Gwang An had spoken of it. And the flexibility that Cheonsingeom had recently mentioned. Both came to mind.
‘Humanity and flexibility.’
Perhaps the elements most sorely lacking in Cheon Mujul at this very moment.
After leaving Cheongeomjang and facing Gwigok.
Standing before the ruins of Cheongeomjang, Cheon Mujul had made a vow to himself.
That he would not waver under any circumstance, nor be swept away by mere emotion.
And he had believed this was the right path, the proper one.
But after stepping into the world and coming to know so many people.
After becoming part of something shared rather than solitary, he—though outwardly unchanged—had quietly harbored a peculiar unease.
He had thought it stemmed from unfamiliarity, but now wondered if that were truly the case.
Perhaps the root of his discomfort lay entirely within himself.
Though it was only the process of forging a sword sheath by heating and striking steel, it had become for Cheon Mujul an occasion to examine himself anew.

* * *

Ten full days had passed since beginning the work.
After countless heatings, strikes, and quenches, Cheol No completed the sword sheath.
“It is finished.”
Cheol No set the dark-colored sheath upon the table.
Plain, even austere to look at, yet somehow it felt it suited the elegant Cheonsingeom perfectly.
“Try fitting it.”
At Cheol No’s words, Cheon Mujul grasped the sheath.
Despite its cool appearance, what he felt upon holding it was warmth.
The sensation of it settling against his hand was pleasant.
Cheon Mujul drew the Cheonsingeom and slid it into the sheath.
And Bukgung Danya, who had been watching, opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“It fits perfectly.”
No sound escaped as the blade entered. Even a gentle shake produced nothing.
The sheath clung to the Cheonsingeom with no gap whatsoever.
In that moment, Cheon Mujul felt his mind settle into tranquility.
Yet this tranquility had not arisen from within his own being.
The moment the blade entered the sheath, the turbulent energy of the Cheonsingeom had stilled, and with it came this peace.
He had not realized it before—not until the blade was sheathed and he could see the difference.
How unstable and volatile the Cheonsingeom’s energy had been all this time.
He had thought it natural and inevitable, but he had been wrong.
“How is it?”
“Very good indeed.”
As Bukgung Danya watched Cheon Mujul respond, she was struck by wonder once more.
For she saw upon his face a smile she had never seen before.
Barely perceptible, so faint he might scarcely have known he was offering it.
“Then this will no longer be needed.”
Bukgung Danya lifted the leather wrapping that had bound the Cheonsingeom until now.
Seeing this, Cheon Mujul extended his hand, and Bukgung Danya passed the leather to him.
Taking the leather, Cheon Mujul began to wrap it around the outer surface of the sheath.
Cheol No and Bukgung Danya watched in silence.
The Cheonsingeom—the legacy of Cheongeom Dae Je—and the newly forged sheath, and the leather stubbornly preserved all this time, now bound together as one. The moment held profound significance.
As the leather fully wrapped the sheath, at last everything felt complete.
After wrapping the leather completely, Cheon Mujul looked toward Cheol No.
“I have learned much because of you.”
At Cheon Mujul’s words of gratitude, Cheol No smiled.
“I have done nothing but make a sheath for you.”
Yet through the process of forging that sheath, Cheol No had granted Cheon Mujul much reflection and teaching.
He thought he understood now why Cheongeom Dae Je had watched the process of creating the Cheonsingeom.
The two of them regarded each other.
Before the dragon furnace, the silent exchange between them—wordless question and answer—came to its end.

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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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