The Mending Studio - Chapter 12

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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 12
Yi Jangmyeong’s face stiffened, then brightened immediately.
He had already grasped what the visitor had come seeking.
Before such a presence, there was no hiding one’s true intentions.

“Yes. Then I humbly ask for your instruction.”

He bowed again. Yeop Jangcheong marveled inwardly.

‘The Seonjado Sect certainly knows how to educate its disciples.’

Without exception, they were courteous and modest.
Yuk Musang was the same, and so was Yi Jangmyeong.

“No need for such formality. Follow me.”

Yeop Jangcheong led the way toward the back courtyard.
Yi Jangmyeong followed at once.
Yeon Byeong-sim trailed after him, her eyes alight with anticipation. She, too, had reason to hope.
She had heard that masters who had reached a certain height of cultivation imbued every gesture, every footfall with Law and True Intent. Calligraphy and painting, needless to say, were even more potent.
Just days ago, she had nearly lost consciousness staring at a Go Board.
Then what might be contained in the calligraphy Yeop Jangcheong would write with his own hand?
In one corner of the back courtyard stood the desk where Yeop Jangcheong ordinarily painted and wrote.
Yeop Jangcheong unrolled a sheet of paper.
Ordinarily, he would have selected one of his previous works to present.
But today the circumstances were different.
The visitor had brought several wild boar—a “generous gift.” It seemed remiss to offer him casual writings dashed off in idle moments.

‘I should compose something new for him.’

Yeon Byeong-sim hesitated briefly, then stepped forward.

“Master Yeop, allow me to grind the ink for you.”
“You would do that for me?”

Yeon Byeong-sim picked up the inkstick with reverent care.
Yi Jangmyeong stood across the desk, even his breathing hushed.
Yeop Jangcheong paused before taking up his brush, considering.
What should he write?
His visitor was a member of the Seonjado Sect.
Something grander than mundane phrases would be more fitting, he thought.
A verse came to mind.

“The bright moon rises over Tian Shan, amidst the vast expanse of clouds and sea.”

Yeop Jangcheong looked at Yi Jangmyeong.

“What do you think?”

Yi Jangmyeong could not answer.
A vision unfolded in his mind.
Mountains stretching endlessly before him.
Beyond their peaks, a luminous moon rose, while below, a vast sea of clouds billowed like waves.
These were merely two lines spoken aloud—there was no need to labor over their meaning. The moment they reached his ears, the landscape took shape of its own accord within his consciousness.
Yet it was as vivid as if an Immortal Landscape had truly opened before his eyes.
Yi Jangmyeong’s heart thundered in his chest.

‘It cannot be otherwise. This person is surely a Patriarch descended from the Upper Realm.’

Yeon Byeong-sim’s hand paused in grinding the ink as she, too, reached the same conclusion.
How could such words come so naturally from the mouth of an ordinary person?
Yeop Jangcheong chuckled softly, watching their reactions.
He seemed pleased.
He dipped his brush thoroughly into the ink.
Then he drew it slowly toward the pristine paper.
The moment the brush tip touched the page.
The hand grinding ink and Yi Jangmyeong’s smile both froze at once, and the two of them held their breath as if by mutual agreement.
Here was a man who could barely contain principles and true intent on a single Go board—now about to write calligraphy before their eyes. Their gazes converged entirely on the movement of Yeop Jangcheong’s hand.
Before an opportunity that might never come again in a lifetime, Yeon Byeong-sim grew so careful that she was afraid even the pressure of her ink-holding hand might disturb the moment, while Yi Jangmyeong watched the brush with an intensity that begrudged even a single blink.
Yeop Jangcheong, meanwhile, had simple thoughts: five years had passed since he fell into this world, and today he simply wanted to write a little better than usual.
He had written calligraphy countless times—a piece here and there when bored, another whenever he needed something to hang in the shop. In the days when business was slow, he had gripped the brush for days at a time, hoping to sell his works.
But never before had he written with someone watching so directly from a step away. And the observer was a customer who had deliberately brought a “gift” to visit.
Unable to dash off something careless before such an intentional guest, Yeop Jangcheong lowered his eyes slightly and rolled through his mind the couplet he had just recited aloud.
The line “Bright moon rises from Tian Shan” came first to his mind, naturally followed by “Through vast clouds and mist.”
Yeop Jangcheong envisioned the arrangement of the two couplets first.
Where to plant his strokes, where to release his strength. If the first five characters formed the mountain’s skeleton, then the second five should flow like mist threading between them.
His expression naturally grew solemn. The sounds around him receded, and only the brush in his hand and the paper remained.
As the brush moved, it made a sharp scratching sound.
The brush tip extended across the paper as if cutting through silk.
Bright.
The next stroke followed.
Moon.
Rises.
From.
Mountain.
Five characters flowed without interruption.
Gwangcho, the wild cursive that broke free from regular script’s constraints, flowed with savage freedom—swift as a sword cleaving empty air, yet when it slowed, as ponderous as a footstep traversing a high ridge.
Yeop Jangcheong saw nothing around him.
But behind his back, an entirely different landscape was unfolding. With each brush movement, a low resonance rippled through empty space, and the back courtyard trembled with a gentle vibration.
First, a majestic mountain range rose into view. Not one or two peaks, but an endless succession.
Layer upon layer of ancient mountains rose with their backs pressed together, endless and boundless. Between the sheer cliffs, ancient cypresses stretched skyward, and unnamed spirit herbs sprouted from every crevice, exhaling five-colored light.
White clouds clung to the mountain slopes, and as the wind brushed them, the mist slowly curled upward.
While overlapping peaks alternated between revealing and obscuring themselves, the small back courtyard before them vanished, and Yi Jangmyeong and Yeon Byeong-sim found themselves standing in the heart of an immortal landscape whose end could not be discerned.
Yeon Byeong-sim’s eyes widened.

‘This is… calligraphy?’

Yeop Jangcheong’s brush had not yet reached even halfway through the couplet.
Yet already she felt her spirit being drawn in. It was different from what she had witnessed on the Go board.
Then, she had been pulled into a vast game of life and death where countless forces tangled together; now, an entire world was being created before her eyes.
In that moment.
The clouds beyond the mountains parted, and a bright moon slowly revealed itself.
It had not risen from below the clouds, nor descended from the heavens. As if the mountains and mist had long cherished it and were now at last presenting it to the world, the round moon quietly emerged over the peaks.
As the bright moon rose, the scene of “bright moon rises from Tian Shan” that Yeop Jangcheong had recited so casually just moments before unfolded exactly as spoken. Yi Jangmyeong’s breath caught.
Bright moon rises from Tian Shan.
Words became characters, and characters became again a world entire.

‘Is this… the Seodo of the Four Sage?’

He dared not claim to understand it. He only recognized how shallow his own knowledge was.
Then Yeop Jangcheong’s brush paused briefly.
Yi Jangmyeong instinctively tensed.
At once the second couplet followed: “Through vast clouds and mist.”
Through vast clouds and mist.
The brush raced across the paper again.
One character, then another flowed onward, and when the final stroke pulled away in a long sweeping arc, the illusory realm unfolding before Yeon Byeong-sim and Yi Jangmyeong became even more vivid.
Between the layered mountains, clouds swelled in great waves, and the bright moon floating above cast its light on both mountains and mist together. A chill spread across every peak where ancient wood and spirit herbs grew, and then a single gust of wind blew from beyond the clouds.
At first they thought it merely a gentle breeze disturbing the clouds, but it was not.
What was mingled in that wind was Sword Rhyme, and from one mountain peak rose a tremendous sword energy. Immediately from other peaks, sword energies of entirely different character pierced the sky.
Some were as grand and solemn as mountain ranges. Some overturned the cloud-sea like raging waves, while yet others flowed as gently as a small stream.
All were Sword Intent, yet each carried a wholly different resonance.
Yi Jangmyeong couldn’t even attempt to grasp any single thread and weave it into his own swordplay. The moment he grasped one strand, an entirely different Sword Intent rose up beside it, and when he tried to follow that, the whole Sword Rhyme shifted again.
Yeon Byeong-sim fared no better. The pressure bearing down was unlike the Great Dao she had witnessed on the Go Board—the Sword Intent before her was so profound and vast that the slightest greed would sweep her very spirit away.
Both of them held their breath and followed the brushstrokes.
Even as they labored simply to keep pace, Yeop Jangcheong’s hand never faltered. For him, it was merely an ordinary moment of completing a single work of calligraphy.

“Hah.”

Yeop Jangcheong exhaled softly and scanned the whole. The calligraphy had come out quite well, and he nodded in satisfaction.
He’d worried that having an audience might tense his hand, but his brush had flowed even better than usual. He set down the brush, then lifted his head and frowned.
Yeon Byeong-sim and Yi Jangmyeong stood rigid side by side, their faces drained of color and their eyes unfocused. To Yeop Jangcheong, they both looked like people whose souls had departed their bodies.

‘What’s wrong with them now?’

Yeop Jangcheong couldn’t fathom why the people of this world would sometimes fall so inexplicably vacant, especially Yeon Byeong-sim.
At first he’d thought her quite clever and sharp-eyed. But when he’d suggested a game of Go, she’d gone rigid as stone, and today she’d lost herself again at the sight of calligraphy.
Yi Jangmyeong was much the same.
By appearance, he was a graceful, dignified Seonjado Member. Yet the moment he saw Yeop Jangcheong, he’d grown deferential as a servant, and now, gazing upon a single page of calligraphy, he stood as if on the verge of losing consciousness.
Just then.

“Woof!”

Heuk Hwang’s bark rang out through the Back courtyard.
Yeon Byeong-sim and Yi Jangmyeong both flinched.

“Gasp!”

Both drew in a sharp breath.
Focus returned to their dimmed eyes.
The Immortal Landscape and Sword Rhyme that had pressed down upon them vanished in an instant. Yi Jangmyeong only then realized cold sweat was running down his back, and thought that if he’d surrendered his mind even a moment longer, his body and spirit might have been crushed beneath the Sword Dao.
Yeon Byeong-sim pressed a hand to her chest.
Heuk Hwang then ambled into the courtyard with his tail wagging, regarding the two of them with a sidelong glance.

‘Reckless pups.’

The master’s calligraphy held an incalculable vertigo. Even Heuk Hwang rarely gazed upon it carelessly.
Yet those two had stared straight into it from beginning to end, eyes wide open.
It was fortunate they were still alive.
Heuk Hwang’s mouth twitched in what might have been a sneer.
Yeop Jangcheong reclined against a rattan chair and asked.

“Are you both well?”

Yeon Byeong-sim and Yi Jangmyeong exchanged a glance, then nodded carefully.

“We are, thank you.”

Yeop Jangcheong looked toward Yi Jangmyeong.

“Does the calligraphy please you?”

Yi Jangmyeong stared at him blankly for a moment.
Please him?
He was offering this treasure of Sword Dao to him, and merely asking if he was satisfied?
His heart began to race anew.

‘Is the Master… giving this to me?’

He quickly nodded.

“Yes. It is without fault.”

Yeop Jangcheong nodded in agreement.

“Then that settles it. The hour grows late, so I’m afraid I cannot mount the work for you today. Take it with you and have it mounted separately.”

Yi Jangmyeong’s eyes widened further, and he immediately bowed deeply.

“Senior, I am grateful for this generous gift.”

Yeop Jangcheong thought the word “gift” was somewhat grandiose, but he did not press the point.
He considered that anyone who loved calligraphy might well marvel at such a work.
Once Yi Jangmyeong confirmed the ink had dried, he carefully rolled the paper with both hands.
His handling was as tender as if he were touching some precious treasure.

“Senior, then I shall take my leave.”

He bowed once more.
After Yi Jangmyeong stepped back several paces, turned, and slipped out of the shop, Yeop Jangcheong exhaled silently in relief only after the young man’s figure had vanished.
The pork belly he’d bought today was only two portions.
It would be just right for himself and Yeon Byeong-sim.
He hadn’t needed to offer the man rice out of courtesy — the problem was that someone who looked so earnest might actually take him up on it.
And he couldn’t very well throw his guest out the door.
Besides, the visitor was a member of the Seonjado Sect.

‘If I’d offended him carelessly and he’d decided to settle it with his fists, I’d be the only one losing.’

Yeop Jangcheong reflected once more that peaceful living was the greatest blessing.
Meanwhile, the moment Yi Jangmyeong left Sojijin, his expression transformed entirely.
Within the village, he had maintained composure with deliberate effort.
But once beyond its edge, his lips no longer drooped. He withdrew the calligraphy from the silk pouch.

“To think that the Patriarch, descended from the Upper Realm, could be so gentle and humble……”

Yet the Patriarch had laughed like an ordinary shopkeeper. Even when rare books lay dead in his shop, he made no boast of them, and when he gave calligraphy bearing an immeasurable Sword Dao Intent, he acted as though it were nothing at all.
The contrast was enough to shame him.
Yi Jangmyeong gazed at the calligraphy again.
Then a question arose at the corner of his mind.

‘Why did the Patriarch bestow this particular work upon me?’

The Patriarch would never grant such an opportunity without purpose.
Bright moon rises above the distant mountain, vast clouds drift past the seabound horizon.
Within the calligraphy lay countless Sword Dao essences, and in that instant, Yi Jangmyeong’s eyes blazed with clarity.

“Of course.”

He struck his forehead lightly with his palm.

“The Patriarch wishes for me to devote myself to the Sword Dao.”

Once he had formed this understanding, no other interpretation came to mind. So many Sword Intents could not have been contained by chance.

“Without question.”

The moment he grasped this meaning, Yi Jangmyeong’s expression hardened with resolve.
He placed the calligraphy back in the silk pouch, then lifted himself into the void.
A crimson radiance stretched toward Taehyeon Mountain.
From Sojijin to the Taehyeon Holy Ground was not far.
Before half an hour had passed, a beam of light descended upon the summit of Taehyeon Mountain.
Yi Jangmyeong did not return to his own quarters but headed straight for the Taehyeon Hall.
At the entrance stood Jang Hyeon Jinín, hands clasped behind his back.

“Jangmyeong.”

He smiled warmly.

“You’ve come in haste—what troubles you?”

Yi Jangmyeong bowed deeply.

“Master, I have an important matter I wished to discuss with you.”
“Important, you say?”

Jang Hyeon Jinín stroked his beard thoughtfully.
After studying Yi Jangmyeong’s face for a moment, he let out a soft chuckle.

“Does it concern my appointing Musang as the Holy Maiden?”

Yi Jangmyeong shook his head at once.

“No, Master.”

The answer came without the slightest hesitation, and Jang Hyeon Jinín’s expression softened.

“Well then, that settles it. So what is this matter of yours?”

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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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