The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 119

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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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The Heavenly Supreme Has Died – Episode 119
This happened when Dang Yeeran was very, very young.
If I had to guess her age, she’d just turned ten. Or perhaps she hadn’t quite reached it yet.
It was so long ago that such details escape my memory.
It was around the time when Dang Yeeran began to earn a reputation as a prodigy of the Dang Clan, gradually drawing more and more attention.
She was evaluated as possessing talents that surpassed even my second brother, Dang Cheon-il, who was called a genius.
As the attention she received began to grow increasingly abundant.
The Dang Yeeran of that time was different from who she is now.
She didn’t shy away from recognition, and she delighted in her talents as she repeated her training.
She would become an outstanding martial artist and contribute to the Dang Clan’s glory.
With such aspirations, she was gradually blossoming her talents.
She had no doubt that a dragon would soon be born within the Dang Clan’s future.
Then the incident occurred.
It happened during a martial contest between Dang Cheon-il and Dang Yeeran.
‘I… I don’t want to. I don’t want to do this… I don’t want to…’
The young Dang Yeeran, trembling with blood-soaked hands,
spoke as she looked at Dang Cheon-il lying unconscious before her as if dead.
‘I hate this… I don’t want to do this…’
She said so with tears streaming down her face.
From that day forward, Dang Yeeran ceased all the training that direct bloodline members were supposed to undertake,
and then one day, quite suddenly,
she announced to the Dang Clan Head that she would learn blacksmithing.
That was merely ten years ago.

* * *
Clang—! Clang clang—!!
A hammer held in small, delicate hands moves through the air toward the ground.
Clang—!
Clang—!
The speed and rhythm remain constant.
As if there could be no margin for error whatsoever, the woman swung the hammer without even blinking.
Clang—! Clang—!!
Veins bulged across her small frame, testament to the immense force she poured into each strike.
Sweat drenched her from the heat, and exhaustion was written plainly across her face.
Clang—!
‘Ugh!’
For a moment, her grip faltered. She nearly dropped the hammer, but caught it again.
Clang—!
She managed to slip back into the rhythm just in time.
Fortunately, no damage had occurred.
‘This is exhausting….’
I was growing tired. Dang Yeeran could sense that I was nearing my limit.
How much time had passed? How many strikes had I made?
I couldn’t tell. There was no time to even consider such things.
If I hesitated or faltered even slightly, everything would be ruined.
Clang—!!
My hands trembled. Even so, I fought to maintain the rhythm. I couldn’t afford to lose focus.
It was difficult. If I had channeled my inner energy, this would have been easier, but having come this far in the forging process, I absolutely could not do that.
‘If I channel my energy, I’ll lose control of my strength.’
This stage required extremely delicate and precise control.
If I infused my energy and swung the hammer here, everything would be destroyed.
That’s why master craftsmen never channeled their energy at this stage.
The problem was.
‘…It’s so heavy.’
My stamina was depleting rapidly from swinging without channeling my inner energy for so long, and.
The fact that the material was Mukcheol was the biggest issue.
It was an awkward mineral to work with, just like iron steel.
When completed, Mukcheol could possess incredible durability and extraordinary sharpness.
Due to the metal’s nature, it could absorb a martial artist’s inner energy better than most materials. But that was only when it was crafted well.
Mukcheol was a precious material, but it was relatively easy to obtain if one sought it.
That didn’t mean it was cheap.
It simply meant that if you had the money, you could acquire it.
However, the reason why there were almost no renowned weapons made from Mukcheol was.
‘Because it’s difficult to forge.’
The problem was that the material was too difficult to work with, leaving few craftsmen capable of handling it.
If I were to create it using Mukcheol, its value and worth would increase exponentially, but….
‘Conversely, it might possess less value than a renowned blade.’
Ironically, the quality could be inferior to weapons crafted from ordinary metal.
Mukcheol was such a difficult ore to handle.
Even if I somehow managed to forge a weapon from it.
If I failed to master it perfectly, I would create something inferior to ordinary weapons.
Being an exceptional metal, it was naturally sharp and possessed remarkable durability.
But this is the Central Plains.
For martial artists, what mattered most was how well one’s inner energy could permeate the weapon.
If Mukcheol encountered even the slightest mistake during the process, this aspect would be compromised.
However.
“Hah!”
Clang—!
If I could master Mukcheol perfectly.
And if I could forge what was called a supreme-grade weapon in the blacksmith’s craft.
Then a weapon known as a Divine Blade would be born.
Clang—! Clang—!
Such was Manwol, the blade forged by the legendary Sword Saint Yoo Cheon-gil.
And likewise was the other supreme-grade weapon currently wielded by the present sect leader of the Huashan School.
Divine Blades.
In the blacksmith’s craft they were called supreme-grade, but in the Central Plains they were known as Divine Blades.
Dang Yeeran understood this.
The blade that Bangseong-yeon had presented at the Heavenly Supreme’s request—a sword with its edge shattered and barely anything remaining.
This blade was originally worthy of being called supreme-grade, a true Divine Blade.
She could tell at first glance, and her touch confirmed it with certainty.
‘…Where on earth.’
Manwol, which she had only ever seen from a distance.
This weapon was comparable to that legendary Divine Blade.
How could such a blade be shattered into such a pitiful state?
And how had Bangseong-yeon brought it to her along with the Sword Saint’s final words?
Dang Yeeran could not comprehend it.
She was even more bewildered as to why he would entrust her with such a task.
Clang—!
What did he see in her? What made him believe she could accomplish this?
Dang Yeeran had learned metallurgy but had never successfully forged a weapon.
Not even once.
She had always failed to complete a weapon and faced disappointment.
The discarded failures had accumulated into mountains.
That was why. The blacksmiths of the craft did not regard her favorably.
Born into the direct bloodline of the Dang Clan, I abandoned martial arts and took the path of a blacksmith—a problem child.
Through the Lord of the Clan’s influence and the Iron Master’s generosity, I managed to enter the forge.
Yet for years now, I haven’t crafted a single proper weapon—a failure.
That was who I was.
And yet, such a person as myself.
‘I trust you.’
What was I trusting in?
And I had said.
‘I will do it.’
Even after hearing that if I failed, I would never set foot in the forge again.
Why did I want to take on this task?
Dang Yeeran, exhausted, was gradually losing focus in her dazed state of mind.
‘Can I really do this?’
I had no confidence.
I lacked the strength to handle Mukcheol.
Clang—!
The steady rhythm wavered.
No matter how hard I tried to maintain it, my strikes grew increasingly dull.
Clang—!
What of my strength? Even with training, my thin wrists were beginning to strain.
If my grip weakened even slightly, I would drop the hammer.
Clang—! Clang—!
“…Hgh.”
A sigh escaped my lips. Tears threatened to spill.
How pathetic—declaring confidently that I would do this, only to falter like this.
I should have refused from the start.
I shouldn’t have stepped forward yesterday at all.
Hadn’t I endured well enough until now?
I’d withstood my older brother’s harsh words and contempt my entire life, standing firm.
Why couldn’t I do the same yesterday?
Questioning the reason, Dang Yeeran already knew the answer.
I was angry.
It was fine for him to disrespect me, but when Dok-ryong tried to disrespect Bangseong-yeon, that infuriated me.
That must have angered me deeply.
Then.
‘Why?’
Why had that angered me?
I knew the answer to this as well.
Just as Dang Yeeran was about to recall it.
Clang—!
“Hup!”
The swung hammer wavered. Dangerous. I barely steadied myself.
“Huff….”
How much longer must I continue?
How many more strikes until it finally reaches completion?
I don’t know. Dang Yeeran wipes away the sweat flowing down her face. She can’t tell if she’s wiping away sweat or tears.
Tears had begun streaming down her eyes without her noticing.
“Sigh.”
I narrow my exhausted breathing.
Should I stop? I want to stop.
I will never complete this.
Such thoughts dominated my mind.
If I set down what I’m holding now, if I stop what I’m doing, surely it will become easier.
“….”
There’s no need to do this.
No one expects it of me anyway.
Even if I fail to reach the Iron Master, it would be the same.
As I thought this and was about to finally lower my hands.
‘Our granddaughter. Do as you wish.’
“….”
The memory becomes a voice I can hear.
‘If you don’t wish to do it, then don’t. Live doing what you want to do. But.’
‘If that becomes running away, it will remain as regret. I would not wish for that.’
‘That alone is this old man’s worn-out wish.’
“….”
Words spoken by you as you stroked me when I was young, crying profusely.
Clang—!
The moment I recalled that, Dang Yeeran moved her hands that were about to stop.
“Hic.”
Tears flow.
I ignored them.
Clang—!
I let them flow as they will.
Now I focus on what I can do.
‘I can do this.’
I can do this.
Someone believes I can.
Then I can do it.
Lifting my hands that were losing strength, I repeat the motion again.
[Don’t focus too much on the same rhythm.]
“….”
Perhaps it was exhaustion, but I could have sworn I heard my Grandfather’s voice again.
[Strain comes from wasted effort. Hold only the will not to let go, and free your wrists and elbows.]
Without realizing it, I released the tension upon hearing those words.
Then.
Clang-!!
“…!”
A completely different sound rang out than before.
[Yeeran. Do you remember what I said was most important in blacksmithing?]
I remember.
[Listen to the voice of the steel.]
Clang-!!
Clang–!!!
[Do not merely watch the rhythm and strike mechanically.]
Clang-!!
[Move as you desire. You can do this, Yeeran. You are capable enough.]
You can do this.
Absurdly, I find solace in a voice that is nothing but an auditory hallucination.
Clang-!!
Heat rises at the altered sound.
Strength returns to my fading focus.
Clang-!
‘Ah.’
I understand upon hearing the sound in my ears.
This is it.
Clang-! Clink clink-!
The rhythm vanishes. The striking pattern transforms.
My tears cease.
There was no need to shed them any longer.
Thus I strike and strike for a long while.
Thud-!
The hammer slips from Dang Yeeran’s grasp and rolls across the ground.
My strength fails and I lose my grip.
Yet I pay no mind, gazing only at what lies before me.
“Haah… haah….”
My breathing is ragged.
How many times did I temper it? How much charcoal did I burn?
I lost count.
Dang Yeeran collapses, staring at the blade that has taken form before her eyes.
“Haah… haah…!!”
My legs gave out beneath me.
So I crawled forward, dragging myself closer.
“Ha….”
The crimson aura gradually faded, and as befitting the name Mukcheol, a blade of deepest black began to reveal itself.
“…It’s done….”
I’d succeeded.
“I… did it….”
I’d succeeded.
“I… did it.”
Speaking these words, Dang Yeeran broke into a radiant smile.
Then, clenching her small fist, she tried to marvel—but.
[You’ll need to sharpen the blade, won’t you?]
“…!”
As if to say this was no time for celebration, the phantom voice stopped Dang Yeeran in her tracks.
Hearing it, I moved immediately.
It wasn’t complete. The blade isn’t finished until it’s truly complete.
“Hurry…!!”
I rushed forward, clutching the blade.
Then.
Flutter—!
The paper that had been affixed to Dang Yeeran’s back fluttered and fell to the ground.
It was a crimson talisman inscribed with indecipherable characters.
[….]
Watching Dang Yeeran recede into the distance.
[…Kekeke….]
Dokjon laughed sorrowfully from behind.
That laughter was so mournful.
It seemed less like laughter and more like weeping.

* * *
Dang Yeeran rushed forward, clutching a cloth-wrapped object to her chest.
“Huff—! Huff!”
The breath she’d been holding earlier hadn’t returned, making her gasps rough and labored, yet her expression remained bright.
She hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed since entering the Iron Master’s forge.
“Huff…!!”
Without bothering to wipe away the sweat streaming down her face, Dang Yeeran simply ran.
‘Hurry, faster.’
She wanted to show him this right away.
That was her only thought.
More than the elation or satisfaction of accomplishment, her desire to show him burned brighter.
To tell him thank you for believing in her.
To tell him she’d succeeded because of him.
With only that singular desire in her heart, Dang Yeeran ran and ran.
She knew where he was.
Unless something unusual had occurred, he was always in the Training Hall—she already knew this.
‘Hurry—!’
She had to show him quickly.
With that thought, Dang Yeeran rushed past the guest quarters toward the Training Hall in the back.
The servants gasped in surprise, but none dared stop her.
She was simply too fast.
She seized the Training Hall door and threw it open.
“Young Master—!! I…!”
콰아앙—!!
The moment Dang Yeeran opened the door, a violent sound erupted.
“Huh…?”
Dang Yeeran’s eyes widened at the scene that unfolded before her.
The smile she’d been wearing vanished in an instant.
It couldn’t have been otherwise.
Inside was Bangseong-yeon as expected, but there was another person present as well.
Remarkably, it was Dok-ryong Dang Cheon-il.
But that wasn’t the bigger problem.
“Ugh…”
“This damn bastard really.”
He was stomping on Dang Cheon-il’s head with his foot while spewing curses.

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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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