Three Years of Blacksmithing, Achieving Divine Martial Arts - Chapter 13

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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 13. The One Who Writes the Night First
“Hongchin Practice?”

So Cheol

asked again, and Gwak Geo shook his head.

“Don’t believe that.”
“What kind of practice is it, then?”
“Drinking and fooling around.”

This time the explanation was clear.
So Cheol glanced back at the southern door.

“You said he had top-tier Bone Frame?”
“Top tier. Once you show him Forging, he grasps it immediately, and he learned Jinsan Joship Method quickly too.”

Gwak Geo’s face held a note of regret.

“He was the disciple the master held highest hopes for. But perhaps because his mind works too well, he plots escape before he ever tries to use his body.”
“And you, elder brother?”
“I’m middle-tier in the upper range.”

Gwak Geo spoke with casual indifference.

“I wasn’t always a Direct Forger. I came to the Inner Sect, worked the hammers for a while, and only later caught the master’s eye.”

So Cheol looked at the giant before him anew.
There was one thing he’d understood since the test day.
Bone Frame mattered.
But your starting point didn’t determine everything.
Gwak Geo was proof of that.

“Still, it seems the master trusts you, elder brother.”
“I just do what I’m told.”

Gwak Geo laughed.

“And when So causes trouble, it falls to me to fetch him back.”

Weariness layered beneath those words, accumulated over time.
So Cheol didn’t press further.
After a day spent wandering through the Inner Sect, his head was already full of new knowledge.
Gwak Geo rose and spoke.

“Rest here tonight. Come to Jangshimdang by dawn tomorrow.”
“Shouldn’t I pay my respects to the master today?”
“I’ve already presented you to the patriarch. A single day’s absence won’t sever master and disciple.”

He turned back as he reached the door.

“And sleep tonight.”
“Sir?”
“Your eyes tell me you’re thinking of slipping out for something.”

So Cheol smiled.

“I only meant to loosen my muscles a bit.”

Unease flickered across Gwak Geo’s face.

“So Shim-hwan always started the same way.”
“I’m not going to Hongdeung-ga.”
“That’ll do then.”

The threshold was remarkably low.
* * *
As night deepened, So Cheol finally stepped out of his quarters.
It was an open courtyard some distance from Jangshim Il-won.
The Eight-jin Hammer he’d brought from home could now be stored inside the Bronze Cauldron without needing to carry it. He could retrieve it whenever he needed it.
What he’d placed in the two storage compartments now were the Direct Forging Tablet and the Suryong Youyeong Method Silk.
So Cheol first settled into the Banseok Stance.
His soles pressed into the earth.
Days ago, this posture had been merely the starting point for gathering force.
Now it flowed into other movements.
His lower back released.
His right foot slipped out to the side.

Whoosh!

His body traversed nearly half a zhang across the courtyard.
The Suryong Youyeong Method.
Without stopping, So Cheol changed direction again.
That first day by the river, he’d fumbled through it, groping for memory, his feet tangling constantly. Now it flowed far more naturally.
The Banseok Stance drove force into a single point; the Suryong Youyeong Method let the center slip away. At first they’d felt opposed.
But as he repeated them, something strange emerged—they interlocked.
The harder he could press the ground, the faster his first step became.
The sensation of moving hip and shoulder together resembled the Yeolseok Chui Method.

Huff!

So Cheol’s body cut across the courtyard.
The instant he arrived, he drew the Eight-jin Hammer from the Bronze Cauldron.
Weight fell into his right hand.

Whoomp—!

The Yeolseok Chui Method followed through.
Retrieve the force spent swinging the hammer.
Catch the returning weight with the waist.
From that position, shift the feet.
A movement that once would have scattered the hammer and footwork apart now flowed without breaking.
So Cheol’s eyes brightened.

‘So it works this way too.’

The Suryong Youyeong Method wasn’t replacing the Yeolseok Chui Method.
It was creating the place where the Yeolseok Chui Method could land.
Once he understood, time vanished.
Swing the hammer, recover it, shift position. Swing, recover, shift.
When his breathing grew ragged, he ordered it with the Jinsan Joship Method.
His Qi-Blood settled, then spread again through his limbs.
Hunger crept in.
He swallowed a Qi-Blood Pill.
Rested a moment, then rose again to continue.
Far off, beyond the wall of Jangshim Il-won, a large shadow moved.
It was Gwak Geo.
He’d seen So Cheol leave and followed, watching the training in silence for some time.
So Cheol never noticed.

Gwak Geo rubbed the bridge of his nose absently.

‘A relief.’

His heart had lurched on that first night when the youngest slipped away after dark.
So Shim-hwan alone would have been enough trouble.
But this one had come to an empty lot instead of a tavern, and taken up a hammer.
Without pause, night after night.
Gwak Geo watched for a long time, then quietly withdrew.
He’d noticed that the master’s martial arts mixed in movements different from the Jinsan technique he knew.
He didn’t press the matter.
Every warrior had their own reasons.
* * *
So Cheol moved without noticing the dawn breaking.
The eastern sky was just turning pale.
When he completed one cycle of the Suryong Youyeong Method and stilled himself, a different current flowed through his body than before.
His chest didn’t heave with strain.
His breathing was ragged, yet his Qi-Blood circulated with even rhythm.
As he exhaled once, warmth rising from his lower abdomen climbed his spine.
Qi-Blood that had spread to his limbs’ edges flowed back inward again.
So Cheol closed his eyes.
A membrane that had lingered in his body had grown thinner.

‘First Grade Peak.’

Certainty bloomed in him.
He had taken a step beyond First Grade Late Stage.
The Suryong Youyeong Method had transformed as well.
It was no longer a matter of remembering movements in his mind before commanding his body to follow.
When his foot touched the ground, his body already knew where the next step should fall.
Mastery.
So Cheol exhaled long and slow.
Days ago, becoming a warrior had seemed impossibly distant.
Now he could see the ceiling of First Grade.
Too fast.
That meant he couldn’t afford to show it.
The Bronze Cauldron and two senior disciples.
The power the Direct Forging Tablet had granted.
The Suryong Youyeong Method Silk and memory fragments.
To outside eyes, So Cheol had to remain merely a sixteen-year-old apprentice turned Direct Forging disciple.
Even that was enough to draw notice.
There was no reason to show anything more.
So Cheol placed the hammer in the Bronze Cauldron and walked toward Jangshim Il-won.
As he passed a corner, a crimson gate opened.
Fa-gun Il-won.
Yeo Ui emerged, carrying a wooden sword.
Their eyes met.

“You’re up early, Yeo.”

Yeo Ui started to answer, then stopped.
So Cheol’s clothes were soaked through with sweat.
Dawn dew clung to the ends of his hair, and his face bore the lingering heat of someone who had trained through the night.

“So… you’re just coming out?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re leaving now, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m just heading in.”

Yeo Ui’s expression hardened.

“When did you start training?”

So Cheol glanced up at the sky.

“Last night, sir.”

A brief silence fell between them.
Yeo Ui stood with a practice sword in hand, on the verge of stepping out the door. His composed expression had stiffened subtly at So Cheol’s answer.
His grip on the sword hilt tightened slightly.
So Cheol could not guess what he was thinking.

“You’re quite certain your body feels well?”
“It does, sir.”
“Then I’ll take my leave—I need to wash and head to Jangshimdang.”

So Cheol passed by him.
A few paces later, he heard the rasp of a sword being drawn behind him.

Shing—

Without turning, So Cheol knew Yeo Ui had begun training exactly where he stood.
So Cheol found himself smiling and quickened his pace.
* * *
Hour of the Hare.
The doors of Jangshimdang swung open.
A wave of heat washed over his face.
The smithy’s distinctive reek of iron and charcoal hung thick in the air.
But the sound alone marked it as utterly unlike the Outer Sect forge.

Bang! Bang!

With each hammer strike, the entire anvil sang out.
The men were all broad-shouldered and imposing. Their hands, gripping heated metal, rippled with Qi-Blood; their hammer strokes flowed with martial skill itself.
So Cheol slowed his step just inside the threshold.
He had struck iron in the Outer Sect for three years.
That was precisely why he saw it now.
This forge was nothing like the one he knew.
In every hammer swing that spread the steel, there was a precise order to the force; when binding two materials, even the angle of the hammer differed. There was intention behind every motion.
He found himself lingering at one workstation.

“What do you see?”

A deep voice reached him from behind.
So Cheol turned.
Son Cheol-shim stood with arms crossed.
At his feet, kneeling on the ground, was a strikingly handsome young man holding an enormous lump of black iron above his head.
The youth winked the moment their eyes met.
Son Cheol-shim’s brow twitched.

“Pay that fool no mind.”

He asked again.

“What do you see in that hammer work?”

So Cheol did not answer at once.
He looked back at the workstation he had been studying.
A disciple of Jangshimdang was layering a second metal onto heated refined iron. The hammer fell at regular intervals, yet the force varied with each blow. At the edges, the strikes were short and quick; when spreading the center, the smith drove down with his full weight, driving the hammer deep.

“The Outer Sect was always rushing to shape the metal.”

Son Cheol-shim lifted his chin.

“And?”
“Here, it seems they observe how the metal will move before they strike.”

So Cheol pointed toward the workstation.

“That senior is rehearing the right side first since it cools faster, and when he swings the hammer, he’s not just pressing down with brute force—he’s leaving space for the inner metal to shift into.”

The sound of hammers around them gradually quieted.
A few disciples working nearby glanced over.
The corner of Son Cheol-shim’s mouth lifted ever so slightly.

“Three years of hammer-work in the Outer Sect wasn’t wasted, then.”

So Cheol bowed respectfully.

“I know so little that more stands out to me.”
“Who taught you to say that?”
“I just sensed it.”
“I like that.”

Son Cheol-shim smiled.
Just then, a young man kneeling on the floor interjected.

“Master, it’s the youngest one’s first day—don’t be so harsh. If someone as thoughtful as me explained things slowly by his side—”
“Shut your mouth.”

The smile vanished from Son Cheol-shim’s face.
The young man fell silent at once.
But his eyes were laughing.
So Cheol grasped it quickly enough.

“Are you So Shim-hwan?”

The young man’s eyes widened.

“You’ve already heard my name?”
“Gwak Geo told me.”
“What did my senior say about me?”

So Cheol paused to consider.

“That you often go out to experience Hongchin Practice.”

So Shim-hwan nodded with admiration written across his face.

“True to form, my senior. Coarse tongue, but he sees people for what they really are.”

Veins rose in Son Cheol-shim’s temples.

“Getting carried back from Hongdeung-ga after drinking all night—that’s what you call experiencing Hongchin Practice?”
“Master, experiencing the joys and sorrows of the world firsthand—”
“Should I cut short your sorrows right now?”

Son Cheol-shim pointed with his finger at a Black Iron Lump beside them.
So Shim-hwan promptly lifted it higher.

“I was wrong, Master.”
“So Cheol.”
“Yes.”
“He’s your second senior brother.”
“I understand.”
“First-rate bone frame, and a sharp mind too.”

Son Cheol-shim watched So Shim-hwan and ground his teeth.

“The problem is he only uses that sharp mind for pointless things.”

So Shim-hwan’s face showed injury, but this time he held his tongue.
So Cheol straightened and offered a formal bow.

“I greet you, senior brother.”
“Welcome, youngest.”

So Shim-hwan knelt and smiled easily, the black iron lump still in his grip.

“I’m pressed for time today. Next chance I get, I’ll show you the furnace work properly―”

Thwack!

Son Cheol-shim’s foot flicked out and caught his rear lightly.
So Shim-hwan’s torso swayed, but the black iron didn’t slip from his hands.
So Cheol narrowed his eyes slightly at the sight.
Beneath the surface, there was real skill here.
Kneeling with such a lump of iron, his body jolted but his center held firm.
Son Cheol-shim caught So Cheol’s gaze and let out a snort.

“Don’t go following his lead. But when it comes to martial arts and forging, there’s something worth learning.”
“Master, I’d have been moved if you’d only said the second part.”
“Say another word and you’re holding that through tonight.”

So Shim-hwan went quiet again.
The disciples of Jangshimdang swallowed their laughter.
So Cheol pressed his lips tight to keep from smiling.
Until yesterday, this place had been another world beyond the wall.
Today, senior brothers were laughing between the smell of hot furnace and the sound of hammers.
Son Cheol-shim turned toward the workbench.

“Enough watching.”

He gestured to So Cheol.

“Now let’s see what you know.”

So Cheol’s first day at Jangshimdang truly began.
He gripped the empty hammer that lay before the furnace.
The handle was like ones he’d held thousands of times in the Outer Sect.
But today, his palms were tense as they’d been the first time he’d struck iron.
To have much to learn meant there was still far to climb.
This was a new beginning.

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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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