Three Years of Blacksmithing, Achieving Divine Martial Arts - Chapter 18

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

Episode 18. A Person Who Uses the Same Technique
Yeo Ui’s blade moved.

Whoosh—!

The first strike came low.
It swept beneath the waist before the wrist pivoted, the blade rising sharply upward in one fluid motion.
So Chul

tracked the tip with his eyes.
There was no mistaking it.
It was the same root as the movement Hwang Tae-gon had used on the stairs.
The second strike was even clearer.
Yeo Ui stepped his left foot inward by half a pace. His upper body faced forward, but the blade hid behind his rotating frame.
In the next instant, it exploded outward in a single burst.

Crack!

Hwang Tae-gon had done the same.
Even after taking the initial ambush with a damaged abdomen, he had closed the distance using this exact method.
So Chul asked without expression.

“What’s the name of this technique?”

Yeo Ui did not stop moving.

“Salho-chamsin-do.”

Something settled in his chest.
The name was confirmed.
So Chul recalled the blade he had taken from Hwang Tae-gon’s annex.
When Cheongdong Pot had inspected that weapon, the same name had appeared in its mounting conditions.
Salho-chamsin-do Completion.
At that time, it was a martial art he had never seen before.
Now Yeo Ui, the direct disciple of Wang San, was deploying that very technique.

‘Wang San.’

The name rose in So Chul’s mind.
Hwang Tae-gon had come from Joyun-bang.
He had conducted secret dealings with remnants of Gwangsa-bang.
He had looked at So Chul and asked if he was ‘one of that person’s people.’
And Wang San had taught Yeo Ui the very technique Hwang Tae-gon had used.
Yet he could not jump to conclusions.
More than one or two people might have learned the same martial art.
If it was a technique transmitted within Cheoljang-bang, there was a chance Hwang Tae-gon had learned it in the past.
The evidence to directly connect Wang San and Hwang Tae-gon was still insufficient.
But there was enough reason to suspect.
Yeo Ui’s blade sliced through empty air one final time.
Sheathed.
He returned the blade to its scabbard.

“Well? What do you think?”

So Chul smiled, hiding his thoughts.

“Excellent.”
“Is that all you have to say?”
“To be honest, I’ve only ever looked at a mangchi, so I don’t have the eye to judge swordplay.”

Yeo Ui’s shoulders sagged slightly.
So Chul continued.

“Still, I caught a glimpse of how the force was being deployed. The second strike was far more frightening than the first.”

Yeo Ui’s eyes sharpened.

“You saw that?”
“Your feet went inward first.”
“Correct.”

Yeo Ui’s expression shifted from that of a rival showing off to someone genuinely eager to explain.

“The Salho-chamsin-do requires more than just a swift blade. You must drive your body into your opponent’s sight first, and conceal the blade until the final moment.”

He resumed his stance.

“Like this.”

So Chul’s eyes never wavered.
It was better to study the technique itself now than to pry into Wang San’s connection to Hwang Tae-gon.
He had to avoid any question that might expose the fact that he’d killed Hwang Tae-gon.

“Would you show me once more?”
“You wish to learn?”
“If I only know the mangchi, I’ll struggle when facing other weapons, won’t I?”

Yeo Ui paused to consider.

“The three fundamental martial arts taught in the Naemun aren’t entirely sealed secrets. My master wouldn’t fault me for showing a few forms to someone from Jang-shim-dang.”

He lifted the blade again.

“But I won’t teach you the hidden extensions.”
“I wouldn’t presume to ask for that much.”

So Chul bowed respectfully.

“Thank you for your kindness.”
* * *
An hour passed swiftly.
Yeo Ui was an excellent teacher.
He didn’t speak with Wang San’s gravitas, nor did he curse like Son Chul-shim did.
He remembered exactly where he himself had struggled and corrected So Chul immediately when he made similar mistakes.

“Your right shoulder’s leading.”

So Chul mirrored the stance with empty hands.

“Like this?”
“Conceal it more.”

Yeo Ui pressed his arm down directly.

“Once your opponent sees your shoulder, they’ll know where the blade emerges.”

So Chul nodded.
There were points that connected to the Suyong-yu-yeong-beop as well.
Move the body first, and let the weapon follow behind.
The Yeol-seok-chu-beop excelled at sustaining heavy force without interruption, while the Salho-chamsin-do was strongest at concealing the opponent’s next movement from being read.
The Geun-gol refined by the Cheongdong Pot’s attachment calibration swiftly absorbed any motion it had witnessed once.
What So Chul thought would take Yeo Ui ten explanations, he grasped in two or three.
Yeo Ui’s expression, satisfied at first, grew steadily more complex.

“So Chul.”
“Yes.”
“Have you truly never studied the martial way before?”

So Chul recalled the night with Hwang Tae-gon.

“I’ve never received proper instruction.”

It wasn’t a lie.
He’d come close to being cut by a blade, but that wasn’t instruction.
Yeo Ui let out a long breath.

“All of a sudden I’m regretting lending out my Geun-gol.”
“Why?”
“Never mind.”

Yeo Ui sheathed his blade.

“We’ll stop here for today. Any longer and I fear I’ll only sour my own mood.”

So Chul laughed.

“Should I bring you some more wine?”
“Do that.”

The answer came far too quickly.
They laughed together for a moment.
After Yeo Ui left, So Chul remained alone.
He sorted through the Salho-chamsin-do he’d just witnessed, turning it over in his mind.
He hadn’t caught the critical sequence.
But most of the movements below it, he remembered.
Yet what mattered more wasn’t the martial art itself.
It was the blade technique Wang San had taught.
The blade technique Hwang Tae-gon had used.
So Chul tapped the hilt of his sword with a fingertip.

‘It could be coincidence.’

But he needed to be certain.
If he moved without conviction, he could lose even the position he now held in Cheoljang-bang.
Wang San was the master of the Faction of Departed Clans.
He was no match to be compared with Hwang Tae-gon alone.
So Chul buried his suspicion in the deepest corner of his heart.
For now, he would feign ignorance.
And he would grow stronger.
* * *
At that same moment.
In a separate building deep within the inner quarter of Cheoljang-bang, a very different conversation was taking place.
Before Wang San stood a middle-aged man, his head bowed.
His name was Hwang Won.
For the fourth day, he had brought the same answer.

“I have yet to find it.”

Wang San’s fingers tapped against the table.

Tap.

Tap.

“The house?”
“Empty. No one there.”
“The money?”
“Most of the hidden funds and valuables have vanished.”

Wang San’s eyes narrowed.
Hwang Won bowed his head lower.
His younger brother, Hwang Tae-gon, had disappeared.
If he’d been the type to vanish for days at a time as usual, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But this time was different.
The people from the annex had vanished along with him, and the money was gone too.
Wang San spoke.

“The Suyong-yu-yeong-beop?”

Hwang Won’s face hardened.

“We haven’t found it.”

Tap.

The tapping fingers went still.
For Wang San, that object mattered more than his brother’s life or death.
The Bogong that had spilled out from the battle with Gwangsa-bang.
Though not a complete transmission, it was a precious thing—proof of the path to fourth-rank Gaemaek.
The reason Wang San had not moved directly himself, keeping Hwang Tae-gon in the middle, was precisely because the exchange was so dangerous.

“Could your brother have absconded with it?”

Hwang Won spoke carefully.

“He’s not that kind of man.”
“People change before money.”

Wang San’s voice was cold.

“A martial artist least of all.”

Hwang Won fell silent.

“Start with Eochon.”
“Yes.”
“Everyone—every house where Hwang Tae-gon picked a quarrel, every place he extorted money from, everyone he met by the riverside.”
“I understand.”

Wang San waved his hand dismissively.
Hwang Won turned to leave but stopped at the door.

“Master.”

Wang San looked up.

“If my brother is dead…”
“Then we find whoever killed him first.”

Hwang Won’s eyes changed.

“But don’t cut people down just to settle your grudge.”

Wang San added coldly.

“First, we need to know where the Suyong-yu-yeong-beop went. There’s no guarantee the man who killed Hwang Tae-gon is the same one who took the silk.”

Hwang Won closed his lips.

“I will keep that in mind.”

He withdrew.
Even after the door closed, Wang San’s expression did not ease.
Hwang Tae-gon had been a manageable blade.
After being pushed out of Joyun-bang, he’d grown hungry for coin, and on the surface he looked like a common thug from Eochon. It was rare to find another man so suited to tasks Wang San could not handle directly.
It was a shame to lose that blade.
But men could be replaced.
The Suyong-yu-yeong-beop was different.
The longer he remained at the peak of Third Rank, unable to cross into Fourth, the deeper his thirst for Bogong grew. Even an incomplete transmission could serve as a clue to how Bogong opened the channels of the body.
He’d lost it right before his eyes.
Wang San’s hand slowly clenched into a fist.
The Suyong-yu-yeong-beop was one path.
If it was lost, he would find another.
And standing before him now was another path entirely.
Yeo Ui.
A disciple of Geun-gol, Grade A.
A nomination seat that could lead up to Jugeomsan-jang.
He had no intention of letting that opportunity slip away.
* * *
The next day at Uisa-dang.
Yang Jeong-cheon sat in the center, with Wang San and Son Chul-shim taking seats on either side.
The moment Son Chul-shim entered, he placed a single Bak-do on the table.

Clang!

Yang Jeong-cheon’s white brows shifted.

“What is this?”
“My youngest made it.”

Pride unmistakable colored Son Chul-shim’s voice.
Wang San glanced at the Bak-do.

“So Chul?”
“That’s right.”

Son Chul-shim folded his arms.

“The first day he learned the Cheon-dan-beop, he layered three Gi-mun patterns and produced a Grade-One Bangbyeong.”

Yang Jeong-cheon leaned forward slightly.
He picked up the Bak-do himself and examined the blade and its grain.

“On his first day?”
“That’s why I brought it.”

The corner of Son Chul-shim’s mouth lifted.

“His Geun-gol is rated lower, which is a shame—but this one’s different. Train him properly, and he might surpass even Jang-shim-dang.”

Wang San spoke quietly.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself over a boy who’s been training for mere days.”
“So whose disciple spent all day bragging that his was top-tier?”
“Yeo Ui genuinely is top-tier.”
“So Chul actually crafted a first-grade Bangbyeong on his very first day.”

Their eyes locked across the room.
Yang Jeong-cheon stroked his beard.

“So what do you want?”

Son Chul-shim replied as though he’d been waiting for the question.

“One third-grade Bangbyeong.”
“Jang-shim-dang can award that on its own authority, can’t it?”
“There’s one more thing.”

Son Chul-shim’s expression grew more serious.

“The recommendation slot for Jugeomsan-jang this time—give it to So Chul.”

Wang San’s eyes turned cold at once.

“That’s not happening.”

Son Chul-shim turned his head.

“Why not?”
“There’s only one slot. Yeo Ui is going.”
“Based on one top-tier Geun-gol?”
“Is that what you call ‘one’?”

Wang San’s voice dropped lower.

“Jugeomsan-jang looks at Geun-gol first. So Chul is lower-tier, Yeo Ui is top-tier. Who’s more likely to advance—it’s obvious.”

Son Chul-shim tapped the table.

“What about his talent as a weapon-smith?”
“Jugeomsan-jang isn’t a smithy.”
“You stand there with ‘forge’ in the place’s name and say that?”
“Don’t twist my words.”

Both men’s voices began to rise.
Yang Jeong-cheon raised his hand.

“Enough.”

The Uisa-dang fell silent.
He looked down at the Bak-do again.

“I’ll give you the third-grade Bangbyeong.”

Son Chul-shim’s face brightened.

“As for the recommendation slot—I haven’t decided yet.”

This time it was Wang San’s eyebrows that twitched.
Yang Jeong-cheon looked at both of them in turn.

“They’re both on the verge now. We’ll decide after observing them further.”

Son Chul-shim asked immediately.

“What more is there to observe?”
“So Chul did well with one forging, but that’s no guarantee he’ll show the same talent next time. And Yeo Ui can’t pass every test on Geun-gol alone.”

Yang Jeong-cheon tapped the handle of the Bak-do lightly.

“Issuing a recommendation letter is putting Cheoljang-bang’s name on the line. Whichever of the two proves it through results, that’s who gets it.”

Wang San spoke quietly.

“Difference in Geun-gol is the foundation before results.”
“Then you simply need to cultivate Yeo Ui well.”

This time he looked at Son Chul-shim.

“And you cultivate So Chul well.”

Son Chul-shim let out a quiet laugh.

“That’s all I need to hear.”

Wang San’s expression wasn’t pleased, but he had no grounds to argue further.
Son Chul-shim thought for a moment, then nodded.
Wang San didn’t push back again.
The decision had been deferred.
But the competition had begun.
* * *
That afternoon.
So Chul stood before the forge at Jang-shim-dang, knowing nothing of what had transpired.

Bang!

The hammer came down.
A new Gi-mun rose up over the heated metal.
He wiped away sweat and calculated.
Opening the third Seon-gyu had cost him considerably.
The Yeonbo-so-che would continue consuming metal going forward.
If there was a fourth Seon-gyu, it would likely be even more expensive.
The conclusion was simple.
He needed to earn more.
He didn’t yet know that two lodge masters had clashed over a single recommendation slot bearing his name at Uisa-dang.
He didn’t yet know that Hwang Tae-gon’s brother had begun searching the area around the village where he lived.
So Chul knew none of this.
Before his eyes now lay only the heated metal and the next strike of the hammer.

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