Three Years of Blacksmithing, Achieving Divine Martial Arts - Chapter 21

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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 21. The Fish Caught a Man
The house grew quiet only when the night had grown quite late.
The neighbors who had come to visit had left, and Im Ha, who had been bustling about packing starting tomorrow, had finally fallen asleep. So Won had stubbornly insisted on taking the fishing net with him and endured considerable nagging for it.
So Cheol

cracked open the door to his room.
The fishing rod set to one side of the yard and the folded fishing net gleamed in the moonlight. In a few days, he wouldn’t see this view again for some time.
It would have been a lie to say he felt no regret.
This was the house where his body had grown up, and it was here too that he had first eaten like a human being after opening his eyes. Still, leaving was the right choice. He didn’t know who had stood behind Hwang Tae-gon, and even Wang San had become a matter of suspicion.
He turned back as he opened the front gate.

“Where are you going?”

So Won stood leaning against the doorframe in his nightclothes.

“Aren’t you asleep, Uncle?”
“Your aunt’s been rattling on about blankets and pots until dawn—how could I sleep?”
“If you hadn’t kept going on about the net, you’d probably be asleep by now.”
“The net has to come with us.”

So Cheol swallowed his laugh.

“I’m going to the river for a bit. Just to stretch.”
“At this hour?”
“Just to loosen up my body.”

So Won looked at his nephew for a moment, then glanced toward the fishing rod in the yard.

“You’re not going fishing, are you?”
“Not tonight.”
“Fine then. Don’t go where the current is strong.”

It was a strange thing for a fisherman to say to a nephew who had become a martial artist.
Even so, So Cheol nodded obediently.

“Yes. I’ll be back soon.”
“Lock the gate behind you.”

So Won yawned and turned back toward his room.
* * *
The night river gleamed white as it caught the long light of the moon.
At the riverbank, So Cheol removed his outer robe and shoes and placed them in the Bronze Pot. All that remained on his body were the Scale Armor and thin undergarments.
When his feet touched the water, it was cold.
After wading in to his waist, he hesitated no longer and threw himself forward.

Splash!

The water closed over his head.
So Cheol sank without resistance. He did not swim hurriedly. This was the first time he had truly entered the water while wearing the Scale Armor.
The river current pushed relentlessly at his ribs. Yet the flow that touched the scales caught on nothing. The force that struck his chest dispersed to the side, then slipped back toward his waist and shoulders.
He twisted his body once.
The Water Dragon Swimming Technique flowed naturally into being.
His feet grazed the riverbed.
In the next instant, his body shot forward.
So Cheol laughed without thinking. Being underwater, only a little air escaped from the corner of his mouth.
This was different from practicing on the bank.
On land, once one step ended, the feet had to touch ground again. In water, the current left by the previous movement pushed forward into the next. A twist of the hips, a slight lean of the shoulders, a mere change of direction with the tips of the feet—and the body flowed unbroken. So Cheol descended far down the river, then rose upright in the water.
This time he pushed against the current.
At first he forced his way through with strength. He gained speed, but the water caught at his shoulders. On the second attempt, he positioned his body at an angle. He let the water that struck his right shoulder flow down his ribs.

His body felt surprisingly light.

‘So this is why movement is different in water.’

After diving and surfacing a few more times, his thoughts grew quieter.
So Cheol rose near the surface and turned his body horizontal, skimming just beneath the rippling moonlight. As he twisted to change direction, dark green scales clung to his skin and trailed fine ripples in his wake.
He was beginning to enjoy himself.
He pulled the Fifty-jin Hammer from the Bronze Pot.
The moment the weight of the hammer fell into his hands, his body sank. So Cheol didn’t resist—he simply allowed himself to descend, following the direction the hammer head pulled him, rotating at the waist before opening his body in the opposite direction.

Whoosh—!

The water resonated deeply around him.
White foam trailed long behind the hammer head.
Once more.
This time, he tilted his wrist slightly before the water caught the hammer head directly. The resistance diminished, and the Fifty-jin Hammer returned far more smoothly.
So Cheol carried the recoil straight into his next movement.
The Eighteen Hammer Technique and the Water Dragon Swimming Technique didn’t feel awkwardly forced together. On land, his feet had gripped the earth; in water, his whole body flowed. They were different, yet alike in one thing—the power never broke.
After wielding the hammer several more times, heat bloomed in his chest.
So Cheol set the Fifty-jin Hammer aside.
Now it was hard to tell whether he was training or simply playing.
He skimmed along the riverbed and turned his body upstream.
Silver flashed before his eyes.
So Cheol’s waist bent reflexively.

‘Hm?’

The fish that had just darted past twisted its body between the stones. Its tail flashed silver once, then vanished.
So Cheol’s eyes widened.
An Oxhorn Pomfret.

His thoughts ended there.
His legs moved first.
The Oxhorn Pomfret that slipped from between the stones belatedly sensed So Cheol’s presence and flicked its body. The current it created was powerful enough to seem wrong for such a small fish.
So Cheol simply twisted to follow.

Splash!

The silver tail brushed his fingertips.
It was slippery.
The Oxhorn Pomfret slipped away to the side. So Cheol didn’t stop. He rode the current the fish had just created, laying his body horizontal, then stretched his hand out a beat too late.
This time, he caught it.
Just ahead of the tail.
The Oxhorn Pomfret thrashed wildly. His wrist was suddenly dragged forward. So Cheol didn’t pull with force—he simply followed along. When the fish twisted left, he yielded his arm; only when it tried to dart away again did he tighten his fingers.
After it changed direction three times, its struggles visibly weakened.
So Cheol tapped the side of its head with his index finger.
The Oxhorn Pomfret went limp.
Only then did laughter burst from him.
As he broke the surface, the scales in his palm caught the moonlight and gleamed brilliantly.

“It’s real.”

It was a story he’d heard many times as a child. They said that if a fisherman was lucky enough to catch a Treasure Fish, he could earn in one day what would take him years to make.
So Won had even joked once that catching a Treasure Fish was his lifelong wish.
And now that very Oxhorn Pomfret was in his hands.
He looked around the riverbank and found an old Fish Basket wedged between the reeds. He patched the torn bottom with an old cloth he’d left in the Bronze Pot.
Once he placed the Oxhorn Pomfret in a shallow pool and covered it with reeds, even its silver gleam disappeared from sight.
So Cheol crouched down and stared at the basket for a long while.

‘I wonder what Uncle would say if I showed him this.’

He might tell me not to sell it.
The thought made him smile.
Even returning as he was would have made for a night worth remembering.
But the moment he looked at the river again, his feet wouldn’t move.
Just moments ago, he’d caught the Oxhorn Pomfret barehanded.
When he was small, even casting a net felt like a dream. Now he wanted to see a little more—to confirm just how different the river had become to his eyes.
So Cheol waded back in.
The river on his second entry felt more familiar. A single kick sent his body gliding long and smooth through the current.
Before, every movement had been new as he learned how the Scale Armor and Water Dragon Swimming Technique clung to his body, but now his waist turned without thought, and his toes found the flow on instinct.
So Cheol dove near the riverbed and swept through crevices between stones. A large catfish sensed his presence and fled in a cloud of mud. Between the aquatic plants, a snakehead as thick as a forearm slipped away into hiding.
Beyond that, there was little else.
He swam on, uncertain how long. The thought came to him, belatedly, that a single Oxhorn Pomfret was already enough to mark this night as one he’d remember for a lifetime.

‘Was my greed too great?’

So Cheol turned himself around.
That was when it happened—just as he was heading back toward the Fishing Village.
A red line cut across his vision.
So Cheol’s feet pushed against the riverbed.
The fish ahead twisted its body. Beneath its blue-tinged back, a line of red and violet undulated long and fluid.
So Cheol’s eyes widened.

‘A Rainbow Trout?’

There was a story that, fifty years ago, a village fisherman had caught one and received seven hundred silver coins for it.
The value of materials for a fourth Transcendence Stage flashed through his mind.
The fish didn’t wait.
When So Cheol reached out, the red line bent away before him. Only cold water slipped between his fingers.
The Rainbow Trout surged ahead, then slowed a few arm-lengths away, as if testing him.
So Cheol laughed softly.

‘Is that an invitation?’

He lowered his body again.
This time he didn’t charge straight on. When the fish veered right, instead of chasing directly, he cut diagonally along the river’s current below.
As the distance shrank from one arm-length to half, he felt the water-wake of its tail on his fingertips.
In that instant, the Rainbow Trout arched like a bow. The red line vanished before his eyes, only to flash again moments later among the weeds on his left.
So Cheol twisted at the waist.
The Water Dragon Swimming Technique spun long through the water. He caught the current sweeping around the rock, pushed with his body, and clung to the wake the fish had left.
This time, it truly seemed within reach.
His palm brushed the body.
The smooth feel of its scales was unmistakable.
But the next instant, his hand was empty again.

‘Look at this one.’

It wasn’t frustration so much as exhilaration.
So Cheol drove faster. When the Rainbow Trout threaded through the weeds, he followed through; when it hugged low beneath a rock, he flattened himself and slipped after. Ahead, the red line appeared and vanished, appeared and vanished.
Once the fish dove beneath a fallen log. The gap was narrow. Without losing speed, So Cheol tilted his shoulder first. The scales of the Scale Armor scraped against the bark as he passed.
As he emerged from the log, the tail was right before him.
So Cheol reached out.
A handspan away.
The Rainbow Trout jumped, leaving exactly that distance between them.
So Cheol pursued, then furrowed his brow.
It had been a handspan before as well.
And before that, each time his hand reached, it slipped from his grasp at the moment of seeming contact.
The Oxhorn Pomfret had been different. That one fled with all its might, desperate not to be caught. Once distance opened between them, it took real effort to close the gap again.
Yet this fish, for all the times he’d lost it, remained before his eyes.
So Cheol deliberately eased off, letting his speed drop.
The pace slackened noticeably.
The red line ahead pulled away from him.
One body length.
Two.
Three.
After that, the distance stopped widening.
The Rainbow Trout moved with the current, unhurried now—so sluggish it was hard to believe this was the same creature that had fled in such frantic haste moments before.
So Cheol stopped moving altogether. His body sank gradually until his toes touched black mud.
The Rainbow Trout drifted forward a little longer. He thought it would vanish into the darkness beyond sight, but the red line only wavered faintly in the gloom ahead, no farther than before.
The smile faded from So Cheol’s mouth.
Only then did awareness of his surroundings return. The familiar gravel bed had ended long ago.
Mud deep enough to bury his ankles lay underfoot, and reeds growing along the riverbank cast black shadows across the water’s surface.
Rocks were scattered everywhere too—large enough that a man could hide his whole body and remain invisible from above the water.
The Fishing Village’s lanterns were nowhere in sight.
So Cheol stopped watching the Rainbow Trout and felt the water instead.
The currents he’d been too focused to notice came back to him one by one. The light tremor of minnows brushing against water plants. The flow of water circling around stone crevices. The river’s current sliding past his body and away downstream.
And mixed among them all, one movement far too heavy.
Behind him.
So Cheol did not turn around immediately.
He let his body slip sideways with the smallest motion.
In that instant, the water tore open.

Thwack!

His body heard the sound before his ears did. As So Cheol bent at the waist, three cold metal points slashed past his face. A Trident Spear that would have pierced his skull if he’d been a heartbeat slower.
He dodged the direct blow, but the water the spear had pushed aside didn’t disappear. The impact hit his ribs like a massive fist.

Crack!

His breath caught in his throat.
The scales of his Scale Armor rippled all at once. The impact concentrated in his ribs split and dispersed through his chest and back, yet his insides still twisted.
So Cheol’s body flew backward.
His back struck a rock.

Thud!

His vision went white, then returned.
A metallic taste filled his mouth.
So Cheol reflexively tried to push himself up, then stopped.
His back ached where it had struck the rock. Each breath sent a sharp pain through his ribs. But his arms and legs still moved. His ribs didn’t feel broken.
Between the dark blue scales, faint ripples of light still flowed.

‘If I hadn’t been wearing this.’

His thought stopped there.
Something moved on the far side of the water—a human-sized shadow, nothing like the Rainbow Trout.
The figure emerged from behind the rock and did not throw a second spear. Instead, it held the Trident Spear upright and advanced slowly, closing the distance.
So Cheol lowered his eyelids.
He released all tension from his body.
His shoulder, resting on the bottom, sank gradually into the mud. He swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth so it wouldn’t seep into the water. He suppressed the urge to gasp for air.
His opponent clearly believed he’d finished the job in one strike.
If so, it was better to let them think that.
As the figure drew nearer, the heavy tremor of the Trident Spear pushing water became more distinct against his skin.
The blurred shadow grew sharper in shape. So Cheol kept his eyes closed as his right hand, resting on the mud, began to curl very slowly.
Five-colored light trembled within the Bronze Pot.
Still too far. If he moved now, his opponent might retreat.
So Cheol waited, suppressing the pain in his ribs and the urge to gasp for breath. The tremor of the Trident Spear drew one step closer.
Now.

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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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