Three Years of Blacksmithing, Achieving Divine Martial Arts - Chapter 29

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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 29. Information Was Never Free
“I shall follow your judgment, sir.”

So Cheol’s answer had barely left his lips when silence settled over the Council Chamber.

Yang Jeong-cheon stroked his beard once. Son Cheol-sim still watched Wang San with arms crossed, and the tension that had gripped Wang San’s face loosened, just slightly.
Then a low voice came from beside him.

“So Cheol….”

It was Yeo-ui.
He’d been avoiding So Cheol’s gaze until now, but at last he met his eyes. His mouth opened, yet the words didn’t come.
So Cheol shook his head first.

“There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“But—”
“You didn’t ask to take my place, did you?”

Yeo-ui’s lips tightened. It was a fair point. The decision had come from elsewhere.
So Cheol stepped closer and gave Yeo-ui’s shoulder a light tap.

“When you go to Jucheck-sanjang, learn properly.”

Yeo-ui’s eyes lifted.

“If I find myself entering there next year, it would be better for me too if you’ve already established yourself, wouldn’t it?”
“So Cheol.”
“Just buy me a meal when that time comes.”

Yeo-ui stood vacant-eyed for a moment. His expression couldn’t decide between smiling and apologizing. Then he glanced at Wang San once more before nodding slowly.

“I’ll make sure to do that.”

His answer was firm, but his face remained uneasy.
So Cheol didn’t press further. It was plain that Yeo-ui carried some burden with him, but this wasn’t the moment to dig into it.

“That’s enough.”

Son Cheol-sim cut between them.

“Let’s have the compensation.”

The air that had grown softer just moments before hardened again. Wang San’s brows twitched.

“Hasn’t the matter already been settled?”
“Only the matter of giving the recommendation slot to your disciple was settled.”

Son Cheol-sim let out a scoffing laugh.

“The discussion of my disciple’s losses is just beginning.”

Wang San fell silent for a moment, then drew a thin ledger from his sleeve.

“I hear So Cheol and Yeo-ui have tested their martial skills against each other.”

His gaze shifted toward So Cheol.

“You’ve learned the Salho-chamsindo to some degree, at least.”
“I’ve studied the fundamentals, yes.”

So Cheol answered nothing more than that.
There was no reason to mention that he’d reached the Perfection Stage in a month, or that he’d acquired Hwang Won’s memories at Hososalordo.
Wang San tossed a book toward Son Cheol-sim.

“A foundational manual for the Salho-chamsindo.”

Son Cheol-sim caught it with one hand and opened it.
Wang San continued.

“It doesn’t just contain the fundamentals. There’s also guidance on how to drive vital energy into the bones and temper them. If he’s at Grade Two now, this will prove useful when preparing for Grade Three.”

So Cheol’s eyes drifted toward the book.
He’d already seen the essence of the fundamentals in Hwang Won’s memories. But those memories were mere fragments left behind in combat—scattered and incomplete. A formal transmission, laid out methodically from breathing technique to the tempering of bone, was a different matter entirely.
Son Cheol-sim turned a few more pages, then closed the cover.

“I’ll take this one.”

With that, his gaze turned toward Yang Jeong-cheon.

“Faction Lord.”

Yang Jeong-cheon let out a small sigh.

“I know.”

He too withdrew a book from his robe.

“The Young-sa Pa-poong Geom-beop.”

This time, even So Cheol had never heard the name before.

“It contains applications from the Completion Stage onward, including the fundamentals. Even if you don’t plan to use a sword right now, knowing another weapon does no harm.”

The book passed into Son Cheol-sim’s hands.
This time, he didn’t immediately give it to So Cheol either. He flipped through the front and back, examined the diagrams in the middle, then stacked both books on his lap.
So Cheol bowed to both men.

“I’m grateful to you both, Patriarch Wang and Faction Lord.”
“Gratitude for what.”

Son Cheol-sim cut in immediately.

“We’re not finished yet.”

Wang San’s expression hardened.

“Isn’t two books sufficient?”
“Sufficient?”

Son Cheol-sim tapped the two books with his finger.

“Both martial arts have roots within the Iron Forge Faction. Even if the fundamentals are documented here, it doesn’t compensate for the opportunity my disciple lost to go to Jucheck-sanjang this year.”

Yang Jeong-cheon rubbed his temples.

“So what more do you want?”

Son Cheol-sim smiled as if he’d been waiting for this.

“It’s simple.”

So Cheol remembered what had happened four days ago at the sight of that smile.
The question he’d asked: what was most needed?
The moment he’d answered: not weapons, not medicine—gold coins.
So he hadn’t been asking idly after all.

“My disciples’ household isn’t exactly flush with wealth.”

Son Cheol-sim spoke.

“Give me money.”

Wang San’s brow furrowed.

“How much.”
“Fifty gold coins.”

So Cheol blinked once. Four days ago, Son Cheol-sim had said more was better.
But he never expected him to ask for as much as fifty taels.
Wang San half-rose from his seat.

“Fifty coins?”
“Your ears working fine?”
“Son Cheol-sim, don’t overstep.”
“Who overstepped first?”

Son Cheol-sim’s voice dropped.

“You said merit would decide rankings. The moment my disciple forged a Grade-2 weapon, you ended the council. And then you expected me to smile and send him off with a ‘do better next year’?”

Wang San’s face reddened.
Yang Jeong-cheon stepped between them.

“Fifty is too much.”
“The Faction Master agreed to it too.”
“So I published the book, didn’t I?”
“A book and money aren’t the same thing.”

Son Cheol-sim bared his teeth at Yang Jeong-cheon.

“And if you think about all the money I’ve brought in from Jang-sim-dang all this time, fifty coins is a bargain.”

Wang San spoke coldly.

“Ten coins.”
“Forty.”
“Twelve.”
“Thirty-five.”

Yang Jeong-cheon raised his palm to stop them both.

“Both of you, stop.”

After a brief silence, he spoke.

“Twenty taels.”

Son Cheol-sim’s eyebrows twitched.
Wang San did not answer immediately.

“If you don’t like it, we’re done.”

Son Cheol-sim tucked the two swords into his embrace and rose from his seat.

“I suppose I’d better start packing up Jang-sim-dang’s affairs.”

Yang Jeong-cheon’s face hardened.

“Not this again.”
“The Iron Forge Faction can’t even keep one disciple in line, so why should I linger here?”

Son Cheol-sim glanced around the Council Chamber.

“I’ll just detach Jang-sim-dang and open my own forge. Those who need weapons will find their way to me.”
“Master.”

So Cheol looked at Son Cheol-sim this time as well.
His tone was rough, yet his face held no real intent to leave at once.
Still, the thought of the Iron Forge Faction without Jang-sim-dang was no idle threat to dismiss lightly.
In the end, Wang San gritted his teeth.

“Twenty taels.”

Son Cheol-sim’s footsteps halted.

“In gold coins.”
“I know.”

Only then did Son Cheol-sim sit back down.

“That settles it, then.”

His expression made no pretense of joy.
So Cheol bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.
* * *
Even after So Cheol and Son Cheol-sim left, the air in the Council Chamber remained tense for some time.
Wang San picked up the empty teacup, saw there wasn’t a drop of water left, and set it down again.
Twenty taels.
It wasn’t a matter that would end with twenty taels this time. Once Yeo-ui took his place in Jucheck-sanjang, Wang San would have to make his own move.
The Jucheck Heukhap-gun.

If Yeo-ui established himself within their ranks and drew him in, the path to the fourth rank would grow far wider. The problem was that it would require money as well.
As his thoughts reached that point, Wang San’s expression grew darker still.
If Hwang Tae-gon had lived, there would have been money flowing in from the Fishing Village every year. If Hwang Won had lived, there would have been someone to handle such errands directly.
Now he had neither.
Wang San still laid the blame at the feet of one man.

“The Master of the Radiant Sage School……”

The low, ground-out words carried a killing intent.
Hwang Tae-gon had vanished, Hwang Won had been slain, and even the martial men they had sent together had returned as corpses from Sogang.
Wang San stopped drumming his fingers on the table.

“Once this is finished, I’ll have them for certain.”

Yeo-ui stood across from him in silence.
Wang San looked toward him.

“Yeo-ui.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I’ve already settled your family.”

Yeo-ui’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t let your mind wander elsewhere now.”

Wang San leaned back in his chair.

“In seven days, an Inner Sect Disciple from Jucheck-sanjang will arrive. Build yourself up as much as you can before then.”

Yeo-ui lifted his head briefly, then lowered it again.

“I shall keep it in mind.”

His voice was lower this time.
Wang San didn’t linger on the response.
Yang Jeong-cheon beside him merely stroked his beard slowly.
The Young-sa Pa-poong Geom-beop he had given So Cheol came to mind.
The boy had absorbed the Jinsan-gong swiftly with his grand, sweeping constitution. Yet there was talk that even after observing the Salho-chamsindo from Yeo-ui, he had grasped the essentials quickly.
How far could one accept martial arts of such different natures?
Yang Jeong-cheon’s gaze drifted toward the closed door.

‘Could it align with the founder’s transmission as well?’

It was still only speculation.
Yet it was worth verifying.
* * *
On the way back to Jang-sim-dang, Son Cheol-sim suddenly stopped.

“Take these.”

Two books and a small silk pouch flew toward So Cheol.
He caught them hurriedly.
They were hefty.
When he cracked open the pouch, yellow light gleamed from within.
Twenty taels of gold coins.
What he had mentioned wanting four days ago had come directly into his hand.

“Master.”
“What.”
“Did you plan this from the beginning?”
“To some extent.”

Son Cheol-sim resumed walking.

“If you’d seen how Wang San treats Yeo-ui lately, it would be strange not to notice.”

So Cheol fell into step beside him.

“Is that why you asked what I wanted first?”
“If things go wrong, my disciple shouldn’t end up empty-handed.”
“Fifty gold coins—isn’t that rather steep?”

Son Cheol-sim stopped and looked at So Cheol.

“You said the more the better.”
“That’s true.”
“Then take it quietly.”

There was nothing left to argue with.
After a moment, Son Cheol-sim asked.

“Do you resent me?”
“Resent whom?”
“Me.”

So Cheol lifted the silk purse in his hand once.

“If you place twenty gold coins in my hand and then ask such a thing, it’s difficult to answer honestly.”

Son Cheol-sim’s lips curved upward.

“A man corrupted by money.”
“You made me this way, Master.”
“When did I ever—”

The two walked a few more steps.
Only then did So Cheol speak with something closer to sincerity.

“To say I have no grievances would be a lie.”

Son Cheol-sim did not respond.

“You said the decision would be based on merit, and I did what I could. But the matter was resolved somewhere beyond my sight.”
“Yes.”
“Still, I thought there must have been a reason why you didn’t stop it.”

Son Cheol-sim exhaled long through his nose.

“Wang San is obsessed with affairs at Jucheck-sanjang right now.”

His voice dropped lower.

“And he’s already won over the faction leader somehow. Even if I’d overturned the whole thing in today’s meeting, the recommendation wouldn’t have come back to you.”

So Cheol nodded.
It was the same feeling he’d had the moment he entered the Council Chamber.

“So you tore it away first?”
“That’s right.”

Son Cheol-sim let out a dry laugh.

“But who said the recommendation was over?”

So Cheol’s steps halted.
Son Cheol-sim turned to look back at him.

“Seven days from now, an Inner Sect Disciple from Jucheck-sanjang will come in person.”
“You knew?”
“That’s why I held still.”

Son Cheol-sim flicked So Cheol’s chest with his finger.

“You’re going to show that man your forging skill.”
“A Grade 2 forged weapon?”
“Will you be satisfied with that?”

So Cheol’s eyes shifted.
Son Cheol-sim laughed.

“You have seven days.”
“……Are you telling me to forge a Grade 3 weapon?”
“If you can manage it.”

Son Cheol-sim spoke casually, but So Cheol’s eyebrows rose. It hadn’t been long since he’d first forged a Grade 2 weapon. To be told to hammer out the next rank within seven days was no light matter.

“If you can’t manage it, you can still present a Grade 2.”

Son Cheol-sim shrugged with perfect nonchalance.

“I heard from someone who’d visited Jucheck-sanjang before—apparently they value the craft of weapon-making there in an unusual way.”
“Why is that?”
“If I knew that, I’d be running Jucheck-sanjang instead of hammering iron at the Iron Forge Faction.”
“That’s true enough.”
“So don’t waste time trying to guess the reason. Just show them what you can do.”

Son Cheol-sim gestured with his chin toward the two manuals So Cheol was holding.

“Study the Salho-chamsindo again, and master the Young-sa Pa-poong Geom-beop as well. Those two arts might prove more important later than a position at Jucheck-sanjang.”

So Cheol glanced down at the cover of the Young-sa Pa-poong Geom-beop.
Jinsan-gong, Salho-chamsindo, Young-sa Pa-poong Geom-beop—he still couldn’t fathom why Son Cheol-sim spoke of three martial arts that seemed rooted in entirely different traditions as if they were bound together.

“I understand.”
“And.”

Son Cheol-sim smiled with a knowing edge.

“You’ve already taken what you needed from Wang San.”

He turned his steps back toward Jang-sim-dang.

“Whether Jucheck-sanjang takes only Yeo-ui after seeing what you can do—we’ll find out when the time comes.”

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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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