No Tears, No Blood (1)
I rented a blacksmith’s workshop for half a day, paying the full price without haggling.
It wasn’t unusual for Kang Ho-in to rent the workshop. Despite his reputation as a swordsman, he was always polite and never tried to bargain, so the owner offered him the best space available.
The small workshop, barely a few square meters, was equipped with a forge, bellows, anvil, hammer, chisel, and tongs. I asked the owner to bring all the materials needed for sword-making.
I’ve spent my life with swords. I’ve watched the master swordsmiths of the Martial Alliance craft and repair swords countless times.
Of course, I’ve never forged a sword myself, so no matter how well I mimic them, I can’t match the precision of a true artisan.
With a mix of anticipation and nerves, I drew the Celestial Sword.
Its blade was razor-sharp. Ultimately, what I needed was this blade.
The sword’s overly ornate scabbard was not to my taste. I couldn’t walk around without a scabbard, and finding a perfect replacement was no easy task.
So, I started with the scabbard.
First, I removed the small jewels embedded in it. Once detached, they were nothing more than meaningless stones.
After removing the jewels, I used the Celestial Sword to scrape the surface of the scabbard. The blade was so sharp that it sliced through the surface with ease.
The traces of the jewels and the intricate patterns were erased, leaving the scabbard looking as if it had always been plain.
But I didn’t stop there.
I painted the scabbard a new color—black, the most common color in the martial world. With the new paint, it looked like a completely different scabbard.
Do I regret defacing the scabbard?
Not at all.
In fact, I felt a strange satisfaction. As I mentioned, I never liked such flashy decorations. I hadn’t used the Celestial Sword much because it was too ostentatious.
The sword I usually wielded, the Suramyeongwang Sword, was quite ordinary in appearance.
“Perfect.”
I smiled with satisfaction. It was my first attempt, but it turned out quite well. My knack for handling swords must have come into play.
Now, it was time to change the most important part—the sword itself.
The problem was the handle. Like the scabbard, it was too ornate, and its unique shape made it easily recognizable.
Simply removing the jewels and changing the color wouldn’t solve the problem.
After some thought, I decided to replace the handle entirely.
Once I did this, the Celestial Sword would no longer be the Celestial Sword. The craftsman who made it had considered the length and weight of the handle perfectly.
I was giving up that advantage to keep the sharp blade.
I gripped the blade with one hand and the handle with the other, infusing my strength into the sword. It was firmly attached, but it couldn’t withstand the power of my inner strength.
With a soft sound, the blade slipped from the handle.
“Sorry.”
I selected a suitable handle from the various ones made in the workshop and attached it. I used the materials and tools available, compensating for my lack of skill with my inner strength.
What I had learned from the master swordsmiths proved invaluable. Though it was rougher and cruder than their work, it made the special sword less conspicuous.
I swung the sword a few times. It wasn’t bad. I just had to think of it as a new sword and get used to it.
For the final touch, I applied a substance used in the workshop to dull the blade’s shine. Most people try to make their blades look sharper, but I did the opposite. Of course, the blade wasn’t actually dulled; it was just a visual change.
I was confident. No one would ever associate this sword with the Celestial Sword.
Even I wouldn’t recognize it as the Celestial Sword.
I swung the sword swiftly again.
The sensation of cutting through the air was different from my previous sword.
Looking at the newly transformed Celestial Sword, I was deeply satisfied.
“Until I retrieve my brother, take care of me.”
Of course, by “brother,” I meant the Suramyeongwang Sword.
I cleaned up the workshop thoroughly. I burned the original handle and the remnants of the scabbard in the forge.
I kept a few of the small jewels that had adorned the Celestial Sword. Seeing them separated from the scabbard gave me an idea worth trying.
After thanking the owner, I left the workshop.
Then, in a secluded place, I removed my disguise and burned it.
Now, the man who bought elixirs in Heukshi, visited the inn, and rented the workshop had vanished from the world forever.
“They want you to rewrite the report.”
Yang Pyeong, a military officer of the Justice Pavilion, handed back the report with caution.
“Understood, I’ll rewrite it.”
The person receiving the report was Gal Saryang. Once a revered general, he was now a colleague, burdened with the most work and constantly having to rewrite reports.
Everyone, including Yang Pyeong, knew this was the petty revenge of the new general, Sama Cheon.
But no one could offer a word of comfort. They had to be wary of Sama Cheon and Gal Saryang.
“Once it’s done, they want you to deliver it personally.”
“Understood. I’ll do that.”
“Alright, I’ll take my leave then.”
Yang Pyeong left Gal Saryang’s office with a light sigh.
“There’s no flower that blooms for ten days.”
It was a moment of realizing the coldness and futility of power.
He wanted to offer some words of comfort or help Gal Saryang with his work.
But he couldn’t. If he intervened, he might be expelled from the Justice Pavilion and end up as a gatekeeper in some remote branch.
Gal Saryang rewrote the report and went to see Sama Cheon.
There was already a guest in the room.
Someone he hoped not to encounter here—Ju Cheolryong, the leader of the Gwangwol Group. Thanks to his efforts, Ma Bonggi became the leader. Ju Cheolryong was the person Gal Saryang found most difficult to deal with.
“I didn’t realize you had a guest. I’ll come back later.”
Sama Cheon gestured for him to sit.
“Have a seat. The leader will be leaving soon.”
“Yes.”
Gal Saryang sat next to Ju Cheolryong.
Sama Cheon smiled with malicious amusement. He knew the tension between the two and relished the situation.
“It’s been a while. Why don’t you exchange greetings?”
Gal Saryang greeted Ju Cheolryong politely.
“It’s been a while.”
Ju Cheolryong merely nodded. Whether it was out of guilt or a refusal to acknowledge a mere officer, it was unclear.
Gal Saryang showed no sign of disappointment or irritation. He remained composed.
Sama Cheon enjoyed the awkwardness.
He was deliberately tormenting Gal Saryang. He assigned him far more work than others and repeatedly returned his reports.
He aimed to break Gal Saryang’s spirit.
Sama Cheon believed that if you torment someone enough, they will eventually break. It was just a matter of time and willpower, he was convinced.
“Unyielding will?”
Sama Cheon scoffed. He knew one person who had it.
Cheon Hwa-jin.
Yes, in martial arts and governance, he had an unyielding will. But he was no longer in this world. With him, that unyielding will had died.
Ju Cheolryong took his leave.
“I’ll be going now.”
“Thank you for coming despite your busy schedule.”
Even as he left, Ju Cheolryong didn’t glance at Gal Saryang.
Gal Saryang handed the rewritten report to Sama Cheon.
“Here’s the revised report.”
“Place it there.”
Gal Saryang placed the report on the desk. A pile of his reports lay there, untouched.
He calmly added his report to the stack.
“Then I’ll take my leave.”
As he was about to leave, Sama Cheon spoke.
“One more thing.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“I noticed the former leader’s sword is missing.”
“Which sword are you referring to?”
“The Suramyeongwang Sword.”
“Wasn’t it reported by the Martial Alliance?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Then I don’t know. In his later years, the leader didn’t carry a sword. I assumed it was stored by the Martial Alliance. If it’s not there, he must have disposed of it.”
“I see. You may go.”
“Yes.”
Gal Saryang bowed his head and left the room.
Sama Cheon watched him leave with a cynical gaze and spoke to the empty air.
“Are you keeping a close watch on his every move?”
A low voice answered from the ceiling.
“Yes.”
“Find out where he might have hidden the sword.”
“Understood.”
Sama Cheon leaned back in his chair, pondering.
“If he doesn’t know, where could that sword be?”
“Bring us some drinks.”
A middle-aged escort leader and a young escort sat at a table in a tavern.
Baek Pyo greeted them warmly.
“Long time no see.”
They were from a nearby escort agency and had visited a few times for drinks.
“We just returned from Gansu.”
“Is that so? You must have had a hard journey. I’ll prepare your usual snacks.”
After serving the drinks, Baek Pyo began preparing the food.
The conversation between the two escorts drifted over.
“I noticed something strange in the Gansu trade circles this time.”
“What kind of strange?”
“I heard a rumor…”
Though there were no other patrons around, the man with the distinctive hat lowered his voice, signaling the sensitivity of the topic.
“I’ve heard a rumor that Ma Song-in of the Cheondo Clan has taken over a trading group in Shaanxi.”
“Ma Song-in? Isn’t he one of the heirs of the Cheondo Clan?”
“That’s right. He’s one of the six prominent successors.”
“What could this mean?”
The man seemed to have an inkling but chose to sip his drink instead of elaborating further.
Baekpyo pretended not to hear, though he was no stranger to rumors about the Cheondo Clan. It wasn’t just Shaanxi; whispers of the clan’s influence spreading to other regions were becoming more frequent.
Such developments would have been unthinkable under the previous leader. Cheon Hwa-jin had a strong aversion to the Martial Alliance meddling in local affairs. Even without a family, he would have enforced stricter control if he had one.
The man with the hat turned to Baekpyo and asked, “Has that always been there?”
He was referring to a wooden decoration above the kitchen entrance. It was a cross-shaped piece with a sword and a saber, reminiscent of a hunter’s trophy.
“No, I put it up when I took over this place. The wall looked too bare.”
“You carved it yourself?”
“Yes, just a little hobby of mine.”
“You have quite the talent.”
“You’re too kind.”
Baekpyo followed the man’s gaze to the wooden decoration, and memories from the past surfaced.
Gal Saryang had visited shortly after the opening, bringing a gift. It was before Ma Bong-gi or Sa Ma-cheon had assumed their positions. Gal Saryang had discreetly returned a few days later, presenting a sword. To Baekpyo’s surprise, it was the Suramyungwang Sword, the unique weapon of the former leader.
“I want you to keep this sword.”
“I’m not sure I’m the right person for such a responsibility.”
“You’re the only one I trust with it. Once the new leader arrives, I’ll be under surveillance and won’t be able to visit you.”
“Gal Saryang…”
“Please, take care of it.”
“What do you plan to do with this sword?”
“I don’t know yet. But I can’t bear the thought of it falling into their hands.”
Baekpyo understood Gal Saryang’s sentiment. The sword would remind him of Cheon Hwa-jin, just as it did for Baekpyo.
He nodded. “Alright, I’ll keep it safe.”
“Thank you.”
The man’s request for more drinks pulled Baekpyo from his reverie.
“You’re really going for it today.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been back. I plan to drink until I can’t stand straight.”
“Haha, that’s fine by me. In honor of your return, this dish is on the house.”
“Great! That’s why I love this place. Hahaha.”
Like all the other patrons who had inquired about the decoration, the man with the hat soon lost interest in it.