Episode 266: Return of the Demonic Instructor
Three days later, Sabigang returned to see Josinryang.
Despite the brisk early winter breeze, Josinryang was drenched in sweat. He had finished his work and was now resting on a chair in front of the forge.
“Is the work done?” Sabigang asked.
Josinryang glanced up at him. “Ah, you’re here.”
“You must have been so absorbed you didn’t even notice us coming.”
“Indeed. I burned myself out.”
“How did it feel to wield the hammer and anvil again?”
A faint smile briefly touched Josinryang’s lips, but he quickly reverted to his usual cold demeanor. “Enough talk. Just take what I’ve made.”
Sabigang chuckled silently.
Yusongryong approached eagerly. “Is the balance right?”
“There’s nothing I can’t fix,” Josinryang replied arrogantly, but Yusongryong didn’t argue. If this grumpy instructor acknowledged it, there must be something special.
“How did you adjust the balance? Did you engrave something?”
Josinryang looked at him seriously. “How do you memorize martial arts techniques with that thick skull of yours?”
Yusongryong glared at him. “You old coot! I’ll use that perfectly balanced sword handle to chop your head off! Just you wait… mmph! mmph!”
As Yusongryong ranted, Churyang clamped a hand over his mouth, calming him down.
Josinryang merely smirked.
Seoktan-gang spoke in a gruff voice. “Where’s mine?”
“Hmph! Youngsters these days have no manners. Did you leave it with me?”
Seoktan-gang felt his temper rising but held it in. “Thank you for making it for me. But I need to see if it truly suits me.”
“Ha! You sure know how to twist words. Just don’t come back groveling. I can’t stand you demonic sect types.”
“What did you say?”
Seoktan-gang’s brow furrowed in frustration.
Sabigang intervened again. “Come on, just go and see for yourself.”
Seoktan-gang swallowed his anger and strode into the forge. On one side lay Yusongryong’s greatsword, and on the other, a box.
‘Is this it…?’
Opening the box, Seoktan-gang’s eyes widened. Inside were two black sickles, connected by a chain, seemingly made of the same material.
As he picked them up, an indescribable surge of energy coursed through him.
“Ah…!”
Now he understood why Sabigang had said what he did, and why the grumpy old man had made those remarks. They weren’t insults; they were blessings.
His heart raced. It felt like wearing a perfectly tailored suit.
Seoktan-gang emerged from the forge, holding the sickles.
“Tan-gang…?” Yusongryong’s eyes widened at the sight of the sickles.
But Seoktan-gang’s gaze was more serious than ever.
In the next moment,
The sickles sliced through the air with a sharp, whistling sound.
They danced through the air, leaving a trail of deadly intent and slicing through the space with precision.
To anyone watching, it was clear that Seoktan-gang was a natural with the chain sickles.
He had lost his parents, who had taught him the art of the sickle, at a young age, so he never realized that the true potential of his martial art lay in wielding two sickles.
The idea of connecting them with a chain was entirely Josinryang’s.
The moment he saw Seoktan-gang, he knew his instincts were right.
Though he was the only blacksmith of his time who could manipulate metal with internal energy, he knew nothing of martial arts. Yet, after sixty years in the trade, he could tell at a glance what weapon suited a person.
It seemed unbelievable, but it was true. He had a genius for it.
Of course, in this era, a blacksmith, no matter how skilled, was still considered a commoner.
After a long while of weaving patterns in the air, Seoktan-gang finally stopped, drenched in sweat.
This feeling was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.
The thrill he felt when he first mastered the life-and-death threshold was indescribable, but this was different.
He felt foolish for never considering changing his weapon.
His gaze shifted to Yusongryong, who was watching in awe.
Perhaps it was because she had been the one to buy him his first sword.
When he was young, Yusongryong had bought him a sword every time his old one wore out.
Her reason was simple.
“I think you’d look really cool wielding a sword.”
As someone who wielded a greatsword, she seemed to have a fascination with the elegant curves of a saber.
So he swung the sword without question.
But that wasn’t right.
His martial art was clearly of the demonic sect, and the sickle was its true weapon.
The name and weapon reeked of the demonic sect, and he liked it all the more for it.
As Seoktan-gang approached Josinryang to bow, the old man stopped him.
“I told you not to. I won’t accept it.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t stand you demonic sect types pretending to be all noble and cool.”
“Were you making weapons for the orthodox sects?”
”…That’s none of your business.”
Josinryang’s cold response ended the conversation, but Seoktan-gang bowed deeply.
“Thank you for crafting this precious weapon. I’ll treasure it for life.”
“Fool. Treasure something else. If you treasure that, you’ll end up losing your head. Use it freely.”
Seoktan-gang understood the true meaning behind the harsh words and smiled faintly, nodding.
Meanwhile, Yusongryong, who had been glaring at Josinryang moments ago, softened her stance.
Seeing Seoktan-gang’s transformation had changed her perspective.
“Master, you’re truly amazing, aren’t you?”
“Why the sudden change? Got a cold? Blow your nose if it’s stuffed.”
“Oh, come on, Master. Are you still mad about what I said?”
“Ugh, this is scarier. Just take your weapon and go!”
“Alright, alright. Thank you.”
Yusongryong winked and happily walked into the forge.
There lay the greatsword, wrapped in cloth, but its size was unmistakable.
Even covered, its sheer size revealed it as the greatsword.
Yusongryong carried it outside.
The cloth still hid any changes, but she was sure it was different.
‘It must be. I may not like that old man, but seeing the chain sickles he made for Tan-gang, his skill is undeniable.’
Sabigang had said the greatsword’s balance was off from the start.
It was nearly perfect, so there was little room for improvement.
Before unwrapping it, Yusongryong asked again.
“If you didn’t engrave anything, how did you balance it?”
“Tsk, tsk. So ignorant. The greatsword was too heavy for you. Engraving on the blade threw off the balance. So what could I do?”
“Ah…!”
“Yes, by engraving on the handle, I balanced it and reduced the weight. It’s now better suited for you.”
“I see. You balanced it by adding more engravings.”
Yusongryong looked at the greatsword with eager eyes and slowly closed them.
She wanted to fully sense the weight balance, so she shut out her sight.
Focusing solely on the feel in her hands.
With her eyes closed, she unwrapped the cloth and took her stance.
In the next moment,
“Haah!”
With a sharp cry, the greatsword sliced through the air.
Whoosh! Swish, swish, whoosh!
Yusongryong danced with the greatsword, her movements fluid and graceful.
‘It’s definitely lighter! Could adding a few more engravings really make such a difference?’
She realized she knew little about weapons.
Who would have thought it could be so different?
With her eyes closed, she continued her dance, and at some point, she opened them.
The greatsword was soaring.
It whipped through the air, creating waves as it went.
In that moment, she felt as if she had reached the pinnacle of her abilities.
After a long while of slicing through the air, Yusongryong finally stopped.
She took a deep breath and looked at the blade with a grateful expression.
“It’s different.”
“Ahem. It’s not different; it’s finally right.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“No need for thanks.”
“By the way, what’s the new inscription?”
Yoo Song-ryeong eagerly shifted her gaze to the handle.
The inscription, starting from the blade, read:
Touch and you die.
…
Or maybe not.
A vein throbbed on Yoo Song-ryeong’s forehead.
She twitched her cheek.
“This, this is… what on earth…”
“Ahem. To achieve perfect balance, those were the only words that fit. Honestly, it’s all because of the words you wanted in the first place… tsk tsk. I think it’s your fault for the initial inscription…”
“You old geezer! Then why not just draw something instead? What kind of nonsense is this?”
“What, what? Old geezer? Do you think a random drawing would suit such a phrase? There’s a thing called context, you know!”
“Context? You old coot! How about I show you some context with a punch? Seems like the perfect time for it!”
“Look at this crazy woman! One moment you’re all grateful, and now you’re losing your mind and throwing a fit!”
“Shut up! Get ready, old man! I’m about to slice you up with this perfectly balanced and contextually appropriate sword!”
Her voice boomed in front of the forge, echoing as if it could shake mountains.