Hyun Gong spoke up, breaking the silence.
“When do we need to be ready?”
“What? Are you planning to come along too?”
“Of course. I heard a warrior is setting off to repay a debt. How could I just sit back and watch?”
Upon hearing that Dang Moo-jin was heading north, Hyun Gong immediately declared his intention to join him. It was a chance to make a good impression, and good impressions often lead to favorable outcomes.
Unlike Hyun Gong, who was eager to join, Namgung Myung seemed a bit reluctant.
“Why do you assume I’m going too?”
“Why wouldn’t you? You know both Yu and Wi, don’t you? Besides, there’s nothing keeping you here.”
Since returning to Chengdu, while Dang Moo-jin and the Tang family were undergoing changes, Namgung Myung hadn’t been idle. He had been quietly building his own reputation, roaming Sichuan and pilfering from the homes of officials.
Despite countless escapades over walls, Namgung Myung hadn’t become rich. Unlike typical thieves, he wasn’t after wealth for its own sake. Instead, he swapped items between homes, leaving a more lasting impression than mere theft.
This earned him the nickname “Shin-tu,” and tales of his exploits became a source of entertainment for those bored with their mundane lives. Namgung Myung secretly enjoyed the attention.
The problem was that there wasn’t a single high-ranking official or wealthy person in Sichuan who hadn’t been targeted by him. He had achieved all his goals.
Namgung Myung frowned.
“Who says I have nothing to do? Do you think I just live as a petty thief?”
”…Isn’t that the case?”
“Of course not. I was planning to visit home soon.”
“Home? Why?”
“You mentioned wanting to see the Hyeonwon Sword, didn’t you?”
Dang Moo-jin had crafted a sword for Namgung Myung, but it hadn’t been chosen as the Namgung family’s heirloom. The family, known for their extravagant spending on sword collections, already had a sword that rivaled Dang Moo-jin’s craftsmanship—the Hyeonwon Sword, a symbol of the Namgung family head.
Though Dang Moo-jin had never seen the Hyeonwon Sword, he didn’t believe its creator surpassed his own skills. However, a sword’s value isn’t judged solely on sharpness. It includes aesthetics, symbolism, and history.
Considering all these factors, Dang Moo-jin’s sword couldn’t surpass the Hyeonwon Sword. Thus, the Namgung family’s heirloom remained the Hyeonwon Sword, and Namgung Myung had managed to retrieve the sword Dang Moo-jin made through some means.
The important point was that even with external factors, the Hyeonwon Sword was considered on par with Dang Moo-jin’s creation.
Dang Moo-jin had once expressed his curiosity about the Hyeonwon Sword to Namgung Myung. However, Namgung Myung’s offer to bring it back sounded suspicious.
A man expelled from his family planning to take the family head’s symbol? It couldn’t be done through normal means.
Dang Moo-jin asked Namgung Myung, “Didn’t you just say you don’t live as a petty thief?”
“If the target is the Hyeonwon Sword, it’s hardly petty theft.”
Namgung Myung spoke confidently, while Dang Moo-jin felt a headache coming on.
“You’ll get yourself killed. If you’re caught stealing the Hyeonwon Sword, it won’t just be your arm on the line.”
“Don’t worry. My father can’t carry the Hyeonwon Sword everywhere. He has to put it down when he bathes, right? While I’m at it, I might grab a few secret manuals too.”
Why couldn’t he obtain the sword and manuals through legitimate means, especially when it was his own family? Dang Moo-jin couldn’t understand Namgung Myung.
Dang Moo-jin sighed deeply.
“There are more experts in the Namgung family than just your father… Never mind. Going to Anhui will take a couple of months. We don’t have time to waste, so just come along.”
Namgung Myung pouted, clearly displeased, but didn’t voice further complaints.
While the conversation about swords continued between Dang Moo-jin and Namgung Myung, someone nearby was quietly observing with keen interest. Hyun Gong sensed his moment had arrived.
Feigning hesitation, Hyun Gong spoke to Dang Moo-jin.
“Sorry to change the subject, but could you wait for about two weeks?”
“Why suddenly?”
“I’ve been saving up. If I work for about two more weeks, I can afford a new sword.”
The sudden request caught Dang Moo-jin off guard, and he raised an eyebrow.
“What about your current sword? Is it in bad shape?”
“It got pretty damaged fighting those assassins. I tried sharpening it, but it didn’t turn out well.”
“Let me see it.”
Hyun Gong’s story was half-truth, half-lie. His sword was still in decent condition after the fight, with only minor damage. He had maintained it well since then.
But while sharpening it, a thought crossed Hyun Gong’s mind. Perhaps he could acquire a sword rivaling the Songmun Gogeom.
From that day, Hyun Gong spent nights grinding the blade with a fine whetstone and polishing it with oiled cloth until the once-intact sword was in a sorry state. He had sacrificed sleep for half a year to achieve this.
Hyun Gong handed the sword to Dang Moo-jin, who examined it closely.
The length was standard, but the blade was unusually narrow and thin. Its condition was poor, and the balance was off.
Dang Moo-jin scrutinized the blade. The surface bore marks of fine whetstone work and countless polishings with oiled cloth.
“It doesn’t seem like you mistreated it on purpose.”
Considering the journey ahead, Dang Moo-jin couldn’t let a companion carry such a sword. He readily offered, “You call this a sword? Just wait a bit. I’ll make you a new one by tomorrow or the day after.”
Hyun Gong, inwardly celebrating, feigned surprise.
“Oh… Really?”
“Of course. If you get hurt wielding this, it puts me at risk too.”
“True, I suppose. Thanks.”
As Dang Moo-jin left with the sword, Hyun Gong silently cheered behind him.
When Dang Moo-jin entered the forge to craft a sword for the first time in ages, the blacksmiths gathered around the hearth and anvil.
As he heated the metal, Dang Moo-jin chatted with the blacksmiths. Aside from being a bit younger, he seemed no different from a novice blacksmith.
But when Dang Moo-jin picked up the hammer, the forge fell silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Many blacksmiths had stayed in Chengdu just to witness this moment.
Forging a sword requires one person to hold the tongs and another to wield the hammer. While the hammer-wielder leads, the tong-holder’s skill is crucial.
Without needing words, the tong-holder must understand the hammer-wielder’s intentions.
Today, the person holding the tongs for Dang Moo-jin was Dan Seol-young.
An older blacksmith, hoping for the role, grumbled, “Even if she’s your wife, Miss Dan’s never worked with metal. Can she handle it?”
“Don’t worry. Seol-young’s not new to holding tongs.”
Dang Moo-jin hadn’t chosen Dan Seol-young just because they were married.
Blacksmiths develop habits with experience—the angle of the hammer, the rhythm, the ideal sword shape.
Even if Dang Moo-jin wielded the hammer, if the tong-holder unconsciously imposed their own ideas, the result would reflect their influence.
But Dan Seol-young was different. Not being a blacksmith or a warrior, she had no preconceived notions of an ideal sword. She wouldn’t impose her views on Dang Moo-jin’s work.
Yet, she was the person who had crafted the most items with Dang Moo-jin, possessing a unique talent for creation.
Moreover, having spent so much time with Dang Moo-jin, she could read his intentions better than anyone. Lastly, she had strong arms for a woman.
If the goal was to create the sword he truly desired, there was no better assistant than Dan Seol-young.
Dang Moo-jin raised the hammer.
Thud!
The hammer struck the heated metal with force, scattering sparks like fireworks. These sparks could leave small scars if they touched bare skin.
But Dan Seol-young didn’t flinch. She endured the heat, even when sparks landed on her arms. The blacksmiths finally set aside their doubts.
They hammered and reheated the metal repeatedly until the blade took on a rough shape.
Hyun Gong, though unfamiliar with blacksmithing, could appreciate the beauty of the glowing blade as it gradually assumed its ideal form.
Hyungong felt a strange sense of guilt beneath the beauty.
By evening, the sword’s shape was nearly complete. Since he had no intention of adorning the scabbard or hilt with elaborate designs, all that remained was the polishing.
“I’ll grind the blade into an octagonal shape and give it a final inspection.”
With a few more hours of diligent work tomorrow, the blade would be finished. It wasn’t a masterpiece, hastily crafted from ordinary materials, but it would still surpass the quality of most swords carried by martial artists. It might even rival the swords used by Tang Mujin or Namgung Myung.
Dansulyeong, drenched in sweat just from holding the tongs, disappeared outside the forge, eager to wash up as soon as the work was done.
Meanwhile, the blacksmiths were too engrossed in admiring the nearly finished blade to notice anything else. Tang Mujin, careful not to draw attention, quietly slipped out of the forge.
Outside, there was no one following him, and the sound of hammering metal was absent. This allowed Tang Mujin to enjoy the quiet night air and the serene atmosphere.
As he made his way back to the Tang family clinic, someone approached him from the front. It was Mok Wana.
Without a word, Mok Wana handed Tang Mujin a piece of rough cloth. Though too coarse for clothing, it was more than adequate as a towel.
Wiping his sweat, Tang Mujin asked, “Aren’t you usually busy playing with Young at this hour? Did you come just to bring me this?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I don’t know what I did to deserve such luxury. Thanks.”
Tang Mujin chuckled lightly as he wiped his sweat, and Mok Wana reached out to take back the cloth.
Tang Mujin slowed his pace a bit. He couldn’t just leave Mok Wana behind.
As they walked, Mok Wana brought up a somewhat unrelated topic.
“Back in spring, I asked Elder Tang something.”
The Elder Tang Mok Wana referred to was none other than Tang Mujin’s father, Tang Jesun.
“Oh? What did you ask?”
“He dotes on Sulyeong so much. I asked what he particularly liked about her.”
“Of course, a father would be fond of his daughter-in-law. Especially since I’m his only son.”
Mok Wana laughed softly, then grew a bit more serious, lowering his head.
“But I was curious. Even before they got married, Elder Tang had a special fondness for Dansulyeong.”
“That’s true.”
Tang Mujin recalled the time when he first sent Dansulyeong to the capital and how his father had immediately considered her as a future daughter-in-law. His father cherished her so much that Tang Mujin sometimes felt sidelined.
A thought crossed his mind, and he asked Mok Wana, “Are you and my father not getting along these days?”
Mok Wana was startled and waved his hands.
“No, it’s not that. Elder Tang isn’t the type to hold grudges, and neither am I.”
“True enough.”
“Anyway, I was curious, so I asked what he liked so much about Sulyeong.”
“What did he say?”
“He said, ‘How could I not cherish a girl who came all the way from distant Hanam just for my son?’”
“Ah, yes. I think it’s remarkable too.”
Their conversation paused as they neared the clinic. Even with their destination in sight, Mok Wana’s pace slowed a bit more.
“What’s Hanam like?”
The only places Mok Wana had visited were the Tianshan Mountains in Xinjiang and the capital of Sichuan. It was natural to be curious about distant lands.
Tang Mujin replied in a relaxed tone, “It’s where the Shaolin Temple and Song Mountain are. The people are kind, and the weather is warm.”
“How far is it?”
“Well, for an average person, it would take about two months on foot.”
“Is Song Mountain farther than Tianshan?”
“No, in terms of distance, Tianshan is much farther. Probably twice as far.”
Mok Wana’s face lit up with a bright expression at Tang Mujin’s answer.
“Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“Oh, just curious.”
That was the end of their conversation. Mok Wana, who had been walking slowly, suddenly picked up the pace like a cat and entered the Tang family clinic.
Two days later, Tang Mujin, Hong Geolge, Namgung Myung, and Hyungong headed north.
Hong Geolge took the lead as their guide, steering the group between Shaanxi and Gansu.
After nearly two weeks of travel, a wide river appeared before them.
Namgung Myung asked Hong Geolge, “Is that the Yellow River?”
“No, it’s just a tributary of the Yellow River. But the territory of the orthodox martial world extends only to this tributary.”
Beyond that lay the domain of the unorthodox and the black path martial artists, as well as the lands of the barbarians.
The four of them stood silently, gazing across the river. The landscape was no different from the south side of the river.