The two of them left the Namgung Clan’s estate and headed toward the forge Namgung Jincheon had mentioned.
Tang Mujin felt a slight unease. Gwiui wore an unusually serious expression, which was unsettling.
It’s more disconcerting when someone who’s always cheerful suddenly turns serious than when a typically stern person gets angry.
Unable to bear the silence, Tang Mujin spoke up.
“What’s wrong? Did you run into someone you don’t get along with?”
“No, it’s not that. Running into a few awkward people is no big deal; it happens all the time. The problem is your behavior.”
“What do you mean? Are you talking about that ridiculous story about the sword having offspring? I know it sounds absurd, but I had no other excuse at the time. You played along, so why bring it up now?”
“It’s not about the sword having offspring or anything like that. That’s not the issue.”
Gwiui tapped the side of his head, as if organizing his thoughts, then glanced at Tang Mujin.
“I’ve told you before: it’s better to be a mad dog than a pushover. Why do you think I said that?”
Tang Mujin had brushed off the “pushover and mad dog” talk lightly. Gwiui joked too much to take everything seriously.
“Isn’t it about not being underestimated?”
“Exactly. What does it mean to be underestimated in the martial world?”
“Someone who’s weak?”
“That’s part of it. But there’s someone even more underestimated: someone who doesn’t retaliate. In that sense, you trying to cover Namgung Myung’s malice with kindness makes you a perfect pushover.”
The conclusion of Gwiui’s serious talk was that Tang Mujin was a pushover. Tang Mujin replied, somewhat sulkily.
“So what if I am? A generous person like me can afford to be kind. It’s not like making a sword takes months; a few days of effort is all it takes.”
“No, you shouldn’t have been kind in this case. Remember, kindness should be met with kindness, and malice with malice.”
It was a straightforward answer, almost too much so. Tang Mujin couldn’t quite grasp it.
“How was I supposed to show malice to Namgung Myung? Just thinking about Namgung Jincheon makes my knees shake.”
Gwiui clicked his tongue, looking at Tang Mujin.
“Who said you had to show malice? If you’re not capable, you might not be able to repay kindness or retaliate against malice. Most of life’s grudges are left unresolved. But you shouldn’t repay kindness with malice, nor should you cover malice with kindness. You didn’t just let the malice slide; you tried to repay it with kindness.”
Repaying kindness with malice is something anyone can understand; such people are often called ungrateful. But the idea of not covering malice with kindness was harder to grasp.
“There’s no need to be so rigid. Whether someone’s intentions are good or bad, if I have the means, I can choose to be generous. I showed kindness first, so surely Namgung Jinya and Namgung Myung will appreciate it.”
Tang Mujin’s father, Tang Jeseon, often treated the poor without charge. He did so with friends, acquaintances, and even those he didn’t get along with. By showing kindness first, old grudges often faded away. Sometimes, they received more in return than the cost of medicine—like a basket of delicious fruit or a pair of well-made shoes.
Such experiences had been passed down through generations, and Tang Mujin grew up hearing that one should offer kindness first. It was why the Tang family had been beloved and able to serve as physicians for generations.
Gwiui frowned as he listened to Tang Mujin’s story.
“Well, a guy who’s spent his life brewing herbal medicine in the outskirts wouldn’t understand this.”
“I’ve never been called stupid before.”
“No, it’s not about being stupid. It’s that you don’t understand the ways of the martial world. Listen carefully. If you repay kindness with malice, you’ll find no one willing to extend a hand to you. But if you repay malice with kindness, you’ll attract wolves looking to devour you.”
“But—”
“Just listen. If you cover malice with kindness, nine out of ten will repay your kindness with even greater kindness. Martial artists are people too, and people know how to appreciate kindness. But one out of ten will show you malice again.”
“Then there’s the answer. If I don’t show kindness, I’ll face ten people’s malice, but if I do, I’ll only face one. It’s better to be kind.”
Gwiui scoffed.
“That answer is proof you don’t understand the ways of the martial world. Malice toward a physician might result in bad rumors or grumbling when you meet on the street. But malice among martial artists ends with steel and blood.”
In the distance, the old forge came into view. Gwiui’s pace slowed, as if he wanted to finish the conversation before they entered.
“You can handle ten people blocking your path. You can run, retreat, or rely on friends to overcome them. But you can’t handle the one who draws a blade behind your back. Don’t create danger behind you by handing out kindness cheaply.”
Gwiui’s pace slowed even more. The two walked like snails, the wind gentle around them.
“Why do you think Namgung Jinya lowered himself before someone like you, who’s barely second-rate? It’s simple. Namgung Jinya is a seasoned martial artist who knows how hard it is to overlook malice. Why did I cut off the conversation with Namgung Jinya? It’s equally simple. I know how much trouble such actions can cause.”
Gwiui finally stopped walking. He crossed his arms and looked at Tang Mujin with a stern expression. It didn’t feel like he was looking at a mere companion. More like an older brother, a senior in the martial world, or perhaps something else.
“So, what should I have done?”
“I told you, justice must prevail. The basic principle is to set things right. You should have told Namgung Jincheon the truth and let Namgung Myung face the consequences.”
“But Namgung Jinya said that would mean Namgung Myung would be imprisoned or have his martial arts crippled. That’s too harsh.”
Gwiui nodded slightly, as if agreeing.
“Stopping at covering up Namgung Myung’s crime would have been fine. Like you said, someone else stole the item, and the sword just ended up in Namgung Myung’s hands. That would have been the best course. But deciding to make a new sword and show kindness was foolish. It was too much.”
Tang Mujin understood what Gwiui was trying to convey. But it wasn’t easy to accept it deep in his heart. The lessons he’d learned as a physician and Gwiui’s advice were similar yet vastly different.
Gwiui stood there for a while, maintaining the serious atmosphere, then finally chuckled. The tension eased a bit.
“You’re a soft-hearted fool… Never mind. Everyone learns after getting burned once, but few understand before it happens.”
A cool breeze blew down the hillside. The two of them didn’t enter the forge but walked slowly around it. It was a bit removed from the village, so it seemed unlikely anyone would come by.
“Still, remember not to cover malice with kindness. You’re a physician, and you’ll be offering kindness to many people, so it’s even more important.”
The only sound was their footsteps. Tang Mujin broke the silence with a question.
”…Do you think Namgung Myung will harm me?”
“Who knows? But he’s probably not inherently malicious. If he were, he would have killed you or made sure his actions weren’t discovered.”
Tang Mujin let out a sigh of relief, stretched lightly, and entered the forge. The dusty hearth roared to life, and soon the sound of hammering filled the air.
Gwiui didn’t enter the forge. Instead, he sat outside, reminiscing until the sun set.
Five days later, Tang Mujin and Gwiui headed back to the Namgung Clan. A few people watched them, whispering among themselves.
“They’re back.”
In a world where entertainment was scarce, the presence of onlookers was no surprise. Even though the banquet should have ended days ago, many still lingered around the Namgung estate, prolonging the festivities. A banquet only ends when all the guests leave, and as long as it continues, the host must entertain them.
The onlookers followed Tang Mujin and Gwiui as they entered the Namgung Clan’s grounds. Just like five days ago, Namgung Jincheon sat at the head of the table, flanked by Namgung Jinya, Namgung Myung, and a dozen other clan leaders.
Tang Mujin glanced at Namgung Myung, who sat beside Namgung Jincheon. His face was a mix of fear and barely concealed guilt.
All eyes were on Gwiui. But he remained silent. He was merely a guarantor; the protagonist of this gathering was Tang Mujin.
Namgung Jincheon addressed Tang Mujin in a calm voice.
“I’m curious. Did the sword have offspring?”
A low chuckle spread through the room. No one present truly believed the tale of a sword having offspring. Their interests lay elsewhere. First, what kind of lie would this audacious young man spin to claim the Namgung Clan’s treasured sword? Second, what was Gwiui’s reason for siding with him?
If there was one more point of interest, it was how the two would meet their end for insulting the Namgung Clan.
The warriors of the Namgung family fixed their sharp, piercing gazes on Dang Mujin. The intensity of their stares felt like they could cut through flesh.
Faced with such pressure, Dang Mujin’s heart raced. Yet, he managed to maintain a facade of nonchalance.
“Indeed, I’ve birthed a sturdy offspring.”
Amidst the crowd’s mocking laughter, Dang Mujin drew two identical swords from his side.
The onlookers nodded knowingly. It was the oldest trick in the book: swapping out one item for another that looked identical. But pulling it off successfully was nearly impossible, especially against the Namgung family, who had dedicated their lives to the sword.
The crowd murmured.
“He’s really gone off the deep end, getting involved in this.”
“Hasn’t he always lived on the edge? It’s a wonder he’s survived this long.”
At a signal from Namgung Jinchun, the family’s chief steward approached Dang Mujin and took the swords. He placed one at the far left and the other at the far right of the gathered family members.
Namgung Hwan, seated at the left end, received one of the swords. Namgung Jinchun spoke to those around him.
“Swing it once and pass it along.”
Namgung Hwan unsheathed the sword in his hand. The blade, simple yet elegant, gleamed in the sunlight.
‘This is the real deal.’
Like many others, Namgung Hwan had devoted his life to mastering the sword. At his level, he could judge a sword’s quality without even swinging it. A true masterpiece reveals its worth through balance, sheen, and aura alone.
Confident in the sword’s authenticity, Namgung Hwan swung it with relish. Opportunities to wield such a fine weapon were rare.
He savored the moment.
’…Magnificent.’
The blade sliced through the air with a sharpness that was palpable. He longed to test it against another sword, to engage in a duel, to stake his life on its edge.
Reluctantly, he passed the sword to Namgung Jinsul, who eagerly took his turn, his face lighting up as he swung the blade.
Meanwhile, the sword that started on the right made its way to Namgung Hwan. Namgung Jinsul’s expression was peculiar as he handed it over.
Namgung Hwan was uneasy. He didn’t want his senses dulled by a shoddy imitation.
But he wasn’t there to indulge his desires. With some reluctance, he drew the newly received sword.
And was taken aback.
’…Why is the genuine article back here?’
He swung it through the air. The sensation was unmistakably sharp, as if imbued with power.
Namgung Hwan declared with certainty.
“There’s been a mix-up. The genuine sword came to me twice.”
The other family heads hadn’t raised any concerns yet, likely still uncertain. Namgung Hwan enjoyed a moment of superiority, until Namgung Unjung, seated at the opposite end, spoke up.
“No, the genuine sword came to me twice as well.”
Namgung Hwan stood, unable to hide his disappointment in Namgung Unjung.
With so many watching, how could a family head display such poor judgment? Better to remain silent and be thought average.
He approached Namgung Unjung, extending his hand with a disdainful glance.
“Let me see the sword.”
The sword in Namgung Unjung’s hand was placed in Namgung Hwan’s left. And again, he felt that strange sensation.
This one was genuine too.
“What is this…?”
He swung it through the air, feeling the blade’s keen edge.
The balance, though seemingly fragile, was perfect. The grip, though rough, was unmistakably authentic.
It couldn’t be. One of these had to be a fake, a poorly crafted imitation.
Yet his senses insisted both were genuine.
Namgung Hwan finally understood the doubt that had clouded Namgung Jinsul’s face.
As he stammered, Namgung Jinchun asked.
“The swords moved without mixing. Tell me, Namgung Hwan. The sword in your left hand, the one in your right. Which is genuine?”
Namgung Hwan looked around, flustered.
The young swindler, the mysterious figure, and dozens of onlookers awaited his answer.
He had to say something, but no answer came to mind.
So he bowed his head.
”…I don’t know. My judgment is lacking; I thought both were genuine.”
A few bold onlookers jeered.
“Some master you are, can’t even tell swords apart?”
Then, a voice from the crowd reached Namgung Hwan’s ears.
“Weren’t they both genuine from the start?”
Yes, that was the answer. Namgung Hwan lifted his head and spoke.
“Yes! Both are genuine. Twin swords forged by the same hand.”
Namgung Jinchun laughed at his words.
“Indeed. They might be twins, born from the same womb.”
He pointed to Dang Mujin, and Namgung Hwan followed his gaze.
In Dang Mujin’s hand was yet another identical sword.
“What…?”
Namgung Hwan’s mind reeled. Not two, but three?
Could the swords have truly multiplied? No, impossible. At least one of the three had to be a fake.
Namgung Hwan approached Dang Mujin and snatched the sword from his hand.
He drew it and swung it.
The familiar technique he’d practiced thousands of times.
His senses told him this sword was genuine too.
Namgung Hwan looked around in bewilderment. The onlookers were just as confused. Dang Mujin and the mysterious figure wore confident expressions.
Namgung Hwan usually cared about others’ opinions.
But now, he had no time to worry about how foolish he looked or the spectacle he was making.
“This is strange. I can’t tell. There’s no fake…”
Namgung Hwan, a master swordsman, had declared all three swords genuine. The onlookers were stunned.
He wasn’t alone. Other Namgung warriors nodded, confirming the swords they held were genuine too.
The crowd was filled with questions.
What trick had been played?
Could it be some kind of hallucinogen? No, not on so many Namgung warriors.
Was it a staged performance? No reason for that.
Were there three genuine swords from the start? That seemed odd too.
Had they secretly forged the swords? Impossible. Swords aren’t made on a whim, and even if they were, the Namgung warriors wouldn’t mistake a poorly made sword.
Or had the swords truly multiplied? That was absurd.
Every possibility seemed far-fetched. The crowd buzzed with speculation, voices blending into a hum.
Then, Namgung Jinchun lightly stomped the ground. Dust rose, and the chatter ceased.
Everyone turned their attention to Namgung Jinchun.
“Namgung Hwan claims all three swords are genuine. The other heads and leaders agree. Can anyone guess why?”
The Namgung warriors shook their heads. No onlookers spoke up.
Namgung Jinchun chuckled softly.
“Since no one can guess, we must respect Dang Mujin’s claim.”
It was a declaration, a decision not to question the matter further.
Dang Mujin approached Namgung Hwan and extended his hand. Namgung Hwan, almost unconsciously, returned the sword.
Dang Mujin, holding all three swords, walked towards Namgung Myung. His knees trembled slightly, though few noticed.
Namgung Myung’s heart pounded wildly. His eyes flickered with anxiety.
In front of so many onlookers, before the elders of the family, it seemed Dang Mujin might accuse him of theft.
But Dang Mujin spoke softly.
“Even a stray dog searches for a safe place when it’s about to give birth. There must be a good reason why this sword has found its way to you, Namgung Myung, as its time draws near.”
Dang Moo-jin placed one of the newly forged swords in front of Namgung Myung.
“Please, treat it with care.”
As Dang Moo-jin finished speaking, Namgung Jin-cheon clapped his hands lightly.
“We’ve witnessed something rare and received a precious sword. How can we not celebrate today? Everyone, stay and enjoy the day a little longer. As for Dang Moo-jin and Gwi-ui, please spend the night in our guest quarters.”
The feast, which was winding down, was suddenly revived with more food and drink.
The onlookers, buzzing with curiosity about the unexpected turn of events, gradually succumbed to the effects of the alcohol.
The last day of the feast was even more lively than the first. After all, the success of a feast isn’t measured by its length but by the excitement it brings.
And the three swords Dang Moo-jin had presented were the highlight, leaving nothing to be desired.
Night had fallen. The spectators were boisterously drunk.
Dang Moo-jin and Gwi-ui lay in the most luxurious guesthouse of the Namgung family. It was Dang Moo-jin’s first time in such a splendid building.
Having had a few drinks himself, his cheeks were slightly flushed.
Perhaps it wasn’t the alcohol but the thrill of the day that lingered.
“Ah, what a relief. I thought things might go south.”
“Go south? With so many eyes watching? The Namgung warriors may be reckless, but they wouldn’t draw swords in front of an audience.”
“It’s not just about drawing swords. Just meeting Namgung Jin-cheon’s gaze made my legs tremble. And I had to keep a straight face through it all.”
“You’re such a coward.”
Gwi-ui chuckled. He wanted to tease him more, but he had to admit Dang Moo-jin handled the situation quite well. Admirably, even.
Dang Moo-jin grinned sheepishly.
“Well, at least for now, everything’s settled, grudges and all.”
The commotion Namgung Myung had stirred was resolved under Namgung Jin-cheon’s authority. With no secrets exposed and a sword gained, Namgung Myung had no reason to hold a grudge. Even if he did, he couldn’t go against Namgung Jin-cheon’s wishes to harm Dang Moo-jin.
“Don’t assume everything will always go smoothly. Out of ten, there’s always one who’ll try to take you down. And it’s not over yet.”
“What else is there?”
“The most important part.”
“The most important part?”
“Grudges are a two-way street. They’ll come to settle their score. Ah, speak of the devil.”
Just as Gwi-ui finished speaking, they sensed someone approaching outside the door.