Chapter 430

Chapter 430 – The Outbreak of the Great World War (2)

In Lu'an, there were many famous workshops. Bang Jin-bo asked around and found the most skilled workshop among them.

As soon as he entered the workshop, he felt the hot heat along with the sound of hammers striking iron. His skin stung from the intense heat, but Bang Jin-bo actually felt a pleasant refreshment.

Clang! Clang!

Two craftsmen were hammering back and forth in front of a large furnace. On the workbench where they were hammering lay a sword two feet and three inches long.

It didn't seem like they were making a new one, but rather disassembling and repairing an existing sword.

"You fool! Hammer properly. The bent part is getting more bent."

"Yes!"

"Strike a bit harder. Strike about three inches above that spot with force. That's the sword's vital point."

"I understand."

The old craftsman constantly instructed the young craftsman. Though the old craftsman's scolding could have been unpleasant, the young craftsman concentrated on hammering without showing any such sign.

"Ah!"

Seeing the craftsmen working with all their might to repair the sword, Bang Jin-bo unconsciously let out an exclamation.

"Impressive."

Just then, an unexpected voice came from behind Bang Jin-bo. When Bang Jin-bo turned around startled, he saw a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties leaning against the door.

The man in dark blue hero's hat and dark blue martial robes exuded an imposing presence like a mountain.

'A master!'

Bang Jin-bo instinctively realized the man was a great master.

When his face hardened, the man smiled and said:

"No need to be so wary. I just came to retrieve my sword that they're repairing."

"Ah! I'm sorry."

"Not at all. I should apologize for startling you."

"Not at all."

"Did you come to buy a sword? If so, you've come to the right place. That father and son's craftsmanship is excellent, so I often come here when I need sword maintenance."

"Not a sword, I came to buy a kitchen knife for cooking."

"A kitchen knife? Then you're a cook?"

"Yes!"

At Bang Jin-bo's answer, the man tilted his head briefly. Because the energy felt from Bang Jin-bo was clearly that of a martial artist. But soon he turned his attention away from Bang Jin-bo and looked at the craftsmen.

The craftsmen's work was now reaching its final stage.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The hammering sound reached its climax, and the heat also rose to its peak. Then the hammering stopped as if by magic.

The old craftsman who stopped hammering immediately plunged the heated sword into the quenching water beside him without a moment to catch his breath.

Hiss!

Steam rose from the water container as the hot sword entered.

This was the most crucial moment.

By tempering with the hammer, all impurities that had unknowingly seeped into the sword would be expelled, and how much the weakened blade would recover would be decided in this single moment.

The old man held the blade with tongs and closed his eyes tightly. Trembling was transmitted from the sword submerged in the water. When the trembling reached its peak, the old man pulled the sword from the water.

"Whew!"

A sigh of relief escaped from the old man's mouth as he briefly examined the smooth blade. The blade had recovered better than expected.

The blade the old man held was unusually ink-colored. It was black as pitch, seeming to absorb all the surrounding light.

The old man handed the ink-colored sword to the young craftsman who was waiting.

"Now sharpen the edge."

"Yes!"

The young craftsman received the sword with both hands and retreated to one side of the workshop. He began grinding the sword's edge on a whetstone he had prepared in advance.

Scrape! Scrape!

Only the sound of grinding the sword's edge echoed through the quiet workshop.

The man watching this approached the old craftsman.

"Looks like it went well. Good work."

"The sword was badly damaged. We managed to restore it this time, but next time it might be better to change the sword."

"I know. But there's no sword that fits my hand as well as this one. It's become so familiar that it's not easy to change to something else. How about you make me a new one instead?"

"Whew! This old man has aged and his skills aren't what they used to be."

"Don't you have your son?"

The man looked at the young craftsman grinding the sword on one side. Then the old craftsman sighed.

"He's still far from ready. If he's to hammer alone, there's still much to teach him. I'm not sure if I can pass on everything before I die."

"Didn't he inherit your blood? He'll surely be able to inherit all your techniques."

"How wonderful that would be."

"It will happen."

The man patted the old craftsman's shoulder with his thick hand.

Watching them, Bang Jin-bo realized the man was much older than he appeared. But he wasn't surprised. In the martial world, there occasionally exist masters who suppress the passage of time with their internal energy. The man before him must be one of those.

'Who is he?'

Bang Jin-bo was curious about the man's identity.

Judging by his sword maintenance, he clearly seemed to be a sword master, but no matter how he searched his memory, he couldn't think of anyone with similar appearance.

'A reclusive master?'

It was when Bang Jin-bo slightly frowned.

"What about that person?"

The old craftsman looked at Bang Jin-bo. The man explained on his behalf.

"He came to buy a kitchen knife."

"A kitchen knife? Are you a cook?"

"Yes!"

"Let me see your hands."

At the old craftsman's sudden words, Bang Jin-bo was flustered but obediently extended his hands. Then the old craftsman carefully examined Bang Jin-bo's hands.

"These are closer to a martial artist's hands than a cook's. Have you learned martial arts?"

"A little."

"Then it shouldn't matter if the kitchen knife is a bit heavy."

"Yes! That's fine."

"Let me see."

The old craftsman rummaged through the display case and soon pulled out a blunt kitchen knife.

"This was made from dark iron that came in recently. There wasn't enough quantity to make a regular sword, so I tried making a kitchen knife as an experiment, but it was too heavy for ordinary cooks to even lift. So I had put it aside to melt down again, but it seems the knife has found its rightful owner."

The old craftsman handed the kitchen knife to Bang Jin-bo.

The first feeling when holding the kitchen knife was that it was heavy, as the old craftsman had said. It felt easily two to three times heavier than market kitchen knives. The blade was well-sharpened too, so it wouldn't need additional work.

A smile naturally appeared on Bang Jin-bo's lips.

"It's great!"

"Isn't it heavy?"

"That makes me like it even more. It would be good for cutting meat and bones too."

Bang Jin-bo answered while moving the kitchen knife around.

"Good then. Just give me two silver taels."

"Isn't that too cheap? It wouldn't be a waste even if I paid five taels."

"Selling it to you is much more profitable than melting it down to reuse. I'm satisfied just knowing that heavy thing will be properly used."

"Thank you. I'll use it carefully."

Bang Jin-bo bowed deeply to the old craftsman. Then a proud smile appeared on the old craftsman's lips. But that was brief, and soon he spoke in a curt voice.

"If you're satisfied, hurry up and pay and go."

"Yes? Yes!"

Bang Jin-bo took out two silver pieces from his chest and handed them to the old craftsman. The old man put the silver in his pocket and turned around. He subtly indicated he had no more business with Bang Jin-bo.

"Thank you for the good kitchen knife. I'll use it well."

After greeting the old craftsman's back once more, Bang Jin-bo left the workshop. Then the man who had been silent spoke to the old craftsman.

"Don't you feel it's a waste? Looking at it, the material cost must be higher."

"What's important is proper use rather than price. Like with you, sir."

"You say all sorts of things. You and I are both aging, so why call me sir?"

"What do you mean both aging? I'm still thirty years younger. I'd be disappointed if you treat me like we're aging together."

"Tsk! You're also just growing more brazen as you age. You don't have that fresh taste from before."

The man shook his head. The old craftsman smiled at this.

Then the young craftsman approached with the sword.

"I've finished sharpening the edge."

"Let me see. You did well."

The old craftsman examined the sword's edge from various angles and gave it a passing grade. Only then did a relieved expression appear on the young craftsman's face.

The old craftsman reattached the handle he had removed from the sword the young craftsman brought, tied the cord, and finished it.

"Here it is, sir."

"Thank you!"

"Where are you planning to go now?"

"There are still surviving children from the main family. I'm thinking of taking them in."

"Really? Are there really surviving children?"

"Indeed."

When the man nodded, hot tears flowed down the old craftsman's cheeks.

"That's fortunate. The main family's lineage hasn't been severed yet."

"Yes! It's fortunate."

The man nodded repeatedly.

The old craftsman had an expression of deep emotion. But the man couldn't smile. Because there was content he hadn't told the old man yet. However, he didn't mention such facts. He didn't want to break the old man's joy.

The man shook the ink-colored sword he received from the old craftsman and said:

"Thanks to you, bringing those children will be easier. Thank you!"

"Not at all. I'm glad I could be of some help."

"Then I'll be going."

"Please take good care of those children."

"Thank you!"

The man smiled and left the workshop.

The old craftsman stood in place for a long time looking at the door through which the man had left. Then the young craftsman approached.

"Father, is that person really older than you?"

"That's right. Even when I was young, that person looked just as he does now."

"Really?"

The young craftsman's eyes widened greatly.

His father's name was Namgung Yeol. He was a branch member of the Namgung family. Born in a martial family but lacking talent with the sword, Namgung Yeol was a tragic man who had to leave the Namgung family.

Since he had no talent with swords, Namgung Yeol chose to make them instead.

Fortunately, he had talent for working with iron and quickly became a renowned craftsman. After that, he established his workshop in this distant Lu'an, far from the Namgung family.

The one who helped him then was precisely that man whom Namgung Yeol called sir. Whenever he was about to be forgotten, he would visit once to entrust sword maintenance. Each time, Namgung Yeol devoted his heart and soul to maintaining the old man's sword.

'Just who is that person?'

Even when the young craftsman asked about the man's identity, Namgung Yeol wouldn't tell him. Unlike Namgung Yeol, the young craftsman who had lived apart from anything related to the Namgung family since childhood didn't know the man's identity.

The young craftsman looked in the direction where the man had disappeared with puzzled eyes.

The man who left the workshop caressed the finished sword with his rough hands.

Hum!

The sword hidden in its sheath seemed to feel his touch and let out a quiet sword cry. The man's face showed a deep smile.

His sword wasn't a famous divine weapon of the martial world. Except for being made of quality dark iron to improve its strength, there was nothing special about it.

But after using it closely for decades, he now felt as if the sword understood his heart.

When he tensed, the sword also tensed, and when he harbored killing intent, the sword's aura seemed to become sharper. However, it wasn't yet time to reveal the sword's aura.

As the man continued caressing the sword, the sharp aura softened somewhat.

His steps gradually quickened.

Though he didn't seem to have walked far, his destination appeared in the distance.

Peaceful Inn.

It was a large inn at the entrance of Lu'an.

The man's target was precisely at Peaceful Inn. More precisely, in a separate building within Peaceful Inn.

When the separate building came into view, the man suddenly lightly kicked off the ground. Then his body silently melted into the air and disappeared.

Whoosh!

Only wind blew where he had vanished. ​