The Woo Sword Vies for Supremacy
On the main avenue, an old man at a roadside stall sold provisions.
After buying provisions from him, the two headed for the street of smithies.
Fine iron was plentiful near Pingli, so the art of forging had developed early here. Thanks to that, countless smithies had sprung up.
The weapons and farming tools made in Pingli were inexpensive yet high in quality—so much so that people came from far away just to buy them.
CLANG, CLANG—!
The moment they entered the smithy street, the ring of hammers echoed from every direction.
Woo Geom-san surveyed the street with a look of wonder.
The smell of burning metal and waves of heat pouring from the workshops assaulted his senses.
Despite the early hour, the craftsmen were already hard at work.
The smithy street was just as novel to Baek Ho-yang.
Baek Ho-yang had spent most of his life in the mountains.
Had the war between the Nine Great Sects and the Heavenly Mandate Society never erupted, he would have remained in the mountains until the day he died.
Because of that, this was the first time he had ever seen so many smithies.
He had not even known that burning metal had a smell until today.
The unfamiliar scent was not at all unpleasant.
If anything, it roused his senses. As a swordsman who had trained with the blade for so many years, his body reacted to the scent of metal before his mind did.
Baek Ho-yang stole a glance at Woo Geom-san.
Woo Geom-san, too, was staring at the smithies as though entranced.
The flush rising on his face made it clear that he was enjoying the scent of metal.
'As I thought—the blood of a martial artist runs through this child.'
The thought came to him unbidden.
That even without having crossed paths with Baek Ho-yang, Woo Geom-san might have taken up a weapon again someday.
Just then, a group entered the smithy street.
A party of a dozen or so martial artists arrived with horse-drawn carts in tow.
They pulled their horses and carts to a halt before the largest smithy at the entrance of the street.
The moment the martial artists arrived, a middle-aged man with a thick, bushy beard rushed out of the smithy and bowed deeply.
"Welcome."
The man who appeared to be their leader stepped forward and spoke.
"Is the order ready?"
"Fortunately, we managed to prepare everything in time."
"Good. Load them up at once."
"Yes!"
The middle-aged man answered and signaled to the workers inside the smithy. At once, the workers began loading prepared goods onto the carts.
The goods being loaded were weapons.
Watching swords, sabers, spears, and other finely honed weapons being stacked neatly onto five large carts, Baek Ho-yang murmured to himself.
"The war between the Nine Great Sects and the Heavenly Mandate Society is over. Which sect is purchasing this many weapons now?"
Five large carts could carry well over a thousand weapons.
That many weapons could arm every disciple of a sizable sect.
The cost, naturally, was beyond imagination.
Whoever was purchasing those weapons must have spent tens of thousands of gold.
Given the enormous value of the weapons being loaded, the martial artists kept a strict perimeter. Their aura was so forbidding that no one dared approach within thirty feet.
Baek Ho-yang and Woo Geom-san soon put them out of mind.
Whoever had purchased that many weapons, it was no affair of theirs.
All Baek Ho-yang wanted was a single serviceable sword.
"Let us go."
"Yes!"
He and Woo Geom-san continued deeper into the smithy street.
The farther into the alley they went, the smaller the smithies became.
The narrow lanes made the sound of hammering ring even louder.
After listening to the hammering for a while, Baek Ho-yang pointed to one particular workshop.
"Let us go there."
"Is there a reason?"
"The sound of the hammering is good."
"Pardon?"
"There is music in the hammer strikes. Whoever the craftsman is, he understands metal and strikes it properly."
At the level Baek Ho-yang had reached, he could gauge a craftsman's mastery from the sound alone.
In any discipline, those who reach a certain height of mastery share common ground.
The smithy Baek Ho-yang chose was extremely modest.
Inside, an old craftsman was hammering away alone.
There was something almost reverent about the way he struck the red-hot metal.
Thick beads of sweat poured from his entire body like rain, yet he did not so much as blink, absorbed completely in his work.
Baek Ho-yang and Woo Geom-san could not bring themselves to interrupt and simply watched in silence.
It was a good while before the old craftsman finished his work.
Wiping his sweat with a towel he had set beside him, the old craftsman noticed Baek Ho-yang and Woo Geom-san and started.
"Hm? Who might you be?"
"A customer come to buy a sword."
"A customer? Then why didn't you call out?"
"The sight of you working was so fine that I simply watched."
"What could be fine about hammering."
The old craftsman grumbled, but he could not hide his smile.
Baek Ho-yang smiled as well and said.
"Of all the hammering I have heard since coming to this street, yours was the most pleasing to the ear. It was like listening to a musician play."
"Well, now!"
Deep creases formed at the corners of the old craftsman's eyes.
He had been a craftsman who worked iron in this place his entire life.
Though his smithy was small, his pride was anything but. To have a stranger recognize that on first meeting delighted him beyond words.
Mastering his emotions, he spoke.
"What are you looking for?"
"I would like to buy a serviceable sword."
"What length?"
"About two and a half feet would be ideal."
"Style?"
"Something plain and unremarkable that does not draw the eye."
"Sounds like you want a common Blue Steel Sword."
"Precisely."
"As it happens, I have one I made some time ago. Follow me."
The old craftsman led the two to a small room at the back of the smithy.
Several swords hung on the walls of the room.
The old craftsman took down the one hanging highest.
"I did not choose an auspicious day to make it or do anything special, but a fine piece came out all the same. It will not break easily and should serve you a long time."
"Let me have a look."
Baek Ho-yang carefully accepted the sword from the old craftsman.
Whether the old craftsman's words were true or not, the ordinary-looking Blue Steel Sword radiated an unmistakable keen edge.
TING, TING—!
When he flicked the blade with his finger, a clear metallic note rang out, resonating like a bell.
A smile touched Baek Ho-yang's lips.
The sword he had once carried used to make that exact sound.
"It does not flaunt itself, nor is its temper savage—yet a quiet confidence shows through the blade. It is a fine sword. This is exactly the kind of sword I was looking for."
"I thought a man like you would recognize the blade's worth. I forged it with all I had. In my fifty years as a craftsman, I can count on one hand the times I have made a sword this good."
"I will buy this sword."
"A wise decision."
"How much do you ask?"
"A sword of this caliber should fetch two hundred silver taels, but I will take only a hundred."
"Then I would lose face. A treasure must fetch its proper price to show its true worth. Here—bank notes issued by the Ten Thousand Gold Exchange."
Baek Ho-yang produced two bank notes worth one hundred silver taels each from inside his robe and held them out to the old craftsman.
"You really do not have to......"
"This is the first sword I am giving to my grandson and disciple. Of course the proper price must be paid."
"If you put it that way, I will gladly accept."
Only then did the old craftsman take the bank notes.
The one taken aback was Woo Geom-san.
"What? You bought this sword for me?"
"I, too, received a sword from my master at your age. But since you have not yet learned the sword, you must never draw it without my permission. Can you promise that?"
"I promise."
"A sword, if not properly learned, can harm not only others but oneself. Until you have properly mastered the sword, keep it close and let it remind you to guard yourself."
"Yes!"
Woo Geom-san answered with deep respect.
The old craftsman, who had been listening to the exchange between Baek Ho-yang and Woo Geom-san, spoke up.
"What a fine pair of grandfather and grandson. I would like to give you something more—is there anything else you need?"
"Might I obtain three iron balls about the size of pinecones? The hardness does not matter, so long as they are round."
"Iron balls? I could make those right now if you want."
"Then please do."
"Very well."
Without asking why, the old craftsman walked over to the furnace.
He tossed three lumps of iron into the furnace and worked the bellows vigorously. The heat of the furnace intensified.
Before long, the iron lumps glowed red.
The old craftsman pulled them out and hammered them into shape.
In no time at all, iron balls of the size Baek Ho-yang had requested were finished.
The old craftsman handed the iron balls to Baek Ho-yang along with the sword.
"Here you are."
"Thank you."
Baek Ho-yang accepted the items with a smile.
The feel of them in his hands was extraordinary.
The sword, in particular, gave a strong impression of being a masterwork.
After savoring the sword for a moment, Baek Ho-yang handed it to Woo Geom-san.
"Take it. It is your sword."
"I will treasure it as I would a companion."
Woo Geom-san cradled the sword reverently in his arms.
Knowing that Baek Ho-yang had bestowed it upon him made it feel all the more precious.
After admiring the sword for a moment, Woo Geom-san hung it at his waist. Then Baek Ho-yang handed him the iron balls as well.
"Take these, too."
"What are they used for?"
"The same purpose as the needle I gave you yesterday. During the day, when you walk, always hold the iron balls in your right hand and roll them. It will help restore the ruined function of your hand."
"Ah!"
Woo Geom-san let out a gasp.
He was struck anew by how deeply Baek Ho-yang thought of him.
"Start by practicing rolling one iron ball with your fingers. As you grow accustomed to it, increase the number."
"I will."
Woo Geom-san immediately took one iron ball in his right hand and rolled it.
He had barely rolled it a few times before his fingers tingled and his wrist ached—the stimulation was tremendous.
Baek Ho-yang said to Woo Geom-san.
"We have everything we need, so let us be on our way."
"Yes, Grandfather!"
The two bid the old craftsman farewell and stepped outside.
As they left the smithy, a cool breeze blew in and eased the heat from their bodies.
Baek Ho-yang glanced back at the smithy and said.
"A fine encounter brought us a splendid sword. We are fortunate."
"It truly does feel fortunate."
Woo Geom-san caressed the sword at his waist.
It felt as though it had been made for him from the start, sitting snugly against his body.
That such a fine sword had been found in such a humble smithy was almost unbelievable.
It had been possible only because, as Baek Ho-yang said, they had encountered a fine connection.
Meeting Baek Ho-yang had been one such connection, and meeting the old craftsman was another.
His mood lifted for no particular reason.
To the smiling Woo Geom-san, Baek Ho-yang said.
"Let us go."
"Yes!"
The two walked side by side down the smithy street.
Baek Ho-yang's gaze happened to drift toward a particular smithy.
It was the large one at the entrance of the street.
The one where weapons had been loaded onto five large carts.
The martial artists and carts that had stood before it were gone.
It seemed they had finished loading and departed while the two were inside.
He was slightly curious who had purchased so many weapons, but he had no desire to spend time finding out.
Simply helping the young grandson at his side grow was more than enough to fill his days.
There was a mountain of things to teach.
Even starting now and proceeding step by step, it would take a good several decades.
He could not waste a single moment.
Baek Ho-yang's steps quickened without him realizing it.