Chapter v18c14

“Ryu-Ran, the White Martial Empress seems to be in a foul mood today.”

“You’re right. It’s rare for her to roar like this in the middle of the day. I wonder what happened?”

Ryu-Ran turned her head towards the source of the roar, her body trembling slightly, as her fellow disciple, Chae-Yeon, spoke. Everyone on Mount Emei, and even those within the shadow of the mountain, knew that sound.

“How would ordinary people like us know what’s going on in the mountains? We can only pray that she doesn’t take her anger out on us. Are you leaving now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so envious that you get to travel with Senior Disciple Jin. Where is she, by the way?”

“She had some business to attend to in the village. I’m going to stop by somewhere before I leave too.”

“Where?”

“The Iron Flower Workshop!”

“You really love swords, don’t you?”

“I do! They’re the most beautiful things in the world. I’ll see you later. I’ll be your senior then, won’t I?”

“We’ll see about that after the competition.”

“I’m looking forward to it. See you later!”

“Have a safe trip!”

* * *

Ryu-Ran loved swords. She had been captivated by the dazzling, alluring gleam of a real sword when she first drew it from its scabbard at the age of ten, after years of training with a simple wooden sword. She polished her sword every day without fail. She was always the first to run out of polishing oil among her fellow disciples. She was even told to tone it down. After all, the oil was a sect expense, and even though it was a consumable, it wasn’t cheap. But she ignored Hye-Jeong’s complaints, the sect’s treasurer, and continued to polish her sword day after day. She loved the hardness of the steel, forged in the fiery furnace, hammered and compressed under immense pressure. She loved the cool, bluish gleam of the blade. It was her first love, and even now, at the age of nineteen, her love hadn’t faded.

Her admiration for her master was also related to swords. Her master was like a well-honed sword. No, a mere sword wasn’t enough. She was a treasured sword, a divine sword. To be alive and yet one with the sword… The thought alone filled her with an indescribable longing, a desire so intense it threatened to drown her in a sea of ecstasy.

She loved swordsmanship because it allowed her to use her sword, not just admire it as a decorative object. To wield it, to make it an extension of her body, filled her with an immense sense of satisfaction. The path to becoming one with the sword. She often vowed to reach that level someday. It was an obsession. She was told she wasn’t very feminine. But she didn’t care. It was the path she had chosen.

Her master wasn’t a conventional woman either. She was a strong, independent woman who could stand on her own two feet without relying on anyone, male or female. That was why she had earned a place among the Five Great Swordsmen, a position traditionally held by men. She had more young followers than the Sword Saint, who had become a distant legend, someone whose existence felt unreal despite being alive. Perhaps that was why she was so selective about her disciples. Ryu-Ran felt a thrill of pride for having been chosen as her disciple. It was an honor to learn from such a person. And now, before embarking on her journey to Cheonmu Academy with her beloved master, she had finally decided to acquire something she had been longing for.

* * *

The cold beauty of a sword had always captivated swordsmen. How many had perished in their pursuit of a fine blade, consumed by an insatiable desire? A sword was a swordsman’s life. When a sword broke, so did the swordsman’s life. Therefore, a sword was a swordsman’s second life, a strong, sharp blade a guarantee of longevity.

Therefore, a martial artist’s obsession with swords was beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. How could someone who valued their life above their sword be considered a true swordsman? It wasn’t uncommon for swordsmen to spend their entire fortunes on a single sword. They believed it was worth it.

Of course, acquiring a legendary sword like the Fish Intestine Sword or the Tent Pole Sword would be ideal, but such tales were usually confined to books, the stuff of legends. It wasn’t wise to spend your entire life chasing after such a sword. So, most people bought their swords from swordsmiths.

Once you acquired a sword, you desired a better one. Ryu-Ran realized the endless nature of human desire when she bought her fifth sword. It was then that she heard rumors of a young swordsmith. She wasn’t sure if he was actually a boy, but rumors claimed he was a teenager. And yet, he had become the youngest swordsmith at the Iron Flower Workshop, the most renowned forge in Hoeumhyeon. She was familiar with the workshop, as it regularly traded with the Emei Sect. Only a few “masters” there were capable of crafting a sword worthy of her name.

She had heard from her fellow disciples that one of her senior disciples had acquired one of his swords and couldn’t stop praising it. She even slept with it. There were even strange rumors that she would sometimes stare at the blade, giggling like a madwoman. People whispered that she had been bewitched by the sword’s gleam. The more she heard, the more she desired the sword.

(TLN: its probably The mc when he worked as a sword smith)

‘To be bewitched by a sword’s gleam is a sign of inexperience. I could handle that sword much better.’

She had wanted that sword ever since. But the opportunity never arose. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t acquire it. It was a rare sword, not part of the workshop’s regular inventory. It was beyond her reach at the time. She didn’t have enough money. But she didn’t give up, diligently saving every penny she received from her family. And finally, the time had come. She finally had the opportunity to acquire the sword.

* * *

The head swordsmith and owner of the Iron Flower Workshop was a man named Wol-San. It was said that the swords he forged could even cut the moon. As such, his swords were incredibly expensive. But they were always out of stock. And they would continue to be out of stock for the foreseeable future. He had a backlog of orders that stretched on for who knows how long. There had even been cases of bloodshed over the order of those reservations.

Still, swordsmiths made a lot of money in Jianghu. And like many businesses, location was important. The closer a forge was to a large sect, the more profitable it was. Not many sects forged their own swords. The process of crafting a sword involved dozens of steps, and mastering those steps required years of training. It was difficult enough to master martial arts, let alone swordsmithing. Especially if you wanted to create a high-quality sword. The most famous example of a martial arts group with its own forge was probably the Sichuan Tang Family, renowned for their hidden weapons and poisons. It was probably a necessary measure to maintain secrecy. They had separate groups for those who used hidden weapons and poisons, and those who manufactured them. A division of labor.

So, large sects often signed contracts with nearby forges, securing a steady supply of swords and repair services. Swords were delicate instruments that required regular maintenance. And contrary to popular belief, swordsmiths didn’t do everything. They could sharpen swords, of course, but it was wiser to leave it to specialists. The sharpness of the blade was different. Professional sharpeners used dozens of different whetstones, honing the blade to its ultimate sharpness. Only then was a sword truly complete. These professionals were known as “polishers” in Jianghu. In that sense, the Iron Flower Workshop was in a prime location, and its skills matched its reputation.

“Why can’t you sell it to me?”

Ryu-Ran asked, her voice sharp.

“Well, you see…”

Song-Hae, the workshop’s manager, stammered, looking troubled.

“I’ll pay any price. I need that sword!”

“I don’t know where you heard that rumor, but we have many other excellent swords here at the Iron Flower Workshop. Why don’t you consider those instead?”

“No, I want that sword. I’ve been holding back on buying other swords because I’ve been saving up for this one!”

“Why are you so obsessed with that particular sword?”

Such obsession couldn’t be based on hearsay alone. The woman replied,

“Because the person I admire, my role model, owns one. And…”

“…?”

“Because that sword has cut down several of my swords. I know you have one hidden away. I heard that swordsmiths offer their first creation to the heavens.”

“That… that one…”

“So it does exist! Sell it to me. I heard there’s no price too high for a good sword. Why can’t you sell it? I came here because I heard a rumor that you were willing to sell it.”

“Actually… it’s difficult to say this, but that sword is already reserved.”

Ryu-Ran’s eyes widened. So he was willing to sell it. It was just that the buyer wasn’t her.

“Has the buyer paid in full?”

“N-no. He’s only paid a deposit. He said he would pay the rest later.”

“Who reserved it? Tell me, and I’ll negotiate with him myself.”

“That’s… a bit difficult. I can’t divulge customer information…”

“Not even to me?”

They were old acquaintances.

“Well, I suppose I have no choice. It’s Yoo Un-Bi, a young master from the Jeomchang Sect.”

“I’ve heard of him. But I won’t let that sword fall into his hands. I’ll make sure I get it. When is he supposed to arrive?”

“He’s scheduled to arrive around 3 PM. It’s 2 PM now, so he should be here in an hour.”

“Good. I have to go see my master now, but I’ll be back then. Don’t sell that sword until I get back. Understand?”

“Yes, Miss Ryu-Ran. I’ll keep it safe for you.”

* * *

The old man with a magnificent white beard paused, the wine cup halfway to his lips. He had been distracted by a commotion outside.

“My, my. What a spirited young lady. Her voice carries quite well, penetrating three walls. Even a blacksmith accustomed to the thunderous sounds of hammer and anvil would find it loud.”

He finished his drink.

“She’s a bit of a handful, but her passion for swords is unmatched. And everyone here agrees that her voice is something else. That’s why her nickname is ‘Silencing Hundred Refinements.’ It’s said that even the sound of a hundred refinements can’t drown out her voice. Of course, that’s just between us. She has a more proper nickname too.”

Wol-San, the owner of the Iron Flower Workshop, said with a chuckle. His skin was tanned, the mark of a man who had spent his life working with fire. His rough hands were covered in calluses and burn marks from years of hammering.

“A name… something I have no need for. But it seems like a fitting name, capturing her essence perfectly.”

“Everyone agrees, Old Master.”

Wol-San replied respectfully.

“By the way, do you know where that rascal went?”

The old man asked. That was the reason for his visit.

“I’m not sure. Our business has suffered since he disappeared without a word. His creations were well-made and sturdy, so they were in high demand. But one day, he just vanished, leaving us in chaos. Orders were piling up, but there was no one to fulfill them. As you can see from that young lady’s case, we’re losing a lot of money.”

“Then you should be looking for him. He’s a cash cow.”

Wol-San nodded.

“He is. He certainly is. I’ve been doing some investigating. I haven’t been sitting idly by. I found a lead.”

“Is that rascal there?”

“No, but you might find a clue to his whereabouts there.”

The old man with the white beard stared at Wol-San’s face, his eyes piercing. After a moment, he spoke.

“…You’re telling the truth. Your words reflect your heart.”

“Of course, it’s true. How could I lie to you, Old Master? It wouldn’t work anyway. I assure you, there’s not a single lie in my words. Besides, we would benefit from his return. We wouldn’t hinder your search, would we?”

Wol-San wiped the sweat from his forehead, his voice trembling slightly.

“I trust my own eyes more than words. So, what’s the name of this place?”

“It’s the Middle Heaven Merchant Guild. It’s a thriving guild in the area. I hear they’re quite wealthy.”

“Hmm, the Middle Heaven Merchant Guild… I’ll have to pay them a visit. I’m sure I’ll find something if I follow the trail.”

“Please, Old Master! Find that rascal, Bi Ryu-Yeon, and bring him back! Please!”

“Alright, alright. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

But he didn’t leave immediately, as if determined to finish the food and drinks on the table. He only rose from his seat after everything had been consumed.