episode_0269

A long time ago, when one had to be wary of tigers on the night streets of the Korean Peninsula. There was a man.

The man, who hadn’t even passed his coming-of-age, lost his parents early in life and wandered across the country searching for work. Just to survive.

But the world wasn’t lenient enough to employ a small-statured man who hadn’t grown properly due to lack of food. Thus, there were more days when he couldn’t even put watery gruel to his lips.

Still, the man gritted his teeth and did not give up.

Then one day. Unable to bear the hunger, the man peeled and ate tree bark, suffering greatly from an upset stomach.

In those days, it was hard enough to feed oneself. Naturally, no one helped the man. Just as he was losing consciousness on a secluded roadside at the market, someone offered a hand of compassion.

The man, whose life was thus saved, regained consciousness to the sound of hammers striking.

The one who saved the man said to him: “If you have nowhere to go, you can do odd jobs under me. I will feed you.” “I will obey.”

The man, indebted to the owner of the small blacksmith shop for saving his life, worked with all his heart and soul. Awkwardly at first, sometimes getting scolded and reprimanded, he helped with the work.

It was then that the man first saw white rice with a bit of meat. Thinking this might be the finest delicacy in the world, the man ate his fill and fell asleep for the first time.

And so, one year, two years, three years passed…

Perhaps even a slow worm had a knack for rolling [a proverb about even the most seemingly unskilled person having a hidden talent]. Though uneducated due to lack of learning, he had sharp eyes and a good understanding of how to work.

The man, who had been in charge of odd jobs, began running errands. The man, who ran errands, was now able to move in and out of the working blacksmith shop.

Running errands turned into standing watch from behind. From behind, he moved closer to the side. From the side, he assisted, working in harmony.

By the time he was accustomed to it and it became second nature, his benefactor said: “Why don’t you try making something yourself?”

After that, in his fifth year, under his benefactor’s watchful eye, he made a small kitchen knife for the first time. The man was now able to hold a hammer and stand before the fire.

From then on, his benefactor began gradually passing on knowledge and skills. Blades were the main focus, but the theme was clear: “Create things that help people.”

The man, without doubt, followed his benefactor and master’s teachings, engraving them into his bones. Hoes, sickles, daggers, and more.

As he faithfully continued his days of learning, the reputation of the tools the man made also rose. The blacksmith shop was always bustling with people, and the man had no time to rest.

But the man was simply content. He didn’t go hungry and could sleep warmly. For the first time, he felt like he was living a truly human life, able to earn his own living with dignity.

On the day he reached his tenth year. “If you are agreeable, now is the time for you to start a family.”

His benefactor arranged the marriage between his daughter and the man. The man was perplexed, but his benefactor’s daughter, with whom he had spent time, also showed no signs of displeasure.

Thus, his benefactor became his master, and from master, to father-in-law, and the man was no longer alone. Nothing much had changed, but it was then that the man finally understood what happiness was.

Around that time, his benefactor lifted a strict prohibition on one thing. Permission to forge swords, which had been vaguely forbidden until then. “Create weapons that save people.”

The man was overjoyed that he was finally recognized, and he bowed deeply to his benefactor. And as always, he engraved the teaching into his bones and pondered it deeply.

Had Heaven been moved by such a man? The man absorbed everything from his benefactor like cotton absorbing water, learning and realizing it with his own hands.

As time flowed on, one day. His benefactor, inspecting a sword the man had made, said: “You have finally surpassed me!”

His benefactor greatly rejoiced at the man’s achievement. His virtuous wife also showed no reservation in her respect and affection for her husband. The man felt like he owned the world. Filled with overflowing emotions, he offered a deep bow of gratitude to his benefactor.

As if his sincerity had reached him, his benefactor showed a profound smile he had never revealed before. And revealing something he had kept hidden, he urged: “This is an artifact my master created, dedicating everything.”

Untying the neatly wrapped object, it was a single sword. Strangely, it was dark and lacked luster. The blade was formed, but its keenness was dormant. Moreover, it had a weight that was unthinkable for a sword.

Nevertheless, the sword’s appearance was perfection itself. The man, who received the impression that the sword was sleeping, was perplexed by its unfamiliar state.

“My master wished to find a master for this sword, but his life ended before he could achieve that wish. I also spent my entire life trying, but could not find one.”

The man, seeing the deep-set eyes of his benefactor, instinctively knew. “When I die, you shall inherit this place. And I hope you find this sword’s master.”

His benefactor, gently extending the sword, spoke kindly: “Can you do this for me?” “I will obey.”

Seeing the man vow to surely accomplish the task—no, the great undertaking—given to him, his benefactor smiled. It was a smile that conveyed the relief of one who had cast off a heavy burden.

From that day, his benefactor retired from the front lines and handed everything over to the man. The man felt a sense of responsibility but was not burdened. As always, he simply devoted himself to his work each day, reflecting on his master’s teachings.

At that sight, his benefactor merely smiled and watched. Though rumors spread that he made the martial artists who came seeking the man’s rising fame handle a strange sword, he paid no heed. The more they came, the more opportunities there were to fulfill his benefactor’s wish.

Countless renowned martial artists of the era came and went, but no one could awaken the sleeping sword. As time went on, the man grew anxious.

He wanted to resolve the burden of his benefactor, who had enabled him to eat and live like a human.

The man was impatient, but his benefactor, on the contrary, comforted him. “Do not rush. What you have done is already more than enough.”

Seeing his benefactor smile kindly and pat his shoulder, the man bowed once more.

Years passed, and his benefactor quietly passed away amidst the care of his family. As he had not yet fulfilled his benefactor’s task, the man wept tears of anguish for three days.

The man deeply engraved his benefactor’s great undertaking into his bones. And he acted just as his benefactor had acted towards him. He never rushed, but nurtured the next generation. Whether they were his own children or strangers.

If an opportunity arose, he did not discriminate or show favoritism. And he made sure they engraved his benefactor’s teachings into their bones exactly as they were: “Create weapons that save people.”

Thus, continuing his benefactor’s lineage, he sought the sword’s master, but could not find one. By the time the man’s hair had turned white. The man realized. That the destined connection for this artifact had not yet appeared.

It was then that he truly understood his benefactor’s words to not rush. Though regretful, he felt a burden lifted from his heart, and for the first time, the man could smile.

The man poured a drink for his benefactor, vowing: “Someday, without fail…”

The man, just as his benefactor had, trained the next generations and prepared them. And showing the sword to his successor, he imparted his benefactor’s task: “Can you do this for me?”

Thus, entrusting the unfinished task, the man peacefully closed his eyes amidst his family and disciples.

His benefactor’s task was passed to the man, and from the man, to his successors. The man’s life continued, as if repeating through generations. The sleeping sword followed the man’s descendants as if thread following a needle.

Generations changed several times. Innumerable martial artists and powerful figures placed their hands on the sword. But the sword did not awaken.

A long time passed, enough for eras to change and national names to be altered. Throughout that time, the man’s descendants continued the lineage.

But as more time flowed, the man’s lineage became so thin that his descendants barely managed to continue it. Throughout the long time, the sword remained asleep.

More time flowed, and the world changed. Weapons had now degenerated into mere ornaments or collector’s items, and people no longer sought out blacksmith shops. The man’s lineage, which seemed eternal, was now on the verge of extinction. Only the man’s last descendant, whose skill remained unchanged but whose name was all that was left, and the sleeping sword remained.

Then one day. The world was turned upside down. Strange occurrences began, where the dead, unable to truly die, harmed the living. Countless lives disappeared, and monsters began to occupy the streets.

Yet, the sword remained asleep. The man’s last descendant lamented. He lamented that his ancestors’ lineage would end with him. He wept that he could not fulfill the family’s great undertaking.

One day, barely clinging to life thanks to a stubborn friend. “…Who is this guy?”

The man’s descendant encountered an extraordinary man. Though seemingly ordinary, his spine tightened as if standing before a furnace about to explode. For a moment, seeing the other also observe him, he thought this man was truly exceptional.

He was incredibly impertinent, as if he’d swallowed his manners with his rice [an idiom for someone being extremely rude]. Yet, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, the last descendant felt a surge of curiosity at how easy he was to deal with.

‘This is him.’ He realized that the monstrously strong man often mentioned in recent rumors was this man.

And the impertinent man soon proved that fact with his own body. Hearing that he had struck the monster’s neck with a sword, his eyes widened.

With a glimmer of hope, the last descendant took the swords and artifacts he had personally made and went to find the impertinent fellow. After examining the remnants of the weapon he supposedly used, the last descendant’s inner thoughts began to stir. ‘Perhaps…’

The last descendant pushed his masterpiece forward and had him swing it. “Do it properly!” “I definitely said something?”

Seeing the sword unable to withstand the impertinent fellow’s single strike, the last descendant trembled.

As if possessed, he offered the artifact passed down through generations of his family to the impertinent fellow. And he could see it. Huuuuuum- ‘Th-the sword’s hum!’

Without time to be surprised, the sword began to awaken. As its dark appearance vanished and the sword’s body, boasting keenness, began to reveal itself, the last descendant felt a thrill.

But it wasn’t the end. ‘Th-this can’t be…’ Going a step further, the sword’s body absorbed a blue light, adding to its mystical aura.

Soon after, confirming its power to cleanly cut through even rock, he felt an indescribable joy. ‘Finally…!!!’

“Old Man…!” “You…!” Blacksmith Park Cheolsu took Seonghan’s hand with trembling hands.

“From now on, that sword is yours.” Blacksmith Park Cheolsu could not stop his tears from flowing. ‘Ancestors. Finally… finally, the family’s great undertaking has been fulfilled.’

Cheolwoong, the mysterious blacksmith not even recorded in folktales, and his first disciple. After Cheolwoong’s death, the first disciple took on his own disciple and passed down Cheolwoong’s essence to the Park family lineage. Park Cheolmu, who inherited everything from Cheolwoong. Cheolwoong’s persistent great undertaking, which had been carried on, finally reached its conclusion by the last descendant of the Park family.

***

“On a dim night, when even the moonlight was obscured. Something fell from the night sky, parting the clouds. Running to it, I found it was a large rock, but seeing it absorb a mysterious light within, I felt it was extraordinary and retrieved it myself. Brushing off its burnt exterior, a metal piece the size of a well-built man’s torso was revealed, and I decided to forge it into a sword.

The preparations were smooth, but I could not split the metal. Ultimately, I decided to use the metal whole and hammered it, but the more I hammered, the more its size diminished, becoming denser and gaining strength, which was nothing short of miraculous. Confirming that this metal possessed a property that, once started, could not be stopped, I was perplexed but composed myself and proceeded; only after seven days and nights of hammering could I give it form.

By then, I felt I had exhausted all my strength, yet I could not stop, and sacrificing my blood and flesh, I persevered for three more days, finally able to finish it in the form of a sword. The abnormal weight of this sword is the result of that large metal piece being fully condensed.

The completed sword was truly perfect, and I am certain I will never again create a work greater than this. It was perfect, beautiful, and of a mysterious form. However, after completion, the sword slowly turned black as if it had absorbed ink, and its keenness also vanished.

At this strange phenomenon, I put in painstaking effort to restore the sword but failed. By chance, when a martial artist who had visited seeking a weapon touched it, I saw it vibrate faintly and understood. This sword is waiting for its true master.

Wishing to see the sword’s once incredibly beautiful form again, I had powerful martial artists touch the sword whenever they visited, but the sword did not awaken. Realizing that this sword had no destined connection in my lifetime, I entrusted the next step to my disciple. Though born from my ambition, I pity this sleeping sword and hope it will meet its true master and shine brightly.

Discerning its true master is simple. If the sword hums, one has the right to observe it. If the sword regains its keenness, one has the right to possess it. If the sword regains its keenness and absorbs light like the moonlight, he will be the true master.

This is a testimony based on my experience, having witnessed the changes immediately after its completion. On the day the sword was completed, moonlight streamed through the window and illuminated the sword, making it shine beautifully, so I hope it will shine brilliantly once more and name it ‘Myeongwol’.”