Chapter 115

The elder Southern Archer looked at the Grand Duke. The scales of the Dark Blood Net are expensive, even by his standards. If I were to sell it to the imperial family, it would be used to make armor, which would be worth its weight in gold.
Or I could ask for it to be forged into swords, weapons, and armor for my own greed.
I had every right to do as I pleased with the things I had procured for myself.
But.
“It is a great thing to be worth money, to be of economic value, but I do not think it is worth more than a sword to the men who live by it.”
The Grand Duke didn’t disagree, and the elder Southern Archer, who didn’t speak at length but understood the meaning of his words, nodded.
“I’ll have the first one forged and delivered to you, Grand Duke, and it will probably be finished just before the Fengyun Session, so please be patient.”
It was the best the elder Southern Archer could do for the Grand Duke, whom he had seen for so long, and it was a sign of respect for his aspirations to contribute precious treasures to the Southern Palace.
“I believe you.”
It was a long ride to the Fengyun Branch Hall, and during that time, he spared no time to take a sip of water or scoop a spoonful of rice, and began to meld all his experiences into the scales of the Muklin Blood Net.
It could be said, with some exaggeration, that every sword in the Southern Palace was forged in his hands, and every swordsman in the Southern Palace, the greatest of swordsmen, entrusted him with a sword that could mean the difference between life and death.
A master of metallurgy, Namgungu stared at the smelted iron. Thousands of raw iron had been processed, carbonized, and transformed into tempered iron.
Not all iron swords are created equal.
Raw iron is brittle,
but the tempered iron is softer.
Which is better to make into a sword?
It should have more carbon in it than raw iron, which is more flexible and elastic, and will not break or cut.
It was important to find the right balance, as it should be less than raw iron that would shatter into pieces. It should not rust easily, and it should have both soft and hard qualities, so that the sword could be wielded without letting go easily when struck by others.
He was a master blacksmith, but he was also a master swordsman.
The forged steel is thrown into the fire.
“I need to raise the temperature.”
A blacksmith must be familiar with flames. He had more calluses from hammering and anvils than he did from holding a sword in his palm, and more burn marks from adjusting to the flames than from his sword wounds.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
The wind from the battlefield fanned the flames. The rising flames would have made you shrink away from your burning cheeks and forehead, but the Southern Archer did not. It melted his scales and turned his forged steel into iron.
Clang, clang, clang, clang!
The flames die down, the paddle is opened to pour the molten steel upside down, and countless hammering blows are struck. The hammering is exquisite, and the blackened mass of iron quickly takes shape.
The hilt of a sword quickly takes shape.
“Trash.”
As if there’s no way, he throws it into the flames once more. It is smelted and quenched repeatedly. He repeated the word “trash” to the sword over and over again, never seeming to be satisfied, and the process continued for days and nights.
The other blacksmiths in the forge said,
“Elder Gu, please go inside and rest, I’m going to collapse.”
“The sword comes first, the man comes first. The Grand Duke would not want me to do this.”
When the smiths asked if they were doing this at the request of the Grand Duke, Elder Gu shook his head.
“No one’s favor is of any significance in the making of a sword.”
To a blacksmith, someone’s request, someone’s prayer, someone’s threat, means nothing. They have only faded significance.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
The regular pounding noise rang out clearly, and that was all that mattered. The high and low, the strong and weak, the slow and fast, it was as if he had become one with the hammering.
The sparks that burst forth in all directions scattered again and again.
The grass hisses and the flames leap.
The flames of the brazier never seemed to go out, and the flames spread like the unquenchable mind of the old elder, the Southern Archer. The blacksmiths’ worries were drowned out by their work.
* * *
It was the day before the Fengyun Branch Meeting. I froze in my tracks when I saw more than twenty blacksmiths bowing at my feet.
I begged them to save me. Elder Gu.
I thought. Had I ever ordered Elder Gu to die?
I hadn’t. No matter how much I thought about it, I hadn’t. In the haste of preparing for the Fengyun Branch Meeting, I had forgotten that I had only asked for a sword.
But it was said to threaten the elder’s life. I wasted no time in entering the forge, guided by the smiths.
At that moment,
Hua hua hua hua!
The heat of the sun engulfing me in one fell swoop washed over me. The flames were so intense that I had to stop breathing for a moment, and I was forced to draw on my strength.
Hiss! Hiss!
And all the while, I hear the sound of a firecracker.
Boom, boom, boom!
The unwavering sound of hammering pounded against my chest as I walked. It was a clear, crystal-clear sound that made me feel clear from head to toe.
I pushed through the heat.
My forearms and biceps were throbbing, and the rest of my body was already ungainly to say the least.
And yet,
despite my popularity.
Bang, bang, bang!
I pounded the hammer relentlessly.
“Ah…….”
It was Dal Po who came to this place, handing me the scales of the Muklin Blood Net and asking for a favor. I realize that the man in front of me, the blacksmith and elder, has not taken a single step outside.
I saw the deeply panned footprints and the scabbed knees and elbows where blood had pooled and scabbed over. The dirt had already proven that a person had been repeating the same motion for over a month.
As a man.
As a craftsman.
A craftsman who forgot everything else.
Like water, he had forgotten everything.
He had reached a state of unity, not as a person, but as a craftsman.
I could only look at it and admire, admire, admire.
I could only stand and stare at the birth of a new and great craftsman.
* * *
After a month of not sleeping, not eating, and being stained by a single sword, the master smiled his usual smile of satisfaction. As soon as he was finished, he offered me the sword, not caring about his own physical condition.
A leaden sword in a dark-colored scabbard, as old as time.
At first glance, it didn’t look out of the ordinary.
I wanted to take it and put him to sleep right away, but his shaped eyes were screaming for me to draw it.
Thrrrr.
A blue dragon wriggled in the ink-colored sword’s body. It comes to life, its claws raised as if it will ascend at any moment.
But more than that,
Teeeeeeeee!
I flicked it with my finger, and it emitted a supple, elastic sound that made me wonder if such a clear, crisp sound was possible.
“…… Please give him a name. Grand Duke.”
I glanced at the sword at the archer’s must-hear response, and then shook my head.
“I would rather ask you to do me a favor. Elder Gu.”
I may be the sword’s master, but it would mean more to him, and to me, if it were named for the craftsman who made it.
I wanted the sword to be named for the craftsman who had achieved the Divine Sword Unity.
“If you say so.”
The Southern Archer smiled, as if he already had a name in mind.
“How about ……Black Heaven?”
I grinned back, feeling the energy of the sword stirring within me.
“I can see how they named it that.”
“Amidst the dark sky, the ascending dragon’s aura is captured, which also represents the ascension of the Grand Duke, and the Muklin Blood Network that allowed me to forge a sword like this is Imugi, who has long since ceased to be a dragon. I thought it would be fitting that this sword should be called the Black Sky, since it was forged with his wishes.”
“A good name indeed, and a good meaning.”
Thus was born the Sword of Inky Color. A sword that will never be seen again.
* * *
A clang!
“……!”
An expression of disbelief crossed his face as he looked at the sword marks that cut from his left shoulder blade to his right side, and the blood droplets that sprayed out in all directions at the same time.
“……What is the name of that sword, Southern Palace Shijiu?”
“Black Heaven.”
“What a fitting name for a sword, Namu Amitabha.”
Gak Mun looked at the back of his left hand, then the back of his right. The long sword marks on the backs of both hands indicated that his two vaunted powers had been broken.
“The simultaneous execution of the Arahan and Bai Bo kungfu was a marvelous feat.”
The simultaneous display of the two martial arts was something I hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was because he was able to draw on non-conflicting energies and extend them with both hands, which is the foundation of Shaolin’s deeply rooted martial arts.
And I could not help but marvel at the man who had actually realized it.
“Namu Amitabha. I have nothing but admiration for the master of the Southern Palace who pierced it with a single sword. And.”
I involuntarily lifted my energy. The golden glow of the gate was still there. His attempt at a one-sword match had resulted in a superficial wound.
This time, he decided, he would unfurl the Emperor Sword Form.
“Namu Amitabha.”
Chanting the incantation, Gakkamun turned to face Huang Tianhu.
“This is the end of this Buddhist ceremony. This has been a very meaningful occasion. Having realized that there is no end to nothingness, and having felt insufficient, I hereby pledge to the thousands of my comrades that I will continue on the single path. The name of this Buddhist candle is Gak-mun.”
It was spoken to Huang Tianhao.
Not to the thousands of spectators.
He wasn’t speaking to himself.
It was a promise to himself.
I was in awe.
His unwavering radiance indicated that his burning sense of victory and competitive spirit hadn’t faded, but nevertheless, for him to call it quits right here and now was a sign of the significance of the Fengyun Branch.
It meant that he was sincere about the meaning of the tournament, and I bowed down to him and took the reins.
As much as he was strong.
He showed more than that, he showed a solid heart.
A monk and a very accomplished martial artist.