WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Oblivious

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◈ Murim in my Hometown ◈

Chapter 10: Dojeong Ironworks

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Even after becoming the alley boss, Gusam did not neglect his Fist-and-Kick Techniques training.

“Is your arm all right?”

“Yes. It’s completely healed.”

Gusam casually swung around the left arm that had once been broken. The way he threw punches, drew them back, and linked them into kicks was quite decent.

Children healed quickly because they grew every day.

Still, if he had not received treatment in time, he would not have recovered so quickly after hovering at death’s door.

“That physician is quite skilled.”

“Right? Old Physician Seong gave me acupuncture every day, and I even drank herbal decoctions. Ugh, you have no idea how bitter they were. I got up and started walking around early just so I wouldn’t have to drink any more.”

That was an unbelievably pampered thing to say.

Even a decoction made from the cheapest medicinal herbs cost several dozen copper coins. Nor was one or two doses enough.

For impoverished commoners, it was normal to suffer miserably and die without ever being able to afford even one dose of medicine, even with death’s gate looming before them.

Acupuncture was not cheap either.

A skilled physician like that, rather than some quack, would have cost one or two silver taels. There was no way Gusam had paid for it.

“Be good to the innkeeper.”

“Yes. When I make it big someday, I’ll repay this debt properly.”

Gusam and Bang Hojin diligently practiced Footwork and Fist-and-Kick Techniques, kicking up clouds of dust.

I let out a small laugh at the atmosphere, which had suddenly become something like a rural martial arts school, but then my thoughts grew complicated.

What would have happened if I had refused when Gusam asked me to teach him how to fight?

Gusam would still have been getting beaten up, and he would never have defeated Bang Hojin, the former alley boss.

Jang Hodal would not have found an opening to assault Gusam either.

Then I would never have known that Jang Hodal was trying to join the Black Night Gang and was grinding his teeth over revenge against me.

Not until he came charging into my home in the middle of the night with a group of Black Night Gang killers.

Even if I somehow stopped them, the Black Night Gang would not have left me alone. I might have died fighting to defend my home, or been forced to leave my hometown again.

Then again, perhaps nothing would have happened.

Jang Hodal had only seventy copper coins in his money pouch. Unless one had a knack for gambling tiles, it was impossible to win money.

Even if Jang Hodal diligently wore down the threshold of every gambling den until his back bent and his hair turned white, earning the two silver taels for the entry fee would not have been easy.

Even on the day he had been reduced to almost nothing, two robbers had followed him. Even if luck had miraculously clung to his hands and he had swept the table with a winning streak, he probably would have been stabbed in his sleep and died anyway.

Still, judging only by the result, helping Gusam had allowed me to avoid disaster as well.

At times like this, the causes and effects of life were truly mysterious and strange.

It also left a bitter taste in my mouth.

My hometown was no longer safe. In the future, I would surely clash with more scoundrels like Jang Hodal or earn more grudges.

I recalled the pathetic faces of the two idiots who had been with Jang Hodal at the inn.

They were nobodies, and I had not dealt with them personally. Such half-baked fools did not possess enough loyalty to risk their lives avenging a companion.

Jang Hodal had died in a robbery and murder. If anyone bothered to look for the killer, they would pursue the men who stole Jang Hodal’s clothes and broadsword.

Just in case, I went around town making inquiries. As expected, that was exactly what had happened.

Jang Hodal’s corpse had been left in the back alley exactly as it was until government officials discovered it while patrolling that afternoon.

The officials gathered people and identified the corpse, which flies had begun laying eggs on.

Once they learned he was a filthy thug with no influential backing to seek justice for him, they loaded him onto a cart and dumped him in the mountains. They did not even try to find the culprit.

There was no need to worry about it further, but it seemed wise to prepare a little anyway.

On a clear morning without a single cloud, I took out my long saber, held it to the sunlight, and carefully inspected the blade.

I had washed it with lye water to remove the scent of blood, then rubbed lamp oil into it until it gleamed. Several chips had formed along the blade.

A fine crack ran about two handspans from the tip. It was a section that had been repaired a year ago.

I had not bought this long saber.

About half a year after learning the Nameless Saber Art in Zhejiang, I happened to acquire it while working in Jiangxi.

The hilt and scabbard were black and plain, but the blade was long, slender, and gently curved, making it well suited to a saber art focused on cutting.

It also fit my height and reach perfectly. Whenever I used the Nameless Saber Art with this long saber, it felt as though I could draw out power beyond my usual ability.

Its balance was excellent as well, so my wrists and shoulders didn't get much tired even after swinging it for a long time.

Any sharpened weapon would eventually break after repeatedly clashing with other weapons in bloody battles.

The blade had chipped and cracked several times, but I had been unable to find another long saber to replace it with, so I had somehow kept repairing and using it.

It seemed that it had reached its limit.

With regret, I gripped the blade from both sides and pressed down. The fine crack split open with a sharp snap.

The day I ambushed Jang Hodal, it had only clashed with his broadsword once before cutting through his torso. Yet it had ended up like this.

It would definitely break next time. If I did not want to regret it after being cut down, I needed to let go of my attachment and buy a new one.

The dagger with a blade just over one handspan long was still intact.

The vest I had worn for the past two years was made of cowhide. After taking several stray blows for me, it was in tatters from being patched and layered with too much leather.

Even if I forced it on, it would only make me uncomfortable. It would be hard to expect the same protection it once gave.

My hidden trump card was a bamboo tube as thick as two finger joints.

It looked like nothing, but it was a life-saving trick that had rescued me many times when I was backed into a corner.

I filled it with lime powder and concealed it on my left arm. At desperate moments when I was surrounded by many enemies, I would swing my arm and scatter lime powder at the faces of those charging in from the sides or behind.

It would not kill them, but it worked perfectly.

If it got in their eyes, that was the end of it. When white powder suddenly flew through the air in the middle of a fight, everyone recoiled in horror, thinking it was poison. Their coordinated attack would fall apart.

They would not even dare approach until the powder settled. While the enemy hesitated, I would kill the one in front of me and flee quickly.

A life-saving trick did not need to be grand or flashy.

Anything was fine as long as it caught the opponent off guard and made them hesitate. I could ask after their parents to provoke them, or throw shit at them.

The bamboo tube was filled with lime powder, covered with cloth, and sealed with candle wax.

I tied the bamboo tube to my left arm, strapped the dagger to my ankle, fastened the long sword at the small of my back, and took my money pouch before leaving home.

* * *

There had not been a single blacksmith’s shop in my hometown in the past.

Whenever farming tools broke and needed repair or replacement, people had to travel a long way to the nearest city.

Now there were no fewer than three smithies. Two of them made farming tools.

Only one specialized in sabers and swords.

‘Dojeong Ironworks.’

As I entered the alley, the sound of hammering rang out loudly. Business must be good, because the ironworks building was rather respectable.

The front gate was closed, but the workshop inside was plainly visible beyond the sales counter beside it, filled with heat.

Four blacksmiths stood around an anvil, absorbed in their work.

An older middle-aged blacksmith inspected a lump of metal and turned it over with tongs while the other three took turns hammering it.

They had clearly worked together for more than a day or two. They moved naturally and smoothly, as though water flowed between them.

Every hammer blow shattered the surface of the glowing red metal and sent sparks flying in every direction.

It was an impressive sight no matter how many times I saw it. As I watched quietly, a young blacksmith approached me.

“Welcome. Is there something you’re looking for?”

Their rolled-up sleeves revealed bulging muscles on both bronze-tanned arms. They had a sturdy build and broad shoulders.

They looked exactly like a martial artist who had trained in external arts.

Perhaps they really had trained in them. Ironworks did business with martial artists, after all.

If one wanted to sell weapons to villains skilled at absconding without paying, picking fights, making unreasonable demands, and robbing people, possessing some martial strength was essential.

I reached behind myself, drew my long saber, gripped the blade with both hands, and held it out.

“Can this be repaired?”

The young blacksmith narrowed their eyes after seeing the split crack.

“Master! Please come take a look.”

After finishing their task, the older middle-aged blacksmith put the lump of metal back into the furnace and rose from their seat.

Their angular, sturdy face suited someone who had spent a lifetime working with iron.

The ironworks master wiped away their sweat and took my long saber. Their eyes gleamed with interest as they gauged its weight and examined the condition of the blade.

“A two-handed long saber... It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of these.”

“Can it be repaired?”

The ironworks master immediately shook their head.

“I could force it back together, but it would break apart even worse if it clashed with another weapon. I wouldn’t want you bearing a grudge against me, so it’s best I don’t do something so foolish.”

“Do you have a long saber of this length?”

“Nothing like this. The blade resembles a willow leaf saber, but this is much longer and has a thicker spine. Its curve is greater, too. It must put tremendous force behind a cut. Jongsu, bring out the one we made before. The two-handed willow leaf saber.”

The young blacksmith who had greeted me went inside and returned carrying several sabers.

“This is the longest saber we have at the ironworks.”

I accepted the willow leaf saber, turned toward the entrance, thrust it forward, and swung it around in several directions.

The fact that its balance was good alone revealed the skill of the blacksmiths here. Its hilt was also long enough to grip with both hands.

But its spine was thin, so it put less force behind a strike than my long saber. Its reach was also about one handspan shorter. I would likely have a hard time relearning my sense of distance in real combat.

The goose-quill saber Jongsu had brought along was about the same length as the willow leaf saber, with only its tip slightly curved.

“May I look around a little?”

“Show the customer around.”

“This way, please.”

Following Jongsu, I passed through the workshop and entered the inner room.

All kinds of bladed weapons densely lined the walls on both sides. There were only a few swords. The rest were all sabers.

The first thing I noticed was an absurdly enormous great saber. Then there was a mountain-cleaving saber, so large that I could not tell whether it was a saber or a crescent blade. The ox-tail sabers were sleek, but that was all they had going for them. I did not like their shape, and their hilts were too short.

Most of the display racks were filled with broadswords of various sizes.

“There are a lot of broadswords.”

“They sell the most. Yongcheon Escort Agency is our biggest customer, and most escorts buy broadswords.”

Broadswords were weapons favored by the small fry and low-level fighters of the martial world. I had never seen a true master use one.

They were a convenient length to carry, and for people who had never even caught a whiff of martial arts, there was nothing better for blindly forcing their way through with brute strength.

They were also useful for slaughtering pigs and chickens, preparing food ingredients, and chopping wood, so it made sense that Escorts preferred them.

Even when chipped or cracked, their blades were so broad that they did not break easily.

But when faced with a genuine master or an experienced bladesman, every one of those advantages became a weakness that hastened the wielder’s death.

The blade widened toward the tip, placing its center of balance farther from the hand. That was good for putting force into a swing, but disadvantageous when changing direction quickly.

Its reactions were slower as a result, and its movements were easy to read.

They were clearly more than a handspan shorter than the long saber I used, so I had no interest in them. Then an unexpected item caught my eye.

“That is a Nine-Ring Saber. May I see it?”

“Here you are.”

The Nine-Ring Saber Jongsu took down from the display rack was identical to a broadsword. The only difference was that nine rings had been attached through holes in the spine.

Holding the Nine-Ring Saber, I went out into the yard and gave it a light swing. I suddenly recalled the legendary rumors I had heard in Zhejiang about the Divine Wind Nine-Ring Saber.

On impulse, I stamped my right foot on the ground, spun my lower body and torso together, and thrust out the broadsword. When I twisted my wrist, the rings shook wildly.

I stared intently at the rings at the end of the thrust. Unlike the rumors, nothing happened. I tried several more times, but the result was the same.

Of course. This was not the Divine Wind Nine-Ring Saber.

Feeling foolish, I tugged on the rings with my hand.

“Why are these rings attached?”

“Because it’s a Nine-Ring Saber.”

It was not wrong. It needed nine rings to be a Nine-Ring Saber. Just as a martial artist was someone who killed people and took their money.

I looked through everything, but there was no saber I particularly liked. In the end, I decided to commission a custom-made one.

“I would like a new one made exactly like this. Is that possible?”

The ironworks master stared at my long saber and nodded.

“It is. Give me a month to be safe.”

“A whole month? If you melt down this saber and use the metal, there is no need to refine it again.”

The ironworks master tapped the blade with a finger and narrowed their eyes.

“Even if I use this iron, I have never made anything like it before. I will need to study it. Where did you get this?”

“I happened to acquire it by chance.”

There were only a few ways martial artists acquired weapons. They either bought them with money or killed someone and took them.

The ironworks master must have guessed as much, because they did not ask any more about its origin.

“I do not know who made it, but it is the work of a rather skilled saber and sword craftsman. A long saber of this length usually has its balance shifted toward the tip, but this one is exquisitely balanced. Its blade is narrower than those of other sabers and swords, compensating for the added weight of its length. Yet the edge is remarkably durable.”

I knew that well. Over the past few years, I had had plenty of chances to experience and confirm both the strengths and weaknesses of that long saber.

That was why I did not buy another saber and instead wanted to commission a new one somehow.

“It seems they made the cutting edge that clashes with weapons and the spine that supports the force of a strike to different strengths rather than making the blade wider, preventing the edge from shattering...”

As I listened to the ironworks master’s detailed analysis, filled with admiration, I gradually began to feel uneasy.

“Could it be... difficult to make the same thing?”

Perhaps offended that I had questioned their pride, the ironworks master frowned and glared at me.

“No. It is possible. It will merely take more work.”

“How much will it cost?”

The ironworks master considered for a moment before speaking.

“Excluding the price of the iron, I will charge exactly five silver taels for the labor.”

A martial artist ignorant of market prices might get angry and ask why it cost so much, but custom work was originally like that.

Blacksmiths capable of properly making sabers and swords were rare.

If one blindly sought only the cheapest place, then died pointlessly when the blade broke, the money left in their pouch would belong to someone else.

To last long in the martial world, one needed to carry a reliable weapon even if it meant going hungry.

“Let’s do that.”

I could not go around unarmed until the long saber was finished. I needed an appropriate saber to wear in the meantime.

Without needing to think about it, I chose the willow leaf saber most similar to the long saber I had shown first.

“Five silver taels.”

The willow leaf saber was plain, without a single pattern on either its blade or scabbard. The iron used in it was not especially remarkable either.

Even so, it cost five silver taels. Of course, I was not being overcharged.

Usable weapons normally started at two or three silver taels. They required a lot of iron, and blacksmiths’ labor costs were high even among craftsmen.

“Can I sell this back when I come to collect the long saber I ordered?”

“Of course. They are the same price, so you can hand this over and take the long saber. Naturally, you will need to pay more if the blade is chipped or damaged.”

“Let’s do that. Do you happen to have a vest-like armor?”

It might seem unlikely that a place like this would have one, but I had bought my old vest from an ironworks in Hunan.

I had heard that, in Jiangxi where Unorthodox Factions flourished, smithies secretly made chainmail and hand crossbows while avoiding the authorities’ eyes.

Seochon did not seem to be at that level yet.

“A vest? You mean armor? Why would a blacksmith’s shop have something like that? We’re not the military.”

“That’s good.”

I paid five silver taels and fastened the willow leaf saber at my waist.

It felt rather unfamiliar because it was shorter and balanced differently from my long saber, but I would soon get used to it if I kept wearing it.

Since I was already in town, I decided to have a cup of tea before returning home. I went out onto the street and headed for Pungcheon Inn.

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