The Occult World’s Coveted Blacksmith - Chapter 30

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Chen

◈ The Occult World’s Coveted Blacksmith ◈

Chapter 30: If You Fixed an E-Rank Item, Doesn’t That Make You an E-Rank Artisan?

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Jade Garden.

It was where House Jujak’s elders gathered for meetings.

Inside a spacious traditional house, with a garden thick with jade trees lying between its rooms, the soft scents of ink and bitter tea hung in the air.

The retainers sat together, leisurely sipping tea.

House Jujak was one of the Four Great Houses, particularly skilled in painting, calligraphy, and Talismans.

Perhaps because of that, many of the key figures gathered here were painters, talisman practitioners, or others who worked with brushes.

“...Have you heard?”

One elder cautiously spoke up.

Instead of answering, the old man seated at the head of the room simply continued wiping the orchid leaf in his hand with a silk cloth.

He held the highest position in Jade Garden.

He was Yoo Cheong-wol, a master painter who effectively headed House Jujak’s elders’ council.

Though he was nearing eighty, his eyes remained as black and deep as freshly ground ink.

“...Tch. I have.”

Another elder seated beside Yoo Cheong-wol broke the silence.

“You mean that brat called Master Do of the Tianshan Sect.”

“Yes. I heard Yoo Seon-woo was thoroughly shown up over the repository incident not long ago.”

The things Yoo Seon-woo had reported after returning from the job a few days earlier were difficult to believe.

Someone had appeared who could read the Spell Formula in a painting.

At first, Yoo Cheong-wol had dismissed it as nonsense too.

Yet Yoo Seon-woo’s deathly pale face while making that report made it impossible to believe the account was a lie.

‘...A Spell Formula in a painting. He read it right there on the spot, with the naked eye.’

Yoo Cheong-wol clicked his tongue without realizing it.

“...Tsk, tsk.”

To see through the Spell Formula in a painting.

That was a realm every painter yearned for throughout their life, yet could never reach.

Even among the aged master painters seated here, how many could discern even a fraction of the structure within someone else’s Spell Formula?

Yet some inexperienced youngster had been born with such an extraordinary gift.

“...To possess such a precious talent.”

A sigh-like lament escaped Yoo Cheong-wol’s lips.

“And waste it hammering iron.”

It was not that he considered metalwork beneath him.

Rather, he regretted seeing such precious talent confined to such a narrow well.

If someone with that level of insight were handed a brush, what heights might they reach?

The thought alone made his mouth water.

“And I hear...”

Another elder beside him quietly added,

“He’s still very young, perhaps only just an adult.”

“...Huh.”

The room stirred at those words.

Such insight at that age?

Since he belonged to the Tianshan Sect, perhaps some secluded master had passed down a secret art to him.

As various theories were exchanged, one elder spoke with a grave expression.

“...Can we truly just stand by and watch?”

The elder set a teacup down roughly.

“If someone unaffiliated with a house starts freely displaying that level of skill, things will become disorderly in no time. We must act as soon as possible.”

Act.

Who here did not understand what that meant?

Approaching the Tianshan Sect directly would be burdensome, so they meant to disguise it as an accident and break a leg or wrist to put him out of commission.

That was how this world had always worked.

But then.

“...No.”

Yoo Cheong-wol quietly shook his head.

“For some reason, I find myself wanting to take that boy in.”

“...What do you mean by that?”

The elders’ gazes turned toward him at once.

They were discussing cutting off the sprout before it could grow, yet he wanted to bring the boy in?

“I heard something.”

Yoo Cheong-wol set down the orchid leaf he had been wiping and curled his lips into a faint smile.

“He doesn’t seem to be entirely one of them.”

He might have belonged to the Tianshan Sect.

Still, he spoke Korean as fluently as a native, so Yoo Cheong-wol had sent people to investigate from every angle.

Then he heard that the boy’s mother was Korean.

Of course, that was a false identity Seo Ji-an had deliberately leaked.

‘...He can be persuaded.’

Though he wore the bothersome shield of the Tianshan Sect, he was half Korean, was he not?

Calculations rapidly ran through Yoo Cheong-wol’s mind.

The younger someone was, the more vulnerable they were to affection.

Was that not why he had come seeking his mother’s embrace?

He must have wandered alone without a house to rely on.

Give him a warm meal, offer him a good position, and gradually win him over with a convincing pretext.

Without ever touching the Tianshan Sect, they could make him walk into their arms of his own accord.

‘...Heh.’

A faint smile spread across Yoo Cheong-wol’s lips.

He was far too valuable to waste away as a blacksmith.

Make him stop that foolish hammering of iron, put a brush in his hand, and gradually pass on the house’s secret arts.

Perhaps they could raise him into an unparalleled Grand Master Painter whose name would remain forever in the history of painters around the world.

And Yoo Cheong-wol’s own name would be recorded as that young man’s teacher.

Just thinking about it made his mouth water.

As the old man savored his pointless greed, a secretary silently approached a young retainer from behind in one corner of the meeting room.

With trembling hands, the secretary held out a screen displaying something before the retainer’s eyes.

The retainer’s eyes shook violently while reading it.

“...E-Elder.”

The retainer spoke in a trembling voice.

“I believe you need to see this first.”

“...What could possibly be so important that you’re making such a fuss?”

Yoo Cheong-wol reluctantly took it.

The moment his gaze reached the screen.

Crash!

The celadon teacup in his hand fell to the floor and shattered.

“...Whaaaaaat?!”

The old master painter’s shout rang through Jade Garden.

“He made an Eul-tier item?!”

* * *

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The iron rang.

The heat of the furnace scorched my skin.

Sweat ran down my back.

Heavy vibrations traveled through my arm muscles.

A thrilling tremor passed through the calluses on my palms from the hammer.

It felt good.

If someone asked me what exactly felt good, I couldn’t explain it. It had always been that way.

When I said I was going to become a blacksmith in the game, everyone laughed at me.

They said that if I was going to spend all day clanging away in front of a furnace hot enough to kill me, I should just do real construction work.

Why pay money to do cyber manual labor?

At first, some people like me stepped into the profession out of curiosity because they wanted to try something no one else did.

But they too grew tired of the endless boredom and repetition, leaving one by one.

Some became barbarians, others mages, all in search of exhilarating adventures full of cold draft beer and adrenaline.

But I didn’t leave.

Because it was fun.

Across the vast continent were hidden NPC craftsmen.

Eccentric masters who tightly guarded their own special secrets.

The cold-forging method I learned from a dwarf in the northern snow mountains.

The mana alloy secret I obtained after chasing an itinerant craftsman through the eastern desert.

The lava-stone refining technique taught to me by a reclusive master in the southern volcanic region.

Every one of those bastards was difficult.

One would only speak after I brought rare liquor every day and gradually buttered them up.

Another would only teach me after I presented a gift made from legendary-grade materials.

Yet another would suddenly challenge me to a duel.

A duel with a blacksmith. Did that make any sense?

But once I learned one thing, I discovered there was always something deeper beyond it.

The farther I went, the more I craved.

I was thirsty.

After chasing things down, learning, and hammering like a madman, I had nearly reached the top before I knew it.

I knew there were still techniques I had not attained.

But the game’s service shutdown was already looming by then.

‘There are still heights I haven’t reached...!’

Swallowing that regret, I focused on reaching the maximum level.

That was how my ten years in the game came to an end.

...But.

It wasn’t over.

Clang.

I set down the hammer.

Lifting the glowing lump of metal with tongs, I inspected it.

It was beautiful.

The flow of Spiritual Power I had envisioned had seeped perfectly between the metal’s particles, settling into place with flawless precision.

This real-world Occult World.

An endless new world I had never set foot in before stretched out before me.

This was only the beginning.

My grip around the tongs tightened on its own.

My heart raced.

This damned heart of mine was pounding like crazy again over a lump of metal.

“Oh? Is something good happening, Do-hyeon?”

...I must have been smiling to myself again.

The habit from working alone had lingered.

When I looked up, Seo Ji-an was walking in while waving a black plastic bag.

Yu-ha followed behind her, looking hesitant.

“Yu-ha happened to stop by because of a job, so we came together.”

“...Hello, Master Do.”

Yu-ha bowed deeply while carefully holding her Japanese sword to her chest.

“Here, have one each.”

Seo Ji-an took cold canned drinks from the bag and handed one to each of us.

I put down my hammer and perched on the chair in front of the workbench.

Pssh.

I opened the can and chugged it down.

Gulp. Gulp.

Maybe because I’d sweated buckets, the carbonation stinging down my throat felt incredible.

“Hehe. I can see why you’re happy.”

Seo Ji-an sat across from me and smiled meaningfully.

“...Why?”

“Tada!”

She took out a tablet, tapped the screen a few times, and turned it toward us.

It was a sorcery magazine with a decent reputation in the Occult World.

[The Sword Demon Returns! Shaking Up the Korean Occult World Rankings]

Below it was a large interview photo.

“...!”

Yu-ha froze when she saw it.

“W-Wait!”

She hurriedly reached out to cover the screen.

But she was too late.

In the photo, Yu-ha had tilted her upper body slightly to one side.

Her cheeks were puffed up, a bright smile touched her eyes, and she was making a V sign with two fingers.

Her usual serious and quiet demeanor was nowhere to be found.

Instead, she looked completely cheerful and lively.

“...”

I looked back and forth between the real Yu-ha and the Yu-ha in the picture.

“...Um, it came out well.”

“...!”

Yu-ha’s face instantly turned bright red.

“D-Don’t look! That was... The photographer told me to pose like that...!”

She finally covered her face with both hands.

“Oh, why? It’s adorable.”

Seo Ji-an snickered and swiped to the next screen.

[Exclusive Interview with Ishihara, the Rising Star and New Grade 2 Sorcerer]

[Soaring Through the Korean Sorcerer Rankings! Where Is Her Limit?]

Yu-ha had become famous before we knew it.

The Sword Demon’s granddaughter who had single-handedly cut through that enormous illusion.

It hadn’t even been long since I repaired her sword.

Yet she had already risen as a promising newcomer attracting the Korean Occult World’s attention.

Thanks to her efficiently resolving several jobs, the profits coming our way had also been increasing nicely.

But the sorcerer rankings weren’t the only thing that had gone up.

“Look. She’s exploding in popularity.”

Seo Ji-an swiped the screen to the side.

A ranking site from an occult magazine appeared on the screen.

“Yu-ha! You went up again! At this rate, you’ll easily make the top five soon.”

This was literally a popularity ranking for sorcerers.

Though the Occult World was a hidden world unknown to ordinary people, it seemed there was still a kind of fame within it.

Apparently, getting your name on the rankings became a mark of prestige. You could receive offers to model for advertisements circulated only within the Occult World, and before you knew it, people started calling themselves your fans.

It was different from the sorcerer rankings, which were based solely on skill.

“I told you she would become popular.”

Seo Ji-an rested her chin on her hand and murmured with satisfaction.

“Her skills go without saying, her story is so compelling, her face is pretty, and that figure of hers too... Ahem.”

“S-Seo Ji-an!”

Yu-ha, who had barely lowered her hands from her face, flared up again.

“Why? It’s true. Right, Do-hyeon?”

“...I don’t know.”

I only took another sip from my can.

Seo Ji-an giggled and moved to the next page.

“Anyway, it’s not just her popularity that has risen.”

A news headline appeared in a banner on the ranking site.

[Who Is Master Do of the Tianshan Sect Behind Ishihara’s Sword?]

With Yu-ha rising so quickly, it was natural for people’s interest to turn toward her weapon.

“Thanks to that, requests and interview offers have been pouring in for us lately.”

Seo Ji-an added with a proud look.

“Oh, right. Do-hyeon, have you looked at Goblin Fire lately? It’s full of stories about us these days.”

While sipping from my can, I scrolled through the screen with my finger.

Sure enough.

The entire board was covered with posts about me.

[HOT] Did you see the Ishihara interview? They say Master Do repaired that sword?

Apparently, she took it everywhere in Japan and Korea.

Everywhere turned her down, saying they couldn’t repair it.

Then she happened to meet some distinguished person on a job. He looked it over, asked to borrow it for a moment, and fixed it right there on the spot. Crazy.

And who was that?

Our very own Master Do of the Tianshan Sect.

└ Damn, the Do Emperor is insanely cool.

└ At that level, doesn’t that mean he’s at least Eul-tier?

└ Hahahaha, I heard even Cheonhwa Hall couldn’t fix it.

Some said I was the descendant of a reclusive master who had descended from a deep mountain.

Others said I was the Tianshan Sect’s hidden trump card.

Rumors spawned more rumors, growing in the telling until they created made-up backstories for me.

That was how people who had never even seen my face started calling me the Do Emperor.

Then.

As I scrolled down, a post with a troubling title caught my eye.

[Column] Is It Really Okay to Hype Up Master Do of the Tianshan Sect Like This?

There has been much talk about Master Do of the Tianshan Sect repairing Ishihara’s sword and being called an “Eul-tier artisan,” but that is absurd. He only “repaired” an existing Eul-tier Ritual Implement. He did not create something from nothing.

How can someone be called an Eul-tier artisan for merely piggybacking on the perfect Spell Formula laid out by an existing master? The public should not be deceived by such shallow noise marketing and should learn to see the true foundations of the Occult World.

“...”

It was a column written by the head artisan of a famous workshop with a considerable reputation in the Occult World.

In short, they refused to acknowledge Do-hyeon as an Eul-tier artisan and told everyone to stop making such a fuss.

And it wasn’t the only post like that.

Families and workshops with some name recognition were posting similar articles meant to keep us in check one after another, as if they had agreed beforehand.

Yet despite all their efforts.

└ Damn, Do Emperor. If the houses are already trying to keep him in check, he’s definitely a superstar.

└ Hahahaha, if he repaired an Eul-tier item, he’s an Eul-tier artisan. What nonsense are they talking about? How many times have they only sold things, then washed their hands of it when they couldn’t repair them? Pathetic.

So does that mean people without house connections can buy Eul-tier weapons now? Should I get ready to run over there?

└ Do you have the money?

└ It’s fine. I’ll sell my house and finance the whole thing in installments.

└ Hahahaha, you’ll be eating cup noodles in a one-room apartment for the rest of your life.

Rather than the columns trying to tear us down, the comments below them were burning much hotter.

“Hmm...”

Seo Ji-an, who had been looking at the screen beside me, smacked her lips.

“As expected, the biggest controversy is whether it’s right to call you an Eul-tier artisan just because you repaired an Eul-tier item.”

Then the corners of her mouth slowly rose.

“Well, that’s the noise marketing we were aiming for. Hehe.”

Controversy became attention.

Attention became money.