A startling word slipped from Bu Eunseol’s lips.
The Dark King.
One of the Seven Kings of Death, known as the “King Who Rules the Darkness.” It was said that as long as a sliver of shadow existed, he could completely conceal himself, and within the darkness, he was an unrivaled master with no equal.
“The Dark King,” the old man repeated, his face expressionless. “Why do you think I’m the Dark King?”
Bu Eunseol respectfully clasped his hands in response to the old man’s question.
“My sect has a technique that extends perception through sound and vibration. Yet, only a master capable of making a faint sound without being detected could achieve such a feat… and I believe only the Dark King could do so in the entire martial world.” Bu Eunseol’s answer was deft, praising the excellence of Nangyang Pavilion’s martial arts while simultaneously lauding the Dark King’s prowess.
“Hahaha. Your way with words has made me laugh twice now.” The old man nodded and lightly shook his sleeve. “Indeed. I am Yeop Hyocheon, the Chief Instructor of this fortress.”
The Dark King, Yeop Hyocheon.
He was originally the Night Dance Heavenly Lord, a figure who followed Majeon's Sect Leader like a shadow. But five years ago, to fill the vacant position of Deputy Fortress Lord, which had been empty for twenty years, Majeon's Sect Leader appointed him Chief Instructor. While Majeon's Sect Leader was in seclusion, Yeop Hyocheon balanced the influence of the Council of Elders and the Ten Demonic Sects, making him, in effect, the second-in-command of the fortress.
Bu Eunseol immediately bowed deeply.
“Bu Eunseol, disciple of Nangyang Pavilion, pays his respects to the Chief Instructor.”
Looking at Bu Eunseol, Yeop Hyocheon sighed and said, “To be honest, I opposed the Ten Demon Warriors plan.” Shaking his head briefly, he continued in a low voice, “But seeing someone like you emerge, I’d say it’s been half a success.”
His murmur hinted at a deeper story. As Bu Eunseol maintained a respectful posture with his head bowed, Yeop Hyocheon erased his stern expression and gave a faint smile.
“As you said, I summoned the Demon Warriors here to see you all in person.”
“I see.”
Yeop Hyocheon looked up at the hall’s ceiling with deep eyes and said, “To be precise, it was a request from the Ten Demonic Sects. They wanted me to assess your temperaments and martial skills to assign Grand Masters who would counter you.” For once, Bu Eunseol couldn’t hide his shock.
He had assumed they were assigning opponents to maximize their chances of victory by considering their martial arts and personalities… but to deliberately set them up to lose?
“But I refused. Your talents are too precious, and frankly, even in a fair fight, the odds of defeat are too high.” Bu Eunseol’s expression darkened.
If even Yeop Hyocheon, the fortress’s second-in-command, judged it so—after the Great Lord of Myeonhon had said the same—it must be an undeniable truth.
“Since you recognized me, you deserve a fitting reward,” Yeop Hyocheon said, narrowing his eyes. “To hunt the Grand Masters, you’ll need to know where and how they operate. I’ll instruct the Secret Shadow Pavilion to provide you with the information.”
Nangyang Pavilion had its own exceptional intelligence network, the Peongan Corps. But gathering information on the righteous sect’s Grand Masters would take considerable time. The fortress, however, with its keen awareness of the righteous martial world’s movements, could obtain it swiftly.
‘There’s no reason to refuse such a reward.’ With that thought, Bu Eunseol clasped his hands.
“Thank you.”
“Go, then.” At Yeop Hyocheon’s words, Bu Eunseol bowed respectfully and turned to leave.
Watching him, Yeop Hyocheon shook his head with a somber expression.
“Remarkable. The world is vast, and prodigies are as numerous as grains of sand.” He looked at Bu Eunseol’s retreating figure and murmured, “To think there’d be another with talent and temperament so strikingly similar to him…”
***
Bu Eunseol left the fortress and was riding a carriage back to Nangyang Pavilion.
Clatter, clatter.
As the carriage entered a mountain path, it swayed like a ship caught in a storm. Seated upright with his eyes closed, Bu Eunseol mulled over the information he had received from the Secret Shadow Pavilion.
The Grand Master of Zhongnan.
The Secret Shadow Pavilion had provided him with various details about Yeo Hwanjin, a Grand Master of the Zhongnan Sect. Since becoming a Grand Master, Yeo Hwanjin had remained elusive, like a dragon hidden in the clouds.
But the fortress had thoroughly tracked his movements. He was staying in the Jangsan Gorge in Tangshan and occasionally visited the Zhongnan Sect’s Tangshan Martial Academy to train disciples.
‘This is troublesome. Tangshan…’ The Tangshan region was practically the Zhongnan Sect’s domain.
Having operated a martial academy there for years, the area was filled with Zhongnan Sect disciples, from martial halls to forges, escort agencies, and even local officials and warriors.
‘This is bad.’ If he fought Yeo Hwanjin in such a place, even if he won, escaping unscathed would be nearly impossible.
‘Then…’ Bu Eunseol fell into deep thought. This wasn’t a task he could complete quickly. Moreover, since Yeo Hwanjin was considered a master of high caliber, Bu Eunseol needed to make thorough preparations to face him.
‘Zhongnan, the Zhongnan Sect…’ Though Bu Eunseol had mastered exceptional demonic martial arts, he knew little about righteous sect techniques. But with the Secret Shadow Pavilion’s help, he had gained a rough understanding of the Zhongnan Sect’s history and martial arts.
The Zhongnan Sect’s three great sword techniques: Drifting Wind, Verdant Rain, and Flowing Cloud. Unlike typical Taoist martial arts, the Zhongnan Sect’s techniques were powerful and heavy. It was said that their sword training often resulted in broken or bent blades.
‘Is it like my Supreme Heavenly Flow, blending various techniques to amplify power?’ Having trained in Nangyang Pavilion’s practical martial arts, Bu Eunseol could analyze an opponent’s techniques during combat. But attempting that against a stronger foe would likely get his throat cut before he could fully exert his skills.
‘Then there’s only one way.’ During the four-day carriage ride, Bu Eunseol had been strategizing and had devised a plan.
“We’ve arrived,” the coachman announced. The carriage from the fortress had reached the vicinity of Iron Staff Mountain.
“Thank you.” Bu Eunseol disembarked and swiftly ascended Iron Staff Mountain.
Entering Nangyang Pavilion, he headed straight to the forge to find Master Iron, Wang Geol.
“You’re back already?” Wang Geol, standing in the forge’s workshop, looked at Bu Eunseol while holding a dagger.
He seemed to be examining a newly crafted dagger.
“I heard you have to face the Grand Masters…”
“Yes.”
“That’s worrisome.” Bu Eunseol gazed impassively at Wang Geol, who was turning the dagger in his hands, and spoke.
“Teach me.”
“What?” Wang Geol turned to Bu Eunseol, his brow deeply furrowed. “The pavilion has many masters skilled in martial arts. Go learn from them.”
“No, teach me metallurgy.” Metallurgy—the collective term for all techniques a blacksmith uses to work with metal.
“Metallurgy?”
“Yes. To be precise, the art of sword repair.”
“Sword repair?”
“Yes. I want to focus on learning how to repair swords.” Wang Geol narrowed his eyes and stared at Bu Eunseol.
“What’s your plan?”
“I heard the Zhongnan Sect’s sword techniques are so forceful that their blades often break during training.”
“And?”
“It so happens that the Grand Master of Zhongnan is staying near the Tangshan Iron House.”
“Hmm.” Wang Geol nodded, as if grasping Bu Eunseol’s plan. “That’s a good approach, but learning sword repair will take a lot of time. You might waste what little time you have.”
“You know the fortress imposed a time limit?”
Wang Geol replied nonchalantly, “The Ten Demonic Sects, itching to pit you against the Grand Masters, wouldn’t let you off without a deadline.”
“I see.”
“Find another way.” Wang Geol shook his head. “You’d be better off honing your martial arts in the time you have.”
“No. Teach me metallurgy.” Bu Eunseol looked at Wang Geol with confident eyes. “I believe this is the best approach.”
“And if you waste your time?”
“I’ll do my best.” Wang Geol stared at Bu Eunseol.
After a long silence, he pointed to the forge.
“Then let’s start now.”
***
Henan, Tangshan Iron House.
The largest forge in Tangshan, it employed over thirty blacksmiths. With its skilled craftsmen, it nearly monopolized the region, making it a place where young blacksmiths often came to learn.
Clang, clang, clang.
The forge’s day began with lighting the furnace. Then, the bellows adjusted the temperature to heat the iron. This was followed by repeated hammering to shape the metal and quenching to cool it. Hammering to shape, stretch, or sharpen the metal seemed simple but was grueling work. Working the bellows often resulted in burns from stray sparks.
Whoosh.
A young man was steadily feeding charcoal into the roaring furnace. Tall but with a common face, his expressionless demeanor, like a mask, stood out. His steady movements made him resemble a human-shaped machine from a distance.
“You’re doing well,” said Yuk Manho, an old man watching the young man work the bellows, nodding in approval.
Yuk Manho was the master blacksmith leading all the craftsmen at the Tangshan Iron House.
“His name’s Bu Eunseol, right?” Yuk Manho muttered.
The steward, Yi Bok, standing behind him, nodded.
“Yes. He came recommended by the Third Master of the Huang Family Forge.”
“He said he’s worked with metal before?”
“Yes. He mentioned doing odd jobs at forges since childhood.”
“Hmm.” The heat from the bellows was intense enough to engulf the forge.
Even in the cool spring, seasoned blacksmiths often collapsed from exhaustion while working the bellows. Moreover, frequent sparks left burn scars on their arms. Yet the young man, Bu Eunseol, silently tackled any task assigned to him. His consistent diligence had finally caught Yuk Manho’s attention.
“Let’s give him some real work.”
“Already? He’s only been here a month,” Yi Bok said.
To become a blacksmith, one had to spend a long time doing menial tasks. For those lacking skill or dexterity, it was common to spend a year stoking the furnace or doing odd jobs without ever touching a hammer.
“He said he’s worked in forges before, didn’t he? It should be fine to let him try.” Yi Bok scratched his head at Yuk Manho’s words.
“Actually, there’s some discontent among the blacksmiths.”
“Discontent?”
“Yes. He’s so reserved and quiet… and even though he came recommended by the Third Master, he’s just a rootless wandering blacksmith, isn’t he?”
“Tch,” Yuk Manho clicked his tongue. “Since when did a blacksmith need a pedigree? Why does he need to be sociable?”
“A forge is a place where people work, isn’t it? And our Tangshan Iron House…”
“Listen, Steward Yi,” Yuk Manho scolded in a low, stern voice. “When blacksmiths work with such rotten attitudes, it’s no wonder the quality of our recent products has been criticized.”
He continued in a firm tone, “Starting tomorrow, send that boy to the Fine Craft Institute.”
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