Even after becoming the boss of the alley, Gu-sam did not neglect his fist and foot techniques training.
"Is your arm alright?"
“Yes. It’s all healed.”
Gu-sam swung his once-broken left arm around as if nothing had happened. The way he extended and retracted his fist, linking it with a kick, was quite impressive. When you're a child, you grow every day, and so you heal just as quickly.
Still, if he hadn't received treatment in time, he would have hovered at death's door and wouldn't have recovered so quickly even after waking up.
"The physician must be skilled."
“Right? Old man Physician Sang gave me acupuncture every day, and I even drank herbal decoctions. Ugh, you have no idea how bitter that was. I think I got up and started walking around quickly just because I didn't want to drink it anymore.”
His words were so spoiled it was astounding. No matter how cheap the medicinal herbs were, a decoction would still cost several dozen coins. And it wasn't something you drank just once or twice.
Even when the gates of the underworld loomed before them, the lives of the poor were such that they would suffer in sorrow and pass away without ever affording a single pouch of medicine. Getting acupuncture wasn't cheap either. For a physician this competent, not some quack, it must have cost at least one or two silver taels.
There was no way Gu-sam could have paid that.
"Be good to the innkeeper."
“Yes. When I make it big later, I’ll truly repay his kindness one day.”
Gu-sam and Bang Hojin kicked up dust as they diligently trained their footwork and fist and foot techniques. I let out a dry laugh at the atmosphere, which had suddenly turned into something like a rural martial arts school, then found myself lost in thought.
What would have happened if I had refused when Gu-sam asked me to teach him how to fight? Gu-sam would still be getting beaten up, and he never would have defeated the former boss of the alley, Bang Hojin. Jang Ho-dal wouldn't have found a reason to assault Gu-sam, either.
If so, I would have never known that Jang Ho-dal had joined the Black Night Gang and was grinding his teeth, plotting revenge against me. Not until he came storming my house in the middle of the night with a host of killers from the Black Night Gang.
Even if I had managed to fend them off somehow, the Black Night Gang wouldn't have left me alone. I might have died fighting to protect my home, or I might have had to leave my hometown once again. Then again, perhaps nothing would have happened at all.
Jang Ho-dal's pouch had contained a mere 70 coins. In a game of tiles, you could never win money without a deft hand.
Even if Jang Ho-dal had diligently crossed the threshold of the gambling den until his back was bent and his hair turned white, it would not have been easy for him to earn the two silver taels needed for the entrance fee. Even on that day when he was nearly broke, two robbers had been following him.
Even if by some miracle his luck with money had held and he had swept the table, he probably would have been stabbed and died in his sleep. Still, looking only at the result, it seemed that by helping Gu-sam, I had also avoided a calamity.
At times like this, the cause and effect of life felt truly mysterious and coincidental. On the other hand, it was terribly bitter. My hometown was no longer safe.
In the future, I would surely clash with other wicked men like Jang Ho-dal or earn their resentment again. I recalled the pathetic faces of the two fools who were with Jang Ho-dal at the inn. They were nobodies and hadn't been directly wronged by me.
Such half-wits lacked the loyalty to risk their lives for a companion's revenge. Jang Ho-dal had died in a robbery-murder. If anyone were to look for the killer, the ones who stole Jang Ho-dal's clothes and broadsword would be the ones pursued.
Just in case, I went around town to check, and it was just as I had expected. Until the Officials found him while on patrol in the afternoon, the dead Jang Ho-dal had been left in the back alley, exactly as he had died. The Officials called people over to identify the corpse, on which flies were already laying eggs.
Once it was revealed that he was just a messy ruffian with no one to back him up or seek retribution, they loaded him onto a cart and dumped him in the mountains. They didn't even attempt to find the culprit. There was nothing more to worry about, but it still seemed wise to be a little prepared.
On a clear, cloudless morning, I took out my long blade and held it up to the sunlight, meticulously inspecting the blade. I had washed it with lye to remove the smell of blood and oiled it with lamp oil, making it gleam, but I could see several chips on the glittering edge.
About two spans from the tip, there was a fine hairline crack. It was a part I had repaired a year ago. This long blade was not something I had bought with money.
About half a year after learning the Nameless Saber Technique in Zhejiang, I was working in Jiangxi when I happened to acquire it. The hilt and scabbard were plain and black, but the blade was long and sleek, with a gentle curve that made it suitable for a sword art focused on slashing.
It was a perfect fit for my height and arm length, and whenever I used the Nameless Saber Technique with this long blade, I always felt I could unleash power beyond my actual skill. It was also well-balanced, so my wrist and shoulder felt less fatigued even after swinging it for a long time.
A sharply honed weapon is bound to break someday if you keep clashing with it in bloody fights. It had been chipped and cracked several times, but I couldn't find a long blade to replace it, so I had repaired it and used it somehow. It seemed that too had now reached its limit.
Feeling a sense of loss, I grasped the blade on both sides and pressed down. The hairline crack split open. On the day I ambushed Jang Ho-dal, all I did was clash with his broadsword once and cut his torso, yet it ended up like this.
Next time, it would surely break. If I didn't want to regret it after getting stabbed, I had to let go of my attachment and buy a new one. My short knife, with a blade about a span long, was fine.
The leather vest that had taken the brunt of blind blades for me countless times over the past two years was tattered from being patched and sewn too many times. Even if I forced myself to wear it, it would only be uncomfortable, and I couldn't expect the same level of protection as before.
The secret trick up my sleeve was a bamboo tube, about the thickness of two fingers. It seemed like nothing, but it was a life-saving technique that had saved me many times when I was cornered. I filled it with lime powder and carried it hidden in my left sleeve.
In a desperate moment when surrounded by many, I would swing my arm and sprinkle the lime powder in the faces of those rushing me from the sides or behind. It wasn't lethal, but it was perfectly effective. If it gets in the eyes, it's over.
When a white powder is suddenly sprinkled in the middle of a fight, everyone panics, thinking it's poison, and backs away, breaking their combined assault. Then, they wouldn't dare approach until the powder settled. While the enemies hesitated, I would finish off the one in front and quickly escape.
A life-saving technique doesn't need to be grand or flashy. Anything that can catch the opponent off guard and make them hesitate is fine. You could ask after their parents' well-being to provoke them, or you could throw dung.
The bamboo tube was filled with lime powder, stopped with a cloth, and sealed with candle wax. I tied the bamboo tube to my left arm and the short knife to my ankle. I hung the long sword at my back, grabbed my pouch, and left the house.
In the past, there wasn't a single blacksmith in my hometown. When farm tools broke and needed repair, or when you had to buy new ones, you had to travel a long way to the nearest city. Now, there were as many as three smithies.
Two of them made farm tools. There was only one that specialized in swords and knives.
'Dojeong Smithy' As I entered the alley, the sound of hammering was loud.
Business seemed to be good, as the smithy building was quite respectable. The main door was closed, but through the sales counter next to it, the heat-filled interior of the workshop was clearly visible. Four blacksmiths were engrossed in their work, surrounding an anvil.
A middle-aged man in his later years examined the state of the metal ingot, turning it this way and that with tongs, while the other three took turns hammering it. It was clear they had been working together for a long time, as their movements were as natural and fluid as flowing water.
Each time the hammer struck, the shell of the red-hot ingot shattered, and sparks flew in all directions. It was always a magnificent sight, and as I watched quietly, a young blacksmith approached.
“Welcome. Is there something you’re looking for?”
His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the bulging muscles of his sun-tanned copper arms. He had a robust build and broad shoulders. He looked every bit a martial artist who had trained in external styles.
He might actually be training in external arts. After all, a smithy was a business that dealt with martial artists. To sell weapons to villains who were masters of skipping out on payments, starting fights, making unreasonable demands, and outright robbery, it was essential to have some martial strength of one's own.
I turned around, drew my long blade, and held out the blade with both hands.
"Can this be repaired?"
After confirming the widened crack, the young blacksmith narrowed his eyes.
"Master! Please come here for a moment."
After finishing the task at hand, the middle-aged man put the metal ingot back into the furnace and stood up. His face was angular and strong, befitting a life spent working with iron. The master smith wiped away his sweat and took the long blade in his hands.
With an intrigued expression, his eyes sparkled as he gauged its weight and examined the condition of the blade.
“A double-handed long blade… It’s been a while since I’ve seen one of these.”
"Can it be repaired?"
The master smith shook his head at once.
“I can force it back together, but if it clashes with another weapon, a bigger piece will fall off. To avoid earning your resentment, it’s best not to do something so foolish.”
"Does the smithy have a long blade of this length?"
“We don’t have anything like this. The blade is similar to a willow blade, but this one is much longer and the spine is thicker. The curve is also greater. It would deliver a powerful cut. Jong-su, bring that thing we made before. The double-handed willow blade.”
The young blacksmith who had greeted me went inside and came back with several blades.
"This is the longest one we have in our smithy."
I took the willow blade, turned my back, and swung it toward the entrance, moving it this way and that. Just by how well-balanced it was, I could tell the skill of the blacksmith here. The hilt was also long enough to be gripped with both hands.
However, the spine was thin, so it carried less force than my long blade. The reach of the blade was also shorter by about a span. It seemed I would have a hard time re-learning the sense of distance in a real fight.
The Goose Feather blade he brought along was of a similar length to the willow blade, with only the tip slightly curved.
"May I look around a bit?"
“Show the customer around.”
“This way, please.”
I followed Jong-su past the workshop and into an inner room. All sorts of blades were densely displayed on the walls on both sides. There were a few swords, but the rest were all knives.
The first thing that caught my eye was an absurdly large executioner blade. Then there was a mountain-cutting blade that was hard to distinguish from a crescent blade. The oxtail blade was sleek, but that was all.
I didn't like its shape, and the hilt was too short. Most of the display rack was taken up by broadswords of various sizes.
"You have a lot of broadswords?"
"They sell the most. Our main customer is the Dragon Sky Escort Agency, and most of their escorts buy broadswords."
The broadsword was a weapon favored by the riffraff and low-level practitioners of the martial world. I had never seen a master use a broadsword. It was of a decent length, easy to carry, and for those who hadn't even sniffed martial arts, there was nothing better than a broadsword for mindlessly pushing through with brute force.
It was also good for butchering pigs or chickens, preparing food ingredients, or cutting wood, so it made sense that escorts would prefer it. Even if it was chipped or cracked, the blade was so wide that it wouldn't break easily.
But if you met a proper master or an experienced swordsman, all those advantages of the broadsword would become weaknesses that would hasten your demise. The blade widened towards the tip, shifting the center of gravity away from the hand. It was good for swinging with force, but disadvantageous for quickly changing direction.
This meant a slower reaction time and easily readable movements. It was obviously shorter than the long blade I used by more than a span, so I didn't even reach for it. Then, an unexpected item caught my eye.
"This is a Nine-Ring Saber. May I see it?"
“Here you are.”
The Nine-Ring Saber that Jong-su took down from the display rack was identical to a broadsword. The only difference was that nine holes were drilled into the spine, and nine rings were attached. I took the Nine-Ring Saber and went out to the courtyard, swinging it lightly.
I was suddenly reminded of the legendary tales of the Wind God Nine-Ring Saber I had heard in Zhejiang. On impulse, I stomped my right foot on the ground and rotated my lower body and torso simultaneously, thrusting the broadsword forward. As I twisted my wrist, the rings shook wildly.
With the thrust completed, I stared intently at the rings. Unlike the rumors, nothing happened. I tried a few more times, but it was the same.
Well, this wasn't the Wind God Nine-Ring Saber, after all. Feeling a bit awkward, I pulled on a ring with my hand.
"Why are these rings attached?"
"Because it’s a Nine-Ring Saber."
He wasn't wrong. It had to have nine rings to be a Nine-Ring Saber. Just like a martial artist was someone who killed people and took their money.
I had looked at everything, but there were no knives that I particularly liked. I had no choice but to request a custom order.
“I’d like to have a new one made just like this one. Is that possible?”
The master smith gazed at the long blade and nodded.
“It’s possible. It should take about a month, to be generous.”
“A whole month? If you melt this knife down and use it, you won't need to refine the metal, right?" Tapping the blade of the long blade with his finger, the master smith narrowed his eyes.
“Even if I use this for the iron, it's my first time making something like this, so I think I’ll need to study it a bit. Where did you get this?”
“I just happened to come across it by chance.”
The ways a martial artist acquired a weapon were obvious. You either buy it with money or kill someone and take it. The master smith seemed to have guessed as much, as he didn't ask any more about its origin.
"I don't know who it was, but this is the work of a considerably skilled smith. A long blade of this length would normally have its center of gravity tilted towards the tip, but this one is exquisitely balanced. The blade is also narrower than other swords, which offsets the weight gained from its length. And yet, the strength of the edge is substantial."
I knew that well. Over the past few years, I'd had ample opportunity to experience and verify the strengths and weaknesses of that long blade. That was why I wasn't buying another knife and was trying to order a new one no matter what.
“Instead of making the blade wide, it seems he prevented the edge from chipping by making the strength of the cutting edge, which clashes with other weapons, and the spine, which supports the force, different…”
Listening to the master smith's detailed analysis filled with admiration, I slowly started to feel anxious.
"Could it be... that it's difficult to make an identical one?"
His pride seemingly wounded, the master smith frowned and shot me a look.
“No, it’s possible. It’ll just take a lot of work.”
“How much will it cost?”
The master smith pondered for a moment before speaking.
“Excluding the cost of the iron, I’ll take just 5 silver taels for the labor.”
A martial artist ignorant of the world might get angry and ask why it was so expensive, but custom orders were always like that. Blacksmiths who could properly forge a sword were also rare.
If you mindlessly looked for a cheap place and your sword broke, leading to a futile death, the money left in your pouch would just go to someone else. To survive for a long time in the martial world, you could starve, but you had to carry a decent weapon.
"Let's do that."
I couldn't go around unarmed until the long blade was finished. I needed a suitable knife to carry. Without a second thought, I chose the willow blade, which was the most similar to the long blade he had shown me at first.
“That will be 5 silver taels.”
The willow blade, both its blade and scabbard, was plain without a single pattern. The iron used for the knife was nothing special either. And yet it was 5 silver taels.
Of course, I wasn't being ripped off. A decent weapon usually started at two or three silver taels. This was because they required a lot of iron, and a blacksmith's labor fee was among the highest for artisans.
"When I come to pick up the long blade I ordered later, can I sell this back?"
“Of course. Since the price is the same, you can give me this and take the long blade. Of course, if the blade is chipped or damaged, you will have to pay more.”
“Let’s do that. By any chance, do you have anything like a vest?”
I doubted they would have something like that here, but the leather vest I used to wear was also purchased at a smithy in Hunan. I had heard that in the Jiangxi area, where the dark paths held sway, smithies secretly forged chain armor and even crossbows, avoiding the eyes of the authorities.
It seemed the Western Village wasn't at that level yet.
"A vest? You mean armor? There's no way a blacksmith would have something like that. This isn't a military depot."
"That's a relief."
I paid the 5 silver taels and fastened the willow blade to my waist. It was shorter than my long blade and its center of gravity was different, making it feel quite unfamiliar, but I knew I would get used to it if I kept it on me.
Since I was already in town, I decided to have a cup of tea and headed out to the street, making my way to the Wind River Inn.