Chapter 166

Old Man Jang’s daily routine was simple: eat, sleep, and shit.

Every now and then, he visited a pleasure house or an inn for a drink, or sat in on a gambling game and played dominoes, but he spent most of his time at home.

By now, the villagers had grown accustomed to him. They would sometimes ask,

“Don’t you get lonely?”

But Old Man Jang’s answer was always firm.

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

People whispered that the solitary old man only said that out of pride, but he meant every word.

Life couldn’t be more comfortable.

He slept when he was tired, ate when he was hungry, and shit when he needed to.

Some might mock him for living like a beast, but Old Man Jang had more than earned the right.

No—he felt even that was insufficient.

After the life I’ve lived.

He had spent an entire jiazi before vats of boiling molten iron.

Once he started something, he had to see it through to the end. He had forgotten people and love alike. The anvil and hammer had been his friends and lovers.

I lived like a man possessed.

Then one day, he came to his senses and found that his hair had turned white and his vision had grown dim.

He had become one of the finest smiths under heaven and the Guild Leader of the Ironcraft Guild, but that was all.

No matter how many times he brought down his hammer, he could not fill the emptiness in his heart.

In the end, he decided to retire. And so Jang Taebo, the Guild Leader of the Ironcraft Guild, became Old Man Jang.

“Grandpa!”

“Uh, hm?”

Old Man Jang jerked out of his reverie. He had been squatting in the yard, staring blankly into space.

A little boy from the neighboring house was looking at him with enormous eyes.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I was thinking that if you used polite speech, I might give you a piece of candy.”

“What are you thinking about, Grandpa?”

“…What a sly little brat. Here.”

“Tank you!”

Old Man Jang watched the boy busily suck on the candy.

He had known the child since he was a newborn. At first, the boy had been a nuisance, constantly clinging to him and calling him Grandpa. Then, at some point, Old Man Jang had found himself carrying snacks around for him.

Well, this isn’t so bad either.

For a blunt and prickly old man like him, the boy was his only real conversation partner.

Looking at the child sometimes made him wonder what it might have been like to have a family of his own.

“Would you like another one?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

“Ahem. Polite speech.”

“Yes!”

“Eat them slowly so you don’t ruin your teeth. Understand?”

“Yeah!”

“…That polite speech didn’t last long.”

After licking two pieces of candy clean in the blink of an eye, the boy suddenly spoke.

“Oh, right. Grandpa.”

“What is it?”

“What’s your name?”

“You should ask an elder’s name more respectfully… No, never mind. Why do you suddenly want to know?”

“Hmm, I was just curious.”

“Hmm.”

“I asked Mom and Dad too, but they said they didn’t know your name. Nobody knows.”

Though he had settled here more than ten years ago, Old Man Jang had never revealed his name to anyone.

He had been worried that flies might start buzzing around him. No—mere flies would have been a blessing.

Skilled smiths were needed everywhere, especially by Murim sects whose members would stake their lives on their weapons. If his identity became known, his remaining years would be anything but peaceful.

“Grandpa, aren’t you going to tell me?”

Old Man Jang looked into the boy’s large, innocent eyes.

Well, it should be safe to tell him a little.

He was too young to understand what any of it meant. Besides, a few more pieces of candy would distract him, and he would soon forget.

Old Man Jang only had to conceal enough to keep his identity hidden.

“I’ll tell you one character of my name. It’s Bo.”

“Your family name is Jang, so… are you Jang Bo?”

“No. I said my name ends in Bo.”

“What’s the other character?”

“Curious, are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Fine. Use polite speech properly for the next month, and I’ll think about telling you.”

“Wow, that’s mean.”

Old Man Jang let out a quiet laugh as the boy puffed out his cheeks.

“Hng. Can’t you just tell me? I need to know so I can eat something tasty.”

“…?”

“Whew. I guess it can’t be helped.”

What was that supposed to mean?

As Old Man Jang wondered, the boy heaved a sigh like an old man and sprang to his feet.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll come back later!”

“Don’t bother. The sun’s already down, you brat. Go home and sleep!”

“I don’t want to!”

For someone with such short legs, the boy had boundless energy. He quickly disappeared in the opposite direction from his house.

“That boy never listens.”

Muttering under his breath, Old Man Jang hauled his stiff body upright.

Until about ten years ago, he had still been able to manage well enough. But once he began losing muscle, his joints started aching all over.

“Good grief. I’d better warm up the room.”

He fed firewood into the firebox and lit the brazier.

After puttering around for a while, he stepped outside to use the privy before bed.

That was when—

“Grandpa!”

The boy’s innocent cry rang out.

But Old Man Jang did not hear it.

His seasoned gaze was fixed on the three large men standing behind the child.

Martial artists?

The sun had already set, leaving their faces hidden in darkness, but he could clearly make out the sword sheaths protruding from their waists.

He had made countless such objects himself.

Without taking his eyes off the men, Old Man Jang beckoned to the boy.

“Hanga, come here.”

“Yeah!”

Now that he looked, the boy was clutching a large bundle to his chest. It radiated warmth and gave off an appetizing smell.

Having roughly grasped the situation, Old Man Jang glared at the figures in the darkness.

“Who are you?”

A spark snapped in the darkness, then flared to life. The fire starter in someone’s hand illuminated the three men’s faces.

They were all young men around twenty. One stepped forward.

“My goodness. Good evening.”

He had a handsome face and a sly smile.

Old Man Jang studied the vaguely familiar face before speaking.

“Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi?”

He had seen that face from a distance about half a month ago.

The young man, Jin Taekyung, broke into a wide grin.

“Oh, you know the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi. That’s me. Hahaha.”

“An old man named Jang?”

“Yes. I was told he definitely lived in this village.”

“Well, there are so many of them. There must be twenty old men with the family name Jang.”

“He’s around eighty…”

“They all suffered when they were young, so they’ve all aged about the same. Mr. Jang next door is fifty, but he looks a hundred and fifty.”

“…”

“Anyway, they’re all like that.”

“Um, he lives alone, and his name is…”

“Who bothers remembering everyone’s name? Once they get old, they’re all just Old Man Jang. Plenty of people live alone too. War, drought, epidemics… Whew.”

“…”

Damn it. We had arrived before sunset, only to run into trouble immediately.

I had wondered why such a tiny village had so many old men named Jang. It turned out to be a clan village.¹ Half the people we passed on the road had the family name Jang.

“Do you know where he lives?”

As Hyuk Mujin grew frustrated, I waved the letter containing the information in front of him.

“No. It only says he lives here. I guess they thought we’d find him quickly since it’s a small village.”

Cheongpung pulled some meat from his bundle and began tearing into it.

“Chomp, chomp, chomp.”

“Then how are we supposed to find him? Jang is already a common family name.”

“We’ll have to find out for ourselves. There are only a few hundred people here, and he’s an old man, so we should locate him quickly.”

“Chomp, chomp, chomp.”

“…”

“…”

That bastard Cheongpung had done nothing but eat this whole time.

Then again, maybe that could work in my favor. I was just about to give up and ask him for a piece of meat when—

“Oh, the grandpa who lives three houses down from us is a Jang too.”

The speaker was a little boy whose head barely reached my waist. With his enormous eyes, he was pretty cute.

I ruffled his shaggy hair.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s Grandpa Jang.”

“Really?”

I played along, though I wasn’t expecting much. The woman selling vegetables at the roadside stall was a Jang, and so was the butcher over there. In a clan village crawling with Jangs, what were the odds?

The boy sniffed and continued.

“Grandpa is always alone. He doesn’t have a family, so I go play with him.”

“Oh, you little rascal. That’s kind of you—wait. He doesn’t have a family?”

“Yeah! I asked Mom, and she said he’d been alone ever since he first came here.”

“Since he first came here? He isn’t originally from this village?”

The boy nodded vigorously.

“My dad told me Grandpa came from somewhere else. Since he came from outside, he doesn’t have any friends or family.”

“I see.”

Hyuk Mujin and I exchanged glances. This sounded promising, but it was hardly conclusive.

“Little one, do you know his name?”

“Do you know anything else about him?”

“I don’t know his name. He’s just Grandpa Jang.”

It seemed that was all the boy knew. Hyuk Mujin asked with an eerily kind smile,

“Little one, could you tell us where he lives?”

“Waaay over there. At the edge of the village.”

As expected of the continent. This damn village was absurdly large for its population.

Hyuk Mujin roughly gauged the distance before turning to me.

“It’ll take about fifteen minutes.”

Even on horseback, it would take that long. I shook my head.

“What if he isn’t the one? Let’s search nearby first and work our way over there.”

“Yes, that’s probably better. Aside from the fact that he came from elsewhere, there’s nothing that really marks him as the man we’re looking for.”

Cheongpung nodded.

“Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.”

“…”

“…”

While I wondered whether I should simply hurl away that food bundle, the boy boldly held out both his little hands toward Cheongpung.

“Hmm?”

“Grandpa Jang said there’s no such thing as a favor without a price.”

The kid already understood how the world worked.

He had given us information, so now he wanted a bite in return. That Grandpa Jang or whatever his name was sure had taught a fine lesson to a child of five or six.

“Wow, my grandfather said something similar. Here.”

“Wow! Thank you!”

Look at them, united under the banner of grandfathers.

Cheongpung casually handed him a large leg of meat. He had been periodically warming the food with the Zaha Divine Technique, which was based on Scorching Yang Qi, so the meat was still hot.

He’s using the Zaha Divine Technique to heat meat?

The boy happily tore into the meat, then looked at us with naked longing in his eyes.

“By the way, I need to go home anyway. And on the way back, I’m going to visit Grandpa Jang three houses down.”

“Oh, really?”

I immediately understood what he meant. When you were desperate, you would borrow even a cat’s paw. Why not a child’s?

“Then could you ask Grandpa Jang his name? Meet us back here in half a shichen.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll be even hungrier by then.”

“See those food bundles? I’ll give you a whole one.”

“Really?”

The boy’s eyes lit up, but then he hesitated.

“Why are you looking for Grandpa Jang?”

“It’s nothing serious. We just have a favor to ask him.”

“You’re not bad people, are you?”

Introducing myself as the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi from the Jin Family of Taiyuan would only draw a crowd. I gave him my most innocent smile.

“Of course not.”

“Ugh. Why are you smiling like such a bad person?”

“…”

Should I just smack him on the head and send him away?

Hyuk Mujin stepped in on my behalf.

“I’ll give you two bundles.”

“So you were good people after all. I’ll be back!”

The child was already becoming a monster born of capitalism.

Hyuk Mujin shrugged.

“Where should we start looking?”

“Search everything from the nearest entrance onward.”

“That’ll take half a shichen.”

Hyuk Mujin was wrong. It took us more than half a shichen to search half the village.

Then the boy returned with an extremely valuable clue.

If his name starts with Jang and ends with Bo…

The former Guild Leader of the Ironcraft Guild, Jang Taebo.

That had to be him.

“Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi?”

“Oh, you know the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi. That’s me. Hahaha.”

The fact that he knew who I was was a good sign. It felt strange to say this about myself, but wasn’t the Sleeping Dragon of Shanxi practically Shanxi Province’s idol?

If this world had internet access, I would already have a fan club.

“I’m sorry to visit so late at night. The thing is, I have a favor to ask…”

“There’s no need.”

“Pardon?”

Jang Taebo was over eighty, but he still had a sturdy build. He fixed me with a cantankerous stare.

“I won’t accept the commission anyway.”

“Still, you should at least hear what it is…”

“No!”

Well, that was decisive.