Chapter 170

Old and small.

That was the old man’s first impression of Jang Family Village.

Seated atop the gently swaying wooden carrying frame, he gazed at the sparse scattering of houses and added in a voice too quiet for anyone to hear,

“…And peaceful.”

It seemed the years had passed after all. Even an insignificant view like this made his body relax and a corner of his heart itch.

Just like that day, more than twenty years ago.

It was the same when I took that child in.

The image of a child he had met long ago suddenly flashed before his eyes.

Normally, he would have tossed the child a few iron coins or simply ignored them and walked on. But that day had been different.

Perhaps it was because he had only just realized that he was suffering from the infirmities of old age.

He had stared at the owner of that desperately outstretched hand and, before he knew it, spoken a single sentence.

Will you come with me?

“Elder, we’re here.”

The woodcutter’s voice brought the old man back to his senses.

They had stopped in front of a small house. Something tiny burst out from behind a loosely woven fence made of bundles of branches.

“Dad!”

“Oh, my daughter!”

The little girl, no more than six or seven years old, came pattering over and flung herself against her father’s leg.

The old man hopped lightly down from the carrying frame and watched them.

“Is she your child?”

“Ah, yes. She is. Hanga, say hello. This gentleman is…”

Come to think of it, Jang-pal did not even know the old man’s name.

As he trailed off, the old man waved a hand.

“No need to exchange names. It’s nothing.”

Just then, Hanga, who had been gazing up at the old man with sparkling eyes, toddled over and slapped his bony thigh.

“Grandpa!”

“Hm?”

“What’s your name, Grandpa?”

“I don’t know. I’ve forgotten it too.”

The old man had only said it to spare himself the bother, but Jang-pal took it differently.

He’s not sound of mind enough to remember even his own name.

As a simple mountain villager, Jang-pal found the old man terribly pitiable.

He could not leave someone who had apparently been abandoned by his children to wander around in clothes scarcely better than rags.

“Elder, why don’t you at least stay for a meal? We’ll have something ready in no time.”

“No need. What you gave me earlier was enough.”

“Even so…”

“There’s someone I must find. I’ve already been delayed for quite some time, so I ask for your understanding.”

After speaking, the old man paused.

Understanding?

The word that had slipped from his mouth felt foreign.

He had lived his entire life without restraint. Everyone had feared and revered him. Even the most renowned masters of Murim had tucked their tails between their legs in his presence.

And yet such words came easily before this country bumpkin he had known for less than half a shichen.

I’m old. I really have grown old.

As the old man stood there in bewilderment, someone tugged at his sleeve.

He looked down and saw plump, baby-soft cheeks twitching.

“Who are you looking for? Hanga is good at finding people.”

“…Is that so?”

“Uh-huh! Yesterday, I found Grandpa Jang from three houses over.”

“Well done.”

“When I found him, he gave me something tasty. I ate until my belly almost burst.”

After that baffling remark, she planted a hand on her waist. Her expression was almost solemn.

“And people need to eat so they’ll have strength. At your age, Grandpa, you can even chew up iron.”

“H-Hanga!”

“Ha ha ha!”

The old man laughed heartily for the first time in a long while. When was the last time he had laughed like this? It must have been more than ten years ago.

Once his laughter subsided, he patted Hanga’s round head.

“Yes, you’re right. This old man can chew up iron.”

“Uh-huh. I’m always right.”

Beaming with pride, Hanga caught hold of his sleeve and led him into the house. The old man let himself be dragged along.

Even the strongest man under heaven could not have made him budge, but today was an exception. More importantly…

This isn’t half bad.

He rather liked the situation. For once, he almost felt like an ordinary old man.

When they entered the room, Jang-pal’s wife soon brought out a meal.

“I’m afraid the side dishes aren’t much.”

As she had said, the food was simple: a few kinds of namul and mixed-grain rice. Even the meat soup they had served for his sake was pale and bland.

But everything had been prepared with care. They were clearly not well-off, yet they treated the shabby old man seated at their table as a guest rather than an unwelcome intruder.

Well, now.

The old man finished the meal with a strange feeling in his heart. Hanga asked him with sparkling eyes,

“Grandpa, was it good?”

“Yes. It was the best meal I’ve had in quite some time.”

“Right? My mom is the best cook in our whole village.”

“…Is that so?”

“Uh-huh!”

I wouldn’t go that far.

The old man swallowed the words and nodded.

He had not enjoyed the meal for its taste, but for the care with which it had been prepared.

Oblivious, Hanga continued chattering away.

“Grandpa Jang from three houses over sometimes comes to eat at our house too. Yesterday I ate at his house, though. Hee hee.”

Jang-pal watched his daughter fondly.

“Hanga, did you go to the elder’s house again?”

“Uh-huh. Grandpa gave me something tasty yesterday. So did the other older brothers.”

“How many times have I told you not to bother the elder? But what do you mean, older brothers?”

Jang Family Village was a small place. The few young men there had either left for other regions or joined Murim sects with dreams of making their fortunes in the martial world.

Those who remained had families of their own, so there was hardly anyone Hanga would call an older brother.

“Were they strangers?”

“Uh-huh. They were tall and handsome, and they gave me this much food. So I found Grandpa for them.”

“You found him? Were they looking for the elder?”

“I don’t know. They were just looking for Grandpa. They were cool older brothers with sticks hanging from their waists.”

“Sticks at their waists… Swords?”

Martial artists. They had to be.

Jang-pal and his wife exchanged grave looks.

To ordinary civilians like them, martial artists were objects of fear.

Only a few months had passed since the war between the Jin Family of Taiyuan and the Mount Heng Sword Sect. How terrified had they been then?

Now, unidentified martial artists had appeared right next door—and their only daughter had become involved with them.

Jang-pal asked anxiously,

“What happened after that?”

“When I took them to Grandpa, he shouted.”

“D-Did you hear who those older brothers were?”

“I did, but I forgot!”

Her answer was bright and innocent, but dark clouds gathered over her parents’ hearts. Jang-pal hurriedly rose to his feet.

“I need to go. The elder may have come to harm.”

“Hanga’s father!”

“You stay here with Hanga. I’ll only sneak over and take a look, so don’t worry.”

Despite his words, he picked up the axe propped against one corner of the room. His horrified wife was about to stop him when—

“Sit down.”

“Pardon?”

“Are your ears clogged? I said sit down.”

The old man, who had been sitting quietly, rose to his feet. His bony knees cracked loudly.

“I’ve had a hearty meal. I might as well go for a stroll. Consider it payment for the food.”

Jang-pal stared blankly at him, then gave a hollow laugh.

“Elder, that’s no place for you.”

“You have it backward. It’s no place for you.”

“Please stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

“Will you be able to come back?”

The old man gazed at Jang-pal with an unreadable expression.

The moment Jang-pal met those deep, still, unfathomable eyes, his breath caught.

“If they’re even a little—just the slightest bit—unsavory, you won’t be coming back. Do you intend to leave your daughter without a father?”

The old man’s eyes flashed like a streak of light, then faded.

As if nothing had happened, he patted his lower back and held out a hand to Jang-pal.

“Give it here.”

That was all.

Yet Jang-pal handed him the axe as if under a spell.

“You’ve maintained it well. Best use this only for chopping wood.”

The old man calmly studied the sharpened blade, then grinned at Hanga. The child had sensed the change in the air, and her large eyes were already glistening.

“Why the long face?”

“I think Hanga did something wrong. Hanga was wrong.”

“Yes. This time, you were.”

Just as a miserable wail was about to burst from her, the old man continued in a voice as soft and warm as a quilt.

“So take special care not to let this happen again. Listen to your parents. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh… But, Grandpa.”

“Go on.”

“Will you come back?”

The old man could not suppress the quiet laugh that escaped him.

“Of course. I’m old enough to chew iron. What couldn’t I do?”

At that moment, Jang-pal snapped out of his daze.

What had he been thinking, handing an axe to an old man suffering from the infirmities of age? He must have been completely bewitched.

He had to put a stop to this at once.

“Elder, please give me back the axe. This—this is ridiculous…”

Jang-pal’s words died in his throat. His mouth fell open at the unbelievable sight unfolding before him.

Crunch. Crunch.

The axe blade was breaking apart.

Each time the old man’s yellow teeth moved—teeth that looked incapable of chewing even a soft chicken bone—the blade Jang-pal carefully sharpened every day snapped off piece by piece.

“W-What is this?”

“Your daughter has a fine eye for people. She was exactly right.”

A conversation from earlier flashed through Jang-pal’s horrified mind.

Why are there so many clan villages around here? Less than half a shichen ago, there was something called Hong Family Village or whatever.

Hong Family Village? Hong Family Village should be at least three hundred li from here. Are you perhaps confusing it with somewhere else?

Do I look like some idiot who can’t even remember something that happened less than half a shichen ago?

Only then did Jang-pal realize that none of the old man’s words had been lies.

He was not an ordinary old man. Someone who could walk three hundred li in half a shichen and chew iron could not possibly be ordinary.

Only one kind of person could perform such extraordinary feats.

“A martial artist…”

The old man asked Jang-pal, whose legs were trembling,

“So, where are they?”

A voice brimming with joy slipped between Jang Taebo’s lips.

“I’ll make you the greatest divine weapon in the world.”

Ding.

System

The Quest mission has been completed.

Quest Find the Master Artisan has been successfully completed.

A linked Quest has been created.

“…”

Shit. If I’d known this would happen, I would’ve shown him sooner.

Hyuk Mujin looked dumbfounded too. No, on closer inspection, he looked horrified.

“Is all of that Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron?”

I scratched my chin. What did I know? The System said it was Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron, so I simply took its word for it.

“Yeah, probably.”

“You can’t just say ‘probably’!”

“Tell me about it.”

To be honest, I was flustered too.

When Jang Taebo had shown no reaction after hearing that I possessed Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron, I had assumed that people in the upper circles treated Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron as basic gear.

But as it turned out…

Is it like a drink made with ten percent apple flavoring?

They called it the greatest mineral under heaven, and if people only shaved off tiny pieces to attach to a blade, it must be incredibly rare.

While everyone else used weapons containing five or ten percent Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron, I could have one made from a hundred percent.

That was an enormous advantage.

My gear alone would give me a head start.

“With this—with this, I can create the masterpiece of my lifetime.”

Jang Taebo trembled all over, overcome with emotion.

It was hard to believe he was the same old man who had acted indifferent and played hard to get only moments ago. Not that I was complaining, now that everything had worked out.

“Where in the world did you obtain such an enormous amount of Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron?”

“That’s a secret.”

“D-Did you perhaps discover a mine containing vast deposits of Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron?”

Jang Taebo’s eyes flared like high beams. He had claimed he no longer needed anything, but now…

“Tell me!”

I coldly shook my head. I did not even know where the mine was, and I could not tell him the truth anyway.

“No.”

“Please! I’m begging you!”

“W-Wait, what are you doing?”

Now he was clinging to my trouser leg. The spirit of an artisan who had devoted decades to a single path blazed in his eyes.

“Please!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

Just as I hurriedly pried Jang Taebo’s hands away—

“Is this the house of Grandpa Jang, who lives three houses over…? Damn it. It’s rubbing off on me already. Anyway, is this Old Man Jang’s house?”

A sharp voice pierced my eardrums.