Chapter 34

## Chapter 34. Moon Shadow

"Who is that blacksmith?"

The blacksmith's tent was in the most secluded corner of the mountain where the ronin market was held.

While walking along the winding mountain path with Bok Man-chun, I asked about the blacksmith we were about to meet, partly to pass the time.

"Nobody knows his real name; everyone just calls him Old Master. Most blacksmiths are like that, but he's particularly gruff and stubborn, with a bear-like build."

"I hope his skills match his stubbornness."

"They say his skills are beyond reproach. When he first appeared at the ronin market, everyone thought he was just some nobleman, but a few ronin who bought his swords on a whim found out otherwise."

"What happened to those ronin?"

Bok Man-chun, who had traveled far and wide and had a talent for storytelling, paused at the most intriguing part and grinned.

"They saved their lives several times with those swords. The blades didn't chip easily and remained intact even after dozens of battles."

"…So they were treasured swords."

"The best part is yet to come. One of the ronin who saved his life with the sword went to thank Old Master, but do you know what Old Master said?"

Bok Man-chun cleared his throat and imitated the voice of Old Master, whom he had never met.

"That's just a cheap, hastily made sword. I don't need any more money."

His overly rough and coarse voice made me chuckle.

"Seems like he's got the skills."

"Ha ha. Yes. From that moment on, Old Master became famous in the ronin market. Ronin lined up to buy weapons from him. Oh, the path is getting darker all of a sudden."

As we moved further away from the center of the ronin market, the path became increasingly dark.

Squeak…

Bok Man-chun took out a flint and steel from his sleeve, lit a torch, and continued.

"Where was I… Ah, from then on, Old Master started taking commissions from ronin."

"Commissions?"

"Yes. He promised to make treasured swords for those who would accept his commissions."

"Hmm…."

The mention of treasured swords piqued my interest.

There were countless blacksmiths in the world, but few could confidently claim to make treasured swords.

In my past life, I had hardly ever encountered a blacksmith of that caliber.

If I had to name one, it would be the one who made the Blood Demon Sword…

Bok Man-chun's excited voice brought me back to reality.

"To have a blacksmith who calls his work cheap to promise treasured swords! Can you imagine what kind of items he makes?"

"It wouldn't be unreasonable to think he could make a treasured sword."

"It doesn't have to be a sword. He said he could make anything out of metal, from daggers to spears, staffs, and even armor."

By this point, I couldn't help but be curious.

"So what is the commission?"

"I don't know."

"Excuse me?"

"All the ronin who accepted the commission ended up dead."

"…."

Is this guy joking…?

As my eyes turned menacing, Bok Man-chun quickly tried to smooth things over.

"Of course, not all of them died. But those who survived never spoke about the content of the commission."

"…Did they swear to keep it a secret? I know ronin aren't usually tight-lipped, but…."

"It's not that. They all went mad. Every single one who failed the commission."

At this point, it would be reasonable to think Bok Man-chun had brought me to a secluded place to kill or drive me mad.

"You're finally showing your true colors. Are you after my wealth?"

"Sir, please hear me out."

As I subtly clenched my fist, Bok Man-chun broke into a cold sweat and tried to explain.

"Old Master doesn't always require a commission to make items. He can make them for money too."

"…."

"Even if it's not a treasured sword, he can make something that would be called a treasured sword anywhere else. I don't know what kind of item you're looking for, though."

"You should have said that earlier."

With the misunderstanding cleared, I relaxed my fist. Bok Man-chun let out a playful sigh.

"Anyway, that's the kind of old man he is. Stubborn, skilled, and tight-lipped. He's the perfect blacksmith for you."

"I don't understand why such a person is at the ronin market. With his skills, he could work anywhere."

"It's best not to ask."

Bok Man-chun adjusted the eye patch over his left eye and smiled faintly.

"There's no one in this line of work without a story."

"Your explanation now is not very impressive."

"Tsk…."

We continued up the mountain, chatting along the way.

When we reached the middle of the mountain and were almost at the top, we saw a tent.

A torch was hanging next to the tent, and two men were standing in front of it.

"Sir, we're almost there…"

Boom!

With a sound like a drum exploding, one of the men standing in front of the tent flew through the air and passed by me.

"Argh! Damn old man!"

Fortunately, he didn't seem as badly hurt as he sounded. He got up and shouted at the tent.

"Why not? I offered you money!"

The man, with a red face and a strange medicinal smell, seemed to be under the influence of drugs.

The other man, who had struck him, spoke from inside the tent.

"Get lost. I won't sell you anything."

Because he was standing in front of the torch, his face was in shadow, but his hoarse voice revealed he was an old man.

"Damn it! Do you think you'll get away with this?"

"Want to get hit again?"

The man, lacking the courage to attack again, hurled all sorts of creative insults at the old man before fleeing.

I whispered to Bok Man-chun.

"Is that old man the blacksmith?"

"It seems so."

"You didn't mention he was strong."

"How could I have known that?"

The old man, who had been standing silently in front of the tent, turned his head to look at us.

"Who are you?"

* * *

A man as solid as a rock that has stood for a thousand years.

This was my first thought upon seeing Old Master up close.

Perhaps from years of working with metal, his body looked harder than any sword.

And his face seemed familiar.

'His face is familiar…'

Old Master had several tattoos on his shoulders and arms, and the red dragon on his left shoulder was similar to one I knew.

The moment I saw that tattoo, a name came to mind.

'Could that tattoo be…'

As I stood silently, Bok Man-chun stepped forward and bowed.

"Old Master. We've heard of your great reputation and have come from afar to seek your services."

"Enough flattery. Just state your business."

"…Ahem. We want to commission a weapon."

"A weapon… It seems this young man intends to use it."

Old Master looked at me with a tired expression.

His gaze swept over my entire body.

Though his face looked weary, his eyes were sharp like a well-honed blade.

At that moment, I was certain.

This old man was from a family I knew.

I pushed Bok Man-chun aside and approached the old man.

"The commission to make a treasured sword. Is it still valid?"

"Sir! That's just…"

"Be quiet."

"…."

I silenced Bok Man-chun with a cold voice.

After a moment, Old Master rubbed his tired eyes and spoke.

"Have you heard that story? All the ronin who accepted my commission are dead."

"I know. They either died or went mad."

"Even so, you still want to accept my commission?"

"Well, that's…"

Old Master, looking at me with an expression that said, "I knew it," scratched his cheek.

"The commission itself isn't the problem, but could I handle it a bit later? I have a big test in a few days, so it might be difficult right now."

"…What? Ha ha ha!"

Old Master burst into laughter at my words.

After a moment, he looked at me more seriously.

"Stand straight."

Old Master looked at me intently.

His gaze was different from before, sharp and piercing like a flame.

A master in any field has an eye for talent.

Old Master was evaluating me as a human being, much like he would evaluate a sword.

I met his gaze without flinching.

After a moment, a look of surprise flashed in Old Master's eyes.

"Strange… very strange. Hm."

Old Master examined me for a long time before shaking his head.

"Go back. I won't give you my commission."

"Are you not confident in me?"

Old Master nodded calmly.

"You are an unfinished sword. I can't imagine what form you will take when you are complete, but for now, you lack the strength and refinement to withstand the pressure. You could break at any moment."

It was a sharp observation.

As a blacksmith, Old Master had compared me to a sword, implying that my martial arts and physical form were still incomplete.

But there was something he couldn't see.

"I am a fairly solid sword even now."

"Not to my eyes. I don't want to break an unfinished sword with my own hands."

Old Master, shaking his head, sighed and said,

"In return for broadening your horizons, I will give you a proper sword from my collection. When you believe you are complete, come back to me. Then I will give you a commission."

It was a gesture of goodwill and a down payment for the future commission.

But even if I never returned, Old Master wouldn't blame or seek me out.

'I find him a bit frustrating, but I like him.'

I liked Old Master, the blacksmith.

At the same time, I knew that a stubborn old man like him wouldn't be swayed by persuasion or torture once he made up his mind.

In the end, I had no choice but to nod.

"Understood. I'll go back for now and return soon."

"I'll be waiting. Wait here a moment. I'll bring you a sword."

Actually, I didn't need a weapon made of Yun-iron right away.

Not until my martial arts and status were sufficient.

Until then, the sword I received from Old Master would be enough.

"This is Moon Shadow. It should serve you well."

I took the sword Old Master offered.

The black scabbard had no patterns or tassels.

But the moment I held it, I knew it was a treasured sword.

'Moon Shadow…'

I liked the name.

"I'll return soon."

"Safe travels."

As I turned to leave after exchanging pleasantries with Old Master, I heard a voice from below.

"Old man! I told you you'd regret it!"

Dozens of torches were approaching from the bottom of the mountain.

The voice belonged to the man who had been chased away by Old Master earlier.

"Go set fire to the tent and take everything inside! Surround him so he can't escape!"

Following the man's orders, the ronin with torches began to spread out and surround us.

There were at least dozens of them.

All of them were skilled in martial arts, so their movements were swift.

"How dare you do this in the ronin market…"

Bok Man-chun, radiating killing intent, drew his sword.

Old Master also came out of the tent with a large sword, his face stern.

I stopped the two of them.

"Please stay here."

"Excuse me?"

"What?"

I was feeling restless.

Seeing the rough world of ronin, reminiscent of my Blood Demon Sect days, made me strangely thirsty for action.

Swish.

As I drew the sword Old Master had given me, a pleasant sound resonated.

'A rare treasured sword indeed.'

I turned to Old Master and smiled.

"Let me show you what kind of sword I am now."

"…You might break it."

"I doubt it."

I stepped forward to face the approaching ronin alone.