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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: The Hearth
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Seok Jiseung tapped his foot. A subtle malice seeped from the insignificant gesture.
"Why are you just standing there? Don't you need to inspect them?"
Dang Mujin glanced at Seok Jiseung before stepping out of the forge instead of examining the items Seok Jiseung had brought. He rummaged through the goods displayed outside.
Swords with bright red, lush tassels and dao with intricate engravings on their hilts asserted their presence. But flashy decorations weren't Dang Mujin's interest.
Dang Mujin selected four items. Two plain practice swords. One dao buried at the bottom, with pale dust settled between its ridge and blade. And a spear with a broken shaft.
Dang Mujin leaned the four weapons against the wall.
"My judgment is lacking, so I can't tell which of the items you brought were made by Master Seok. But among the ones I examined while waiting outside earlier, these four seemed the finest."
The reason Dang Mujin went outside the forge was simple.
All twenty swords Seok Jiseung had first brought were ones he had made himself.
If Dang Mujin lacked the eye to discern quality, he would have agonized over Seok Jiseung's personally crafted items and picked one no different from the rest. Seok Jiseung would have mocked him for it.
It was a prank anyone would fall for under normal circumstances.
But there was one variable. Dang Mujin's discernment surpassed Seok Jiseung's expectations.
'Now I'm certain.'
Even when he first came to the forge, he hadn't fully trusted his own sharp eyes.
His instincts told him to believe them, but his reason held him back. *Think about it logically. Learning forge work in a dream? Does that even make sense?*
But after coming to the forge and comparing countless items, it became clear. Not only which ones were well-made, but even where the flawed ones had gone wrong in the process.
Items insufficiently bellowed in the heating stage, leaving the temperature too low. Items not hammered enough during forging. Items quenched too briefly.
No need for close scrutiny. A quick glance, then flicking the blade with a finger to hear the sound—that was enough. This must be how a master feels guiding a lacking disciple.
"The items you brought all looked similar, so I couldn't distinguish them. But these seemed different, so I suspect they're made by someone else. I hope one of Master Seok's works is among them."
His words were humble, but his expression brimmed with confidence. Dang Mujin gazed leisurely at Seok Jiseung.
In contrast, the smile faded from Seok Jiseung's face.
Among the items displayed outside the forge, those four were the only ones made by his father, the previous Master Seok.
*How in the world?*
After his father's retirement, quite a few people had visited the forge. But those items looked unremarkable, so no one had taken them.
If Dang Mujin had picked one, Seok Jiseung would have chalked it up to luck. Two, and he'd admit good eyesight.
But Dang Mujin had brought all four of his father's works, as if their names were engraved on them.
At this point, it went beyond acknowledging or denying Dang Mujin. Seok Jiseung ground his molars.
*Is the gap that wide? A guy who's only seen scrap metal his whole life can spot them at a glance?*
No. Impossible.
He'd been in and out of forges for twenty years, yet even Seok Jiseung couldn't select those exact four so precisely.
Even items made by the same smith have slight differences, but they follow a basic mold.
*Are you claiming to be Ou Yezi of Yue?*
No room for argument. At the very least, Dang Mujin's eye was impeccable.
But Seok Jiseung refused to admit defeat. Call it the pride of a young smith or sheer bravado.
"...Fine. I get it—you've got a good eye, little brother Dang. Maybe even better raw talent than me."
"Hmm, looks like the previous master's works were mixed in."
"Mixed in? All four are my father's. Impressive discernment."
"Just luck."
Dang Mujin planned to modestly wrap things up with some humble words.
But Seok Jiseung's words didn't end there.
"With talent like yours, it makes no sense for me to swing the hammer in front of you. Even if I poured out every trick I know, I couldn't make anything to satisfy your eye. No—even if you scoured all of Sichuan Province, you wouldn't find a smith up to your standards."
Dang Mujin agreed with that assessment.
It would just be a matter of traveling far to find something slightly less lacking—no needle to his liking. His standards had risen excessively.
Of course, admiration for Dang Mujin's eye wasn't the point Seok Jiseung was driving at. He went to a corner of the forge, picked up a hefty hammer, and held it out to Dang Mujin.
"Then there's only one way to make something to your eye. You make the item you want yourself."
Dang Mujin let out a scoff.
It was like a physician telling a patient to self-diagnose, administer their own acupuncture, and brew their own medicine.
*He really wants to see me flounder.*
Some people are born with sharp eyes.
Quite a few can offer a tip or two leveraging that innate discernment. Even a street peddler smith could critique the legendary swordsmith Ou Yezi of Yue.
But wielding the hammer oneself was a whole different realm. Impossible without experience.
Yet Dang Mujin had no intention of refusing Seok Jiseung's proposal. He was curious how far he could go, and he wanted to grip the hammer.
*Besides, even if I fail, it's not embarrassing, right?*
Dang Mujin reached out and took the hammer. As he lifted the hefty weight, his arm dipped slightly downward. Seok Jiseung's expression brightened noticeably.
"A bit heavy, huh?"
"It's substantial."
"Everyone is at first. If it feels like too much, we can stop. I'll put more effort into making another needle. It'll still fall short, but better than last time, right?"
"It's fine. How many chances will I get in life to play smith? Might as well take this opportunity."
"Is that so."
Dang Mujin crossed his arms and surveyed the forge. Where to start? Pretreating the iron ore? Refining?
But Seok Jiseung had no intention of dragging things out.
"Since you've got the hammer, let's start with forging."
His goal was to watch Dang Mujin fumble and err.
No plans to waste time teaching the slow shaping process step-by-step. Seeing mistakes in the most dynamic part—forging—would suffice.
After a few swings, Dang Mujin would realize how arrogant his words had been.
Dang Mujin nodded, accepting the proposal.
"Sure, why not."
Dang Mujin added firewood to the still-burning hearth. Then he placed a pre-cut chunk of iron into the furnace.
"That's a lot for a needle. You sure?"
"This amount is just right."
Dang Mujin looked under the hearth. A small hand bellows was ready.
Hand bellows were cumbersome but had their own charm. As Dang Mujin began steady, vigorous pumping, the furnace flames roared stronger.
Controlling hearth temperature is harder than it looks. Too low, and the iron won't heat evenly. Too high, and it warps during forging.
To Seok Jiseung, the hearth seemed a touch too hot. As if for something other than forging.
Shortly after the iron glowed bright yellow, Dang Mujin tonged it out.
"Hold the tongs for me."
Seok Jiseung took the tongs to secure the iron as Dang Mujin, having fetched a chisel and hammer, cleaved the center. An abrupt action, yet his hands moved skillfully and naturally.
"Why all of a sudden?"
"Just for simple practice with one chunk."
Dang Mujin took back the tongs, securing the iron with his left hand while slamming down with the hammer in his right.
Clang!
The first strike is always spectacular. Impurities clinging from the furnace burst outward like fireworks.
Intimidating and scorching hot—beginners typically flinch back.
But Dang Mujin swung heedlessly. Sparks flew several times before dying down.
His shoulders already felt heavy after few swings, pain surging into his palms.
Dang Mujin had the memories and knowledge of a smith, but his body couldn't keep up.
Clang, clang!
Fine. He swung without pause. A smith mustn't miss when the iron is hottest.
While Dang Mujin focused, Seok Jiseung watched from a step away, stunned.
The moment the hammer first met iron, any thought of mocking him vanished cleanly.
Not a single awkward motion. As natural as his father.
Left arm gripping tongs firm against his waist, securing the iron. Right arm with hammer tracing a clean arc to strike. He looked like a lifelong smith, not a physician.
And that wasn't all.
*The sound is different.*
Not the ear-piercing clamor of typical smithing, but like striking a musical instrument.
Intervals steady, volume consistent. A touch clearer, and it might resemble a stone chime.
Seok Jiseung recalled his own first swings.
Dodging sparks reflexively, he dropped the iron. Focused on hammer, his left hand slackened, releasing tongs.
Hammer not level—tilted strikes dented the iron. Off-mark hits struck anvil instead.
Yet his father had smiled, pleased by his seriousness and quick learning over other kids.
*I wasn't even that good.*
No trial and error—Dang Mujin hammered mechanically.
Solo forging requires reheating two or three times to shape.
But the iron in Dang Mujin's tongs already took dagger form. Not forceful, but precise motions without excess made it possible.
Dang Mujin's right palm torn wide, blood flowing. Dripping down his forearm to his elbow. Must hurt terribly.
Yet he stared at the iron with blazing eyes, ignoring pain—only joy evident.
But his shoulders slowed unmistakably.
Right. Even that hammering taxes him. Clearly no smithing experience.
*How is this possible?*
Soon, Dang Mujin plunged the blade into the water trough. Sizzle—droplets sprayed, steam billowed white. Pulled out, a dark, blunt dagger blade emerged.
No need to touch. Watching the process told him.
Shape perfect, center of balance ideal.
Seok Jiseung held his breath, eyes on Dang Mujin's hands.
Heart pounding. *Show me the next steps.*
Hammer a few more, quench, temper, sharpen. Octagonal edge or square?
Show crafting the hilt, the scabbard.
In this moment, pride meant nothing to Seok Jiseung.
He was a smith craving even one step forward before being a proud youth.
But against Seok Jiseung's hopes, Dang Mujin didn't return the dagger to the hearth.
"Brother Seok."
"Y-Yeah? Uh-huh."
"Melt this one down again."
"Melt it?"
"Yes. It's just practice, right? Can't waste good iron."
Seok Jiseung couldn't reply. Something felt unjust.
Throw it away? That process yields something to discard?
No, can't end like that. Finish what you started. Show me the product. Reveal the completed form in your head.
But Dang Mujin couldn't know Seok Jiseung's thoughts. He tossed the dagger blade casually aside. Seok Jiseung trailed off in regret.
*Should I beg him to finish? No, he might laugh. But if not now, no other chance...*
While Seok Jiseung agonized, Dang Mujin resumed pumping the bellows handle. Air whooshed out, flames surging anew.
He tonged the half-chunk he'd cut earlier into the hearth.
Seok Jiseung finally snapped to.
"...What now?"
"Shoulders are loosened up, so time to make the needle."