Return of the Mount Hua Sect [EN]: Chapter 432

It was turning red. A deep, burning red, like the rising sun.

“Ughhhh.”

Hye-yeon’s round head was bright red. He made a face in pain.

‘What kind of inner force is this…?’

He was sure his inner strength was very good for someone his age. He felt confident because his sect was Shaolin, known for being the best at internal cultivation.

But now, the Mount Hua disciples next to him seemed more relaxed than Hye-yeon, even while using a lot of inner force.

‘Could Instructor Jo Gul and Yoon Jong really have such strong inner power? Maybe they ate some magic ginseng?’

Besides…

“That baldy over there! Did he only eat gruel? Why can’t he exert any strength?!”

“…I told you to only feed him grass.”

“Well, a monk should eat grass! Should I feed him meat or something?”

“…That’s not what I meant.”

Hye-yeon’s eyes filled with tears at the conversation behind him. But the heat from the furnace quickly dried them.

‘A devilish human.’

If Buddha was watching, why would he let that devil cause so much trouble?

No, this wasn’t Buddha’s problem. Wasn’t that human a Taoist?

What was the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning doing? He should send lightning to fix this!

“Hey, hey! Look at him spacing out again!”

Hye-yeon flinched.

He quickly focused on using his inner force.

“The Shaolin monks of old were so focused that birds could build nests in their hair without them noticing! These days, Shaolin monks are, tsk!”

“His head is smooth; how could birds build a nest there? You have to say things that make sense.”

“Back then, even the birds had grit!”

“…Crazy bastard.”

Hye-yeon squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the conversation.

It was strange. Hye-yeon disliked Baek Cheon, who always agreed with Cheong-myeong. He might even dislike Baek Cheon more than Cheong-myeong himself, even though Cheong-myeong was the one causing all the trouble.

Kwaaaaah!

Hye-yeon opened his eyes and stared at the furnace with a frown. The heat blasted Hye-yeon’s face like a furnace door had opened. Sweat poured down his back, and the air tasted thick and smoky. Each breath felt like fire in his lungs.

‘How much longer do I have to do this?’

It had been two days since they started stoking the fire without sleep. Now, everyone was exhausted…

“Kroooooh! This booze is amazing!”

“……”

Ah, I hate this. I really hate this.

Cheong-myeong turned the gourd upside down and shook it, pouring the last drop into his mouth. Then, he reached out to his side, only to frown sharply.

“It’s gone?”

Cheong-myeong looked around and grinned at Tang Gunak.

“Dang Clan Leader,” he said, a little too loudly, “booze is all gone.”

Tang Gunak’s face tightened. He lowered his voice, but it was still sharp. “Listen to me,” he said. “Everyone here is working until they drop. And you’re… drinking?”

“Huh? What is?”

“……”

Tang Gunak looked down slightly at Cheong-myeong’s question.

Seeing Cheong-myeong half-reclined in a large, comfortable chair, shaking a liquor bottle, made his stomach churn.

Okay, fine, the chair is fine.

But the liquor bottles scattered all over the floor were truly unbearable.

“Listen here, Divine Dragon of Mount Hua!”

“Yes?”

Tang Gunak hardened his face and spoke with dignity.

“I don’t want to find fault with you. But isn’t this going too far? The Dang Clan elders, the Mount Hua disciples, and even the Shaolin monk Hye-yeon are suffering. How can you drink in front of them like this?”

“Ah…?”

Cheong-myeong drooped his head. Tang Gunak felt a little better and warned him.

“You can drink as much as you want later. But I can’t allow drinking here anymore.”

“I understand what you’re saying.”

Cheong-myeong nodded as if he understood.

Tang Gunak was surprised by his reaction.

‘He listens well when you’re firm?’

Maybe he wasn’t as strong-willed as he seemed…

But then…

“Ah-pyeong!”

“Yessireeee! Sword Saint Elder!”

“……”

Tang Gunak’s eyebrows twitched.

At Cheong-myeong’s call, Dang Jo-pyeong sprinted over.

“You called?”

Cheong-myeong pointed to the liquor bottles and table on the floor.

“Clean all this up.”

“Yes? What do you mean?”

“The Clan Leader says having a drinking party here is against etiquette. I made a mistake.”

Dang Jo-pyeong turned to Tang Gunak with a snap.

He flinched.

Tang Gunak shrank back at the murderous look in his eyes.

“G-Grandfather. That’s not what I meant…”

“You innoooooocent fool!”

“……”

Dang Jo-pyeong rolled his eyes back and foamed at the mouth.

“Do you even know who this person is! How dare youuuu!”

“……”

If he didn’t recognize him, he wouldn’t know who the Clan Leader was. Why did he recognize him this time while believing Cheong-myeong’s words?

Why was his mind only half working?

“This person! Huh? This person! The Plum Blossom Sword Saint! The Mount Hua’s Finest Sword that those wicked Demonic Sect tremble at, and privately, someone who is like a brother to your grandfather’s grandfather! What? Drinking party? Did you say drinking party?”

“…Th-That’s not what I said, Great-Grandfather…”

“Can’t you shut your mouth!”

Tang Gunak’s vision blurred with tears.

This was too heartbreaking.

“How dare you say such nonsense about this person’s drinking! This person is qualified to drink even in the Shaolin’s Grand Hall of the Great Heroes!”

Hye-yeon, who was suffering, turned his head at Dang Jo-pyeong’s shout.

No, Elder. Shouldn’t you hear Shaolin’s side of the story too?

Being unable to speak was the regret of a lifetime.

Dang Jo-pyeong praised the Plum Blossom Sword Saint endlessly.

“The eternal hero who has slain countless vile Demonic Sect leaders!”

“Hee hee hee hee.”

“The Finest Sword Under Heaven! Huh? The Finest Sword! The Fineeeest!”

“Hee hee hee hee hee!”

“And the greatest guest of the Sichuan Dang Clan, what’s this and that? Even your great-grandfather wouldn’t dare say such things to this person! The family’s laws are going backward! Do I really have to pick up the switch to make you come to your senses?”

“Kya-ha-ha! Kya-ha-ha-ha!”

Cheong-myeong burst into laughter. Seeing that, Tang Gunak felt a thousand fires in his chest.

‘No, why do you like it? Why!’

Dang Jo-pyeong shouted with bloodshot eyes.

“The answer!”

“I’m, I’m sorry.”

Cheong-myeong, reclined in his chair, chimed in.

“Shaoxing wine too.”

“Yes, Shaoxing wine too!”

“Sweet Zhuyeqing too.”

“Yes, Zhuyeqing too! Eh. No! Bring all the liquor you have! All kinds!”

Dang Jo-pyeong glared when Tang Gunak hesitated.

“Why? Should I go?”

“Ah, no, Great-Grandfather! I will prepare the liquor table immediately!”

“Run!”

“Yes!”

As Tang Gunak tried to run off, Dang Pae and Dang Jan blocked his path, horrified.

“F-Father. We’ll go!”

“Stay here, here!”

As the two ran off, Tang Gunak looked at the distant sky outside the workshop.

How could I make such a mistake…

I should have stopped that man when he said he would pretend to be the Plum Blossom Sword Saint. Why did I allow it, only to suffer like this?

Chung Myung ignored Tang Gunak and asked Dang Jo-pyeong, “Is it almost ready?”

“Nearly there,” Dang Jo-pyeong replied.

“Why is it taking so long?” Chung Myung asked.

“If we were just melting it, it would be done already. But to make a proper Hancheol ingot, we need more. We’re slowly reaching the final stage, so I need your help one more time, Master Chung Myung.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes. We need to increase the firepower to the maximum at the end.”

“Ugh.”

Chung Myung groaned and rose from his seat. He was already tired, but he knew arguing would take longer.

“Alright. It’s better to finish quickly. Let’s go,” he grumbled, pushing himself up.

He strode towards the furnace.

“Sasuk! It’s time!”

“Got it!” Baek Cheon and Yiseol quickly followed behind him.

“Everyone, get out of the way!” Chung Myung shouted, and Hye-yeon, Jo-geol, and Yun-jong retreated, panting.

Chung Myung took a deep breath and grabbed the furnace.

Yiseol and Baek Cheon also grabbed the furnace and began pouring in their inner strength. Dang Jo-pyeong took his place in front of the furnace again.

“Push it to the maximum! To the maximum! Until the furnace burns out!”

Chung Myung’s inner strength began to surge. Baek Cheon and Yiseol responded and assisted, pushing with all their might.

Tang Gunak exclaimed, ‘Even if Chung Myung is like that, the other disciples of Hwasan also have tremendous inner strength.’

He panted and asked Yun-jong, who was walking out of the smithy, “Are all the disciples of Hwasan this strong in inner strength?”

Yun-jong glanced back for a moment and shook his head. “No. Everyone tends to be strong in inner strength, but… generally, it’s about Soso’s level.”

“About Soso’s level, is it?” Tang Gunak subtly turned his head to look at Tang Soso. She and Baek-sang were constantly peeking inside from the smithy entrance.

The two of them had weaker inner strength than the others and could not participate in heating the furnace.

‘Yes, that’s normal.’ No. That’s not normal either. Soso’s inner strength was originally not low compared to her peers, and after visiting Hwasan, she possessed a high level of inner strength that was incomparable to the past.

Nevertheless, the fact that there is such a difference is still…

“The spiritual medicine must have been effective,” Tang Gunak said.

“Did you know?” Yun-jong asked, scratching his head awkwardly.

And that attitude pleased Tang Gunak.

‘They don’t even turn their eyes towards Soso.’ If the Dang family head knew what they were trying to hide, he would generally suspect Tang Soso. But even after hearing those words, they did not suspect Tang Soso in the slightest.

‘It’s a good place.’ He could understand why Soso was so attached to Hwasan.

“Then…”

It was at that very moment.

Rumble!

A huge noise erupted from the smithy. Startled, Tang Gunak looked up and saw white flames spewing from the furnace, soaring upwards as if ascending above the chimney. The smithy air was thick with the smell of burning coal and hot metal. The furnace roared like an angry beast, and waves of heat washed over them, making their faces flush.

“…They don’t know moderation, do they? Really.” The eaves began to burn from the heat.

Inside the smithy, Dang Jo-pyeong’s voice, full of excitement, burst out. “Bring the mold!”

“Yes!” The Dang family members hurriedly carried the mold. And under Dang Jo-pyeong’s instructions, they carefully placed it in front of the furnace.

“Get closer, you fools!”

“Yes!” Dang Jo-pyeong’s eyes shone with wild excitement. He moved with jerky, eager motions, his voice rising in pitch.

“Get out of the way!” He pushed all the family members away, picked up a long iron bar, and began poking at the lower part of the furnace.

“Molten metal coming out!”

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

After striking the bottom of the furnace several times, a hole opened, and molten metal erupted from the furnace, pouring like liquid sunlight into the mold.

“Kugh!”

“Heavens!” The Dang family members, who were far away, each exclaimed in admiration.

Flames soared from the molten metal. It was as if a river of fire was flowing along the long, extended mold. The heat was so intense that even though they had retreated at least three lengths away, their faces were burning.

Crack! Crack!

Dang Jo-pyeong, having scraped out the last of the molten metal, threw down the iron bar and shouted, “It’s done!”

Chung Myung, who had taken his hands off the furnace, ran out and stared silently at the white molten metal pooled in the long mold, radiating heat.

For some reason, he felt purified just by looking at it.

“Now, all that’s left is to cool it down?” Chung Myung asked.

“Yes, Master Chung Myung. It’s been placed in the mold, so once it cools, the Hancheol ingot will be complete. Then, we just need to hammer it out and shape it into a sword,” Dang Jo-pyeong replied.

“Hmm. This Hancheol doesn’t seem like much. I won’t be able to make many swords, will I?”

“No. A Ten-Thousand-Year Hancheol sword shouldn’t be made only of Hancheol, or it won’t turn out as good as you think. I have my own secret method. I’ll layer it with Mukcheol and Baekryeonjeonggang (Hundred-Refined Steel). And Jacheol (Magnetite) from Yunnan. Besides, Hwasan’s swords are thinner and more flexible than ordinary swords, aren’t they? You’ll get a lot.”

“Oh? Really?” Chung Myung smiled contentedly, as if relieved.

‘I was worried, but he’s an even more outstanding craftsman than I thought.’

“Oh! It’s already cooling down?” Tang Gunak, who had entered the smithy and was watching, was impressed by the sight of the end of the mold cooling down. It was the first time he had ever seen this much Hancheol being made.

“Heavens, such clear silver!”

When the molten metal poured from the furnace cools, it is usually black and rough. It is common to hammer and grind the steel to make it clean, but this Ten-Thousand-Year Hancheol looked clear and clean as snow from the moment it cooled.

“This is the real Ten-Thousand-Year Hancheol! The things made by half-melting it are just half-baked goods that only bear the name of Hancheol!” Dang Jo-pyeong said, puffing out his chest.

“Hancheol that has been properly melted and cast emits a cold energy, just like the word Hancheol (寒鐵) implies. That’s why it cools down so quickly.”

“Indeed… You are amazing, Great-Grandfather,” Tang Gunak said.

“It’s nothing.” Dang Jo-pyeong waved his hand lightly.

But Chung Myung tilted his head as if he didn’t understand something.

“But…”

“Yes,” Dang Jo-pyeong responded.

“Why did you make it so long? If, as you said, you only need a piece of steel smaller than a fist to make a sword, what are you going to do with it being so long?”

“We can just cut it,” Dang Jo-pyeong replied.

“…It looks thicker than an arm. How are you going to cut that? It’s already cooled down, too.”

“Hahaha. Why are you joking like that?”

“Huh?”

When Chung Myung asked back, still not understanding, Dang Jo-pyeong chuckled as if he were hearing the funniest thing in the world.

“Hancheol may be the best steel, but it’s still just steel. Isn’t steel without your inner energy like mud to you, Elder?”

“Now, all you have to do is cut this into pieces as you said. I’ll mark the exact length for you.”

Chung Myung’s eyes twitched.

Cut it?

What?

The Hancheol?

He almost broke his back cutting that thin Hancheol before, and now he’s supposed to cut something thicker than his arm?

Dang Jo-pyeong, unaware of Chung Myung’s thoughts, cheerfully picked up a brush and began drawing lines on the Hancheol.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch scritch scritch!

Lines the length of a finger were drawn on the Hancheol ingot, which was long enough for five people to lie down on.

“Now! Sword Saint! Just cut it along these lines!”

“…Me?”

“Of course.”

“I’m not the Plum Blossom Sword Saint, though?”

“Hahahaha. Your jokes are too much. Please start quickly. I’ll prepare to make the Hancheol sword then.”

“…But I’m serious.”

“Hahahahaha. You’ve become funnier. You’ve become funnier.”

No, you!

I’m not joking, I’m not the Plum Blossom Sword Saint!

…I’m going crazy. Really.

Chung Myung felt a cold dread in his stomach. This was going to be much harder than he thought.