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Chapter 93
Meanwhile, at the time when Rollin, carrying Lee Shin and Choi Yeo-shim, was leaving Gwangyang, in a junkyard in Daegu, cars were flying through the air.
“Sh-shit, move!!”
Kwagagang――!!
A group threw themselves aside to avoid the crashing car.
They were members of the Suseong faction, notorious in the Daegu underworld.
Ӗń ū m̄ ӑ
At this very moment, they were under a mysterious assault, their base being torn apart.
Cars from the junkyard were being hurled like catapults, bizarre laughter and chilling collision sounds echoing endlessly.
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And always following those noises, came the screams.
“Ugh!”
“Save me!!”
“My arm, my arm!!”
Enů m а .і̂ d̃
At that moment, shouts rang out nearby.
“Support’s coming soon! Hold on just a little longer!!”
“Block it!”
“Stop them!!”
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With the buff of encouragement containing their boss’ magical power, the members gathered their strength and stood up again.
But did they know?
Ẁ е̇ b̌n̊ о̀v_ẽ ľ Е́ ňu m̈а
While they were throwing their bodies on the line to defend their turf, their boss was running away as fast as he could, abandoning both the base and his men to save himself.
“Fucking hell, those sons of bitches. It really is them!”
The boss knew exactly who the attackers were.
Just a few days ago, some Russians, never before seen in Daegu, had shown up.
White-skinned, huge-bodied, wearing ill-fitting suits, they suddenly paid their respects to Daegu’s organizations.
— “Nice to meet. Me. Brother Services. Looking for. Goods.”
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A bald man with a wolf tattoo.
— “Shit, move, you’re pissing me off. Uh, so we’re like, fuck. Trying to talk in these stupid suits, words won’t come out. Fucking hell.”
A foul-mouthed woman.
— “Oi, shut your mouths. Ahem, I’m this kind of person. We’ll just quietly take the ‘goods.’ Please, let us.”
And lastly, a pot-bellied giant who handed over a business card reading [Brother Services, Manager Jang Anton] in an absurdly rustic Busan dialect.
The boss’ mistake wasn’t the name Brother Services, nor the intimidating Russian thugs.
Е̄n u̇ mа . і̃ d̀
It was the “goods.”
He got hooked on the scent of thick money surrounding the goods.
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If people like that were looking for it, then it had to be something extraordinary. And from that, he concluded it was highly likely an “item.”
What followed went exactly as expected.
The boss used his men to find out what the Russians were after.
It turned out to be a pawnshop he had passed by often, and by threatening the owner, he managed to snatch the goods first.
Е n̊ u m̈а̃ . î d
And just as he was about to have it appraised—to find out what exactly it was, whether it was truly an “item” or not!
That’s when those bastards started throwing cars.
The fleeing boss clutched the “monocle” that had started this whole mess, almost praying.
“Damn it, you’d better be worth it.”
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Enough to abandon the organization he had built over nine years…!
Just as he was about to complete his desperate “please.”
Е̊ň û m̈ а̂.і d
Kwaaaang―!!
“Keueeehhk!”
Something fell from the sky and crushed him.
The shockwave made the ground of the whole area lurch, and through the rising cloud of dust, a shadow could be faintly seen.
It was a beast. A beast’s eyes, full of murderous intent, glowed through the haze.
But then, as the dust cleared, standing where the shadow had been was a pot-bellied giant.
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“There’re always greedy bastards wherever you go, huh.”
Former Russian gang boss, now “Brother Services” manager, Jang Anton, grabbed the half-collapsed man’s head with one hand and pulled out the monocle inside.
Well, thanks to him, they saved some money and even picked up a nice little side profit, so should he be grateful?
Jang Anton poured a potion onto the man’s face as a token of thanks, then pulled a sheet of paper from his coat.
“Looks like we’ll make it on schedule.”
________________________________________
Ѐ ñũ m̄a
< Materials to Recover >
Daegu, Suseong-gu: Glass lens of the monocle (Pawnshop, doesn’t matter if broken, recover all fragments and powder.)
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Gangwon-do, Inje-gun: Stone with butterfly pattern (Weekend farm warehouse, faint purple color.)
Ulsan, Dong-gu: Dharma painting (Exact location unknown, a family with 5 children.)
Chungnam, Daecheon Beach: ……
Daejeon ……
Ѐňu m̀ а
……
…
.
“Why the hell would anyone need this kind of junk?”
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A list of materials with suspiciously detailed descriptions of shapes and characteristics.
If they were genuine artifact-like items, at least it would make sense, but these were nothing but scraps.
Е̄ nu.m а̌_. і̌ d́
As he pulled the lenses from the monocle’s frame and sealed them into a containment device, Jang Anton suddenly recalled something Lee Shin had once said, and headed back to his brothers.
— “Reinforcement doesn’t just mean recruitment. Don’t forget the gear boost!”
________________________________________
This was Pohang.
The city that actively supported blacksmiths and upheld its ancient glory as the “furnace of Asia,” a steelmaking city not just in Korea but worldwide.
“You’re late!”
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A young man came running out, gasping for breath.
The surrounding merchants could tell at a glance that the youth was an apprentice.
Pohang had the largest number of individual workshops in the country, and aspiring future masters usually apprenticed themselves to renowned forges to learn metallurgy.
“What do I do…”
The apprentice youth stamped his feet anxiously in front of the forge. He knew exactly what kind of punishment awaited him from his ill-tempered master.
At that moment, a voice came from next door.
Ẅ е́ b ń о̌ v е́ l̊ Е̇nū m̆ а
“It’s alright, young man. The master had a friend over and drank until dawn, just went to sleep not long ago.”
“Really?!? Ha… what a relief.”
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It was the old man from the hardware store next door.
He had supplied equipment to nearby forges long before the youth became an apprentice.
“You’ve had breakfast, son?”
“Ahaha, not yet.”
W e b̂ n o v̄ ӗ l̇ Ѐ n̄ ù mâ
“Good grief… smithing runs on food. Wait a moment. Here.”
From the old man’s coat pocket came a Choco Pie.
“Take this with you.”
“Th-thank you.”
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The young man politely received the Choco Pie with both hands, bowing his head before entering, even though the elder’s hand, stained with grime, felt a bit uncomfortable. The old man’s face was covered in age spots, but his gentle smile made up for it.
The elder’s words about a drinking session had been true.
Ẇ еbn о.v̄е̂l Е̂ num̂ а̂
As soon as he stepped inside, the smell of alcohol stung his nose.
The workshop was a mess with bottles scattered about and an oden stew gone cold.
The young man quickly grabbed a broom and dustpan to clean up the place. It would be natural to feel annoyed at such a sight in the morning, but he didn’t change his expression or complain as he tidied up.
He even thought of himself as lucky. At least it wasn’t spilled jjambbong broth.
“Ahem, you came.”
“Good morning, Master.”
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“Yeah, fetch me some honey water. Ugh, am I getting old? I didn’t even drink that much…”
“Seems you drank a lot, though. I see more soju bottles than usual today…”
“Shut up, my head hurts. Just get me the honey water.”
“Yes, right away, sir.”
Though his tone was harsh, this was actually mild compared to how things usually were.
In the metallurgy trade, “apprentice” was spelled disciple, but read as slave.
E nûm а̌
With fire and steel, in such a rough work environment, hierarchy was absolute.
To seniors, one had to be deferential; to masters, one had to be reverent, like to gods.
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Skills, learning, even profits—everything flowed from the top down. The phrase “to be granted” didn’t exist without reason.
Thus, despite his harsh treatment, the young man considered himself lucky. His master’s temper was foul, but his skill was the real deal.
After drinking the honey water, the master’s bleary eyes sharpened a little.
Then he immediately barked,
W ĕ b̂ nо̂v éľ E n um̂ ä
“What are you doing standing there? Pick up the hammer.”
“Yes, sir!”
In the end, skill was all that remained in this field.
Even the legendary craftsmen were known for that.
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A blacksmith speaks with steel.
So the young man hammered away at the steel laid on the anvil. Just then, his master went upstairs for a smoke, and soon, a loud voice rang out. The young man quickly wiped his sweat and ran up.
Wеb̂ň о̂ v́е l Е̇ǹû m̂ а
“Hey, old man. Why don’t you get it through your head? I said the contract is over. Don’t use your nails in my workshop.”
“Sorry, Master Craftsman. I forgot.”
“Forgot? Because you left it by the door, I ran into it like this!”
The master was quarreling with the old man from the hardware store next door.
No, rather, he was bullying him. His master, with his artistic temperament, treated people based on his moods, and those who suffered most were the young man and the hardware store owner.
The frail old man, standing beside the brawny blacksmith, looked pitiful.
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‘By his expression, this will go on for at least an hour.’
The young man thought of the Choco Pie he’d eaten that morning, squeezed his eyes shut, and stepped forward.
“Master.”
“…Hey, why are you here? Already finished a thousand strikes?”
“I heard the noise, so—”
“You brat, are you mocking me? You think my words are a joke?”
Е n u m̃ǎ
A slap came flying.
He had expected this, but he thought, better me than the old man, and lowered his head to take the blow.
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At the same time, he discreetly shuffled his foot as usual, signaling the old man to leave.
Once the old man slipped away, the young man figured his master would cool down after beating him for thirty minutes or so.
But then it happened.
The old man, who would normally have disappeared by now, remained standing there today.
W̊_еb n ȯv̆ еl̊ Е nú ḿ а
And his next action made the young man’s eyes fly open.
“You there, blacksmith.”
“??!!”
The master stopped mid-blow.
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“Blacksmith? You talking to me?”
“Yes, I’m talking to you.”
Wẽ b̂ n̈ о v ёl Еñùm̌ á
“Ha, this old man’s gone senile. Blacksmith? You? Hey, you think we’re equals?”
“I know well how rough those who eat steel for a living can be. That’s why I usually stay quiet, not interfering in another man’s disciple-master relationship. But you’re going too far.”
“What… what did you just say?”
“Changing disciples every two years isn’t normal, is it?”
“You bastard!”
The master raised his thick arm, and the young man hurled himself forward to block it.
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“Master, Master!”
“Let go! Let go of me!”
“Please go, old man!!”
“It’s fine, young man. Let me be. This is between old men.”
“Between old men? You piece of shit, running a dingy shop and daring to sit at the same table as me? Fine, I’ll pay compensation—after I beat you.”
“Please, just go!!”
Е n_u̇ ḿ а̂
“Let go, damn it.”
By now, people had gathered at the commotion.
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Everyone knew the blacksmith was rude and violent.
No doubt he was the cause again. Yet no one intervened. Why risk crossing a blacksmith who had influence in the neighborhood—over a mere hardware store owner?
So while no one stopped it, the conflict escalated…
And then it happened.
Е n u̇m̂ ӓ
Something struck the master’s head as he shouted.
Thud.
???
??
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?
A moment of silence.
Ē n̆ umȧ . ї d̂
All eyes turned downward.
Rolling across the ground was a tin can.
Then, a voice drew everyone’s gaze to that spot.
“Hm? Miss Yeo-shim, I definitely threw that into the trash bin. Why did it bounce out?”
“Because the trash was human, not garbage.”
“Ah, oh…!”
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Two people stood there, gazing with cold eyes.
Choi Yeo-shim, draped in her robe, and Lee Shin, dressed in a suit.
“Wait, isn’t that Lee Shin?”
“The representative of Mir Guild?!”
Was it because such a giant figure had appeared? Everyone was struck speechless.
And of course. Who was Lee Shin? Beyond Mir Guild, he was the eldest grandson of the country’s greatest conglomerate, the LeeDo Group. In this metallurgy world, he was the ultimate big spender.
W ӗ ḃn̆ ov̈ е̊l Е n̆ ûma_
“Ahem, ahem.”
The young man’s master finally calmed himself and turned to Lee Shin.
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He felt sour about what had just happened, but if it was Lee Shin, that was different.
He was always known as a troublemaker. How many times had he beaten up luxury store clerks or wrecked things just because he didn’t like them? Compared to that, he wasn’t so bad… and lately, he was doing quite well, wasn’t he?
His guild had just been promoted to League 2. If he could secure the contract for their weapons and armor, he could live off that for years.
Thinking so, he walked confidently toward him.
W̊êbn̄ о̃.v̊ e l Е̌n̈ú ṁ ä
He even felt certain that Lee Shin had come looking for him. There was no craftsman in the area better than himself. He thought this could be a great opportunity and extended his hand for a greeting.
“Nice to meet you. I am—”
But Lee Shin and Choi Yeo-shim brushed past his outstretched hand without a glance. Instead, Choi Yeo-shim bowed politely before the hardware store old man.
“Master Jakbu, it’s been a long time. Have you been well?”
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The old man’s eyes went wide, then curved into a smile.
“Miss Choi, it has been a long time. I’ve been doing fine.”
Wěb̌ ǹ о̊ vе l Еnū.mа̇
“I had no way to contact you, so I came unannounced. Please forgive the discourtesy.”
“Not at all. It was this old man who caused trouble. Seems you’ve learned a bit about me now?”
“Yes…”
“Well, it wasn’t the innocent Miss Choi who came looking for me. The culprit must be the young man behind you?”
The old man shifted his gaze from Yeo-shim to Lee Shin, staring intently.
“What’s your relation to LeeDo?”
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“I’m the chairman’s eldest grandson.”
“The chairman? You mean Sang-byeok?”
“That’s correct.”
“Haha, now that you say it, I can see it. That reckless rascal is inside you.”
One of the few in this country who could call Chairman Lee Sang-byeok a “rascal.”
________________________________________
Е́n û m̃ а̀.._ï d̈
※ Ji Jung-cheol (Male, 103 years old) (175/175)▼
Stats
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Strength 38▼ Agility 15▼
Stamina 21▼ Intelligence 81
Wisdom 80 Magic 33▼
Traits (6/6▼)
W̃е̂b̌ nо́ v е̂l̆ Е n ǔ_m a
「One Who Hears the Voice of Iron」, 「Simma」, 「Aging」, 「Magical Awakening」, 「Blacksmith」, 「Revelation」
【 Target is under ‘severe’ 「Aging」 — permanent ▼ decline in potential. 】
【 Due to advanced age, stats cannot grow through ‘training.’ 】
“Follow me.”
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He was the greatest elder in the country.
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