Heavenly Martial Repository
"I'll be coming in."
The ones who entered the room were, as expected, Namgung Jincheon and Namgung Myeong.
Namgung Jincheon wore his usual cold expression, but Namgung Myeong looked far more tense than when they had met at the banquet hall.
'Why is he so frightened?'
Namgung Jincheon seized control of the atmosphere as naturally as breathing and began to speak.
"First, I should begin with an apology. My foolish son has committed a grave mistake."
Namgung Jincheon did not spare even a glance for Namgung Myeong, keeping his eyes fixed forward.
He had no intention to intimidate, yet Tang Mujin was extremely tense. Those with overwhelming strength suppress others without even trying.
"When I first heard the story, I thought he had simply been lucky enough to obtain a sword. But when pressed, he confessed the truth. He stole the sword and ran."
Tang Mujin had not spoken of Namgung Myeong's actions in full detail for two reasons.
First, to avoid shaming the Namgung Clan and thereby incurring their enmity.
Second, out of hope that Namgung Myeong would not receive excessive punishment.
The first goal had been achieved, but the second had failed. Of course, it wasn't Tang Mujin's fault—since Namgung Myeong himself had confessed to Namgung Jincheon.
Not that Tang Mujin couldn't understand.
He cast a glance at Namgung Jincheon. Even meeting his eyes made his skin prickle.
If he himself were interrogated one-on-one by such a man, he doubted he could keep any secrets either.
"First, a bad habit of the hand must be repaid in kind. Myeong. Answer me—what punishment did the maid who stole a silver ring two years ago receive?"
"…Her wrist was cut off."
Namgung Myeong's voice trembled. Wait—surely not…
Namgung Jincheon's shoulder shifted slightly.
Tang Mujin thrust his sword-in-scabbard between Namgung Myeong's wrist and Namgung Jincheon's descending blade. There wasn't even time to draw.
Thunk—!
The strike aimed at Namgung Myeong's wrist stopped against Tang Mujin's sheath.
It wasn't that Tang Mujin had attained such insight that he could block the Sword Demon Namgung Jincheon's blow. Rather, the force and speed of the strike had been deliberately measured, within his ability to intercept.
Still, the strike had not been a bluff. Tang Mujin was certain Namgung Jincheon had truly intended to sever Namgung Myeong's wrist.
In other words, Namgung Jincheon had handed the right of decision to Tang Mujin. As proof, Goiyi stood aside with his arms folded, merely observing.
"And why did you block? Should not a hand's crime be repaid with the hand?"
Had this been said when the sword first went missing, it might have been acceptable. But the timing was wrong now.
"It is true that stealing the sword was a grave fault. However, punishing him now would only reopen a matter already concluded. Moreover, I did not suffer serious loss in the end, so I believe he deserves one chance."
"Very well. By showing mercy and sparing my eldest son's hand, this can be counted as the first favor you have shown the Namgung Clan."
Namgung Jincheon smoothly accepted this resolution. Clearly, this had been the outcome he desired.
Namgung Myeong's shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing.
"Second, by not airing our disgrace before others, you spared the Namgung name from being stained. That is the second favor. And third, even amidst all this, you gifted the clan with a precious sword—thus the third favor. Now then, tell me: how should I repay these three favors?"
"Hm…"
Tang Mujin hesitated, unable to answer.
He had thought perhaps he might one day reap benefit from the Namgung Clan, but hadn't expected such a direct offer.
Besides, he had no idea what exactly he could or should demand from them.
Then, a voice sounded in his ear.
—Ask for a share as a business partner.
Was this… sound transmission?
He had heard of such a technique, but never experienced it before.
Of course, the means mattered less than the message. Tang Mujin had no intention of entertaining Goiyi's nonsense.
When he shook his head slightly, another whisper came.
—You don't even know what to ask for, do you? Better to take my help than spout nonsense. And didn't I set things up nicely for you just now? I deserve at least a bit of stake.
"Hm…"
—It will benefit you too, so don't worry.
At last, Tang Mujin nodded.
Namgung Jincheon watched the two of them with an intrigued look.
"Tang Geolgae cannot use sound transmission. Why not just speak openly?"
"That may be true. But one can never be too cautious."
"Not wrong. So, what is it you require?"
"First, I want entry into the Heavenly Martial Repository."
"I'll allow it. But a Namgung retainer will accompany you, and you may read only one book. I trust you weren't expecting more than that."
"Of course not."
The mention of something unfamiliar caught Tang Mujin off guard. He nudged Goiyi at his side.
"Why?"
"What's the Heavenly Martial Repository?"
"Think of it as a library where the Namgung Clan collects martial arts manuals from across the Central Plains."
"…And they'd let us in?"
Tang Mujin wasn't ignorant. Martial families guarded their techniques with their lives. Many a duel to the death had begun over someone stealing a glimpse of another's cultivation method.
"That's why they'll send a family member with you. Besides, the clan's true secret arts won't be in there. Some may not even exist in written form."
After explaining, Goiyi gave the second demand.
"Second, I want spiritual herbs."
"You mean elixirs? We don't keep much of that. The Namgung Clan doesn't rely heavily on them."
"No. Not elixirs—raw herbs and poisons. I'm sure your clan has collected some here and there."
"That we do. And since we have little use for them, I'll hand them all over. What's the last thing you want?"
"I want a spar with the Clan Head."
"A spar? You wouldn't gain much from crossing blades with me."
Tang Mujin started in shock. What was Goiyi saying?
A spar with Namgung Jincheon? It wouldn't even be a contest—he'd be knocked out instantly. He had no intention of wasting such a precious chance on a miserable defeat.
Before he could protest, Goiyi added:
"Of course, not him. I mean me. A spar with me."
This time, Tang Mujin was startled in a different way.
So the old man had maneuvered all this just to satisfy his own greed? Well, since he had demanded a share, perhaps this wasn't so surprising.
But Namgung Jincheon saw through his intent.
"You mean to spar with me for Tang Geolgae to watch. It can be done. But will he truly learn anything from seeing it?"
"That's up to him. If he fails to grasp it, that's his own limitation."
"I see. Then tomorrow morning I'll send someone to guide you into the Heavenly Martial Repository. Stay and rest for a few more days."
Namgung Jincheon rose and left.
Namgung Myeong turned to follow, but before leaving, he turned once more to look back at Tang Mujin.
He looked as if he were about to speak, but instead of words, Namgung Myeong chose action.
Despite being the eldest son of the Namgung Clan, he dropped to his knees and bowed deeply until his forehead touched the ground.
Goiyi's eyes gleamed with even greater interest at this than at the three compensations Namgung Jincheon had proposed, while Tang Mujin was completely flustered.
Even outside the martial world, the people of the Central Plains rarely lowered themselves. At most, even in gratitude, one might hold a clasped-fist salute for a long moment.
If there was a need for special thanks, one might bow at the waist or incline the head, but a full prostration was exceedingly rare—even between parents and children.
'Did Namgung Jincheon force him to bow?'
Tang Mujin's suspicion quickly dissolved.
When Namgung Myeong lifted his head, there was no trace of resentment or wounded pride. His expression was filled only with pure gratitude and goodwill.
"I will surely repay this favor someday."
With those words, Namgung Myeong rose slowly, closed the door, and left.
The next morning, Namgung Hwan, the head of the Entrance Hall, arrived to guide the two of them.
Though the task was somewhat beneath the dignity of a hall master, Namgung Jincheon had ordered that the two be treated with full sincerity. At the very least, someone of branch master or hall master rank had to escort them.
Besides, Namgung Hwan himself had volunteered for the duty.
"Shall we go straight to the Heavenly Martial Repository?"
"Let's."
On the way, Namgung Hwan repeatedly cast glances at Tang Mujin. Just when those looks began to feel distracting, he spoke.
"I could hardly believe it… Did you truly forge a sword within five days?"
Tang Mujin hesitated over how to respond, but Namgung Hwan broke into hearty laughter.
"If it were outsiders, perhaps secrecy would matter. But with members of the Namgung Clan, you may speak frankly. Since the Clan Head has already settled the matter, none will dare to gossip about it. Nor will any rumor spread."
Tang Mujin nodded, then asked in return,
"How did you know?"
"You shut yourself inside the smithy for days. Naturally, that was the first thought. The problem is—could a young man really forge not just one but two fine blades in only five days?"
Shaking his head, Namgung Hwan continued.
"I thought it impossible, like everyone else. But your reddened palms, the torn skin around your nails, the iron flakes clinging to them, and the faint scent of woodsmoke all testified otherwise. They say the world is vast and full of eccentric talents."
Eccentric talents. The phrase felt strange to Tang Mujin.
Only a few months ago, he had eagerly listened to marketplace rumors about such wandering geniuses.
Yet now, he himself had become one of those "eccentrics," performing feats beyond the ordinary. If someone had told him this back then, would he have believed it?
"There were some doubters, scoffing that perhaps you only had extraordinary hand technique. But such fellows clearly knew nothing of metalwork and deserved the sneers they received."
"I see."
"This may be meddlesome, but Shaolin might be eagerly awaiting you. If you have the chance, you should go."
"What? Shaolin?"
"Yes. Since I was a child, Shaolin has been searching across the Central Plains for the man with the greatest craftsmanship. There is some mechanism they cannot repair."
"Mechanism?"
The answer came from Goiyi.
"He must mean the Wooden Men Alley."
"What's Wooden Men Alley?"
"A peculiar mechanical formation… I've only heard of it, never seen it myself. But since Shaolin lies on the road to Luoyang, we might as well visit if the opportunity arises."
While the three conversed, they arrived before the Heavenly Martial Repository.
It was a single-story pavilion, somewhat weathered compared to other buildings. A guard stationed at the entrance stepped aside when he recognized Namgung Hwan.
Inside, shelves packed with yellowed books stood in rows, each layered with dust. Namgung Hwan explained with some embarrassment,
"Few ever come here. In their youth they might visit out of curiosity, but eventually training in the clan's own martial arts leaves them with no time."
"I see."
"But for outsiders like you, something here may prove useful. We don't bother storing worthless street-side manuals in the Repository."
"I understand."
Tang Mujin turned to Goiyi.
Since Goiyi had demanded entry, surely he had a specific manual in mind.
Goiyi strode past the shelves without hesitation.
The first shelf contained manuals on the use of weapons—sword and saber most common, followed by spear, axe, and stranger arms like the crescent blade or the geon-gon staff, even obscure ones like the iron stylus or the claw knife. Goiyi did not so much as glance at them.
The second shelf held inner cultivation methods, the third footwork and body techniques, the fourth boxing, palm, and kicking arts. Yet Goiyi ignored them all.
'Isn't that everything already?'
At last, Goiyi stopped before the innermost shelf.
It didn't seem to be placed at the back for its value; in fact, it was the dustiest of them all.
He blew across the surface.
When the dust settled, the characters appeared: Miscellaneous Skills (잡기).