Chapter 881: Living A Good Life is the Best Revenge

TL: FoodieMonster007

"Do you have any errands for me?" the boy asked.

"No," the shirtless, middle-aged man hammering in the smithy answered bluntly. He was thin and frail, but the force behind his hammer strikes was immense.

The boy asked again, "Is there anything I can help with?"

"No."

"Then I'll clean up in here," the boy offered.

Without waiting for permission, he began cleaning the smithy. He set the hammers, chisels, and tongs upright and swept the ash from beside the furnace. After wiping the floor, he returned the scattered tools to their proper places. Because he was so small, he had to use both hands and his entire body just to drag the larger hammers.

The man worked on in silence, not chasing the boy away. For the past few days, the kid, who looked barely ten, had been visiting his small smithy on the village outskirts.

CLANG! CLAAANG!

He could tell from the boy's increasingly dirty clothes, likely from sleeping outdoors, that he was surviving on the food he earned from his work here. Without that income, the boy would either become a beggar or fall into the wrong hands and be sold off.

Fortunately, the quick-witted boy understood the value of his single daily meal and never got on his nerves.

After cleaning to the best of his ability, the boy admired the swords, daos, and throwing knives hanging on one wall. The smith produced not only farming tools, such as hoes and plows, but also various weapons for martial artists. It was hard to believe that one man had made them all.

The boy looked up at a crossbow designed to hide weapons, bound by a locked chain, hanging on the wall. It was clearly a dangerous weapon. "Did you make that, too? If someone who's learned martial arts got hit by that, they'd die, right?"

"……" As always, the man gave no reply.

"I want to make things like that someday."

The man stopped hammering. "Why do you want to make them?"

The boy blinked in shock. This was the first question the man had asked in all the days he had been coming, having only ever given him food. He answered clearly, "He said that a person needs a skill to make a living."

"Who?"

"Father."

The man didn't ask about the boy about his father. The boy's expression held not hatred, but longing. A father like that wouldn't have abandoned his child, so he was probably dead.

"Can I learn blacksmithing too?" the boy asked.

"If it's just to make a living, aren't there easier jobs?" the man asked back. From the boy's words, it seemed he had tried to apprentice at other places before this one.

"The village inn said they don't need a waiter."

The man nodded. Indeed, the boy was still too young to do much else besides being a waiter in the marketplace. "You can eat now," he said.

"Yes, thank you."

The boy walked over to the corner table on his own. When he lifted the cloth covering a basket, he found rice balls and dried meat inside.

He ate the rice balls and meat slowly, careful not to gobble them down or spill anything. He tried his best not to be an eyesore. Despite his hunger, he didn't eat everything that was there.

"Do you truly want to learn blacksmithing?" the man asked.

Startled by the unexpected words, the boy ran toward the man. "Yes! Please teach me!"

The man looked into the boy's sparkling eyes and nodded. "Finish your food first."

"Yes!"

The man went back to hammering in silence.

CLAAANG! CLANG!

From that day on, the boy began to learn the trade in earnest. He was still too young for hard labor, so he cleaned, ran errands, and observed the man at work, gaining invaluable lessons from the simple act of watching.

The boy was smart and bright for his age, so even though he knew it was premature, the man shared many stories with him.

"Before you can master steel, you must master fire, and before you can master fire, you must master your own heart. In the end, the work of a blacksmith is all about how well you can master things."

The boy nodded. He did not yet know what an incredible blacksmith the man was, nor that the man's skills were far too great for him to be running a small smithy in such a remote place.

"If you fear the fire, you can't do this work, but you must not disrespect it either. Do you understand?"

Though he couldn't fully comprehend the words yet, the boy listened intently to everything the man said.

Several months passed like that.

The boy walked through the night, his face tense as if he were being chased. He clutched a heavy crossbow to his chest—the very one from the smithy's wall—and struggled with its weight as he moved.

When someone approached, the boy hid behind a tree. After the person passed, he emerged and started walking again. His gaze was fixed on a martial arts academy in the distance.

As he cautiously approached, someone blocked his path.

The boy froze in shock. It was the owner of the smithy, who he was sure had been asleep. "…Master."

After feeding and sheltering him for months, the man asked coldly, "Did you come to the smithy from the very beginning just to steal that?"

The boy couldn't say no. Over the months, he had figured out how to use the crossbow and had also found where the key to its lock was kept.

The man held out his hand, gesturing for the crossbow.

The boy stepped back. "I need this."

For the boy, desperation outweighed his guilt. He had a reason he had to do this.

"That bastard killed my father. I'm going to kill him with this."

Crying, the boy told his story.

He had lived alone with his father, who did odd jobs at the Yongbaek Martial Arts Academy, the largest in the area. His father was diligent and had no trouble providing for his son.

One day, his father came home, severely beaten. Groaning in pain, he had said he would be fine after a night's sleep, but he never woke up ever again.

From what the boy overheard the neighbors say as they buried his father, he had been beaten to death by Jong Chu, an instructor at the Yongbaek Martial Arts Academy.

The reason was trivial. His father hadn't placed training equipment where Jong Chu wanted it, and even that was Jong Chu's own misunderstanding.

Jong Chu had always had a nasty temper that worsened when he was drunk. Beating and tormenting people was a daily routine for him, and he had been drunk that day as well. He had caused trouble many times before, but because his martial arts were so good and his temper so foul, everyone let his misdeeds slide.

"Does a person die from a few hits? He must have had some other illness."

That was what the bastard had reportedly said upon hearing of his father's death.

The boy cried as he told his tale. He had been dreaming of revenge even before coming to the smithy. He had claimed the waiter job didn't work out because he had no money, but in reality, he had planned to work there to save up for his revenge.

"I heard the customers talking," he sobbed. "They said if you pay money, an assassin will kill someone for you, but it would have taken me twenty years of work to save up that much. This is the only way I can get my revenge."

Tears streamed from the boy's eyes. Of course, he knew there was a high chance he would have lost even that money to scammers promising to introduce him to an assassin, but he was willing to take the risk. He had truly loved his father, who had been his entire world.

The man watched the boy silently. He's a smart and strong-willed boy. What other child would dream of revenge after his father died, or work in a smithy for months just to steal a crossbow? The heavens have given him a special trait, but also a trial he cannot overcome.

He calmly reprimanded. "So thievery is fine, but murder is unforgivable? Is that what you think?"

"……" The boy couldn't answer.

"You can't kill him with that weapon. That particular crossbow has a strong recoil, so even if you aim and shoot, you won't hit your target."

The boy looked down at the heavy crossbow in his arms. Truly, it wasn't something he could just hit a target with by pulling the trigger.

"Even if you got lucky and hit him, you'd also be guilty of murder," the man added. "You'd be locked up in prison for the rest of your life."

The boy hung his head, but said nothing. He had clearly steeled himself for the consequences.

Therefore, the man scolded him for a different reason. "It's not just you. I'll suffer if you kill someone with that crossbow too."

"You, Master?"

"Isn't it suspicious for a little kid like you to have crossbow? Don't you think they'll track down where it came from? Worse, they'll think a child couldn't have thought of doing such a thing, so they'll assume I put you up to it. Are you okay with me dying for the sake of your revenge?"

The boy was stunned. How could I have thought that far ahead?

"I'm sorry," he apologized. Tears continued to stream down his cheeks, as if his small eyes held an endless supply.

The man added yet another reason. "Would your father want you to be locked up in prison for life while avenging him?"

"……" The boy said nothing.

The man took the crossbow from the boy's arms. "You living a good life is the best revenge."

"Then what about the bastard who killed my father?" the boy asked.

The man said nothing and started to walk away. "Come back tomorrow."

The boy flinched and looked at the man. He never imagined the man would tell him to come back after he had stolen the crossbow. "Why…"

"Didn't your father tell you? You need a skill to make a living."

CLANG, CLAAANG!

The man paused his hammering and glanced at the corner table. The daily meal he prepared for the boy was still there under its cloth cover. The boy was late.

After staring at it for a moment, the man was about to start hammering again when someone spoke from behind him. "I'd like you to tend to this sword."

Without turning around, he answered, "Take it somewhere else. I can't handle a sword that precious."

"How do you know it's a precious sword without even looking at it?" the customer asked.

"Because… it's your sword."

The man turned around. The person smiling before him was Geom Mugeuk.

Geom Mugeuk grinned at Myeongjin, a former subordinate of the Death King and current owner of this smithy.

Myeongjin sighed, "I thought I'd completely hidden my past, but I guess not."

"If you wanted to do that, you should have sold rice or clothes."

Geom Mugeuk remembered that when they parted ways, Myeongjin had said he would live as a blacksmith. There was no way the All-Knowing Hall would fail to find his whereabouts with such a clue.

Myeongjin stared intently at Geom Mugeuk, recalling the Young Cult Leader's words. It was the answer to why he had been spared.

"Because I don't want the path I walk to sweep away people like you. I thought it would be nice if, somewhere in this world, there was at least one cool assassin who would accept a single coin offered by a kid who'd lost their parents unjustly as payment to kill a villain."

For that reason, Myeongjin was glad to be reunited with Geom Mugeuk. The Young Cult Leader was the only person who had truly understood him.

Geom Mugeuk looked outside. "Young Lady Lee, please come in."

Lee Ahn, who had been waiting outside, entered.

"This is my lover." Geom Mugeuk introduced her as if showing her off. His voice was full of excitement, and his expression clearly asked, What do you think? Isn't she a wonderful woman?

Lee Ahn shook her head with a helpless expression. It really seemed like Geom Mugeuk was going to introduce her like this every time he met someone he knew. Clasping her hands together, she politely greeted, "I heard about you on the way here. It's an honor to meet you."

"I don't know what you've heard, but I am anything but an honorable man," Myeongjin replied humbly. Once, he had been the second best assassin of the Hell Mansion. He could tell at a glance that Lee Ahn's martial arts were superior to his own. "You are someone who has achieved great things at a young age. The honor is all mine."

Lee Ahn was taken aback once again. As she traveled with Geom Mugeuk, she was meeting many different kinds of people. She knew how difficult it was to live a life completely unlike the one you used to live, but now she saw people who could do that truly existed.

So this is how a great assassin lives, running a small smithy.

After exchanging greetings with Lee Ahn, Myeongjin asked Geom Mugeuk, "Why did you come looking for me?"

"Have you forgotten? Didn't you promise to send me any good items you make? I waited and waited, but you never sent anything, so I came to find you myself," Geom Mugeuk lied blatantly. In truth, he had just been curious about how Myeongjin was living.

Myeongjin narrowed his eyes. "Were you really waiting for me?"

This is the Young Cult Leader who wields the Black Demon Sword, the second-best sword in the Demonic Cult. When he becomes the Cult Leader, he'll own the Heavenly Demon Sword, the best sword in the Cult. What kind of fine weapon could he possibly need from me?

"I haven't made anything good yet," he admitted.

"When you do, be sure to send it to our Cult."

Myeongjin nodded. This was clearly Geom Mugeuk's way of saying he wanted to continue their connection. He was the one who should be grateful for that.

Geom Mugeuk smiled. He had come to see Myeongjin partly because he missed him, but also because he really wanted to tell him something. "Live with peace of mind from now on," he said. "The ghosts of your past will no longer follow you."

Myeongjin understood. The organization he had once belonged to was completely gone. He was now a completely free man. "Thank you."

Their gazes met and held.

Geom Mugeuk bid Myeongjin farewell. "Well then, let's meet again."

"Let's."

Lee Ahn watched them in surprise. Are we really leaving just like that? After just seeing his face? Without even sharing a meal?

On this journey, she was discovering new things about the man named Geom Mugeuk. She had thought she knew him better than anyone, but that was a misconception.

They had traveled a long way for such a brief meeting. She hadn't known that Geom Mugeuk was the kind of person to travel so far just for this. She had always thought that after coming all this way, he would be the type to eat, drink, and see everything.

Which version of him is the real one? Wasn't it the talkative one? But here he is, just smiling and leaving after a few words?

After bidding Myeongjin farewell and leaving the smithy, they saw a boy running toward them excitedly.

With a face that looked like he owned the world, the boy entered the smithy and shouted with joy. "Master! That bastard died last night! He was drunk and missed a step…"

Myeongjin interjected, "You're late, you brat! Hurry up and start cleaning."

"I'll work and learn really hard from now on!"

"Eat first."

"Yes!"

Geom Mugeuk's gaze, which had been on the small smithy, turned toward the sky, which was exceptionally blue today.

A smile formed on his lips.

"So you don't even accept that single coin now, huh?"