This was from when Tang Yeran was very, very young.

If you counted by age, it must have been just after she turned ten. Or maybe before she even did.

She had been so young that she could no longer remember details like that.

It was back when rumors were «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» spreading that Tang Yeran was a prodigy of Tang Clan, and more and more eyes were turning toward her.

People said she possessed talent greater than that of her second older brother, Tang Cheonil, who was already being called a genius.

Around the time that, because of that, she was increasingly becoming the focus of attention.

Tang Yeran back then was not the same as Tang Yeran now.

She didn’t avoid attention, and those were the days when she kept training over and over, delighted with the talent she had.

She would become an outstanding martial artist and be of help to Tang Clan.

As her talent gradually blossomed with that resolve in her heart—

Around the time when no one doubted that, in the not-too-distant future, a dragon would be born in Tang Clan—

A problem exploded.

It happened in a sparring match between Tang Cheonil and Tang Yeran.

‘I... I don’t want to. I don’t... want to do this...’

Little Tang Yeran’s hands shook, smeared all over with blood.

Staring at Tang Cheonil, who had collapsed like a dead man in front of her, she spoke.

‘I don’t... like this... I don’t want to do this...’

On the verge of tears, that was what she said.

From that day on, Tang Yeran halted all of the training a direct-bloodline heir was supposed to receive.

And then, one day, all of a sudden—

She “notified” Tang Clan Head that she would learn smithing.

That was only ten years ago.

*****

KANG-! KANGKANG-!!

The hammer in her small, thin hand moved through the air down toward the anvil.

KANG-!

KANG-!

Her speed and rhythm were steady.

As if there could not be the slightest deviation, the woman didn’t even dare blink as she kept swinging the hammer.

KANG-! KANG-!!

The veins stood out on her small body, proof of how much strength she was putting into it.

Her sweat was soaked through from the heat, and her exhaustion showed clearly on her face.

KANG-!

‘Ugh!’

She slipped for a moment. She almost dropped the hammer, but grabbed it again.

KANG-!

She got back into the rhythm before it was too late.

Thankfully, nothing went wrong.

‘I’m tired...’

She was exhausted. Tang Yeran, the woman, instinctively knew she was nearing her limit.

How much time had passed? How many times had she swung by now?

She didn’t know. She didn’t even have time to think about it.

If she hesitated or faltered even a little, everything would be ruined.

KANG-!!

Her hand shook. Even so, she strained to keep the rhythm. All the more so because she couldn’t afford to let it fall apart.

It was hard. If she used her qi it wouldn’t be like this, but once you’d come this far in smithing, you absolutely must not do that.

‘If I put qi into it, I won’t be able to control my strength.’

She needed extremely fine, precise control.

She knew that if she swung while channeling qi here, everything would be destroyed.

That was why master smiths never put qi into their blows.

The problem was—

‘...It’s heavy.’

After swinging for so long without using qi, her stamina was running dry.

And the biggest problem of all was that the material was black iron.

An ore as troublesome to handle as ten-thousand-year cold iron.

When finished properly, black iron could be given a hardness and durability that were rock-solid, and a terrifying edge.

Because of its metallic properties, it also held a martial artist’s qi more readily. But that was only if it was crafted properly.

Black iron was a precious material, but if you wanted to obtain it, you could do so with relative ease.

That didn’t mean it was cheap.

It meant that if you had money, you could get it.

And yet, the reason there were almost no famed weapons among the Divine Weapons that were made of black iron was—

‘Because it’s hard to make.’

Too few smiths had the skill to handle the material, because the difficulty of working it was so high.

If you did choose to make a weapon out of black iron, its price and value could rise exponentially, but...

‘It could end up worth less than a regular Divine Weapon.’

Ironically, it could end up inferior in quality to a weapon forged from ordinary metal.

That was how difficult an ore black iron was to handle.

And even if you somehow managed to make a weapon out of it—

If you failed to handle it perfectly, what you ended up with would be worse than a normal weapon.

Of course, because the metal itself was excellent, its edge would be sharp and its durability hard.

But this was the Central Plains.

For martial artists, the most important thing of all was how well a weapon could absorb and hold their qi.

With black iron, if there was even the slightest mistake in the process, that was precisely the part that went wrong.

However—

“Hup!”

KANG-!

If you managed to handle black iron perfectly—

And thus forged a weapon from Iron River that would be called Special-grade—

Then what was born was what people called a Divine Weapon.

KANG-! KANG-!

Full Moon, the ten-thousand-year cold iron saber that Sword Saint Yoo Cheongil had wielded, was one such weapon.

So was another Special-grade weapon currently being used by the present Mount Hua Sect Leader.

Divine Weapons.

Iron River called them Special-grade, but in the Central Plains they were known as Divine Weapons.

Tang Yeran knew.

The sword blade she’d taken out when Bang Sungyeon asked a favor of her—a sword whose blade had snapped, leaving almost nothing.

That sword had originally been a Divine Weapon fully deserving of the title Special-grade.

The moment she saw it she had known, and as she handled it she had been certain.

‘...Where on earth...’

Full Moon, which she had only ever seen from afar.

It was a weapon to rival that great Divine Weapon.

How could such a sword have been broken into such a miserable shape?

And how had Bang Sungyeon come to bring it here, bearing it alongside Sword Saint’s last words?

Tang Yeran had no way of knowing.

She couldn’t even understand why he was asking her to do this in the first place.

KANG-!

What did he see? What did he see in her to entrust her with something like this?

Since starting to learn smithing, Tang Yeran had never once completed a weapon.

Not even once.

Every time, she failed to complete the weapon and fell into despair.

The discarded failures had piled up into a mountain.

That was why. That was the reason the smiths of Iron River couldn’t be glad to see her.

A problem child born as a direct-bloodline daughter of Tang Clan, who abandoned martial arts and instead walked the path of a smith.

Someone who managed to enter Iron River only by the breath of Tang Clan Head and the generosity of Iron River Master—

Yet even after years there, still had not made a single proper weapon.

That was who she was.

And yet, despite that—

‘“I trust you.”’

What was it he claimed he trusted?

And she herself—

‘“I’ll do it.”’

Even after hearing that if she failed, she would never set foot in Iron River again—

Why was she insisting on doing this?

Whether from exhaustion or not, Tang Yeran’s mind grew hazy and she was gradually losing the flow.

‘Can I really do this?’

She wasn’t confident.

She didn’t even have the strength needed to handle black iron.

KANG-!

Her once-steady rhythm began to wobble.

No matter how she tried to hang on, she was growing duller and duller.

KANG-!

And what about her strength? Even with all her training, her thin wrists were reaching their limit.

If she relaxed even a little, she felt like she would drop the hammer.

KANG-! KANG-!

“...Huuu.”

She let out a breath between clenched teeth. She felt like she was going to cry.

She had said so proudly that she would do it, and now here she was.

She felt pathetic.

If she was going to be like this, she should have said she wouldn’t.

She shouldn’t have stepped forward yesterday in the first place.

She’d held out so well until now.

She’d endured her older brother’s verbal abuse and contempt all her life, and she’d stayed strong.

Why couldn’t she do that yesterday?

She asked herself why, but Tang Yeran already knew the answer.

Because she’d been angry.

It was fine for them to look down on her, but when Poison Dragon tried to look down on Bang Sungyeon—

That must have made her furious.

If so—

‘Why?’

Why had that made her so angry?

She knew the answer to that as well.

Just when Tang Yeran was about to bring that thought to the surface—

KANG-!

“Ugh!”

The hammer she swung shook. Dangerous. She barely managed to regain her balance.

“Hhaah...”

How much longer did she have to do this?

How many more blows did it need before it would finally be finished?

She didn’t know. Tang Yeran wiped the sweat running down her face. She couldn’t even tell if she was wiping sweat or tears.

At some point, tears had begun flowing from the corners of her eyes.

“Haa.”

She drew in a tired breath.

Should she stop? She wanted to stop.

She would never be able to see this through to completion.

That thought seized her.

If she stopped what she was holding now—if she stopped what she was doing—it would certainly be easier.

“......”

There was no need to force herself.

No one was expecting anything of her anyway.

Even if she were barred from Iron River, that wouldn’t change.

As she thought that and finally began to lower her hands—

‘My granddaughter. Do as you wish.’

“......”

The memory came back to her as sound.

‘If you don’t want to do something, then don’t. Live doing what you want to do. But—’

‘If what you’re doing is running away, it will only remain as regret. I only hope you don’t let it turn out that way.’

‘That alone is this old grandfather’s worn-out wish.’

“......”

Words spoken as he stroked her head when she had sobbed her eyes out as a child.

KANG-!

The instant she recalled that, Tang Yeran moved the hands that had been about to stop.

“Hhhiik.”

Tears ran down her face.

She ignored them.

KANG-!

She let them flow as they pleased.

Right now, she focused only on what she could do.

‘I can do it.’

She could do it.

There was someone who believed she could.

Then that meant she could.

As she raised the hand that was about to lose its strength and repeated the motion—

[Don’t focus too much on keeping the exact same rhythm.]

“......”

Maybe because her body was so tired, she felt like she could hear her grandfather’s voice again.

[If it’s hard, it’s because you’re putting in too much useless strength. Just hold onto the will not to let go, and let your wrist and elbow move freely.]

Without realizing it, she relaxed her strength at those words.

And then—

KAAAANG-!!

“...!”

A sound completely different from before rang out.

[Do you remember what I said was important in smithing, Ran?]

She remembered.

[Listen to the sound of the iron.]

KAAAANG-!!

KAAAANG--!!!

[Don’t just look at striking based on simple rules.]

KAAAANG-!!

[Move the way you want to. Ran, you can do it. More than enough.]

You can do it.

Ridiculous as it was, a voice that was nothing but an auditory hallucination comforted her.

KAAAANG-!!

The changed sound sent heat rushing through her.

Strength returned to the focus that had been slipping away.

KAAAANG-!

‘Ah.’

At the sound that reached her ears, she understood.

So this was it.

KAAAANG-! KANGKANG-!

The rule vanished. The pattern of her blows reversed.

Her tears stopped.

There was no need to spill them anymore.

She struck for a long time like that, pounding and pounding again.

THUD-!

The hammer slipped from Tang Yeran’s hand and rolled across the ground.

Her strength had given out and she’d dropped it.

Even so, Tang Yeran only stared at the object in front of her, as if nothing else mattered.

“Haa... haa...”

Her breathing was rough.

How many times had she quenched it? How much charcoal had she burned?

She hadn’t even counted.

Looking at the sword body that had taken shape before her eyes, Tang Yeran sank down.

“Haa... haa...!!”

Her legs lost their strength.

So she crawled toward it.

“Haa...”

As the red glow gradually faded, a jet-black edge revealed itself, fit for the name black iron.

“...It’s done...”

She’d done it.

“I... I did it...”

She’d done it.

“I... did it.”

As she spoke, Tang Yeran broke into a radiant smile.

She started to clench her small fist in joy, but—

[You’ll need to sharpen the blade.]

“...!”

The hallucinated voice stopped her, as if telling her this was no time to celebrate.

She moved at once when she heard it.

It wasn’t complete yet. A sword was not finished until it was finished.

“Quick...!!”

Clutching the blade, she hurriedly moved.

Just then—

FLUTTER-!

The sheet of paper stuck to Tang Yeran’s back rustled and fell to the floor.

It was a red talisman bearing unknown writing.

[......]

Watching Tang Yeran grow smaller in the distance—

[......Heh-heh-heh......]

Poison Sovereign let out a soft, bitter laugh behind her.

That laugh was so sorrowful—

It looked less like laughter and more like he was crying.

*****

Holding the cloth-wrapped object in her arms, Tang Yeran ran.

“Hff-! Huff!”

Her breath, which had surged earlier, still hadn’t settled; it was rough and labored, but Tang Yeran’s expression was bright.

She didn’t even realize how much time had passed since she’d entered Iron River.

“Hff...!!”

Without even wiping away her sweat, Tang Yeran just ran.

‘Hurry.’

She wanted to show him this right away.

That was the only thing in her heart.

More than the thrill or pride that came from having done it, she simply wanted to show it to him.

To tell him thank you for trusting her.

To say she’d done it thanks to him.

She wanted to show him as she said that. With only that feeling, Tang Yeran ran and ran.

She knew where he was.

Because she already knew that, barring some incident, he was always at the training ground.

‘Hurry—!’

She had to show him quickly.

With that in mind, Tang Yeran sprinted toward the guest annex and slipped into the training ground behind it.

The servants widened their eyes in surprise, but they couldn’t stop her.

She was simply too fast.

Then she grabbed the training ground door and pulled it open.

“Young Master—!! I...!”

KWAAAANG---!!

The moment Tang Yeran opened the door, a harsh sound crashed into her ears.

“Huh...?”

At the sight that unfolded next, Tang Yeran’s eyes went wide.

The smile she’d been wearing vanished in an instant.

There was no helping it.

Inside, as expected, Bang Sungyeon was there—but there was someone else with him.

And that someone was, unbelievably, Poison Dragon Tang Cheonil.

Even that was one thing, but the bigger problem was—

“Grrrgh...”

“You fucking bastard, seriously.”

Bang Sungyeon was cursing as he ground Poison Dragon’s head under his foot.