“...You’re refusing?”

In the frozen air, Poison King Tang Gyeongak asked me that.

His face, when he posed the question, was full of puzzlement and dismay.

Help open the secret archive, and he would give me a Special-grade weapon inside.

I spat out a refusal on the spot.

That was the part Tang Gyeongak couldn’t understand.

“Yes. I refuse.”

I said it again, as if to confirm his bewilderment was warranted.

“...You don’t like the terms?”

“Yes.”

I nodded.

At that, Tang Gyeongak’s brow pinched tighter.

“May I ask which terms you dislike?”

Even now, neither his tone nor his volume changed.

It meant he wasn’t the kind of man to be easily rattled by something like this.

“A reason, hm...”

If I started listing reasons, plenty came to mind, but in the end it was just one.

“It’s a little dirty.”

“What?”

His expression changed at the word I’d used. Dirty. In several senses, that crossed a line.

The Tang Clan of Sichuan—one of the world’s pillars.

Not the sort of thing you say to its master.

And Tang Gyeongak, who knew that better than anyone—

Rrrruuummblll—!

—let his aura begin to flare.

“You should pay more attention to the weight of your words.”

“...”

I swallowed dry. I’d just learned something new:

You can put power into words.

‘...Hah.’

I couldn’t help a quiet breath of awe. So a man really could crush and kill with sheer force.

I realized that, looking at the Poison King.

“It’s good to know your place. But you’d do well to think again where, exactly, you’re standing.”

Where I was standing—

The Tang Clan in Sichuan. Their ground. And the Poison King in front of me.

If he wished it, he could kill me at any moment.

‘One misstep and I die.’ 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

The certainty settled in. The chill crawling down my spine and the Poison King’s eyes told me so.

Cold sweat beaded in my palm.

I curled my hand slightly to hide it.

A wrong move and I die. Fear and dread surged high with that knowledge.

Were my fingertips trembling?

My lips? What kind of face was I making?

My awareness thinned.

My five senses felt dulled.

Then—

[Are you afraid?]

Yoo Cheongil asked me.

[If you are, nod. I will help.]

His voice was lower than usual, as if he meant it.

If I truly wanted it, he would likely use whatever means he had.

But—

‘No.’

I gave a small shake of my head.

I opened the fist I’d been clenching.

My fingertips weren’t trembling.

The cold sweat that had flowed was already swallowed by the chill; I couldn’t even feel it.

The senses that had been thinning were returning.

A death line, they call it.

I’d walked the tightrope that turns death into a line often enough.

Am I afraid of death now? No.

I never was.

Death doesn’t scare me.

Life does.

Scrabbling for a better life with death right in front of you—

That’s what frightens me more, and what’s harder.

So—

“Think about my position?”

I wasn’t afraid of the Poison King right now.

“I don’t think you’re qualified to say that to me.”

“...”

Crrrkk—! The aura he exhaled grew heavier.

I could feel him holding back. One arm’s reach, and he could snap my neck.

Yet to restrain himself at that range meant either—

‘The Blue Moon Sect backing me is that strong.’

—or the Poison King needed me that much.

“You—”

“No, let’s be honest.”

I cut him off inside his own pressure and spoke.

“You’re offering, as compensation for a commission, something you were already supposed to give. How is that right?”

“...!”

His aura lurched at my words.

What had been relentlessly bearing down twisted rough and jagged.

It felt like the shape of his aura reflected his emotion.

Seeing it, I couldn’t help a thin smile.

The force that had tried to bind me had already dispersed.

“Because that’s what this is.”

“...What do you mean?”

He played dumb, like he truly didn’t know. If I looked only at his face, I might have believed it.

[Look at that damned brat.]

The very man who’d tipped me to this stood behind me in plain view.

[I heard it with my own ears, back when I lived.]

Yoo Cheongil had told me plainly this morning on the way to Iron River.

So I repeated what I’d heard, word for word, to the Poison King.

“The Tang Clan’s lost secret art.”

At my words, he flinched.

I enjoyed his stare and went on.

“In return for restoring your lost secret art, he promised to give /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ a weapon from his personal archive.”

“...”

“As I understand it, that was the pledge the Poison Sovereign made to the Sword Saint—my master. Am I wrong?”

When I finished, no answer came from the Poison King.

But his face told me everything.

“...You...”

Just as he was about to ask how I knew—

“Ke-ke-ke-ke—!”

Iron River Chief Tang Jicheol, who had been quietly watching, suddenly let out a chuckle.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha. Well now... it’s been a while since I’ve seen our Clan Head at a loss.”

“...Elder.”

“Clan Head, you’ve been struck.”

Tang Jicheol patted the Poison King’s shoulder and came toward us.

“Boy, how did you know that?”

“Does it matter how I know?”

I tilted my head a fraction and said:

“What matters is that I know it.”

“Fair point.”

Tang Jicheol didn’t deny it; he nodded.

“If that offended you, I apologize.”

“No, I’m not particularly offended.”

Ordinarily, I might have been. He’d tried to take me for a fool.

But I wasn’t.

‘If I had information the other side didn’t, I’d use it too.’

They know it, and I don’t.

If you know that, and you don’t use it, you’re an idiot.

So I wasn’t offended. Only—

“As important as the fact that I have the information...”

Even if they’d tried to trick me, if I already knew—

“You’ll need to make the terms proper.”

Make it a real deal.

It was a warning to Tang Gyeongak.

I know more than you think I do.

That kind of warning.

“...”

Tang Gyeongak looked at me in silence.

How would he play it?

Would he apologize? Or press harder and try to cow me?

Watching him with a touch of curiosity—

“What do you want.”

—he chose neither.

He said something else.

No doubt about it.

‘This man is a born trader.’

A man with a dash of grifter in the mix.

Skilled at politics, deft with people.

In other words—

‘Troublesome.’

A bit of a handful to deal with.

“That’s not for me to say.”

But not someone I couldn’t handle.

“In this situation, you should make the first offer—something to pique my interest.”

Make your opening bid.

To that, the Poison King said:

“What if I give you two weapons from the archive?”

One more on top of what he’d meant to offer.

Under normal circumstances, that might have been enough.

“Come on.”

Right now, it wasn’t even close.

Yoo Cheongil had warned me:

If we came to the Tang Clan, they’d strip me to the spine.

I’d been uneasy hearing that, but—

“Dig deeper.”

When it comes to stripping value, I’m no slouch either.

****

While Bang Sungyeon and Tang Gyeongak were tossing words back and forth—

Kang—! Kang!

At the farthest, most tucked-away corner of Iron River—

A racket rang where few people passed and eyes didn’t reach.

KANG—!

Tang Yeran, her hair tied up tight, brought her hammer down with everything she had.

Kang—!!

Each strike threw sparks.

If Tang Yeran feared sparks, she didn’t show it; she didn’t stop, pouring strength into her arms.

Her eyes saw nothing but the lump of iron in front of her.

Kang—! Kang-kang!

If she was tired, her slender arms didn’t show it.

Sweat had already soaked her through, her breathing had gone rough, but she didn’t care.

Only what lay before her—

Only the thing that would be born by her hands drew all her focus.

Kang—!! Kang—!!

More and more, a steady speed and force gathered in her hands.

At the same time, her breathing grew a shade harsher.

She lacked power. Her stamina was ebbing.

Even so, she didn’t use inner energy.

She was a martial artist, but when she handled iron, she used only her own strength.

‘Iron is sensitive. If you cheat, it senses it at once and runs.’

If you want to make what you desire, use only your own strength.

That was what Tang Yeran had seen and learned.

KAAANG—!

The shape gradually took form. Finer, gentler—yet rougher—so not a hair of warp crept in.

Kang—! Kang—!

Life returned to her eyes.

Watching the iron change by degrees, she thought:

‘Fun.’

As always, bringing something into the world with nothing but your own strength carried many meanings.

Just a little more like this.

Just a little more, and she might do it.

If she kept taking these little bites, someday—

Surely, someday, she’d get what she wanted.

Thinking that, the young woman raised her hammer—

‘Foolish girl.’

“...”

Kaa-clang—!

A thought that slid through out of nowhere sent her hammer striking wrong.

Drip... drip.

Sweat ran down her chin. As if she’d frozen, Tang Yeran just stared at the iron bar.

Her gaze was on the bar, but in her head a voice echoed:

‘Why are you wasting your time on that?’

‘You have no talent.’

‘Aren’t you ashamed, as blood of this clan?’

“...”

Thump.

She let the hammer fall from her hand.

It hit the floor.

“Huuu... huuuh...”

She let out the breath she’d been holding and slumped down.

It was heavy and stifling. Something felt like a shackle tightening around her throat.

Heat flushed her body; sweat kept streaming.

A bead slid past the corner of her eye. Then the droplets grew a touch larger.

“Ssss...”

As if to hide her exhaustion, Tang Yeran pushed her hair back with one hand.

Fine features, pierced through by layered emotion.

It was always like this around this time.

‘If something is hard, just ignore it.’

Around the time the dry voice stopped comforting her—

‘What fools who know nothing say is meaningless. Proving it yourself is everything.’

Around the time the only person who had believed in her was gone—

Tang Yeran realized the brace that had barely held her up was gone.

‘Yeran. You can do it.’

“...”

Thinking of a voice that would never be heard again, she covered her face with both hands.

“...I don’t know.”

Can I do it?

Now that no one’s left who believes I can—

Tang Yeran found she no longer knew herself.

“...I don’t know, Grandfather.”

With a weary voice she said that.

And her—

[......]

—right behind her, a gaunt, sharp-featured old man was watching.

With eyes full of pity and sorrow.