09

#9 “Bound by the Same Flame”

Over the years,
A man from the Northern Heavens, carrying deep resentment, wandered through the Central Plains and forged a foundation.

Klang—.

The Northern Heavens’ greatest blacksmith stood by his side.

The other craftsmen paused their work, gathering around to watch as the sound of Cheol Gun-ak’s hammer filled the forge.

“Young Master…”

These were men who had spent their entire lives working with metal. They understood that what Cheol Gun-ak was pouring out wasn’t just sweat. With each strike of the hammer, he released his resentment; with every second blow, his sorrow flowed out. The sight of him refining himself left the craftsmen in awe.

At that moment—

“F-fire!”
“It’s blue flame—!”

The kiln’s flames changed. Both Cheol Gun-ak and Da-no-ya turned to look. The blue flames emitted a chilling heat sharp enough to kill. Their intensity made them appear an icy blue—far hotter than ordinary kiln flames. Such blue flames, known as Chinghwa, were rare even for seasoned blacksmiths, achievable only under extraordinary conditions.

‘The first stage is nearing completion.’

Cheol Gun-ak nodded. The blue flames resonated with Zhu Rong Devil Arts. By forging the arm guards, he had opened nearly all the meridians required for the Small Celestial Circuit except for the Baihui Acupoint. After all, how could anyone endure being scorched alive by such raw flames?

Kaboom—.

The explosive roar of superheated divine flames targeting his Baihui Acupoint echoed ceaselessly in Cheol Gun-ak’s ears.

‘I am Cheol Gun-ak.’

He gazed down at the arm guards he was crafting. They weren’t solid pieces of iron but rather thin, flat strips of metal woven together with fine wires, overlapping like fish scales. This design accounted for future growth and ease of movement.

‘I am a man of the Northern Heavens.’

If there was an enemy, he wouldn’t retreat—but simply refusing to back down didn’t make him a fool. Cheol Gun-ak was no fool.

Jin In Sa Dae Cheon Myeong (盡人事待天命)—Do everything humanly possible, then leave the rest to fate.

To avoid conflict wasn’t his way, but preparation was key. And this pair of arm guards marked the beginning of that readiness.

“Put it in!”

Da-no-ya was Da-no-ya. Having instantly grasped the structure of Cheol Gun-ak’s arm guards, he did everything he could to assist. Thanks to the oil they’d prepared instead of water, the tempering process became smoother. His timely interventions further enhanced the quality of the arm guards.

“Fire!”

And then came the final step.

Pointing to the rising blue flames, Da-no-ya shouted. Even he struggled against the scorching heat—his skin reddened, and sweat poured down like rain. Cheol Gun-ak was no exception.

“Thank you, Elder.”

Cheol Gun-ak smiled brightly at him. Holding the two completed arm guards in his hands, he stepped forward.

“S-surely not?”

Without hesitation, he thrust his arms into the kiln.

Whooooooosh—!!

A massive surge of azure flames erupted from the narrow kiln, completely engulfing Cheol Gun-ak.

“Young Master!!”
“Cheol Gun-ak!”

Da-no-ya, Sung-gok, and the other craftsmen stared in shock. Instinctively, Da-no-ya moved to pull Cheol Gun-ak out of the flames.

But—

“No! You can’t!”
“That’s blue flame—it’ll melt your bones!”

Other craftsmen dragged Da-no-ya behind the earthen wall. Overwhelmed by the intense heat, they scrambled backward.

“Isn’t the Young Master inside?! We have to save him!”
“How can we possibly do that…?”

Sung-gok’s voice trailed off. These were master craftsmen of the Peerless Armory, renowned as men among men, yet none dared approach the flickering blue flames.

“Let me go!”

But Da-no-ya couldn’t stand idly by. Just moments ago, Cheol Gun-ak had been forging those arm guards while meeting his gaze. He couldn’t abandon him now. Using sticks and metal wires, Da-no-ya fashioned a makeshift lasso and began walking toward the inferno, despite the searing heat threatening to burn his skin.

“Whether it’s blue fire or blue flame, saving a person comes first, you fools!”

“Da-no-ya!”

“Sung-gok, didn’t you feel anything watching the Young Master craft those arm guards?”

“…”

He had felt plenty.

Technically, Da-no-ya had already reached the pinnacle of his craft. But could he create something with the same ferocity as Cheol Gun-ak? That burning passion intrigued him. A creation born from one’s deepest emotions—how much would it burn when unleashed upon the world?

“I’ve learned something. The flame I lacked burns fiercely within the Young Master!”

The Peerless Armory, responsible for crafting weapons for the Eight Great Squads of the Northern Heavens, typically produced mundane, formulaic items. While good weapons were necessary to face enemies from the Extreme North, they rarely deviated from the norm.

But Da-no-ya had been captivated by Cheol Gun-ak’s desperate tears. There was a flame within him that Da-no-ya had never possessed. Rather than continuing his monotonous existence, Da-no-ya chose to support Cheol Gun-ak’s survival.

At that moment—

“H-his head!”

Cheol Gun-ak shook his head. It was a signal to stay back. His hair had already burned away, and his skin crackled and charred black. Yet he moved as if nothing were wrong—a sight both horrifying and awe-inspiring. Even Da-no-ya, who prided himself on having seen everything, was dumbfounded.

In the heart of the blue flames—

‘Break open!’

Cheol Gun-ak intensified his use of Zhu Rong Devil Arts. The voracious blue flames were absorbed into his meridians, fueling the growth of his divine flames.

Kabooooom—!

The final barrier of the Small Celestial Circuit trembled. The Baihui Acupoint wavered, revealing the gateway between life and death.

‘I am!’

Crack—.

A sound echoed in his chest.

It was the shattering of the Governing Vessel and Conception Vessel’s blocked gateway. Pushing beyond his limits risked collapsing the acupoint entirely, potentially leaving him brain-dead.

But Cheol Gun-ak gritted his teeth. Retreat was never an option. Amidst the azure-tinted world, he thought of one person.

The Dark Emperor.

Those pitch-black eyes, the space of extinction that followed him, and the apocalypse he embodied—a living natural disaster too overwhelming for any mortal to face.

But.

‘I will kill the Dark Emperor.’

Cheol Gun-ak, eldest son of the Iron-Sick Cheol Family. Cheol Gun-ak, the Peerless Martial God.

Through countless lives and deaths, he summoned every ounce of anger he’d ever felt. The cursed Iron-Sick Cheol Family, the Northern Heavens, and even the Central Plains—all had been destroyed by the Dark Emperor. Now, it was his turn to end the Dark Emperor. In this second life, he would personally bring about his demise!

Whoooooosh—.

Cheol Gun-ak steadied his breathing. Flames surged in and out of his lungs, filling his body. His divine flames grew stronger, sharpened to deliver the final blow to the gateway between life and death. On the razor’s edge of existence, Cheol Gun-ak resolved—

‘And I will save myself.’

He clenched his left fist.

Instantly, a fragment of the Imperial Jade Seal glowed brilliantly. Images of Grandma and the young maid flashed through his mind. When faces of those he must kill overlapped with reasons to live, Cheol Gun-ak smiled.

Kaboooooom—!!

The ground shook. No—it was Cheol Gun-ak communicating with heaven and earth, drawing in the world’s energy.

Zhu Rong Devil Arts 祝融魔功—

In the myths of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, Zhu Rong was the god of fire. True to its namesake, the divine flames surged uncontrollably through his meridians. Absorbing the surrounding blue flames, they burned away impurities in his vessels and consumed the lingering embers in his collateral channels.

And then—his arms.

Clang—.

The arm guards he’d forged with Da-no-ya resonated with Zhu Rong Devil Arts, adhering tightly to his skin. From wrist to elbow, dense black scales encased his forearms.

“Heh.”

As if completing its task, the blue flames extinguished themselves. The charred remnants of Cheol Gun-ak’s skin flaked away, revealing fresh, white, resilient flesh beneath. His hair began regrowing, and his arms now bore the fearsome presence of the arm guards.

“Is it complete…?!”

Da-no-ya marveled.

They weren’t weapons. Merely arm guards—yet their menacing aura spoke volumes about the sheer intensity of Cheol Gun-ak’s emotions poured into their creation.

“Thank you, Da-no-ya.”

Cheol Gun-ak gave a light bow. Some craftsmen collapsed in exhaustion, while Sung-gok muttered unconsciously—

“Phoenix…”

The legendary immortal bird that burned itself in flames to be reborn. That myth had just come true in the body of a single human.

Da-no-ya chuckled and shook his head.

“Call me ‘Elder’ like before.”

“I was caught off guard then.”

“Even if you’re always caught off guard, just call me that. Blood doesn’t lie—I haven’t heard that word in so long, it feels comforting.”

Smirking, Da-no-ya pointed to a corner of the forge. Clothes soaked in sweat were common here, so spare outfits were always prepared. At his gesture, Sung-gok quickly fetched a set.

Cheol Gun-ak layered black clothing over himself, securing it with a sash. He concealed the arm guards beneath his sleeves, making them invisible to the naked eye.

“Young Master…”

Da-no-ya’s eyes narrowed. Most martial artists flaunted their weapons, and youths like Cheol Gun-ak often sought to display their strength.

But Cheol Gun-ak wasn’t like that.

He meticulously hid his weapons. The resentment he’d poured out earlier vanished without a trace. His demeanor reminded Da-no-ya of battle-hardened mercenaries.

“Are you really the Young Master?”

“A bit late to ask that now, isn’t it?”

Cheol Gun-ak smirked, brushing back his newly grown hair. Seeing his natural movements, Da-no-ya recalled someone else and raised a corner of his mouth.

“Well, we’ve already shared the same flame.”

“I like that expression. Next time, let’s share the same bottle.”

Cheol Gun-ak turned to leave.

“Wait a moment, if you would.”

But just then, Sung-gok stopped him—the same Sung-gok who had opposed lending him the kiln.

“Forging arm guards means you plan to make more, right?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask which parts you’re considering next?”

“For now, greaves and a chest guard. Ideally, segmented armor for each body part, and if fortune favors me, a full-length coat covering everything.”

It wasn’t the equipment of martial artists or soldiers. If anything, it resembled the the gear of mercenaries.

‘After all, it’s armor meant for survival.’

Cheol Gun-ak had fought countless battles in the Central Plains, killed endlessly, and claimed countless spoils. He wore whatever he found useful and discarded what wasn’t. This patchwork of scavenged and blood-forged equipment defined the Peerless Martial God.

“May I forge the greaves for you?”

Cheol Gun-ak silently met Sung-gok’s gaze. Gone was the once-empty blackness of his eyes—a strange flame now flickered within, wavering faintly but unmistakably present. With a cool nod, Cheol Gun-ak agreed.

“If you’re willing, it would be an honor.”

“I’ll make sure to succeed.”

Sung-gok clasped his hands in gratitude. As a craftsman, he didn’t want to miss this chance to take another step forward. Before forgetting the soul-stirring madness he’d witnessed, he hurried to a corner of the forge and began preparing his kiln.

And—

“You’ve become a fine man of the Northern Heavens. Do you need a weapon?”

It was Da-no-ya. His solemn question hung in the air. Cheol Gun-ak nodded confidently.

“Of course. But…”

One of the Peerless Armory’s rules was clear: while armor could be crafted freely, weapons were reserved exclusively for members of the Eight Great Squads. Knowing this, Cheol Gun-ak hadn’t expected a weapon.

Da-no-ya relaxed his stern expression and chuckled.

“It’s fine. I didn’t make that promise lightly. Besides, it’s also the ‘Promised Demon Sword.’”

Before Da-no-ya’s words faded, the other craftsmen gasped again. Some rushed over to stop him. Could it really be “that sword”?

Da-no-ya ignored them, his gaze fixed solely on Cheol Gun-ak.

“Are you prepared to stake your life?”

“It’s been wagered for quite some time now.”

“Follow me.”

Swoosh—.

Da-no-ya gave a bitter smile at Cheol Gun-ak’s dry humor and turned to lead the way.

‘A demon sword that demands a life, huh.’

Cheol Gun-ak followed with anticipation. In the Northern Heavens, where death was commonplace, demon swords were abundant. Still, one particular sword lingered in his mind.

And what kind of promise warranted gifting such a blade? Cheol Gun-ak was curious.