Chapter 5

The name of this blacksmith shop was Iron-Fire Artisan, which I guessed meant "a place where iron is transformed." This Iron-Fire Artisan was the largest blacksmith shop in the village, and it was also a weapons shop that made not only various agricultural tools but also weapons.

The Iron-Fire Artisan primarily made swords among its weapons, and since the owner, Old Man Jang, was a renowned swordsmith, the number of martial artists who used this place was quite high. A sword is an item with high added value, so the Iron-Fire Artisan was raking in a considerable amount of money. The 3 silver taels a month they gave me was less than a drop in the bucket.

The main customers of this Iron-Fire Artisan were a slightly large sect on the mountain behind our hut and a security escort agency run by a lay disciple of that sect. They were the top regulars who held the Iron-Fire Artisan's livelihood in their hands. The name of that sect was the Emei Sect, named after the mountain behind us, Mount Emei. I had heard from my master that it was a fairly large sect.

What pricked my ears even more was the fact that the sect was composed almost entirely of women. My jaw dropped especially at the part about there being many beautiful women. However, there was also no shortage of cranky middle-aged women and old crones, and at the part where most of those women were nuns, I was as disappointed as if I had been heartbroken. Though there was my master's consolation that the fresh lay disciples were worth looking forward to...

Since the Emei Sect was a sect that primarily used swords, it seemed they procured a considerable quantity of swords from here. The same went for the security escort agency run by the Emei Sect's lay disciple. This village was probably under the protection of the Emei Sect. It was only natural for a village located at the foot of a mountain where a huge sect was situated. The people of this village couldn't even imagine a life without the Emei Sect. The Emei Sect was a part of this village, no, it was everything.

And so, my first day of work consisted of hearing about the Iron-Fire Artisan and learning the basics of the job. I was told that the sledgehammer used to strike the iron weighed a good 30 kilograms. It was my own personal hammer, specially prepared at the request of my master, who was close friends with the owner. Of course, I wasn't grateful at all.

However, as if to mock the sneers that it was too much for a child, I handled the sledgehammer without difficulty, surprising everyone. My body had been trained with the 30-kilogram steel laundry bat, so it wasn't that much of a challenge. After learning the basic work, I headed for home, unaware of what difficulties and misfortunes were waiting for me, hand in hand...

What awaited me when I dragged my exhausted body home from the Iron-Fire Artisan was my master's cruel smile—or so it seemed to me—and a bag full of beads. There were various kinds of beads, and all of them had a small hole drilled through the center. Beautiful beads of seven rainbow colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet—were inside the bag. The beads were not expensive jewels, but they seemed to have been made by some special method. Perhaps that was why their colors were so fine and beautiful.

"Master, what on earth are these beads?"

Immediately curious, I asked my master insistently.

"As you can see, they're beads. What else would they be? Didn't I tell you earlier? That a method has already been prepared so your hands won't become dull. These beads are one of those methods."

'One of those methods!' That meant there were others. Suddenly, a chill ran through my whole body. I trembled.

"What on earth can be done with these beads? This incompetent and unfortunate disciple cannot possibly know. Please teach me."

Hearing this, my master chuckled once and said, "I'll show you a demonstration," as he picked up a single red bead. Then, from his sleeve, he took out something long and thin. It was a thin silver needle about the length of an adult's forearm. A thin thread was tied to the end of that thin silver needle.

My master held the silver needle in his right hand and lightly tossed the bead from his left hand toward the ceiling. The thrown bead flew through the air, spinning round and round. In that instant, the silver needle in my master's right hand flashed. It was not a delusion, an optical illusion, or a fantasy. The silver needle held in my master's right hand performed a fast and precise movement in a fraction of a second. And when I looked at the now-still silver needle held in my master's right hand, to my surprise, the red bead that had been thrown into the air was skewered on it, emitting a brilliant light. The tip of the needle, which had moved like lightning, had precisely penetrated the millet-sized hole in the center of the spinning bead.

It was enough to make a ghost wail. With my eyes wide as lanterns, I stared blankly at my master. No matter how much of a child exploiter my master was, an admirable feat was an admirable feat.

My master gave his usual unpleasant smile, and this time, he held seven beads in his right hand and the silver needle in his left. This time, he threw all seven beads toward the ceiling at once, and again, the silver needle in his left hand moved like lightning. And soon, on the stilled needle, the seven beads were skewered in a row. Not a single one was missed. My master had easily performed this trick with just his left hand.

Next, he showed the same demonstration with 10 beads, and then with 20 beads. Finally, he took two beads of each of the seven colors—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet—for a total of 14, threw them into the air, and again used the silver needle to string the thrown beads like a skewer. Looking at the strung beads, they were arranged in the order of the rainbow: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. My master did not make a single mistake during the demonstration. And with just his left hand... That day, not only did I not get a chance to laugh my fill at my master, but he actually seemed quite amazing.

'Ha, that's incredible. He wouldn't have any trouble making a living as a street performer.'

"This training maximizes the power of your eyes and, along with it, increases the accuracy and speed of your hands. And the most important thing is the finish. This is very important."

Then, he let go of the silver needle with his left hand and grasped the end of the needle with his right. The beads skewered on the needle slid down the thread. A finger-sized wooden stick was tied to the end of the thread, preventing the beads from sliding off. Then, he cut the thread at a point where there were about 30 beads. Then he tied the two ends of the thread together. His skill in tying the thread was so clever that there were no gaps between the beads. A necklace was born.

"Did you see that well? There are 30 beads in one necklace. No more, no less. And when you tie the knot, you must tie it securely. So that no gaps form! We'll start with a daily workload of 100. Work hard!"

No sooner had my master's words ended than I got a strange feeling. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being scammed.

'Work hard? Wasn't this part of my training?'

At the time, I was so impressed by my master's dazzling skill that I didn't notice, but there was a huge corruption and conspiracy hidden in this 'bead-stringing to make necklaces'. My master was selling these necklaces to a general store in the village for 2 copper coins each. No, to be precise, he had arranged to receive beads from the general store and get paid 2 copper coins for each necklace he made by stringing them. To put it simply, it was a kind of side job.

The income earned from this side job was 200 copper coins a day, which amounted to 6,000 copper coins a month. Since 1,000 copper coins were 1 silver tael, he was earning a profit of 6 silver taels a month. It was more money than my monthly salary. My money-crazed master had not only exploited his disciple's wages but, not satisfied with that, had pushed, no, shoved his one and only disciple into the pit of a side job.

But damn it, that wasn't the end. There was a 'to be continued'. What my master handed me after finishing the necklace-making demonstration was a block of wood and an ordinary dagger that could be seen anywhere. And then, my master told me to carve statues with this dagger. No, not just statues, but to carve wooden crafts. Things like small wooden Buddha statues, wooden combs, trinkets, and accessories... All things that would make money if sold.

Since it was the beginning, my master told me to try carving one a day. And the important thing was that I had to become able to carve using my left hand as well.

"This too will be of immense help in cultivating the refined and delicate senses of your hands. It can fully make up for any coarseness or dullness in your senses from the blacksmith work. Yes, indeed,"

my master said. Anyway, he was a man who was amazingly good with words. I finally felt like I understood why my master had taken me with him. He must have had the ulterior motive of using my carving skills, which he had seen me use at my parents' graves. These carved works—items that could be called works of art without exaggeration—were traded at the general store along with the necklaces. Small ones for 15 copper coins, and large, intricate ones—works that took 3-4 days to carve—for 200 copper coins. It was another side job besides the necklaces. My master must have had the intention of using me until not a single drop of blood would come out if he were to wring me out.

My master was a man who would have nothing to say even if he were reported to the authorities for child abuse and violating labor laws. No one would defend him. Me? I would stand in the accuser's place, but I would never, ever stand in the place of defending my master.

And so, I came to have one main job and two side jobs completely against my will, and from that point on, my misfortune and arduous life journey began.