Chapter 774: Oh, Those Damned Geom Family!
Late at night, Gwak Yeong was cleaning up the Iron Workshop with a body that felt as heavy as a thousand catties.
She wiped down the workbench with a damp cloth and swept together the ashes and metal fragments scattered across the floor.
Once the youngest master artisan of the Martial Alliance, she was now doing menial work in the Iron Workshop of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult.
Since arriving here, she had quietly focused only on the tasks assigned to her.
At first, many had disapproved of her. The fact that she came from the Martial Alliance—and that she was a woman—hadn’t pleased anyone.
Yet, enduring all the disregard and contempt in silence, she had never shunned the dirty work. Thanks to that, the way others looked at her had changed a lot these days.
Those who worked with metal had temperaments like fire. What they disliked, they despised fiercely; but when they recognized someone, they did so fully. Without a doubt, she had worked hard enough to earn everyone’s respect.
It was also a time for her to look back on herself.
‘Right… this was the mindset I had when I first started learning this craft.’
When had it begun? After becoming an artisan, without realizing it, her shoulders had grown proud, and she had lost that desperate determination. Could it be that the ones who kidnapped her younger brother had targeted her precisely because of that vulnerability?
Just as she was about to leave the workshop after finishing another exhausting day’s work, someone called out to her. It was Artisan Gwak of the Iron Workshop, who had not yet gone home and was still in his office.
“Starting tomorrow, use the fire.”
The order to use fire meant permission to forge weapons. As the long-awaited approval was finally granted, Gwak Yeong’s face brightened instantly.
“Thank you.”
Artisan Gwak treated her indifferently, but he had been watching her all along.
“There are still people who disapprove of you.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Prove yourself with the sword you make.”
“Yes, sir!”
As Artisan Gwak left the workshop, Gwak Yeong bowed her head several times, expressing her gratitude.
She then walked over to the cold, extinguished furnace.
At last, she could forge a sword! How long had she been waiting for this moment?
Tears threatened to fall, but she forced them back. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak.
Her younger brother had joined as a lower-ranked martial artist and begun his life under the Demonic Cult. She could tell from his expression just how harsh and difficult it was, but he too was enduring it bravely.
‘We’ll make it through. We can do this.’
After glancing around the empty workshop, she stepped outside.
As she closed the door behind her, someone spoke.
“Congratulations.”
Startled, she turned around to find Geom Muyang standing there.
A flicker of joy crossed her face, but it quickly hardened as she asked,
“Are you…?”
“If you’re asking whether I went to Artisan Gwak and asked him to let you forge a sword, the answer is no. If I had done that, you’d never be allowed to work here again.”
He was right. From her own experience, Gwak Artisan was not someone who would ever bow to outside pressure—not even from the Great Young Master of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult. If anyone tried to intervene on her behalf, she would lose the chance to ever forge a sword for the rest of her life.
“I only came to say congratulations.”
Yesterday, Artisan Gwak had come to him and said it was time to let Gwak Yeong forge a sword. That was how he found out—and why he came to see her today.
The reason Geom Muyang cared about her was simple: she had come all the way to the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult because of him.
As Geom Muyang turned to leave after saying his piece, Gwak Yeong spoke up.
“Buy me a drink.”
When he turned back toward her, the woman standing there looked like the one he used to know long ago.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You know I’ve always had this kind of bold personality. I’ve just been holding it in ever since I came here. Young Master, please put up with my temper just for today. I was on the verge of collapsing from frustration.”
She said it so confidently that Geom Muyang couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Encouraged by his faintly amused expression, she continued.
“Just for today, I want to celebrate and have someone say congratulations. And as you know, I haven’t even started receiving my proper monthly pay yet, so… please treat me today. I’ll buy next month.”
Geom Muyang nodded. He had actually been debating whether or not to suggest a celebratory drink himself, afraid she might feel burdened—but she had brought it up first.
Yes, he wanted to celebrate with her too. She truly had worked hard. He didn’t regret introducing her to Artisan Gwak one bit.
From afar, someone was watching the two of them walk together. It was Geom Mugeuk. He had gone to visit his older brother, only to hear from a subordinate that he was at the Iron Workshop, so he came there.
His brother was still looking after Gwak Yeong.
The old him would never have cared in the slightest. Seeing how much his brother had changed, Geom Mugeuk’s eyes deepened.
“You have to keep getting cooler, Brother.”
* * *
Geom Mugeuk went straight back to his quarters.
For the duration of time he had promised his father, Geom Mugeuk practiced martial arts using the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique. Right now, his father was likely training the same technique as well. And he himself continued performing the Nine Calamities Demon Art over and again.
But of course, because he was using the Heavenly Time Secret Art, his training would last more than five hours.
The technique, which had once given him seven times more time, now granted him nine times that. What was five hours in the real world became forty-five hours for Geom Mugeuk—almost four full days.
Geom Mugeuk had no intention of telling his father about the part of the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique that involved the Heavenly Time Secret Art—the technique that slowed down the flow of time within that space.
If his father was taught this technique, he would surely master the Heavenly Time Secret Art to perfection, and perhaps even attempt to grasp the true ultimate meaning of martial arts itself.
Then, he might ascend as a Demon Immortal—or lose himself forever in endless martial training, never returning from the Temporal and Spatial Transference realm.
It wasn’t a joke; he could genuinely lose his father that way.
‘I’m sorry, Father. I trust you can handle yourself well… but your son here tends to worry too much.’
Geom Mugeuk immersed himself once more in the training of the Nine Calamities Demon Art.
‘Break through the Ten-Star Greatness of the Nine Calamities Demon Art and reach the Twelve-Star Greatness!’
They had lost the Twelve Zodiac Kings, and no one knew when Hwa Moogi would appear again.
Still, he intended to push himself until the very end.
Even if, after all his effort, he could not surpass Hwa Moogi, then as a true martial artist, he would admit defeat. Yes, you win.
When exhaustion overtook him during training, he opened a hot spring and soaked his body in the steaming water.
When fatigue returned again the second time, he summoned an island and rested while breathing in the sea breeze.
Throughout his training, one question lingered constantly in his mind.
Would his father be able to succeed within the time limit?
Five hours passed in the real world.
Geom Mugeuk went to see his father again. His father was waiting for him in his private training hall.
First, he studied his father’s expression.
Had he succeeded within the time limit? Or failed?
But from his father’s face, he couldn’t tell either way.
At moments like this, one thought always crossed his mind.
‘Father, you really should have been a gambler!’
After all, it was entirely possible he had failed.
“Even if you failed, please don’t be too embarrassed. Five hours is an impossible time limit. A father that inhuman would make his son uneasy. So please, be honest with me. Just say, ‘Son, five hours wasn’t enough. Give me a little more time.’”
A faint, confident smile curved up one corner of his father’s lips.
Snap.
His father flicked his fingers.
In an instant, Geom Mugeuk and Geom Woojin were standing in a new space—a blank, white void.
It was his father’s Temporal and Spatial Transference realm.
“You did it!”
Overjoyed, Geom Mugeuk began to leap in excitement. He was happier than when he had succeeded himself.
As long as his father could unfold the technique, whether or not he used it in battle later was another matter entirely.
That was his father’s decision to make. For Geom Mugeuk, it was enough to know that he now had a secret move capable of protecting his father.
“I’ll make sure to tell the Cult Leader of the Heavenly Wind Cult that it took you five hours, Father.”
“Four hours.”
“What?”
“It was finished in four.”
“The Cult Leader will probably faint from shock!”
No, he probably wouldn’t. He already knew that Geom Mugeuk had mastered it in two hours.
He’d probably just mutter, “Good grief, those damned Geom family!”
“You’re truly amazing! I respect you, Father.”
Realizing that his father could open such a dimensional space so effortlessly, Geom Mugeuk was beyond impressed—he was awestruck.
When he had first learned the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique, it had taken him two hours—exactly half the time his father now needed.
But afterward, he had trained and refined himself for a long time just to be able to open a space that quickly. Yet his father had opened this realm in an instant.
Was it because of some special enlightenment he had attained after reaching the Twelve-Star Greatness of the Nine Calamities Demon Art? Or was it that the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique itself suited his father perfectly by nature?
Whatever the reason, the result was nothing short of astounding.
Seeing his son’s genuine joy, a satisfied smile appeared on Geom Woojin’s face.
The absolute concentration and effort he had poured into mastering the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique now felt fully rewarded. No, his son seemed even happier about it than he was.
Geom Mugeuk’s joy came from another reason as well.
He knew that his father hadn’t accepted this not-quite-a-bet purely out of competitiveness.
He had done it because he understood his son’s worries and wanted to ease them. That thought filled Geom Mugeuk with gratitude.
Of course, his father still didn’t believe that a day would ever come when he would need to open the Temporal and Spatial Transference realm to flee from danger.
“When you first succeed, you can only create a blank space like this. But as your mastery of the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique deepens, you can create all sorts of things. You can even recreate places from memory perfectly. I’ll show you an example. I don’t know if my technique will unfold properly inside yours, though.”
It was his first time attempting to open a Temporal and Spatial Transference realm inside another one.
Snap.
Inside his father’s space, Geom Mugeuk opened his own Temporal and Spatial Transference realm once again.
Amazingly, it worked.
Whoooosh.
The two of them now stood together atop a snowy mountain peak. The wind blew, scattering their clothes and hair through the air.
Geom Woojin touched the snow at his feet. It was truly cold. On the opposite side, the ice cliff shimmered brilliantly as it caught the sunlight.
“Impressive, right?”
Geom Mugeuk snapped his fingers again.
At once, a plum tree appeared beside them, and red blossoms bloomed amid the whirling snowstorm.
When he snapped his fingers once more, a small rock appeared next to it.
“You can create anything you want like this. Oh, and the finger snapping isn’t necessary—it’s just for style.”
At that moment, his father said something unexpected.
“Like this, you mean?”
Snap!
The scenery changed again.
Within the Temporal and Spatial Transference realm that Geom Mugeuk had created, his father had opened his own.
And when Geom Mugeuk looked around, he was shocked. It wasn’t a blank white space. What he saw was all too familiar.
“What? How…?”
It was the Heavenly Demon Pavilion.
Though not yet perfectly reconstructed, three of its most defining features were there—the Path of Blood, the stairs, and the Throne Mat.
His father had already succeeded in recreating the place most familiar to him.
With the steps of a victor, Geom Woojin climbed the stairs and sat on the Throne Mat.
Watching his father sit there in satisfaction, Geom Mugeuk jumped up in astonishment.
“I can’t live like this, I really can’t! Father, why are you sitting on the Throne Mat even inside the Temporal and Spatial Transference realm? The whole reason I taught you this technique was so you could finally step away from that Throne Mat!”
With a look that said, ‘Is that so?’, his father rose from the seat and—snap!
The Throne Mat and everything he had just created vanished.
Even if his control was still somewhat limited, the way he could manipulate objects so freely left Geom Mugeuk in awe.
“You’re truly incredible. Even without possessing the Heavenly Martial Body, you’re already this strong. If you had been born with one, it would’ve been absolute chaos.”
He meant it. His own birth with the Heavenly Martial Body was no doubt thanks to his father’s extraordinary natural talent.
But what his father possessed was a completely different kind of instinct—something that transcended even that body.
“If you’re going to create something, you should make it like this.”
Snap!
The next instant, Geom Mugeuk and Geom Woojin stood on a white beach where a vast blue sea stretched endlessly before them.
Since two spaces couldn’t be maintained at once, the snowy field from before had disappeared.
The clear sky above, the blazing sun, the ocean breeze brushing against their faces—there was even a large-leafed tree by the shore, with a comfortable-looking chair resting beneath its shade.
It was a place he had never planned to show anyone.
But now, he wanted to show it to his father.
“This is my most cherished space, my own private place.”
With another snap of his fingers, a second chair appeared beneath the tree’s broad leaves.
“Please, lie down here.”
Geom Woojin lay down beside his son on the white sand. The warmth of the sunlight and the softness of the sand beneath them made it feel strangely refreshing.
In his entire life, had he ever once reclined on a beach like this?
“When you lie here and look up at that blue sky, all your worries just fade away.”
“What worries could a young man like you possibly have?”
“Father, I spend my days getting involved in everyone’s problems. And on top of that, I waste my time trying to make everyone like me. Isn’t that the most meaningless thing in the world?”
“So, you do realize it.”
The two of them looked up at the sky in silence.
Then, suddenly, his father asked,
“Are you lonely?”
He knew.
He knew that loneliness wasn’t something you felt when you were alone—it was what you felt when you were surrounded by people.
“Sometimes.”
Geom Woojin turned his head to look at his son. Geom Mugeuk met his gaze and replied casually, as if it were nothing.
“When I come here and rest a bit, I feel fine again. Don’t you ever want to be alone sometimes too, Father? Without Uncle Hui, without any guards—completely by yourself?”
“If I ask everyone to leave, I can be alone.”
“That’s not the same. This space is completely, entirely mine. You can curse all you want here! You can even run around naked if you like!”
His father’s gaze turned once more toward the sky.
No matter how vivid and real that clear blue sky appeared, to his father, it was still not real.
“No matter how hard reality becomes, and no matter how comfortable this place may seem, don’t lose yourself too deeply in illusions.”
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind.”
This time, Geom Mugeuk asked,
“Father, have you ever felt lonely?”
“No.”
“You must have worries, though. What’s your biggest concern, Father?”
At that, Geom Woojin turned his head and looked at his son.
Geom Mugeuk laughed loudly and added,
“Other than me, I mean.”
Of course. A son who stood in the way of his father’s dreams—he must be the worst kind of nuisance from his father’s point of view.
“Then, none.”
“Hearing you say that makes me sound like such a troublemaker, doesn’t it?”
Could his father truly have no worries? That couldn’t be.
When would the day come when his father could speak his mind freely, without holding anything back?
It felt harder than reaching the Twelve-Star Greatness of the Nine Calamities Demon Art.
Still, he would keep trying—until that day finally came.
At least his father seemed to be taking an interest in the Temporal and Spatial Transference Technique more than he had expected.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the space you’ll create for yourself, Father. I’m curious—where do you feel most at peace? Please show me someday. Ah, but the Heavenly Demon Pavilion is absolutely forbidden! And the Throne Mat too!”
Geom Woojin didn’t respond, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t create one either.
What kind of space would his father treasure the most?
Would the day come when he could see it with his own eyes?
Geom Mugeuk glanced sideways at his father.
Seeing him lying there so comfortably—it was strange in a way, almost unfamiliar.
Still, it was good. ‘Please take it easy once in a while, Father.’
It seemed his father did like the place, though.
“The sea breeze is truly pleasant.”
Beneath his chair, Geom Mugeuk’s fingers tapped lightly.
A cooler breeze swept through, cutting through the heat.
Above them, a flock of seagulls crossed the sky, and beside his father’s chair, a line of crabs scuttled neatly across the sand.
‘Please rest well here, at least in this place, Father.’