Sword Pilgrim - Chapter 52

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

“I saw with my own eyes that they used the finest, rustproof refined steel to make utensils and cans, filling them with just a little food, then casually throwing them away after eating.”“I saw with my own eyes that they used giant beasts as tall as mountains to devour soil and rocks, digging out underground cities, just to park their steel carriages beneath the surface.”“I saw with my own eyes that they fed glowing ores into an everlasting stellar furnace, unleashing a radiance brighter than the sun.”“I saw with my own eyes all those indescribable things.”“Their iron birds covered the sky, their steel ships filled the ocean, their war machines tore the earth asunder, and their gods walked upon the world.”“You must think I’m mad.”“But it doesn’t matter.”“It has already seen you.”——————Oil is Its blood.Thick smoke is Its breath.Ore and steel are Its food.The countless cargo ships in the harbors are Its myriad offspring.The place of origin stamped in the corner is Its silent mockery.They claim they are mere mortals.Child, you’d best not argue.You must understand:Their technology is beyond comprehension.Their production capacity is unimaginable.A mere glimpse of their creations will drive you insane.Their morale surpasses even the most fanatical worshippers of dark gods.How will you stop them?With your sword, child? Or your flesh and blood?You should be grateful that they still consider themselves mortals.——————“I’ve finished building my factory, and now you’re telling me this world runs on idealism?!”“Wait, then what the hell did I just create?”

Broken-hearted and drunk, Yoshida, a 26-years old salaryman, stumbled upon a runaway-from-home high-schooler on his way back from the bar.

“Hey, you. JK.”*

“What the heck are you doing out here. Go home already.”

“Uncle, let me stay at your place for the night.”

“You can do ‘that’ to me if you let me stay.”

“If you meant that as a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. It’s fine by me.”

“Then allow me to tell you that I have no interest in brats.”

“Hmm?”

“Then, just let me stay.”

Notes:

[*] JK is slang for Joushikousei (high school girl)

I, Zhang San, am absolutely a good person!I swear by the eight generations of my ancestors!What!? My ancestral grave just exploded!?