Dang Hoiyeong (4)
‘She can make that kind of face too, huh.’
Dang Cheol thought as he gazed at Dang Hoiyeong, who was glaring at him with cold, hardened eyes.
It looked much better.
Compared to her past self, who had grinned guilelessly at everyone and flaunted her weak heart for all to see.
‘Bloodlines can’t be fooled, after all.’
It didn’t matter.
Dang Hoiyeong being aware of the side effects of the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong was already something he’d anticipated.
After all, the infamous killer from the Shadow Squad lingered by her side. She must have overheard plenty about the Tang Clan’s martial arts from him.
If he had to pick one nagging loose end, though…
‘She knew about the side effects, so why didn’t she flip out from the start?’
It was as if she’d skimmed the manual, grasped the side effects right then and there.
But Dang Cheol quickly shook his head, dismissing the thought.
What a stupid notion.
No way that could be true.
Was it even possible to comprehend the essence of a manual just by reading it in a mere incense stick’s time?
Learning martial arts wasn’t just about decoding words.
Even those hailed as once-in-a-generation prodigies needed at least half a month to grasp the core of an unfamiliar art.
Let alone a child who hadn’t even begun training?
‘No need to even mention it.’
That’s why prestigious sects made young geniuses feel the flow through direct qi transmission first—words came after.
Realizing a manual’s essence in an incense stick’s time, then piercing through to its hidden flaws? Impossible.
‘Not important anyway.’
She probably just forgot at first, then it hit her suddenly.
Dang Cheol brushed off the fact that she hadn’t just named the side effect but recited the exact incantation triggering it—as mere coincidence.
What mattered was making her learn the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong, or barring her from the fourth floor by any means necessary.
“I can hear those gears turning from here.”
Dang Hoiyeong’s icy voice shattered the silence.
Dang Cheol snapped out of his reverie and plastered on his kindly smile again.
“You asked who ordered it, young miss. But does that really matter?”
Dang Cheol took a step forward.
The shadow of the cunning old librarian engulfed the young girl’s entire frame.
“Even if I told you who, could you hold them accountable?”
Dang Hoiyeong snorted, flashing a venomous smirk.
It didn’t suit her innocent face at all.
“This is a library. Just you and me. Where’s the proof I urged you to learn the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong without explaining its flaws? I’d just deny it.”
“…”
“You didn’t learn it anyway. And even if you did, do you think ‘those above’ wouldn’t have a plan for your objections?”
Dang Cheol had dropped his ever-present mask, staring down at Dang Hoiyeong with a frigid expression.
“Even if you told the patriarch, without evidence, how harshly would he punish a librarian who’s devoted his life to the clan for the sake of a half-exiled direct lineage? And what about the fallout after?”
Yet Dang Hoiyeong met his gaze steadily, as if she had some ace up her sleeve.
“The whole clan would shun you, young miss. They’d say you falsely accused a lifelong servant of the library. As for blocking your path to the fourth floor? Same thing. ‘She can’t even master the third floor’s arts properly, so letting her near the fourth would just confuse her studies.’ That’s all it’d take.”
Dang Cheol crouched down, leveling his eyes with hers.
“Young miss, it’s not about who ordered it. It’s that you can’t do a damn thing about it—and what you can gain in exchange for burying this.”
Slipping back into his warm smile like a mask, Dang Cheol continued.
“Don’t you miss the cozy main house? The patriarch’s kindness, the affection from the family? Young miss, the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong is what three-quarters of the main house trains in. It’s why we hold our spot as one of the Five Great Families without a single transcendent expert.”
“Don’t fear learning the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong?”
“Exactly. Smart girl. To someone who’s avoided martial arts, that side effect might seem like a curse. But is there any guarantee you’ll break past the Peak wall before you die?”
Dang Cheol shook his head.
“Nowhere. Not anywhere. Three-quarters of the martial world die without surpassing Peak. But master the Sipdok Cheongwon Gong, and you’ll definitely break through. The Tang Clan today proves it.”
Dang Cheol extended his hand.
“Plenty from the main house’s direct line died as Peak experts. Ending your life at Peak isn’t shameful.”
The whip had cracked enough—time to dangle the carrot.
“We’ll help you, young miss. A comfortable life in the main house. The love from your kin and the patriarch. Isn’t that why you came to the pavilion?”
“And the fourth floor?”
“Ah, the fourth floor. Of course. Once Young Master Hoechan becomes heir apparent, I’ll guide you there myself. I’ll stand by your side to help you master Manteon Hwau—the Tang Clan’s symbol—even at Peak.”
“Yeah? Thanks.”
Beaming at her, Dang Cheol felt a flicker of relief—followed by massive unease.
The Dang Hoiyeong he knew, a normal kid, should’ve eased up after the tension broke, showing some relief.
But her smile was too smooth. Like a hunter waiting for prey to spring the trap.
And his gut feeling was spot on.
“Thanks to you, everything’s crystal clear now.”
Dang Cheol’s spine chilled at her next words.
“You’re capping my realm so I don’t outpace my brother too early. And blocking the fourth floor before the heir’s set, since mastering direct-line arts would give me succession rights too.”
“…!”
“All to clarify the succession, right?”
Dang Cheol’s eyelids twitched.
“From what I remember, my brother’s two-faced but not slimy enough to pull shit like a killer. This is someone’s solo play. ‘Those above’ in the library… let’s see.”
Dang Hoiyeong’s eyes narrowed.
“Dad wouldn’t start this mess—out. Division heads are too busy for clan infighting—out. Leaves one. One of the elders, huh?”
Dang Cheol’s face froze in grotesque rigidity.
Behind the kindly old man’s mask, shock crashed like waves.
A ten-year-old half-abandoned by the main house pierced it all from a few slips of the tongue?
“Even if so…”
Dang Hoiyeong cut him off.
“Nothing changes? We’ll see what I do next. Anyway, my answer to all your offers just now…”
And with the most childlike, innocent, amused grin yet—
Flashing her gums wide—
“Fuck off.”
She declared it to Dang Cheol, middle finger raised high.
Dang Cheol’s face twisted like a vengeful demon.
***
Watching Dang Cheol’s face turn beet red with rage, Dang Hoiyeong cackled.
Pretending to be all kindly and clever, only to have a kid see through him and get cussed out—how bad must that burn!
But it wasn’t enough.
She’d never planned on becoming patriarch anyway—why poke the bear and start shit?
As a former street orphan, Dang Hoiyeong knew exactly where to push back and where to hold her tongue.
If she couldn’t tell and lashed out blindly in anger, she’d have been beaten to death in the markets long ago.
And right now.
This was a situation where she could swing hard, slit his throat, and walk away clean.
Opportunities like this? You don’t let them slip.
Show mercy and release him, and who knows when the knife turns back on you.
“Ah~ So, for succession rights, shall we head to the fourth floor?”
Grinning slyly, Dang Hoiyeong sauntered off—Dang Cheol’s eyes bulged, veins popping.
“Wait!”
Losing all reason, Dang Cheol snatched her slender wrist.
His grip was brutally tight, unable to contain his fury—enough to bruise a child’s delicate skin.
“Heh. A mere librarian touching direct lineage? Totally crossed the line. Know that?”
Dang Cheol ground his teeth, trying for the kindly mask but failing in rage, his face a grotesque snarl.
“Just grabbing a wrist… Running wild in the library, trying to damage manuals. This Dang Cheol touched a direct heir, but to protect the pavilion, I had no choice. I’ll have you secluded in confinement for it.”
“Oh? Pulling that card?”
Dang Hoiyeong smirked as if this was hilarious, glancing at her trapped wrist.
Red bruises blooming on soft skin.
This would do nicely.
“Hmm. A librarian snaps a direct heir’s wrist to ‘protect’ the pavilion? You could’ve stopped me with inner energy. Tough break—this won’t end in confinement.”
“What are you…”
—Crack!
A grotesque snap from Dang Hoiyeong’s wrist cut him off.
The wrist in Dang Cheol’s grasp went limp, flopping bonelessly.
Dang Cheol paled, releasing it in panic, mumbling.
“N-No… What the hell…”
“First time seeing Chukgok Gong? It’s an application, but. Ow, fucking hurts.”
“N-No way! Chukgok Gong is a lost ancient relic! Let alone without inner energy, how could…”
“Right? You think so too?”
Dang Hoiyeong waggled the twisted wrist side to side.
“Too bad. You broke it. You love saying no proof, no credibility… But look, evidence right here.”
“W-Wait! Young miss!”
Dang Cheol reached out, ashen-faced, but Dang Hoiyeong collapsed to the floor, wailing as if the pavilion itself were crumbling.
Embarrassing, sure—but the most effective, aggressive move a kid could pull.
“Waaah! Save me! The librarian, the librarian broke my arm…! Scary! Nanny! Dad—!”
Her cries drew warriors from the pavilion rushing down from above.
Dang Cheol shouted at them.
“Go back up! No permission, no third floor! Violate it, and face clan law!”
That’s when it happened.
Dang Hoiyeong’s shadow warped grotesquely—a black shade lunged at Dang Cheol.
—Boom!
The floor cratered. The shadow slammed his head down, pinning his nape—Nanny Dang Yeonseol.
“…You dare. What did you do to the young miss.”
“W-Wait! I can explain. Misunderstanding!”
“No. Shut up. On second thought, I’m not the one to interrogate you. You’ll need that slick tongue to charm the patriarch if you want to live.”
Dang Yeonseol’s nails dug into his nape.
Dang Cheol’s face turned sallow yellow, veins bulging across his body in spasms.
Paralysis poison, likely.
As he glared wide-eyed, losing consciousness, Dang Hoiyeong sobbed—secretly flipping him the bird where only he could see.
‘Heh. Serves you right.’