The First of Three Blows
The ridgeline burned with a searing heat.
Closer to the sun than the valleys below, it baked under a merciless glare. Yet even that blistering heat could not melt the tension coiled through every man present.
They squinted against the blazing sun and waited for a single moment to arrive. The duel was being held under the name of the Three Yang Rite—but in truth, the honor of both the Namgung Family and the Jegal Family hung in the balance.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Sure about what?"
"Your opponent is an elder of the Namgung Family. He's nothing like the people you've fought so far."
"…"
"Mun-ho hyung is right. We know you're strong, but—"
"Haa, Mun-Hyeon. Why the hell did you do that?"
"You should have just left it to Uncle."
These little bastards…
They had spent so long together. It was almost hurtful—how little faith they had in him. Clearly the problem was that he had gone too easy on them during training just because they were family. There was a reason people called it the rod of love. From now on, he would have to work much harder to strengthen their belief in him.
"Hyung. You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
Jegal Jung-gi, who had finally gotten used to calling him "hyung," spoke with a sly little smile.
This brat…
He was the first person Mun-Hyeon had ever met who made the word "hyung" sound unwelcome.
"On purpose?"
"You mean there's another reason?"
"What reason? Tell us too!"
Gwan Hwi-pyeong looked over, baffled.
"Tsk, tsk. For descendants of the Jegal Family, your thinking is painfully short."
"What was that, you bastard?"
Jung-gi clicked his tongue and shook his head, and Hwi-pyeong bristled at once.
"Enough. Jung-gi isn't wrong. How can your minds be so empty?"
"Damn it, empty about what? Then do you know, hyung?"
"Haa. You think I'm like the rest of you?"
"Wait—you know?"
"Haa…"
Jegal Mun-ho let out another long sigh and looked at Hwi-pyeong with something close to pity.
"The meaning of this duel is not victory alone."
"What?"
"Can't you hear it? The whispering all around us."
"…?"
Now that he mentioned it, every gaze in the area kept flicking between Jegal Mun-Hyeon and Mok Ja-un, who was still recovering his strength in the shade. Hwi-pyeong only tilted his head further.
"Do you live your lives believing every rumor that floats past?"
"Well, not every—"
"They can be tempting, of course. But seeing once is better than hearing a hundred times. Far better."
"Come on, we know that much."
"Then say it."
"…"
Hwi-pyeong, who had spoken up for no good reason, clamped his mouth shut.
"Mun-Hyeon's excellence is already well known within the family. We've heard it endlessly. But how many have actually witnessed that greatness with their own eyes?"
"Well…"
Very few. During the chaos with the Honyeonbang, at Dangang-gu, at Wudang—people had only ever heard the results and the rumors that followed, and cheered from a distance.
"Even within the family, many still half-believe, half-doubt. They've heard of Mun-Hyeon's skill and still worry whether he can defeat a Namgung elder. If even our own people feel that way, what of the martial artists of the Hyeolyeonggak or the Namgung Family?"
"Ah…"
Hwi-pyeong nodded hard, finally catching on.
"And just now, with everyone listening, Mun-Hyeon deliberately stressed that he was a young descendant of the Jegal Family and called his own skill lacking."
"…"
"In that situation—if Mun-Hyeon wins—what do you think will happen?"
"What… will happen?"
"Haa, you idiots! The alliance's solidarity will harden! Those who still had doubts about cooperating with the Jegal Family will change their minds once this fight is over. The rising star of the Jegal Family defeated a Namgung elder. Perhaps the main house has even greater masters waiting!"
"Ah—th-that?"
"And that's not all. Even if we drive the Namgung out, our family still has to deal with the Mayeongru—whether by war or persuasion. But if the Namgung withdraw, what happens then?"
"You're saying… he even accounted for the Mayeongru?"
"That's right, you fools. That's why I asked if Mun-Hyeon did it on purpose. Isn't that so, Jung-gi?"
At Mun-ho's words, Jung-gi gave a short snort of laughter and nodded.
"Damn. All that complicated stuff…"
"Wait—so all three of you already knew?"
"Hey, shut up. The more we talk, the dumber we look."
While Hwi-pyeong still couldn't hide his shock, Jung-gi shook his head in open admiration.
"Honestly, Mun-Hyeon hyung is terrifyingly sly. When he suddenly stepped forward I wondered what he was thinking—I only figured it out after overhearing Father talk about it."
"Haha. Jung-gi, you think he beat you at baduk for no reason? That boy always plays several moves ahead of everyone else."
"No, that baduk game—!"
"What? Going to call it a mistake again?"
"Urgh…"
Jung-gi's brow furrowed deeply as his expression crumpled into a sulk.
"Uncle went along with it because he understood what Mun-Hyeon was after."
"I suppose so."
"Hahaha! Don't make that face, boy. Getting us this far is all your achievement, isn't it? Without your strategy we never could have driven the Namgung martial artists into a corner without taking losses ourselves. Isn't that right, Mun-Hyeon?"
Mun-ho beamed and looked over at him.
I… I didn't go that far either…
But he only smiled silently and nodded.
So that was the meaning they had read into his actions. In truth he had never made any calculation that complex. He had simply known he would thrash the man better than anyone else—and he hadn't wanted to leave it to Jegal Do-myeong in case his uncle showed mercy. That was all. But if they insisted on interpreting it so generously, the only polite thing to do was nod along.
While they talked, a stir rose from the distant shade. Mok Ja-un had finished circulating his energy. He rose with light gleaming in his eyes and a face packed full of confidence. Expectation began to kindle on the faces of the Namgung martial artists around him—something almost like the light of hope, the hope that they might finally go home.
Mok Ja-un signaled that he was ready. Jegal Do-myeong turned his head.
"Mun-Hyeon."
"Yes, Uncle."
"Are you prepared?"
"I've been bored waiting since earlier."
It might have sounded like empty bravado—but on Jegal Mun-Hyeon, it fit perfectly.
"…I trust you."
The words were spoken with a blank look, but worry still flickered through his eyes.
But I'm going to win anyway.
He wouldn't kill the man. The only question left was how thoroughly to destroy him.
"Wait in the shade, Uncle. The sun's brutal."
Mun-Hyeon grinned and strode straight toward Mok Ja-un.
He could feel the eyes fixed on his back. Longing for victory, anxiety—everything tangled together, hotter than the blazing sun itself.
So this is what it feels like.
To show someone your back. To walk ahead with the heavy burden of their expectations on your shoulders. He had always walked at the front—but walking while truly feeling the weight of other people's gazes was strangely new.
Then his steps stopped.
In a place without a single tree's shade, Jegal Mun-Hyeon faced Mok Ja-un.
The man had recovered his stamina. His internal energy seemed stable enough. But that face—full of confidence and twisted with a thin sneer—was deeply irritating, as if the bastard were announcing that he stood above everyone else.
"Are you sure you don't need more rest? You've been chased for days. A short break won't fix that."
"Hmph! That's none of your concern!"
"How can I not care? After you lose, you might start saying you didn't rest enough, or that you hadn't fully recovered."
"What did you say?"
"If you lose this time, you'll admit it properly, right?"
"…Of course."
"Good."
Mun-Hyeon smiled sweetly and slowly raised his hands into the formal fist-palm salute.
"I, Mun-Hyeon, young descendant of the Jegal, offer the Three Yang courtesy to Mok Ja-un, Head of the Gangmu Pavilion of the Namgung Family."
"…"
Both hands extended, torso tilted, head lowered—every line of his posture was impeccably respectful. And yet Mok Ja-un's teeth ground together hard enough to crack.
Only the attitude was respectful. In his words he had stressed that he was a mere young descendant of the Jegal—and then gone further, omitting any honorific for Mok himself.
Head of the Gangmu Pavilion, Mok Ja-un?
This damned brat is emphasizing equality? And he has the gall to say he's 'offering' courtesy!
But too many eyes were watching, and Mok himself had been the one to demand the Three Yang Rite. He had no choice but to return the salute.
"…Mok Ja-un, Head of the Gangmu Pavilion of the Namgung Family, offers gratitude for the Jegal's grace."
In the end he returned the greeting—an elder to a young descendant.
"Shall we begin, then?"
Mun-Hyeon grinned and drew the Eunhangon from his sash. Mok Ja-un's brow furrowed at even that. Against him—not a sword, but a staff? There was no greater insult. From the very start, the boy was showing "mercy," declaring he wouldn't aim for Mok's life. A brat who had barely passed Peak, no less.
"Will that be enough for you?"
"Of course. I'm more worried it might be excessive."
"Excessive… Don't regret it."
"Naturally."
Mun-Hyeon smiled brightly and slowly moved the staff into stance.
"We begin the Three Yang Rite. If you withstand three strikes, the Namgung may return home safely."
"Come."
Mok Ja-un simply stood with his sword hanging low at his side.
That stupid.
Some people truly never learned until they got hit.
"The first strike is a form of our family's So-Cheonseong Sword—Meteor Flash."
"I need no explanation! Begin!"
Mok Ja-un barked the words, his face twisting.
What a temper.
Mun-Hyeon had even dug up old memories of proper etiquette to proceed courteously—but if the man didn't want it, fine. Then he could just take the beating.
Thud!
One explosive step. His weight shot forward. Following the Heavenly Mechanism Fine Step, his body slid in a long, gliding rush—and a flash of light bloomed.
Mok Ja-un's twisted face smoothed out in an instant. Of course his eyes flew wide. Mun-Hyeon's figure had closed the distance in a single breath and was already right in front of him. And more than that—the energy layered and stacked countless times upon the staff—
In-Intent Qi?
He swallowed empty air and hastily retreated, swinging his sword. But Mun-Hyeon's Eunhangon was already whipping around, eyes blazing with a mad light.
"Damn it…"
The internal energy flooding into his blade had not fully formed.
CRAAAAASH!
Mok Ja-un met the Eunhangon with the Namgung's pride—the Unhindered Sword of the Azure Sky—and was driven backward, sword and all, for a long stretch. The impact was crushing. Pain tore through his grip so fiercely he nearly lost the sword. Then came the internal force boring into him afterward.
P-Penetrating Meridian technique?
He desperately hauled up his energy to resist, but the force that had invaded him surged like ocean waves, turning his insides upside down.
"Urgh—!"
He tried to steady himself, but in the end Mok Ja-un dropped both hands to the ground and vomited a flood of black blood.
Mun-Hyeon watched him and smiled thinly.
Nothing special—and you still got cocky, so of course you look like that. If you'd given it everything from the start, would this have happened?
But you're going to be even more surprised now.
Instead of a sneer, Mun-Hyeon wore a bright, radiant smile and offered Mok Ja-un his encouragement.
"As expected of an elder. You withstood the first strike. Only two more to go."
In the end a sword and a staff were the same. One cut and slashed to kill; the other beat you to death. Of course the latter was crueler.
So get up, you bastard!
There are still two left!