Only by Raising Your Head Can You See the Sky (2)
“Long time no see.”
“Yeah, it’s been a while. First time since we met in Hanam, right?”
“Indeed.”
“I never thought we’d meet again like this. Fate is fate, I suppose.”
Who knows? Whether that fate was just a simple connection or a deadly grudge was anyone’s guess.
“By the way, who’s this?”
Muk Bi looked up at Moyong Yeonhwa in surprise.
“Ah, I’m…”
She felt like she should introduce herself, but she had no idea how. Though she’d grown close to the Yeon family, she still found interacting with strangers awkward.
Yeon Hojeong spoke up.
“A friend.”
“A friend?”
Moyong Yeonhwa’s expression turned peculiar.
“…I see. A friend of yours.”
She figured someone like Yeon Hojeong couldn’t have many friends. For him to boldly introduce her as one piqued her curiosity.
“What a strange coincidence, anyway. Are you in Zhejang for business too, Young Master Yeon?”
Zhejang. Yeon Hojeong caught something in her words.
Not Hangzhou, but Zhejang. So she’s leaving Hangzhou soon.
A young person in the prime of life would struggle to tear themselves away from Hangzhou’s charms. But Moyong Yeonhwa was different. Though her experience in the jianghu was limited, she was sharp. Sharp enough that Moyong Gun had entrusted her with family matters.
So what was her true purpose?
…I was hoping for some real rest, but looks like that’s not happening.
Yeon Hojeong nodded.
“Just sightseeing.”
“Hoho, sightseeing… Sightseeing sounds fun. Zhejang has plenty of famous spots, after all.”
A glint of scrutiny flickered in Moyong Yeonhwa’s clear black-and-white eyes. She didn’t buy that Yeon Hojeong had come all the way to Zhejang just to sightsee. It had nothing to do with whether she respected him or not.
Yeon Hojeong wasn’t the type to move without reason. That’s how she saw him.
“Well, enjoy your meal. I’ve got my own group to get back to.”
“You too.”
“Fate will bring us together again.”
With that, Moyong Yeonhwa returned to her companions. Knowing how sharp Yeon Hojeong was, she judged it pointless to probe further.
Her judgment was correct.
Correct, but too slow.
“What’ll you have?”
“Hm? Oh, food? I dunno… There’s too much to choose from.”
“Then let’s order three or four dishes.”
“Won’t it be expensive?”
“Who cares? When else are we gonna try this? And…”
Yeon Hojeong glanced at Moyong Yeonhwa. She, smiling gracefully amid the young men and women, suddenly looked back at him.
Their gazes clashed in midair, sparks flying.
“…you’d better eat up now. No regrets later.”
“Huh?”
“Finish eating and rest. I’ve got somewhere to be. Should take about a day.”
Muk Bi blinked in confusion.
“You’re not taking me?”
“Not this time. And you need the rest anyway, right?”
“True… If you say solo’s better, then fine.”
“Eat without me.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“If you were, at least I could dump you somewhere.”
“Tch.”
Yeon Hojeong looked out the window. Focusing his inner energy sharpened his vision, revealing a few beggars shambling along far to the south of West Lake.
That night.
Back at their lodgings, Yeon Hojeong donned fine silk robes and picked up his axe.
Time to go.
Whoosh!
The moment his foot touched the windowsill, his body was already slicing through the air.
Smooth and silent. Yet it carried a subtle elegance. Like the fragrance of a gentleman blooming in the stillness, Cheonjong Unhaengbi perfectly embodied the Yeon family’s martial characteristics as a movement technique.
He arrived near West Lake in an instant.
That’s when it happened.
They’re on me.
Bi-ra Jin-gyeol heightened his senses even further.
One, two, three. Three of them.
Stealthy and swift footwork.
Standing by a massive willow beside the lake, Yeon Hojeong gazed at the serene waters, maximizing his awareness.
Twenty zhang away. Perfect distance.
His pupils gradually turned azure.
From the depths of his quiet aura, honed through training with the household guards, the Black Emperor’s mad killing intent seeped out.
Moyong Yeonhwa… You shouldn’t spy on people so carelessly.
He circled to the front of the willow, a blind spot from the watchers’ positions.
Moments later.
Rustle.
One masked figure cautiously approached the tree. His eyes widened in shock.
The person who should have been there was gone.
Panicking, he scanned around. Still no sign of the target. Not even a hint of presence.
Then.
“Nice view, huh?”
The startled masked man spun and threw a punch on reflex.
Thwack!
Yeon Hojeong caught the fist.
Crack!
“Kuh!”
The man dropped to one knee. Using the flow of power for a reverse joint lock—hard to escape even with a flexible body.
The masked man looked up at Yeon Hojeong with trembling eyes.
“Gasp!”
He involuntarily sucked in a breath. Backlit by the full moon, the man looked like a pitch-black shadow. And from that darkness, a pair of blue eyes pinned him down.
The eyes of a ghost.
“Your friends are already across the River of Three Roads.”
“…!!”
“Huangfeng Pavilion, right?”
The man’s eyes shook. His mind was already broken. The trembling gaze said it all.
Yeon Hojeong smiled. Even covert auras had their tells. He’d sensed theirs many times before.
“Didn’t the girl warn you? You could die if you got caught.”
“…Kuh.”
“Well, she doesn’t have her father’s eyes yet. That’s why you’re so reckless.”
Thud!
Leaning his Gwangryongbu against the willow, Yeon Hojeong pressed his index and middle fingers together.
Tap!
The man’s eyes bulged, bloodshot. True energy pierced the Amun acupoint, severing the qi flow to the Seolbon.
Drool.
His mouth flooded with saliva he couldn’t close or swallow. Exquisite inner energy control. A heavier strike would’ve turned him into an idiot or killed him outright.
Splat!
He vomited blood. His Gihae acupoint shattered.
Dazed by the agony, his legs gave out.
Yeon Hojeong patted his back.
“Go to your master.”
Shudder!
Chills ran through the man. His mind froze cold in an instant. Yeon Hojeong’s words became an irresistible command, devouring his reason.
“Cough!”
Tearing off his mask in frustration, he spewed blood as he bolted toward Hoseon Daehi House. Staggering, but desperate.
Droplets of blood trailed behind.
And where the heaviest drops should have fallen—Yeon Hojeong was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
“Branch head. We’ve delivered the letter to the Zhejang Trade Alliance.”
“Good work.”
Yi Geon sighed.
“They say they’ll send a delegation by noon tomorrow.”
“Understood. You’re dismissed—get some rest.”
Yi Geon started to say more but bowed instead.
“Yes, sir.”
Once Yi Geon left, Mo Yong Woo set down his brush.
Bam!
Overcome by inexplicable rage and sorrow, he slammed the table and stood.
He tried to steady his ragged breathing, but it wouldn’t calm.
He stared out the window. In the dark night, a distant canal flowed silently.
The quietly flowing water seemed to soothe his mood with its lonely murmur, as if understanding his heart.
Mo Yong Woo sighed.
“Who can I blame? It’s all because I lack the ability.”
He truly believed it.
He had talent in martial arts and commerce, but he couldn’t spread his wings freely.
The reason was simple. He was a Moyong clansman.
How could he rebel against his clan, no matter how much it weighed him down?
Even if he did, it was dangerous. Stronger than any late-generation talent, yet Moyong Gun’s martial prowess was on another level. And the clan’s power, forged under his ruthless politics, was immense.
Just two elders could threaten his life.
Brother… Brother.
Mo Yong Woo sighed deeply.
How did you become such a monster?
He recalled the Moyong Gun who had doted on him in childhood. But around age ten, after confirming he’d mastered the clan’s foundational art to the seventh seong, the kindness vanished.
Years later, Moyong Gun killed or suborned his brothers and took control of the Moyong clan.
His intent was clear: no mercy for threats to his authority and throne.
To survive that brutal world, one fled or submitted.
Mo Yong Woo fit neither. He neither fled his elder brother nor became his man.
Yet he’d survived thanks to his talents. Moyong Gun recognized his commercial genius and shipped him to the Zhejang branch.
Serve the clan here, and you live—that was the message.
Mo Yong Woo couldn’t stop his brother or take his own life.
By the time he thought to end the harsh clan traditions, it was too late.
Thus, at a young age, he became Zhejang branch head and expanded the clan’s business for years.
Living exactly as Moyong Gun desired.
This can’t go on. If headquarters doesn’t abandon this path… it’ll bring great calamity someday.
It would happen eventually. Even if the Moyong clan survived, countless others would bleed.
But…
“I’m just another helpless Moyong after all.”
Mo Yong Woo’s eyes reddened slightly.
“Even in this state, worrying more for blood kin than the world’s peace—a pathetic wretch.”
Caring for family was right. But if that family chose a path plunging the world into suffering?
Should he fight through tears? Submit and live? Stake his life to stop it? Or hide and aid the innocent?
Then, Yi Geon’s voice came from outside.
“Branch head.”
Mo Yong Woo steadied his breathing.
“What is it?”
“A letter from the Beggar Sect.”
“The Beggar Sect? For me?”
“Yes.”
“Come in.”
I’ll send someone, so please refrain from chasing away guests…?
Mo Yong Woo’s face showed puzzlement as he read the letter from Yi Geon.
“What’s wrong?”
“…”
“Branch head?”
“Hm?”
Mo Yong Woo folded the letter.
“Nothing. You’re dismissed.”
“Ah, yes.”
Once Yi Geon left, Mo Yong Woo unfolded it again.
“I’ll send someone, so don’t chase away the guests…?”
It was from the Beggar Sect’s Hangzhou branch head. He remembered the man—met a few times, but not close enough for personal letters.
Who the hell is he sending?
The letter ended saying they’d arrive before dawn—basically, no sleep.
Pulling an all-nighter was fine, but why the rudeness?
He’s not the type for unreasonable requests…
Mo Yong Woo sensed something ominous. He couldn’t ignore this letter.
So he sat reviewing documents. Work piled up regardless.
How much time passed? Past midnight, nearing the end of the In hour.
Whooo.
A chill wind carried a strange presence. Mo Yong Woo’s face hardened.
“Who’s there?”
The voice from the right window was shockingly youthful.
“A guest.”
Mo Yong Woo slowly turned. There stood a scholar-like youth wielding a massive dragon-head axe.
Swallowing his surprise, Mo Yong Woo said,
“Sent by the Hangzhou branch head?”
“Yes.”
The youth—Yeon Hojeong—smiled.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Yeon Hojeong.”