Reversal (5)
“Hoo.”
A light exhale carried a stifling heat. He hadn’t bothered to expel the alcohol fumes with his inner energy. After downing several bottles of that notoriously potent fiery liquor, how could he not be drunk? Considering his usual tolerance, he should’ve already passed out cold by now.
“An awkward amount,” Moyong Gun murmured, gazing out the window.
Last night’s blizzard had raged fiercely. Yet tonight, the sky was clear as if by some lie. Moonlight mingled with countless stars, each asserting its presence.
A faint smile clouded Moyong Gun’s face.
“Fine weather. Winter’s finally retreating, is it?”
Yesterday’s storm was probably the last big one. The mountains would stay cold for a while, but the snow wouldn’t pile up like before.
“Spring is coming… Spring always lifted my spirits so.”
Moyong Gun’s smile grew increasingly bitter.
“The thrill of anticipation for the future versus being mired in harsh reality—they feel worlds apart.”
He’d seen this coming. No, ever since purging his own blood kin amid family strife to claim the patriarch’s seat, he’d foreseen this day.
But what he hadn’t anticipated was Yeon Hojeong.
No, that’s not all.
Yeon Hojeong was a calamity incarnate, transcending age, power, and experience.
Moyong Gun admitted it frankly. Yeon Hojeong was his lifelong nemesis. Even if he eliminated him someday, no rival would ever surpass this one.
Yet the problem extended beyond Yeon Hojeong.
Yeon Wi and most of the Peak Experts are no ordinary foes.
Things he’d overlooked amid his brutal clashes with Yeon Hojeong. The capabilities of those who’d risen to the same rank, the other giants among the Twelve Peak Experts.
Some stayed neutral, others brazenly revealed their ambitions, and then there were those like Yeon Wi and Jegal Munho, focused on peace and stability.
None were pushovers.
Dang Gwan was a prime example. Moyong Gun had believed he could control him until death—right up until the betrayal.
Arrogance.
Dang Gwan had never truly liked him. Nor fully trusted him. He’d been waiting for a chance to strike from the start.
Yeon Hojeong’s persuasion had merely brought that opportunity to light. He’d have split off eventually anyway.
To think he could’ve reined in such a man forever—pure hubris.
Was my vision always this narrow?
Moyong Gun closed his eyes.
It started then, probably.
After sealing the deal with Yang Cheon and returning to the Martial Alliance. He’d overreached, scheming to oust Gong Gong-daesa for the Alliance Leader election.
Not outright expulsion, but tarnishing his reputation to bar him from running—expulsion in effect.
But the plot failed before it even began.
Even now, my face burns thinking of it.
Then with Yeon Hojeong, and now this debate. Another failure.
He’d been outmaneuvered in politics before, but never felt so utterly powerless.
If only he lacked talent, it wouldn’t sting. Moyong Gun knew his strengths and weaknesses intimately, priding himself on ruthless self-assessment.
So why the repeated blunders? Why realize his mistakes only after the damage?
At least last year, I wasn’t like this.
“……”
Moyong Gun opened his eyes. Staring at the star-filled night sky, his gaze drowned in an unprecedented murkiness.
I crushed the Myeong family. Vied for supremacy among the Six Great Clans with the Namgung. Built my own faction in the Martial Alliance. Even allied with Yang Cheon.
So much had happened. Plenty of failures along the way, yet he’d clawed his way here.
I got drunk on it. Step by step toward a dream once thought impossible, I lost the cold detachment.
Moyong Gun suddenly thought of Yeon Hojeong. He’d never met anyone so exceptional.
But objectively, he and Yeon Hojeong weren’t so different.
Yet Yeon Hojeong never repeated his mistakes. He failed, took hits, but always pressed on with tenacity.
Difference in patience? Youth? Or a true gap between them?
“I’m the inferior one.”
Moyong Gun sighed.
“Letting excitement over a nearing dream ruin everything. Even the great Moyong Gun has his limits.”
Meanwhile, Yeon Hojeong shunned the summit. This cutthroat political fray was just a phase to him.
Whatever his true dream, it wasn’t dominating the martial world’s pinnacle—at least, that much was clear.
In short, Yeon Hojeong didn’t need his brand of endurance. That gap defined their difference.
Amid the bitterness, as Moyong Gun exhaled another sigh, a sudden thought made him shake his head.
“No. Nearly erred again.”
He smiled.
“Yeon Hojeong—toppling him isn’t my goal, is it? Even if he’s superior, I need only achieve mine. Why fixate on him?”
He had to care. The biggest obstacle to his dream demanded attention.
But mere awareness differed from obsession.
Moyong Gun’s eyes gleamed like the stars.
“Yes, now I see my mistake.”
Reaching this seat? Building his faction? Ally with Yang Cheon?
Yes, those led here. One of the Twelve Peak Experts, eyeing next Alliance Leader: Moyong Gun.
But his narrowed vision and haste stemmed elsewhere.
“Got too used to the fight. My life wasn’t about surviving this madhouse for supremacy—not the throne itself, but clawing alone in the rotten pond beneath it.”
Moyong Gun burst into hearty laughter.
“Ha ha ha! Then I’m no different from the countless petty fools ruined chasing power.”
He’d once told Dang Gwan as much. That he was different. He wouldn’t follow the idiots devoured by power’s beast.
He’d wield it like a loyal dog until death.
Yet somehow, he’d fallen under its spell, eyes on the prize alone.
“Time to change.”
Draining a fresh cup, Moyong Gun muttered.
“Master power, don’t be enslaved by it.”
He pushed the empty cup aside.
“Isn’t that right?”
Creak.
The door opened, revealing Moyong Woo.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
“It’s late; I thought you might be asleep, so I came quietly. But I sensed movement.”
“Ha ha, not even midnight yet—too early to end the day.”
“You’ve drunk too much.”
“Even I need nights like this. Though, yes, it’s quite a lot.”
Hiss!
A sharp liquor scent erupted from Moyong Gun’s body. His Brain Thunder Energy had purged the fumes in an instant.
With eyes now crystal clear, he regarded Moyong Woo.
“True, not midnight, but late enough. What brings you here at this hour?”
His gaze on his brother was pure and profound.
Moyong Woo, meeting it steadily, pointed to a chair.
“May I sit?”
“Of course. Ha ha, between us? Have a drink?”
“Gladly.”
“Oh? So grave a talk that you’re this unlike yourself? Already dreading it.”
Moyong Gun filled Moyong Woo’s cup.
Moyong Woo downed it neatly, eyes alight.
“Brother.”
“Yes.”
“……”
“Hard to say, I see. No matter. I’m ready for anything. Speak freely.”
Studying his brother’s face, Moyong Woo sighed faintly.
“It might sound presumptuous…”
“……?”
“This Alliance Leader election. Would you consider stepping back?”
Not presumptuous, but shocking.
Moyong Gun’s eyes sharpened.
“Why say this?”
“I…”
Moyong Woo licked his lips, then bowed his head.
“I don’t know myself.”
He’d wanted to say it for ages. But the Moyong Gun he knew never quit, so he’d urged him skyward instead.
Now, he had to bare his heart. Recent events left him too frustrated to hold back.
You’ve broken too much.
Moyong Woo steeled himself. It’d been the same since allying with Yeon Hojeong.
Moyong Gun had erred gravely; he’d even resolved to shove him into the abyss at a crucial moment.
But lately, Moyong Gun had changed.
Brotherly bond? Moyong Woo wished he’d withdraw quietly, spend his final years back at the clan.
It’d be a death sentence for Moyong Gun, yet he yearned for it.
He’d planned to strip the patriarch title anyway, but this felt wrong.
He hoped Moyong Gun’s end wouldn’t be wretched, even if unglamorous.
His feelings hadn’t changed that much.
Frustrating.
This might burden Yeon Hojeong, but he had to say it.
Glad he’d done so tonight.
You won’t, I know, yet here I am saying it.
Moyong Woo smiled wryly, rising.
“Forgive me. Needless words from a worrywart brother…”
“No.”
“……Pardon?”
“Your concern isn’t needless. I mean that sincerely.”
“Brother?”
To his surprise, Moyong Gun smiled.
“Perfect timing. I was reflecting over drinks, realizing I’ve changed. Then you come, fretting over me—bittersweet, but warming.”
“……”
“Blood kin truly are the only ones to trust.”
Moyong Woo closed his eyes. Those words stabbed deep.
“So.”
“……?”
“I need to call another blood kin.”
“……Pardon?”
Moyong Gun’s eyes shifted again. Moyong Woo’s chest tightened.
His brother’s expression resembled a demon enlightened to the Dao.
“One thing I haven’t told you.”
“What is it?”
“I allied with Yang Cheon. And sent Moyong Yeonhwa there.”
“……!!”
“And Moyong Yeonhwa will soon come to the Martial Alliance.”
“B-Brother!!”
Moyong Gun smiled—a chilling grin that raised gooseflesh.
“Thanks to you, great revelation. The Leader’s seat? Can wait. It’ll fall to me eventually. Or won’t it?”