Conviction (2)
Namgung Hyeon's body stiffened. The same went for everyone around him.
Just confessing his wrongdoing had already cost Namgung Hyeon a great deal of face. It would be hard for him to show his face anywhere for a while.
But if Yeon Hojeong refused to accept this apology, the incident would truly escalate. At that point, it would no longer be about face—it would become a matter of pride.
Yeon Hojeong smiled faintly. His radiant smile seemed utterly bright.
"As you all know, I love martial arts."
What was this sudden remark?
"Confessing your mistake was good, but the ending feels a bit too bland, don't you think?"
Myeong Horim's eyes wavered.
"...Surely you're not thinking of sparring with Brother Namgung as well?"
A chill silence fell, broken only by the sound of someone swallowing hard.
No one present had missed Yeon Hojeong's prowess. His martial arts were strong—not merely at the level of a later-generation disciple, but enough to hold his own anywhere in the jianghu.
If his spear turned toward Namgung Hyeon, the man would not emerge unscathed. And what would follow? War.
The Namgung family would never let such a thing slide.
Yeon Hojeong chuckled softly.
"The spar with Brother Chu was a clash of warriors' pride. But now that Young Master Namgung has apologized, I have no desire to blow this out of proportion."
"Then?"
Yeon Hojeong glanced around the group.
"As you all know, this later-generation gathering is more about fellowship than anything else, right?"
"That's true, but...?"
"Sharing drinks and stories builds friendship, but nothing helps you truly understand each other like crossing hands."
"...!"
"Growth comes from exchange and self-reflection, no matter the endeavor. Martial arts are no different. If we truly want fellowship, let's do it like true martial artists."
Whoosh!
Yeon Hojeong casually tossed his spear. Astonishingly, it flew straight toward Yeon Jipyeong.
Thwack!
Yeon Jipyeong caught it deftly, earning gasps of admiration from the crowd.
Yeon Jipyeong was the youngest there, yet he'd snatched a spear hurtling toward him with perfect ease.
Yeon Hojeong stepped down from the training ground.
"Young Master Paeng."
"Huh? Eh? M-Me? You mean me?"
"My little brother's talent is the finest in our family. But he's still young, that's a fact. Would you mind teaching him a move or two?"
"Whaaat?!"
Yeon Hojeong looked at Yeon Jipyeong, who seemed just as stunned. But catching his brother's gaze, Yeon Jipyeong smiled back.
'Brother really is a sly fox.'
'Good is good, right? Might as well learn as much as you can while we're at it.'
Yeon Jipyeong turned to Paeng Daeho and cupped his fists formally.
"Yeon Jipyeong of the Bi-san Yeon family. May I humbly request a lesson from Brother Paeng?"
Paeng Daeho, who had been staring at the Yeon brothers in bewilderment, burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! I surrender with both hands and feet! Are all you Yeon folks like this?"
"I'm the odd one out. Father would never let me hear the end of it if he knew."
"Kuhahaha! Fine by me! Thanks to you, Brother Yeon, my hands were itching anyway!"
"Go easy on him."
"Easy? One look at your brother tells me I'll be the one in trouble if I hold back!"
Paeng Daeho turned and bellowed.
"Hey! Manho!"
"What?"
"Don't just stand there looking embarrassed—go learn a few moves from Brother Yeon!"
"...You saw his skills. I'd get pummeled like a dog."
"That's learning too, you punk!"
Ahem!
Paeng Manho sauntered over to Yeon Hojeong.
"Go easy on me?"
"It'll hurt just enough for you to learn."
"Ah, damn it."
Yeon Hojeong looked around curiously. The crowd blinked in surprise.
With a smirk, he grabbed Paeng Manho and headed to a corner of the training ground.
And that was it. Without a word, he turned his back—a sight that ignited the blood of every later-generation disciple present.
No taunts like "Rest if you want" or "Do as you please." His expression said it all: Are you martial artists or not?
Chest heaving with excitement—not anger, but pure fighting spirit.
Then Myeong Horim spoke up.
"Come to think of it, Young Master Yeon's words do make sense."
His voice instantly seized the awkward atmosphere.
"Fellowship is fine, but aren't we martial artists? Lives hung on the edge of a blade. Opportunities like this don't come often."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed coldly as he walked away, though Myeong Horim pressed on in a cheerful tone, oblivious or not.
"So, who wants to test the Myeong family's arts?"
At that moment, Moyong Yeonhwa stepped forward.
"I've always been curious about the Myeong family's martial arts. Mind if I take a look this time?"
"An honor for me."
The mood ignited.
With the Yeon brothers and Paeng brothers leading, followed by Myeong Horim and Moyong Yeonhwa, the other later-generation disciples began eyeing each other.
They'd already been fired up watching Yeon Hojeong and Chu Seong's fierce bout. Sitting idle felt like a betrayal of their boiling blood.
"Ahem! Well, it's a bit sudden, but..."
"What can you do? Everyone seems up for it. My hands were itching anyway—been resting too much these past few days."
"Right? Never rested this long back home."
"Miss Jegal! Let's spar!"
"Hey now, Miss Jegal's with me..."
"Moyong kid. Wanna learn from your big sis?"
"I'm not a kid. But are you strong, sis?"
The once-silent outer courtyard slowly came alive. The initial awkwardness faded fast.
Even the shy ones forgot their hesitations as the momentum built and pairs formed.
Soon, the entire outer courtyard became a training ground for the later-generation disciples. Those with partners exchanged serious moves, while the unpaired cultivated their inner energy through breathing exercises.
Once they'd learned enough, they switched partners and sparred anew.
Like a single spark igniting a mountainside, shouts and whooshes of air suddenly echoed through the manor.
Gadeuksang eyed Yeon Hojeong with a peculiar expression.
Yeon Hojeong was facing Paeng Manho in a corner of the training ground, his expression and movements showing he was taking it seriously.
"What an enigma."
Not just the later-generation disciples—even the escort warriors seemed to have forgotten the earlier tension. No one dwelled on that brutal fight anymore.
'Looks like he's after something...'
Gadeuksang scratched his head.
'Damn! Swaying the mood of all these people single-handedly?'
No ordinary talent. Exceptional not just in martial arts and eloquence, but in steering the atmosphere exactly as he desired.
And it didn't feel forced. He made them want to act on their own.
"Greetings."
"Eh?"
Gadeuksang turned. Jegal Jun stood there.
"Jegal Jun of the Jegal family."
"Ah! I know, I know."
"Senior Huigae's martial arts were astounding. If it's not too rude, may I request a lesson?"
Gadeuksang burst out laughing unwittingly. Not for any other reason—Jegal Jun's proposal had his own hands itching too.
In the end, even he was swept up in the mood. True to his beggar nature, Gadeuksang owned it.
"Sounds good! Let's have some fun!"
"Thank you!"
A gathering where all delved into martial exchange with fervent passion.
Namgung Hyeon was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
Bam!
Back in his quarters, Namgung Hyeon punched straight through the wall.
"Huff! Huff!"
His face flushed beet red, expression twisted in fury.
"Damn it! Damn it all!"
He couldn't contain his rage. Namgung Hyeon hammered the wall wildly.
"Arrrgh!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Too furious to channel his inner energy properly. His fists were soon soaked in blood.
Such humiliation.
In over twenty years of life, nothing like this had ever happened.
He'd grown up hailed as the future pillar of the Namgung family, backed by cool reason and exceptional talent.
His older brother was the great talent, but Namgung Hyeon had never felt inferior.
Why else would Father entrust him with this? He had that much faith in him.
But what was this? Far from crushing Yeon Hojeong's arrogance, he'd been humiliated before everyone.
This was no small matter.
He'd stepped in to clean up Namgung Sanghwa's mess, but his own actions had been petty too.
Sure, everyone was caught up in training now, but once it ended, someone would spread the word outside.
Namgung Hyeon's face burned even hotter. Imagining the whispers behind his back made his head feel ready to explode.
"That filthy bastard...!"
He was so enraged even Namgung Sanghwa grated on him.
"You thunderbolt-headed bitch! I sent you to avoid trouble, and you blow it up like this? Damn mutt!"
If not for her, he wouldn't have suffered this disgrace.
Yeon Hojeong hadn't brought up his sister for nothing. He'd used her thuggery as leverage, blackmail in all but name.
'Crazy son of a bitch!'
Yeon Hojeong was mad too. Dragging that out in public would've brought hell on the Yeon family.
The Namgung wouldn't forget this insult.
But that guy's eyes were dead serious. He was ready to go all in, everyone die.
So he'd stepped up. And the result? Disaster.
"I'll kill him. I'll definitely kill him!"
His voice dripped with killing intent.
The man who'd given him his first taste of humiliation in life. Namgung Hyeon truly wanted Yeon Hojeong dead.
'Why the hell is A-yeon with a guy like that?'
Thinking of him brought Jegal A-yeon to mind.
'...!!'
Namgung Hyeon had seen it clearly: the disappointment in Jegal A-yeon's eyes toward him.
His raging fury surged anew.
Jegal A-yeon couldn't look at him like that. Pity would be one thing, but that gaze? No.
"Goddamn it...!"
Nothing pleased him. The situation, Yeon Hojeong—even Jegal A-yeon right now.
After heaving ragged breaths for a while, Namgung Hyeon bellowed.
"Jingok!"
Moments later, a swordsman entered. The most senior among the escorts who'd come with Chu Seong.
"You called, Young Master?"
"..."
"Young Master?"
Namgung Hyeon looked up. Jingok flinched at his eyes.
"Where's that Tang family bastard getting treated right now?"
* * *
"Good lesson!"
"I learned plenty too. Impressive stuff, the Paeng blade arts. Worthy of Hubei hegemons."
"Kuhaha! Haven't mastered half yet. Hit me up next time!"
"Will do. But you... you okay?"
"Tough as nails, me!"
"That bruise on your shoulder—from an iron staff?"
"...G-Gonna find someone else first!"
Paeng Daeho beat a hasty retreat.
Myeong Horim drew a deep breath.
'Tough crowd.'
Facing off against various styles after so long left his shoulders aching.
'Think I've gone a full round?'
Then—
"Been waiting for you."
Myeong Horim turned. Yeon Hojeong stood there, iron staff slung over his shoulder, face cold.
"You're the last."