Don't Touch Me
“What the— the dagger just now…!”
Moyong Ryu, whom I had seized by the nape and dragged backward, only realized what had happened a beat later when he saw the mark driven into the earth and the recovered dagger.
He narrowed his eyes at the scar in the ground.
He hadn’t meant to kill. I’m certain of that. But if I hadn’t dodged, I would have been badly hurt for sure.
“Hyung-nim.”
I stopped Moyong Ryu before he could explode.
He looked at me with a puzzled expression.
A crackling sensation raced through my entire body. The air itself began to warp and tremble.
The Guardian of the Sichuan Dang Family, clad in green martial robes, stood with his arms crossed and stared piercingly at me. It was a look that said, You? How dare you?
Moyong Ryu spoke.
“Moyong Bi?”
I spread my palm and blocked his path. The hem of my black martial robes fluttered as I stepped forward.
“Eldest Young Master, please excuse me for a moment.”
The Guardian of the Sichuan Dang Family, Dang Hoyeon, strode forward, green robes swirling.
“…Dang Hoyeon? What do you think you’re doing right now.”
Moyong Jinryong started to continue, then fell silent.
Wind blew. No passersby. Dust rose.
Three steps apart, I faced the Guardian of the Sichuan Dang Family, Dang Hoyeon.
“What do you think you’re doing, bastard son of the Moyong Family?”
Dang Hoyeon did not even bother with the customary “Fourth Young Master.” The contempt in his tone was naked.
We had met formally only once, and nearly clashed once as well. The first time had been at the previous family head’s funeral, during a three-way confrontation with Moyong Jinryong and Moyong Ryu. The near-fight had come at Cheonsubaekryeonsa, when I was reverse-tracking the masked figure who had been toying with the contents of my trials. I had suddenly run into him then and escaped through the pouring rain by pushing Hyeol-yeong-mu-hwan-sin-sul to its absolute limit.
Back then, merely facing him had crushed my spirit. The gap had been heaven and earth. Running had been the only natural choice.
“What am I doing?”
I muttered and took another step forward.
“Is that something you say to the victim after throwing a dagger out of nowhere?”
“Hoh.”
Dang Hoyeon twisted the corner of his mouth upward.
“To the point I wonder if you’re even the same bastard son from before. Your eyes have changed to a surprising degree.”
He stepped forward without yielding. Two paces remained between us.
“I heard you finished your punitive trial and are on your way back to Cheonsubaekryeonsa.”
We stared at each other. Dang Hoyeon was slightly taller. Our shoulders were about the same width. Robe hems fluttered. Through the strands of hair whipping across our faces, our gazes locked.
“You haven’t forgotten who stands in front of you while you bark so roughly, have you, Cheonsubaekryeonsa brat?”
“Does that matter?”
Sparks seemed to leap between us.
“After tasting the outside world, your habits have gotten shockingly bad. You’ve grown a lot.”
“I haven’t grown that much.”
“Ah, is that so?”
Dang Hoyeon laughed and reached out.
“Oh dear, our bastard son has dust on his shoulder so carelessly. Let me brush it off for you.”
His palm came toward my shoulder.
“I appreciate the kindness, but don’t put your hands on someone else’s body. It feels filthy.”
I reached out to swat his hand down. Dang Hoyeon snickered.
Just before my hand connected, his withdrew half a span in a flash.
“A martial artist’s hand is precious. Where do you dare casually swat—”
I chased the retreating hand and struck the back of it cleanly.
Crack!
“I said don’t touch me.”
Dang Hoyeon’s face hardened.
“Th-that!”
Moyong Jinryong’s eyes flew wide in shock.
“Good heavens.”
Moyong Ryu’s mouth fell open.
Dang Hoyeon pulled his hand back. I looked at the back of it, already faintly reddening, then met his eyes and smiled.
“Heh. I was only trying to play a little. If you’re going to take it this seriously—”
He took half a step forward, left hand behind his back, the edge of his other hand extended. I matched him, half a step, mirror stance. Fingertip met fingertip.
Dang Hoyeon muttered,
“You’re making me lose face.”
“Is that so?”
The edges of our hands met. The air warped and groaned. Neither of us had drawn on internal energy—an unspoken agreement. In the jianghu, using internal energy meant a life-and-death duel. Behind us stood Moyong Jinryong and Moyong Ryu. A fight that brought both of our internal energies into play would not simply be a personal death match; it could become the opening act of open fratricidal war between the Moyong Family’s two great factions.
Beyond all of that, this was a man’s pride.
Veins rose. Both our faces flushed dark red.
My teeth ground together. My face burned as if it would burst. Every muscle in my body swelled and strained to the breaking point. The point of contact did not budge an inch.
“This… this bastard?”
Dang Hoyeon’s expression filled with rapid shock.
“Impossible.”
He muttered blankly.
“Me, a Guardian… by a mere Ha-mu-gwan brat who hasn’t even graduated from Cheonsubaekryeonsa…?”
One arm each locked at the waist, only a single hand facing the other, the exchange ignited.
His foot slid half of a half-step left. Mine chased half of a half-step right. He slipped sideways and drove forward at once. My foot followed sideways while I gave ground and closed again. Wrists crashed. Palms crashed. In the space of a single breath, twelve body techniques collided and weight shifted again and again.
Dust began to rise. Knees slammed. Shins slammed. Elbow met elbow with a thunderous crack. Green robes and black robes shuddered against each other.
Dang Hoyeon’s face was pure astonishment.
“What is this body technique? How can a mere Cheonsubaekryeonsa brat have killing moves perfected from head to toe like this…! This is impossible. To change this much in such a short time!”
“No. It’s possible.”
I spoke while staring straight into his eyes.
“Thanks to all of you, I experienced countless worlds and met countless martial artists I never would have seen if I’d gone through a normal trial locked inside Cheonsubaekryeonsa.”
“…This bastard. Come to think of it…”
Dang Hoyeon muttered as if he could not believe it.
“You’re not even breathing hard.”
“People like you always say you want to win, that you mustn’t lose, whenever you spar or compete, right?”
I spat the words out.
“In all the time I’ve been alive and breathing, I have never once dared entertain such arrogant thoughts as winning or losing like it was some game. Almost every time I faced a fight, the thought that filled my head was, ‘I have to kill that man—but how the hell do I kill him? Is it even possible?’ Because of someone’s prank. Thanks to someone’s scheme…!”
It was a grudge. It was the fury of having known and still been forced to endure it.
“The problem was that if I failed, I died. And if I didn’t want to die, I had to make it happen…! You wouldn’t know that dog-like feeling. Someone like you, who only ever had to walk the path laid out in front of him, who had talent and background handed to him complete—you could never know!”
Dang Hoyeon’s foot was forced back by the tiniest fraction—so minute only he could feel it. I closed the distance until our faces nearly touched. A red gleam flickered in my eyes.
“Yeah. Come to think of it, Sichuan Dang Family Guardian Dang Hoyeon—the main arts of the Sichuan Dang Family are close-quarters dagger techniques, poison, and throwing daggers, aren’t they?”
“Why bring that up?”
I pressed my face right against his and whispered into his ear in a voice thick with blood.
“If you don’t want to die from carelessness, you’d better go all out with your real specialty. How dare you come at me with body techniques that aren’t even your main force?”
Riding the wind, the smell of someone’s blood that had soaked into my clothes washed over him. Dang Hoyeon stared at me. The languid boredom vanished from his face.
“This smell… you.”
His eyes flickered.
“What the hell did you do out there? This…”
“Wait! Wait!!!”
Moyong Ryu roughly forced himself between us.
“What are you two doing! Both of you, calm down!”
Even with him hanging on, neither of us budged.
“Ah, damn, you’re ridiculously strong! Not moving an inch!”
He clung and strained, then glared at me while panting lightly.
“Hey! Your hyung is talking and you ignore him! Why the hell aren’t you separating—what are you doing! Both of you, get off each other!”
We did not move. Moyong Ryu brushed sweat-soaked bangs from his eyes and blinked. Moyong Jinryong watched the entire scene in silence.
“Younger brother.”
Moyong Ryu’s voice turned calm.
“Step aside. Trust hyung.”
He wet his dry lips and spoke again.
“Bi. I’m asking you.”
I roughly released the front of Dang Hoyeon’s robes. He let go as well. We separated. The dust that had risen between us settled.
Dang Hoyeon stared hard at me.
“Oho-samhwa? Ridiculous. There’s a monster right here who hasn’t even graduated from Cheonsubaekryeonsa—someone incomparable to them—and they were making a fuss among themselves about Oho-samhwa or whatever.”
He brushed off his clothes, calmed his excitement, and spoke quietly to me.
“Strength should be met with the respect it deserves. Sorry for treating you rudely. We’ll settle this score properly another time. Cheonsubaekryeonsa brat.”
“I never want to see you again.”
“Hmph. For someone like you, the ranks of Cheonsubaekryeonsa’s martial halls probably no longer mean anything. I don’t know why you’re still here.”
With that, Dang Hoyeon turned sharply and walked back to Moyong Jinryong.
Moyong Jinryong addressed the returning Guardian.
“The joke went too far. Didn’t you play with him a little too much?”
He seemed to believe from the start that the Sichuan Dang Family Guardian had merely been matching hands and feet with me for amusement. That was how fast and how close-range our exchange had been.
“Well, since he finished the disciplinary trial, as a senior of the jianghu I was also curious how much he had improved.”
Dang Hoyeon offered no further comment.
Moyong Jinryong turned his head toward Moyong Ryu.
“I never intended things to go this far, but the atmosphere has become excessively bloody.”
“…Younger brother, trust me and step back. My heart is pounding so hard I can’t live thinking you might jump forward again.”
“Hyung-nim.”
When I started to move forward once more, Moyong Ryu clicked his tongue shortly and jerked his chin toward the rear. Then he winked at me and whispered,
“Still, you looked damn cool just now. I’ll give you a piggyback ride later, little brother.”
Moyong Jinryong called out in a clear, ringing voice.
“How about a simple drink as an apology for this matter as well? Truthfully, I came because I heard Moyong Ryu was in the area, intending to deepen brotherly affection over a few cups.”
Moyong Ryu answered,
“These days brotherly affection doesn’t mean throwing daggers and cutting throats, does it?”
“Well. That was simply our Guardian’s hand slipping.”
“Ah, is that so? Hyung-nim’s jokes have been hard to keep up with since we were kids. Well… I also have something to say about the Hwangbo Family matter, so.”
Moyong Ryu looked up at the sky.
“Just one gak. Let’s talk for just one gak. How about it. And let’s never share a drinking table like this again. Let’s make this the last drinking seat of our lives.”
Moyong Jinryong gave a short laugh.
“Well, that’s not bad either. Yes. Our Ryu is being proactive, so I’m in a good mood, and I’m curious as well. And…”
He looked at me.
“I should talk with that side a little after so long too. We haven’t really spoken much, have we? Seeing each other after a truly long time.”
“Of course.”
I met his gaze.
“There is a great deal to talk about. A whole lot.”