The Family Head Returns
I forgot I was supposed to be looking at the pigeon and stared at him instead.
“Pahwanggun-nim?”
“To be precise, he stormed into the leadership saying the first trial you received was of an absurd difficulty, smashed the entrance of Cheonsu Peak with his bare hands, beat down the twenty-seven guards who tried to stop him, got dragged off to the White Thunder Prison for three days of confinement, and is currently under disciplinary restriction.”
“…….”
I clutched my throbbing head. It was a tangle of emotions I could not put into words.
“No, why on earth…”
“Don’t worry. Since he was sent directly by the Martial Alliance Leader himself, he’ll only serve a few days and be released. By the way, Pigeon—you may have failed the trial, but it looks like you’ve gained something. Your aura has subtly changed.”
Jin Muje glanced at me.
“…Sharp.”
“Assessing the field and analyzing what lies before you is the basic duty of any martial artist who lives in the jianghu. That tone of admiration is oddly unpleasant.”
Jin Muje rose from his seat.
“Pigeon, I didn’t volunteer for a flogging so you could sit around peacefully pecking at feed in Ha-mu-gwan.”
—Rustle.
What unfolded in his hand was a certificate of passage. Three trial pass certificates. That meant only one thing.
He’s already heading to Chu-mu-gwan.
At his gesture the certificates vanished in an instant.
“I must pass Dong-mu-gwan, the level above Chu-mu-gwan. They say that from Chu-mu-gwan onward it is difficult to pass on individual strength alone. If you are a fellow Hoe member of my rank, you ought to rise up and assist me.”
Even saying the same thing, managing to sound that arrogantly self-important was a talent all its own.
“Well then, I’m going.”
With that he disappeared. I sat blankly staring at the far end of the veranda where he had vanished.
“The food’s all gone cold.”
Food eaten outdoors under the autumn wind cooled far too quickly. I shoveled the hardened remains into my mouth without leaving a single scrap. I was just finishing the cleanup when a voice called out.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for someone. Are you by any chance Young Master Moyong Bi of the Moyong Family?”
A man wearing the yellow shoulder wrap that marked a courier stood before me.
“Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”
The courier’s face brightened.
“I’ve finally found you. I’ve come with something to deliver. This is an emergency letter from the main family, sent uniformly—with Cheonsubaekryeonsa’s permission—to every Moyong young master currently enrolled outside as a disciple.”
He drew a paper from his bosom and held it out. I stupidly asked again.
“The main family… to me?”
“You may receive the explanation after reading it. Please read it at once.”
On the letter, stamped with the golden dragon that symbolized the Moyong Family, only the bare business was written.
Effective immediately, all young masters of the Moyong Family are requested to temporarily leave their status as disciples of Cheonsubaekryeonsa and return to the main family.
“What is this supposed to mean?”
I asked the courier with trembling eyes over the edge of the letter. He carefully clasped his fists again and continued.
“You’ll hear the details on the way… but, well.”
The words that followed struck like a blow.
“The missing Family Head has returned.”
“What?”
“And—”
I will never forget what came next for the rest of my life.
“The Family Head has returned with severe injuries.”
The missing Family Head of the Moyong Family had returned after ten years, gravely wounded and hovering between life and death.
The rumor outran wildfire.
Night fell. Torches blazed. A full moon rose. The blood-red full moon looked endlessly ominous.
Whoosh.
The torches packing the courtyard were too numerous to count.
“Aigoo! What kind of chaos is this!”
“Our Family Head! Please stay healthy…!”
The front courtyard of the Moyong Family main residence was filled with wailing. He had always been the sort to vanish on a whim—a man with a wandering streak. But unlike the past, this time he had been gone for ten full years. And he had come back broken.
This was a problem of an entirely different order. Not only the martial artists of the jianghu, but every nearby commoner who had ever received even a scrap of grace from the Moyong Family came running to the main residence. Everyone knelt on the packed earth and poured out worried voices. Some sobbed outright.
I passed through the noisy courtyard. Beyond the wall lay the Secret Garden that only direct blood relatives of the Moyong Family could enter.
“I heard from the Eighth Elder. Please follow me, Young Master Moyong Bi.”
A maid of the Moyong Family bowed politely, lantern in hand. I nodded and followed. The clamor fell away behind us, fading into abrupt quiet. Under the red moonlight we crossed a still garden paved with white pebbles. In the center stood three pine trees that looked to have weathered several centuries; they swayed without a sound. Clack, clack—the waterwheel in the pond at one side of the garden turned steadily.
—Creak.
I removed my shoes and stepped up onto the veranda. The maid knocked on the door that rose higher than my head and whispered softly beyond it.
“The fourth son of Moyong Cheonbi, thirty-second Family Head of the Moyong Family. Young Master Moyong Bi is entering.”
Beyond the opened door stretched a vast chamber whose far end could not be seen. At the front a white tent had been raised. In front of the tent, as though waiting for something, the clan members sat in a single row of chairs; five paces behind them sat the elders and the family’s core retainers.
“….”
They must have heard the maid, yet no one turned. Only the Eighth Elder, Moyong Taese, briefly glanced back, met my eyes, gave a single nod, and straightened again.
[Rather than ignoring you, Host, it looks as though they do not even have the leisure to spare you a thought.]
I agreed with Mumyeong. The tension was suffocating. The air between them felt so thick that blades could have been drawn at any moment and no one would have found it strange. Every eye stared unblinking past the white tent.
“The physician is currently examining the Family Head’s condition. Please maintain silence.”
The maid whispered. Shadows stirred beyond the white cloth. A figure presumed to be Family Head Moyong Cheonbi lay within; beside him a man in physician’s robes was at work. I swallowed hard and studied the five backs seated before the tent. Their faces were hidden, yet they were clearly the figures that lived in a faint corner of my childhood memories.
Two elderly women—presumed to be the former wives of the Family Head—sat to the right in front of the tent. Beside them sat three men. The man at the far left end beckoned to me.
—Flick.
That man was Moyong Ryu.
“Moyong…”
It was the first time I had seen that always-sly face since the free-for-all. Complicated feelings rose. He had taken my side without ever showing it. He had even volunteered for the flogging on my behalf. Even when I behaved with open rudeness, he had simply absorbed it.
“….”
In the two and a half years trapped in Bidong, fighting death, I had thought many things. It was too short a span for a narrow-minded man to truly change. Yet it was long enough to regret oneself and shift one’s thinking a little. Hundreds of times in the dark I had wondered: when I next met this fellow who called himself my older brother and swaggered around, what should my first words be?
“…Hey.”
In this unfamiliar, hostile space I almost greeted him with unthinking warmth. Then our eyes met, and a chill settled in my chest. It was the first time I had ever seen him without a smile. His face was ice. Rigid with tension, he nodded toward the empty seat beside him and turned forward again.
“…….”
I killed my presence, walked over, and sat beside Moyong Ryu.
—Rattle-rattle….
His leg was bouncing. Even the ever-cheeky Moyong Ryu was wound tight with anxiety. Sitting next to him I hesitated, opened my mouth, closed it again.
No… What right do I have?
At the very least this was an official occasion; I told myself I had to keep the proper forms here. After several false starts I found the courage and spoke the first words to the man beside me.
“…Hyung.”
I swallowed and forced out the last syllable with difficulty.
“…nim. It’s been a while.”
Our eyes met. In that instant dozens of emotions flashed across his pupils. He glanced left and right, then flicked his fingers, telling me to lean closer. I brought my ear near. He whispered into it.
“You’re not Moyong Bi. That rage-control-disorder mad dog couldn’t act like this.”
“….”
“Or did you get drunk?”
I nearly flipped him over. As the heat rose in me he smirked and lightly punched my shoulder.
“Shh.”
With that he turned his gaze back to the tent and locked his expression. Not a shred of playfulness remained. Everyone was on edge. I too forced down my racing heart, stared at the tent, and stole glances at the people seated beyond Moyong Ryu.
These bastards.
My sworn enemies. The ones who had tried to kill me more than once. The ones who had driven my mother to flee. Next to Moyong Ryu sat a thin, tall man with a pale complexion—the second son, Moyong Gangcheon—biting his nails as he stared at the tent. When our eyes met he twisted his face in pure disgust and looked away. I shifted my gaze further.
By rank, the man beside Moyong Gangcheon should be the eldest son of the house—Moyong Jinryong—
…!
I almost stood. I barely held myself down. Shorter than the towering Moyong Gangcheon, yet solidly built, long black hair, an aura sharp as an awl. And I had seen that man before.
The waiting area…! The one from the waiting area!
The young man who had handed me the first trial letter in the waiting area. That same man now sat next to Moyong Gangcheon, deliberately dressed in luxurious robes. Yet his face was so edged that anyone would have wanted to cut his throat on the spot; it was hard to believe it was the same person. This had to be his true face.
Kugh…!
He had mocked me. He had played with me. I clenched my teeth until they nearly cracked. While I stood there knowing nothing, he had passed me a manipulated trial letter and studied me—facing my existence, vivid and close.
[Host.]
I already knew. Today I had to keep my claws sheathed. On the road to the Moyong Family main residence I had sworn it to myself over and over: no matter the provocation, I would hide myself. Though this was my blood house, in truth I was walking straight into the enemy’s den. Even safety upon safety would not be enough. Indeed, I could feel the elders standing behind me continuously measuring every twitch I made.
“….”
Sensing my stare, the eldest—Moyong Jinryong—glanced at me. Then, empty of all feeling, he simply returned his gaze to the tent. Neither contempt nor anger lived in those eyes. In this moment, Moyong Jinryong included, every person present was fixed solely on the safety of the Moyong Family Head, Moyong Cheonbi, beyond the cloth.
Swoosh.
The curtain was drawn aside.
“…!”
Everyone sprang to their feet. The physician in white clothes wiped the sweat from his brow with the cloth a maid handed him and stepped out. Lanterns on either side lit the sheen of sweat soaking his forehead.
“Physician Munjeong. How is it? The Family Head?”
The mother of the first son Moyong Jinryong—Lady Yeo—fired the question first. Her upswept hair, the wrinkled nape of her neck, the lines at the corners of her mouth all spoke of a life of uncompromising hardness.
“Lady Yeo.”
Having lost the first word, the mother of the second son Moyong Gangcheon—Lady Sa—glared at Lady Yeo’s back with burning eyes.
“For two full hours I employed every method at my disposal… I am sorry.”
Under the crushing auras of the two ladies, Physician Munjeong kept wiping sweat and spoke with difficulty.
“Family Head Moyong Cheonbi has just drawn his last breath.”
“What?!”
—Crunch!
“Khek! Kheeeeek!”
Moyong Jinryong seized the physician by the collar.
“What did you just say!”
“Y-Young Master Jinryong…! I did everything I—”
“Then save him! I stuffed your belly with rice and meat soup until the grease ran so you would be ready for a day like this! If you ate the food, save him! And you dare call yourself one of the foremost physicians of the jianghu!”
The chamber shuddered under Moyong Jinryong’s explosive internal energy.
Tremendous internal power…!
Even our clothes fluttered. Yet no one moved to stop him.
—Thud.
The ladies sank to the floor. The elders sighed and pressed their brows. The second son Moyong Gangcheon tore at his hair. The third son Moyong Ryu let out a long, deep breath and sank heavily into his chair.
“…Shit. Now the real bloodbath is going to start.”