The Heavenly Demon's Doubt

I doubted my own ears.

Disciple?

Moyong Taese went on.

"Do you understand your position right now? How far have you pieced it together?"

"I can't be certain, but—"

What was left to hesitate over in a situation like this?

I clenched my teeth.

"After everything that's happened, at the very least I've realized the Moyong Family main house finds my existence… inconvenient."

"An arrogant claim. Are you saying you believe yourself to be the sort of presence the people of the Moyong Family would find bothersome—unpleasant, even?"

"Yes. And there are two reasons for that."

"Two?"

Once the words were out, they came without hesitation.

"First: if my existence itself were made public, it would carry the risk of staining the family's honor. Second: with the Family Head's seat vacant for ten years and a new selection about to throw the entire political landscape into chaos, I'm the kind of variable that is too annoying to simply ignore out in the open."

I drew a breath.

"Which is why, the moment someone pinned down my location—even after more than a decade—they scrambled to send assassins. And Eighth Elder, you wasted no time sending people of your own to match them. Isn't that right?"

A soft flicker, and the candle between us trembled.

Only after a long silence did Moyong Taese speak.

"Quite sharp."

A cool autumn wind slipped in through the open window.

"Listen carefully. I will say this only once. Moyong Bi."

Moyong Bi.

After my mother and I fled to the countryside, I had never once been called by my full name. To hide my identity I always dropped the Moyong and went simply as Bi. That was not a nickname to me—it had become my true name.

Now I was being called Moyong Bi again, whole and complete.

Even that small fact gently gathered the ragged pieces of my heart, if only a little.

"In the eyes of the Moyong Family, you are nothing more and nothing less than a common stone that rolled in—tainted with low blood. Be angry if you must; it changes nothing. A fool rages at an insulting reality and screams for it to be taken back. A wise man accepts the absurdity, analyzes it, and acts to break through it."

"I know."

"Not a proud existence at all—merely a shame the previous Family Head left behind, something the clan would rather keep buried. That is your position right now."

I listened without letting anything show on my face.

Watching that composure, a faint smile spread across Moyong Taese's features.

"Even your three barriers of the mind run deep. I just used rather insulting language, yet not a single shade of your expression changed. If I wounded your pride, I apologize."

He continued.

"The Moyong Family intends to name its successor soon. The Family Head's bloodline contending for that seat numbers three. With you included, it becomes four. The other three will certainly regard you as a thorn in their eyes. I trust you have already felt that more than enough."

Three candidates for Family Head of the Moyong Family.

And though I was so lowly I did not even amount to the dirt under their toenails, on paper at least I made a fourth legitimate heir.

"I pity the plight you have suffered in the family's power struggles all this time. For that reason alone, I will not kill you here. Separate from that, however, I have no desire to force myself into taking either side."

Fatigue toward the entire situation colored the Eighth Elder Moyong Taese's tone.

"I will send you to Cheonsubaekryeonsa, the training institution under the Nine Sects and One Gang. That place has also grown rather rotten of late, but—"

He trailed off with a bitter twist of the mouth.

"I cannot call it perfectly safe. Still, for someone of no affiliation—completely exposed as you are now—it is the best choice you can make. In this jianghu it is the official arena for exchange among the next generation of talents, recognized by Orthodox, Unorthodox, Demonic, and Blood alike. A place beyond any single family's influence, and an institution that forges true masters."

"…Cheonsubaekryeonsa?"

Moyong Taese nodded.

"If you at least hold the status of a trainee there, the other young masters will not be able to mobilize assassin corps on this scale again—will not be able to bare their claws so openly, as if they were hunting a stray dog through the neighborhood."

I remembered the crimson-clad assassins who had swarmed like wasps just to kill me alone.

My whole body shook.

They had not cared about the eyes of the world. To them, killing me—unaffiliated, without any backing—carried no more risk than cutting down some farmer in a field.

Moyong Taese went on.

"First secure your personal safety there, and grow stronger. I have already sent a letter under my name to Cheonsubaekryeonsa, so admission will not be a problem."

Even a fool could have understood.

He was speaking as if he were coldly casting me out, yet in truth the Eighth Elder Moyong Taese was declaring that he would officially stand behind me.

"I have a question."

"Ask."

I had hesitated until the very end over whether to voice it. But without asking, I did not think I could trust him.

"As you said yourself, Elder, I am nothing more than an illegitimate son with low blood mixed in."

"And?"

"Why would an Elder like yourself risk your life for a bastard son you have never even met before?"

Saving me was, from the perspective of the Moyong Family's power holders, a clear act of defiance. It would become a brand—an obvious pretext for retribution whenever they chose to collect the debt.

"Hah. Your own life hangs by a thread, and you worry about me?"

"Elder."

"That is my affair, and none of yours. I am not taking your side, nor the side of the other young masters. Simply—if even half of Moyong blood runs in your veins—"

After a brief silence, Moyong Taese finished.

"I act ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only because I believe the choice I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠make today will one day return as a great current that raises the Moyong Family again when it is on the verge of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠collapse."

I rose slowly.

Then I drove my forehead into the floor with all my strength.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Hard enough that blood ran down my brow.

The nine bows of respect.

There was no longer any room left to doubt him.

And from the beginning, I had never had a real choice.

"Stop."

Suddenly Moyong Taese raised a hand and halted my nine bows midway.

"The nine bows are not for now. Not yet."

"…Sir?"

Had he changed his mind already?

He looked at my dazed face and smiled faintly.

"Though you carry Moyong blood, as a son of a concubine there are still many in the main house who do not even know you exist. If I take you as my formal disciple now, it would mean more than simply teaching you martial arts—it would thrust your presence onto the political stage. The backlash would exceed anything we can imagine. It is still too soon."

I had not considered that.

"You will enter as my formal disciple only after you finish growing at Cheonsubaekryeonsa and return."

"Understood, Elder."

"Then, before that—"

Moyong Taese rose with a light smile and opened the door.

"Shall we take a look at our young master's skill?"

"…What?"

By the time I came to my senses, I was standing in an empty inner courtyard with a wooden sword in hand, facing Moyong Taese.

"What is this supposed to—?"

"Haha. Do not worry, Moyong Bi."

The Elder walked steadily toward me.

In his hand a wooden sword already carried a menacing aura.

"I know you possess almost not a single strand of inner energy. Yet I can clearly sense traces of martial training on your body. Or who knows—perhaps the Family Head, after all, taught you bits of his own arts in secret when you were young, blood being blood."

"Ah, about that—"

Cold sweat beaded on my skin.

Those eyes held expectation.

"Let us see whether your skill matches that enormous potential of yours."

"I—I still have not properly learned any real—"

"It is fine. That refined, well-prepared physique of yours was surely cultivated under the Family Head's deliberate hand. And if my strength feels too overwhelming, you need not worry. Though I am an Elder of one of the Five Great Families, strictly speaking I am closer to a scholar than a martial artist. I am old and weakened besides. So come at me without burden."

Was that meant to be reassuring?

My mind went blank.

The Elder was under a serious misconception.

So that was why he had accepted me as a disciple so readily.

Moyong Taese believed I was some carefully nurtured seedling the Family Head had secretly polished because of the blood we shared—a hidden prodigy.

"What are you doing? Show me already."

Moyong Taese's white eyebrows twitched.

I wanted to die.

The one thing I absolutely could not reveal was the Plum Blossom Spinning Dagger I had copied from Mount Hua. It belonged to another sect, stolen by an illegitimate son like me. Explaining how I learned it would force me to speak of the Heavenly Demon Jade. And if I spun further lies to cover that, somewhere the story would fail to match and the tail would be caught.

I would lose the fragile trust Moyong Taese was only now beginning to place in me.

Then I would be finished.

Damn it. That leaves only one option.

In the end, the only martial art I could demonstrate was something I already possessed.

And that was more humiliating than death.

What I had learned amounted to little more than the wild, flailing blade-work of street thugs and ruffians. I had made a living with it, yes—but to display that in front of a man deeply versed in the martial arts of one of the Five Great Families felt like being forced to walk naked through the village.

"Come now. Even humility becomes poison when taken too far. Very well—I shall attack first. Defend yourself."

"N-no. I will show you now."

There was no way out.

Swallowing tears, I forced myself into the opening stance of the Six Harmonies Sword Art—the only form I had ever considered halfway usable, and the only one I had driven to a five-star level of mastery.

"…Hm?"

I wanted to crawl into a hole and die of shame.

I had expected exactly that reaction.

Moyong Taese's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyebrows quivered.

"What are you doing right now? No—perhaps this is something this old man simply does not understand. Hoo. So that is what a born genius looks like, is it?"

At this point I wanted to ask if he was trying to kill me with embarrassment.

Cold sweat poured down me like a waterfall.

I wanted to vanish into a mouse hole.

Moyong Taese's gaze was endlessly solemn. He truly seemed convinced that a heaven-sent talent was deliberately assuming this posture for some original significance an ordinary man like himself could never grasp.

His serious, investigative eyes studied my feet, my hands, the way I gripped the sword.

"I cannot make head or tail of it. Fine. Crossing blades should clear things up."

"E-Elder, the truth is—!"

"Only then will I know whether you deliberately struck an absurd pose in front of this old man, and what your true intent was. Haha. I look forward to it."

In an instant I was about to become the most insolent bastard under heaven for insulting the Eighth Elder to his face.

I'm finished.

The sweat soaking my upper robes was not from pre-sparring tension.

I have almost no martial arts. This is all I know. Why was saying those words so hard?

Yet the way Moyong Taese looked ready to leap at any second made me realize that further hesitation would be disastrous.

I could simply admit I was weak. There was even a reasonable excuse.

Damn it. Never thought I'd live to feel grateful for being a bastard son.

Just as I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to confess the full extent of my ability—

I nearly fainted from shock.

The calm, flat, utterly inhuman voice that tore through my skull belonged to Mumyeong.

"This presence—"

At the same moment, Moyong Taese's face hardened.

Mumyeong's shout crashed through my mind like thunder.

It was the first time I had ever heard urgency in that voice.

"What? Who's coming?"

Moyong Taese stared at me with startled eyes.

But Mumyeong's voice hammered through my skull too urgently for me to care.

"What?"