The Nuclear Fist of Comfort
Upon entering the guest room, Cheong found the visitor already seated. The moment their eyes met, Moyong Juhee sprang to her feet, fidgeting with her clasped hands while her gaze darted about helplessly. She looked utterly lost, lips twitching as though desperate to speak yet unable to form a single word.
“Good heavens, Lady Moyong. Your face is half its usual size. How could you treat such a pretty face so carelessly?”
She looked as though she had not eaten in days; her cheeks were hollow, and dark shadows pooled beneath her eyes, threatening to spill down to her cheekbones if exaggerated even slightly. Her lips were cracked and pale, her skin rough to the touch.
Moyong Juhee finally managed to open her mouth with great difficulty. “Hello…… Have you been well……?”
“I have been well, but it seems you have not, Lady Moyong. Has something happened?”
“Well, that is……”
She trailed off, shrinking back into her earlier state of complete timidity, unable to continue. Cheong sighed inwardly and simply sat down, waiting for Moyong Juhee to speak.
After what felt like an entire quarter of an hour, Cheong—growing impatient—had begun composing new lines worthy of a Transcendent’s teasing when Moyong Juhee finally spoke.
“Um, you see…… Could you perhaps do that thing for me, just once……?”
“What thing?”
“That…… You said everything would be all right. That there was nothing wrong with me……”
Cheong let out a long sigh. What on earth had the girl done at home to look even worse than when she had been here? Moyong Juhee’s father had seemed like a decent man.
At the sound of her sigh, Moyong Juhee flinched—more of a startled leap than a mere twitch—and dropped her head. Cheong sighed again. One could not even sigh in front of someone so fragile. Not that she stopped herself from sighing.
“Lady Moyong? Come here.”
“Yes……”
Moyong Juhee approached hesitantly, step by step. Cheong patted her own thigh. It was a gesture anyone would understand.
“Um……”
“Come on. Quickly now.”
Moyong Juhee awkwardly settled herself onto Cheong’s lap. She was so stiff it was impossible to tell whether she was a person or a wooden plank. Cheong pulled her into an embrace and whispered into her ear.
“I do not want you to suffer so much, Lady Moyong. You have done nothing wrong. The Blood Sect villains are the ones at fault—why should you be the one in pain? Everything will be all right. It will get better. And from now on, it will only get better still.”
A faint tremor spread through her body, accompanied by the sound of stifled sobs. Goodness, why cry so pitifully? May I cry as well? Cheong wondered. If she asked politely and then wailed properly, would that help? Or should she simply tell her to cry harder and be done with it? Cry out your innocence—wait, that does not sound right. Why does that phrase keep coming to mind? Where did I hear it?
After a brief moment of deliberation, Cheong simply remained still. If she told her to cry freely and ease her heart, the girl might instead try to hold it in out of concern. Is this correct? she wondered, thinking of some psychology lecturer whose name she could not recall—someone she had never actually met. Had that lecturer somehow transcended time and space to hear her thoughts, they might have answered: Casual contact with a client is forbidden. Do not retake the course, and never see them again.
In truth, Cheong believed that simply holding someone tightly could calm an anxious heart, heal a wounded one, and—since body and mind were one—bring about natural recovery as well. It was a judgment formed from her own experience of receiving comfort from Gyeon Po-hui.
Time passed. Cheong’s superhuman physique, forged like steel—or rather, like cold iron—felt no discomfort from having Moyong Juhee on her lap. Eventually, Moyong Juhee, who had been quietly sobbing, seemed to regain some composure and spoke in a voice thick with tears.
“I am…… all right now.”
“I am fine as well, so stay like this. But what happened? You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to, but speaking might make you feel a little better.”
“Well…… Actually……”
Moyong Juhee recounted everything her father had said. Goodness, that man. She had not expected it, but he held rather extreme views.
“If it was this difficult, you should have just told him everything. ‘Father, I am already hurting—why say such things?’ After all, you are quite good at that sort of thing, Lady Moyong.”
“If Father had not said those words, I would have told him. But after hearing them, I could not. It would only hurt him twice as much……”
“My, how thoughtful of you.”
Then a thought struck Cheong. She did not want Moyong Juhee’s father to be hurt, but what about her own pain? Had she not been the one who saved her? Hearing this now felt rather unfair.
Moyong Juhee could not see Cheong’s face, as she was being held from behind. Had she turned around, she would have seen a strange color flickering in the depths of Cheong’s pupils—where only darkness should have remained.
Cheong was now a Transcendent. Transcendents could manifest Sword Gang. Sword Gang was the outward expression of a martial artist’s inner starlight, and the star Cheong had been born under was the Heavenly Slaughter Star—the most dreadful and ominous star in the Three Thousand Worlds.
It was different from the Pacheon-magi, which merely chuckled to itself in her dantian whenever it grew bored. This star merely emitted its ominous light from the deepest abyss of the Desire Realm among the Six Realms, for it knew that no mere human could ever overcome the will of fate.
Thus, the lonely star of Heavenly Slaughter merely indulged its incarnation, as one might humor a child’s antics. Whenever she rebelled with some paltry enlightenment gained from Daoist or Buddhist teachings, it would feign defeat and retreat.
“But why did you make my chest hurt so much? You even used your inner energy that time. If I had been an ordinary person, I would have been crushed for real.”
Her voice was chillingly cold. Moyong Juhee’s stomach dropped.
“I-I was wrong. I was not in my right mind back then. I will never do it again.”
“It is not a matter of right or wrong. Why did you do it? Was I someone you could hurt, Lady Moyong?”
“No, it is not that. At the time, whenever I saw you, Young Lady Seomun—Lady Seomun—painful memories would surface, and I lost my mind for a moment. I am sorry.”
“Hmm.”
The suggestive nasal sound made Moyong Juhee stiffen like a plank.
“Will a mere apology solve everything? How am I supposed to trust your sincerity, Lady Moyong?”
“Th-then…… my fingernails. You like pulling out fingernails, do you not?”
“Such pretty fingers—pulling out the nails would be such a waste. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, they say.”
Cheong’s hand, still firmly wrapped around her from behind, slipped beneath Moyong Juhee’s jacket. Her touch was ice-cold, the chill creeping like a serpent toward her chest. Then came a soft chuckle.
“Goodness. There is nothing here to squeeze in return. What a shame.”
“I was wrong. I was wrong.”
“If you only say that, how would I know? Will you tell me properly what you did wrong and how?”
“Because it is too small…… I am sorry.”
“You must speak clearly. It is not that it is small—if anything, one might say it is not there at all. Wait, what is this? Good heavens. You are wearing something like this? Should I twist it a little? Here, just a pinch.”
“Hngh.”
Moyong Juhee let out a strangled sound. It was strange. Normally, that spot was a reverse scale that would explode with hatred at the slightest touch, yet in this moment it was different. It hurt—yes, it hurt a great deal. Her heart felt as though it might burst from fear. Fear, and yet……
“I-if that is what you want, Young Lady Seomun…… if you truly wish to do it, then as much as I did to you……”
Moyong Juhee’s reply trembled violently. Cheong blew a puff of air into her ear. Moyong Juhee tried to spring up from her lap but was held firmly in place.
“My. It was a joke. You were not in your right mind at the time, so I understand. So, do you still feel pain when you see me?”
“No. It was not that. The memories keep returning, and when I see you, Young Lady Seomun, I feel like I can relax. I wanted to hear your voice……”
“Is that so? Ah, I see. Since you are being honest for once, shall I ask everything? Why did you follow me all the way to the training ground and sit there looking so pitiful? It was so pitiful that I could not stop worrying.”
“I-I could not sleep at night. I am scared when there are no people around, so I cannot sleep. If I open my eyes, I feel like I will be in that box again—or captured once more. I was so scared, so the place where I felt safest was there.”
“Ah.”
The words struck far too close to home. Cheong’s mind snapped to attention with intense empathy. She, too, could not sleep alone because of the same fear. They had shared the same insomnia yet never known it.
“No, you should have said something. How would I know if you did not tell me? Not being able to sleep at night is incredibly painful. Goodness, it must have been hard. I was thoughtless. I am sorry.”
“No, no. Why would you apologize, Young Lady Seomun? I was only ever difficult. I am sorry. I am so sorry.”
At any rate, this was completely different from before, when she had mixed formal and informal speech and her gaze had shifted between friendly and wary. Even while sitting on Cheong’s lap, she remained stiff, afraid of causing discomfort, and her voice was unfailingly polite—her remorse was palpable.
Cheong suddenly tilted her head. Young Lady Seomun again? When had that strange honorific started appearing?
At this point, the mental healing seemed sufficient. She probably would not target Cheong’s chest again. Cheong decided to be generous.
“If it is truly difficult, you may stay at Mucheon Pavilion. Well, the Murim Alliance’s closing ceremony will end soon, so I must return in a few days anyway.”
“May I really do that?”
“If that is what you wish, Lady Moyong.”
But Moyong Juhee shook her head. From Cheong’s perspective, it was only the back of her head that moved.
“No. I want to, but if I do, I feel like I will remain weak and pathetic like this forever. With time, someday I will forget everything and be able to live normally, right?”
It was an unexpectedly admirable statement. Cheong’s expression softened. At this rate, she might end up spreading psychiatry across the Central Plains. If she told Nan-ah later, the Tang Clan might develop it further.
Cheong answered sincerely, thinking it was a good thing. “It certainly will.”
Then the atmosphere grew awkward. The conversation seemed to have ended, yet Moyong Juhee was leaning back comfortably against her. What now? Was she not about to leave? Why lean back? Did she have to keep holding her? She seemed calm now—should she not let her down? Normally, in this kind of atmosphere, would the other person not ask to be let down first? Why was she still lingering?
Just then, Moyong Juhee spoke softly. “Um, by the way……”
“Yes.”
“I think I really did something very wrong to you, Young Lady Seomun. If I leave it like this, my heart will feel uncomfortable. So, since you said an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth…… could you continue what you were about to do earlier……?”
“Hey, I told you it was a joke. What would that make me? I would not be able to joke anymore.”
“It is not that. I think I would feel more at ease if you did. Could you not?”
“Let us just pretend it never happened. You were not in your right mind at the time, Lady Moyong.”
“But it keeps weighing on my mind……”
Even though Cheong said it was fine, the request was quite persistent. And since she claimed it would ease her mind, Cheong wondered if it was necessary for her mental healing as well.
“If you truly need to be avenged to feel at ease, would you stand up for a moment? And close your eyes tightly.”
Moyong Juhee swallowed hard. Then she obediently stood and closed her eyes—
Cheong let out a long sigh. Must it really come to this? But if she herself needed to feel pain to be at ease, what could be done? So the commemorative first nuclear strike after reaching Transcendent realm had arrived so quickly.
Thus, above Moyong Juhee’s tightly shut eyes, the Seomun Su-rin-style nuclear fusion ballistic bonk—the ultimate technique, “Grand Retribution”—descended.
Thwack!!!