Tang Do-gyeong vs. Tang Gwang-ryeol - Part 1
Tang Do-gyeong’s shell game was nothing like Ho Cheon-an’s.
Papbat. Papbak. Papbabak!
Fast.
Overwhelming speed. Ordinarily, greater speed meant precision would crumble, yet Tang Do-gyeong’s exceptional hand skill let him execute every manipulation with perfect accuracy even at that blistering pace.
Lord Feng Ying had spent the past week watching Ho Cheon-an’s gambling lessons from the side. In his eyes, Ho Cheon-an’s gambling was like the Ten Thousand Swords style—slow enough to deceive, slow enough to make an opponent certain that what he saw was absolute truth. Even if the hands could move faster, the performance was staged as though this were the absolute limit of speed, all focus poured into precision so the opponent would be thoroughly entranced.
Tang Do-gyeong’s gambling, if one had to compare, was the Basic Sword. Speed, technique, and precision blended in balanced measure. No single aspect stood out as brilliant, yet the three worked in harmony to produce a stable, reliable game.
In truth, hand speed isn’t that important.
Tang Do-gyeong stood at the Super-Peak Realm while Tang Gwang-ryeol sat at the very edge of the Transformation Realm. Yet the actual difference in the speed they could produce was not large. If both men could move their entire bodies dynamically the gap would have yawned wide according to their realms, but they were seated, pouring every ounce of strength into nothing but the motion of their arms. Super-Peak was no lowly stage; when concentration was limited solely to the arms, it was entirely possible to match Transformation Realm speed.
Tak.
Lord Feng Ying swallowed dryly. He had lost track of Tang Do-gyeong’s shell game halfway through. Could Tang Gwang-ryeol have followed it all the way to the end?
“Third cup,” Tang Do-gyeong said with a smile.
“Correct, Clan Lord.”
It had been a three-cup round with double odds. Tang Gwang-ryeol reclaimed two hidden weapons. Taking the Feather Needle and the Butterfly Dart into his hands, he let out a hollow laugh. Among the weapons issued to direct-line descendants, these ranked among the poorest.
Reading Tang Do-gyeong’s clear intention not to surrender good weapons lightly, Tang Gwang-ryeol nodded.
“Fine. Today we settle this once and for all.”
Ten rounds passed and the cups moved from Tang Do-gyeong to Tang Gwang-ryeol. Lord Feng Ying nodded to himself. While Tang Do-gyeong had held the cups, Tang Gwang-ryeol had correctly chosen five times.
He lost five weapons and won ten. One could say he has seized the early advantage.
The moment Tang Gwang-ryeol’s hands began to move, Tang Do-gyeong’s eyes flew wide. He had expected skill to soar after a week of special training under Ho Cheon-an’s guidance, but he had never imagined the man’s very gambling temperament would change.
The Clan Lord, who once knew only pure speed…
The Tang Gwang-ryeol Tang Do-gyeong remembered gambled with nothing but velocity—an overwhelming speed that left an opponent no hope of even trying to follow. The shell game before him now was something else entirely.
Variable speed and measured tempo.
Sudden shifts that shattered concentration, and a deliberate slow phase that forced the opponent to keep his focus razor-sharp lest he miss the instant the hands exploded into top speed.
Tang Gwang-ryeol’s speed had always been overwhelming. The Tang Family stood alone at the pinnacle of hidden-weapon arts, and the hands of the man who sat at its absolute peak were extraordinary. Precisely because of that, the style had become predictable. Always the same maximum velocity meant that even if one lost the trail midway, prediction remained possible. Above all, pure top speed inevitably made the flow monotonous.
You’ve completely changed, Clan Lord.
Varying the tempo introduced countless variables, yet tension could never be relaxed. One slip and the sudden surge of speed would snatch the die away in a heartbeat.
Tang Gwang-ryeol’s hands stopped.
“You’ve improved, Clan Lord.”
“Heh heh. I put in quite a bit of effort this past week—for your sake.”
And for the sake of delivering a forehead flick to Ho Cheon-an. Tang Gwang-ryeol swallowed the words that rose to his throat and fixed his gaze on Tang Do-gyeong. Today he had steeled himself to surpass both of them. Tang Do-gyeong was a formidable opponent, yet Tang Gwang-ryeol’s eyes also took in Ho Cheon-an, who stood with arms folded, calmly watching the duel.
“First cup.”
“You got it.”
As the match continued, Lord Feng Ying’s face grew darker. Of Tang Do-gyeong’s ten shell-game rounds, Tang Gwang-ryeol had found the die seven times.
When Tang Gwang-ryeol’s turn ended, Ho Cheon-an clapped his hands.
“It is already nearly noon. Perhaps the two of you should take a meal and then resume?”
“Mm. Has the time already grown so late?”
“Heh heh, so it has. What do you say, Do-gyeong? Shall we share a meal after so long?”
“Haha, of course, Clan Lord. What about Brother Ya and Lord Feng Ying?”
While Lord Feng Ying hesitated over an answer, Ho Cheon-an spoke in his place.
“We would not dream of interrupting your time together. I shall settle matters with Lord Feng Ying.”
Lord Feng Ying watched the two men leave, then heaved a deep sigh.
“Haa, Wandering Warrior Ya, what are we to do? The situation is turning against us.”
Tang Do-gyeong possessed far more hidden weapons than Tang Gwang-ryeol. For the Clan Lord to win he would have to strip Do-gyeong of every last one; even holding the early advantage was not enough, and now he was losing…
Lord Feng Ying’s worries never ceased.
To make matters worse, word had spread that the Clan Lord himself was settling accounts with Tang Do-gyeong, and direct-line descendants were beginning to gather one by one in front of the Clan Lord’s hall. Having lost their weapons, of course they were desperate to know where those weapons had gone.
Yet Ho Cheon-an remained utterly unconcerned.
“Wandering Warrior Ya, are you not worried at all? You spent an entire week on this!”
“Heh heh. The Clan Lord himself is bold; why is Lord Feng Ying so full of fretting?”
“Did you not decide on today as the deadline because you judged the Clan Lord held the advantage? Or was it simply a conclusion forced by the press of time?”
Tang Do-gyeong had stalled with every excuse imaginable, but further delay was impossible. The patience of the direct-line descendants who had been stripped of their weapons had reached its limit. Unable to swallow their discontent alone, they had even begun banding together to confront him.
If the matter was not resolved today, those same descendants loitering before the Clan Lord’s hall would cause an incident with their own hands.
Under Lord Feng Ying’s prodding, Ho Cheon-an merely smiled.
“In that spirit, there is a small favor I would like to ask of you, Lord. Might you grant it?”
Lately Tang Jang-o had no appetite.
The time has come to polish the Scattering Fire Butterfly Darts.
The life of hidden-weapon arts was stealth. Refined movement so pure that even a weapon thrown straight into an opponent’s face went unnoticed—that was the very emblem of the art.
Yet that same nature inevitably attracted a certain unsavory reputation: that it was cowardly, that it was unorthodox.
If you strike before the opponent can even notice, is it not an ambush no matter how loudly you announce the attack? Even if it is not an ambush, is such a method truly fitting for an orthodox martial artist who must be open and upright?
There was no escaping such controversies.
To display one’s hidden-weapon arts proudly in public and receive recognition—that was the dream of every direct-line descendant of the Tang Family, indeed of every Tang clansman.
The Tang Family Fierce Tiger Hidden Dragon Combat Method that Tang Do-gyeong had unveiled was more than enough to awaken the dream sleeping in every Tang heart. The possibility of turning that dream into reality!
The reason Tang Jang-o had packed his own hidden weapons and headed for the gambling table the moment he heard “Tang Do-gyeong is replenishing weapons through wagered matches” was simply that he wanted to hand over a few of his own.
He wanted the Fierce Tiger Hidden Dragon Combat Method completed as soon as possible!
The true reason Tang Jang-o had gambled weapons with Tang Do-gyeong was an investment toward that completion.
“Haha! I’ve won again! Oh dear! It seems Elder Brother is in truly poor form today! Wahahahaha!”
But Tang Do-gyeong’s infuriating attitude, that laughter, and the continuous defeats at the hands of a man who had only just begun relearning the basics of hidden-weapon arts drove Tang Jang-o out of his mind.
When he came to his senses, even the life-saving weapons he had kept hidden in his underclothes had been stripped bare.
Tang Jang-o heaved a long sigh and forced noodles into his mouth. He had no appetite whatsoever, yet as a martial artist he could not skip a meal.
“Jang-o!”
“What is it.”
“You also had your weapon pouch cleaned out by Do-gyeong, didn’t you?”
Tang Jang-o scowled at the fellow disciple who had so casually prodded a sore spot. This particular disciple, who specialized in poison arts, stood one step removed from the current hidden-weapon crisis.
“The Clan Lord has summoned Do-gyeong right now to settle the matter, and you’re sitting here alone? The blood relatives are gathering at the Clan Lord’s hall!”
“What? Is that true?”
“It is! The Wind Shadow members are calling everyone who gambled weapons with Tang Do-gyeong, so hurry over!”
Tang Jang-o flung aside his unfinished noodles and sprinted straight for the Clan Lord’s hall. Sure enough, a crowd had already gathered. At a glance they were all people who had been stripped of weapons by Tang Do-gyeong.
“I say, what is going on here?”
“I don’t know the details either. But there’s a rumor that the Clan Lord and Tang Do-gyeong are right now gambling over hidden weapons inside.”
Ho Cheon-an, who had been coming and going from the Clan Lord’s hall for a full week. Tang Do-gyeong, summoned by the Clan Lord a week earlier. The Clan Lord’s current move of calling Do-gyeong to resolve the weapon crisis. And finally the fact that far too much time had already passed for a mere conversation.
“Enough, all of you! This is a matter the Clan Lord is handling! Stop spreading baseless rumors and wait until the Clan Lord himself speaks!”
At someone’s sharp rebuke the murmuring Tang blood relatives fell silent. Still, curiosity about the present situation and the fate of their weapons could not be helped.
Their eyes remained fixed, nailed to the Clan Lord’s hall.