Tang Do-gyeong vs. Tang Gwang-ryeol - Part 2
Clack.
Having finished a hearty lunch, the two men’s gambling resumed. The Wind Shadow Captain chewed his lip, his face tight with anxiety.
Why did I do that?
He cast a resentful glance at Ho Cheon-an. Swept up by the calm, confident smile radiating from the man, he had ordered the Wind Shadow Unit to summon every direct-line disciple whose concealed weapons had been stripped by Tang Do-gyeong.
Those same disciples had already been loitering outside the Family Head’s hall anyway, so gathering a few or gathering them all made little difference—yet he could not help resenting Ho Cheon-an all the same.
After a week of watching the lectures from the side, the Wind Shadow Captain had come to understand that Ho Cheon-an was far more than a skilled gambler. From technique to the underlying theory that supported it, the man he called “that wandering warrior” was nothing less than a grandmaster of the gambling arts. He had no choice but to admit it.
What was I thinking, granting that wandering warrior’s request…! I was far too impatient.
Convinced the man must have some clever scheme, he had clutched at the straw and summoned the Tang direct line. Yet when Ho Cheon-an heard the news, he had merely laughed lightly and said, “Thank you for granting such an unreasonable request,” as if that were the end of it.
It was Tang Gwang-ryeol’s turn to take the cups.
The Wind Shadow Captain felt a wave of gloom. Tang Do-gyeong had followed Tang Gwang-ryeol’s changes of pace with ease. Where the Family Head’s accuracy with the dice hovered around five or six out of ten, Tang Do-gyeong’s struck seven or eight. Tang Gwang-ryeol’s weapon pouch was already half empty; depending on how many concealed weapons Tang Do-gyeong still held, this very round could decide the match.
And then—
“The second cup.”
“Wrong.”
“The first cup.”
“No.”
“The second cup.”
Suddenly Tang Do-gyeong failed to read the dice three times in a row.
An upset.
The Wind Shadow Captain stared at the board, unable to process the abrupt reversal. Tang Do-gyeong’s face looked calm at a glance, yet sweat already beaded thick across his brow.
When…?
The flow had shifted to Tang Gwang-ryeol.
“A southeast wind has arrived.”
“What did you say?”
“Ah, I spoke without thinking.”
Ho Cheon-an stepped well back so as not to disturb the two combatants and beckoned the Wind Shadow Captain to join him.
“From here on the real match begins. Let us leave them to concentrate.”
Tang Gwang-ryeol thought.
Southeast wind, is it…
He could not grasp the exact meaning of Ho Cheon-an’s muttered words, yet he too sensed that the current had changed.
The gears are beginning to mesh.
For a full week Tang Gwang-ryeol had absorbed new knowledge every single day. With his mind he laid plans, with his eyes he tracked his opponent, with his hands he learned fresh ways to deceive—each day something new.
His skill had advanced by leaps and bounds, yet practical application still felt clumsy.
Everything required at least a minimum of experience, and that experience was steadily filling in across the gambling table against Tang Do-gyeong.
The spinning, mismatched cogs began to lock into place one by one. Technique, theory, sleight of hand… the foundation had always been excellent, yet they had ground and clashed in disharmony. Now the lubricant of experience was poured over them, and they turned smoothly.
At last the “Gambler Tang Gwang-ryeol,” forged by Ho Cheon-an’s mouth and hands together with Tang Gwang-ryeol’s own sweat and effort, began to take complete form.
Tang Gwang-ryeol took the cups and defended eight times, allowing the dice to be read only twice.
While Tang Do-gyeong held the cups, he won six out of ten rounds.
He’s wavering.
Tang Do-gyeong kept altering his techniques. He too had sensed it: if he failed to hold the defense while the cups were in his hands, defeat was inevitable.
Heh. Do-gyeong, your theory is lacking.
Watching the young man, Tang Gwang-ryeol recalled Ho Cheon-an’s words.
“At first, Family Head, you believed only your sleight of hand needed polishing. Yet what use is mastering a life-saving art if you cannot even recognize the moment that will save your life?”
Tang Do-gyeong had learned gambling solely by imitating Ho Cheon-an’s hand techniques. Afterward he had sharpened his instincts through real matches against the direct line of the Tang Family, yet raw, wild instinct alone could never surpass the systematic theory now embedded in Tang Gwang-ryeol’s mind.
Had I clung to my stubbornness, I would have spent my whole life walking only in Do-gyeong’s shadow.
He had once believed Ho Cheon-an had struck him with merciless forehead flicks merely to assert a teacher’s authority, and he had nursed a grudge. Yet the longer the great match stretched on, the more he was forced to admit that Ho Cheon-an’s judgment had been correct.
In reading the flow of a gamble by pure instinct, Tang Do-gyeong still stood several moves above him.
The instant he sensed the current shifting, the way the young man abandoned even his own advantage and searched for an escape route—enough to send a chill down Tang Gwang-ryeol’s spine—proved it.
What if he had simply trusted to sensation? Tang Gwang-ryeol had no confidence he could pin down the young, vigorous tiger that was Tang Do-gyeong. Had he tried to suppress him with raw physical presence instead of a well-woven, sparse net, he would surely have let him slip free.
Half a shichen passed.
Tang Do-gyeong and Tang Gwang-ryeol still traded the shell game back and forth.
Yet victory and defeat had begun to show clearly. The great pile of Tang Do-gyeong’s concealed weapons now lay on Tang Gwang-ryeol’s side; only seven remained to the younger man.
Tang Gwang-ryeol held the cups.
Suddenly Tang Do-gyeong closed his eyes. He did not open them again until the cups stopped moving. Both Tang Gwang-ryeol and the watching Wind Shadow Captain could not hide their tension.
All seven of Tang Do-gyeong’s remaining concealed weapons rested in his hand.
By custom a player might wager as many as he wished, yet the two had treated the match as though a rule existed that only one weapon could be staked at a time. The outcome of the bet mattered, of course, but today’s contest was truly a measure of which man stood superior.
“You mean to decide it all at once?”
“Yes. Family Head, your gambling skill surpasses mine.”
Tang Do-gyeong had exhausted every possible move trying to break through Tang Gwang-ryeol’s net. When the Family Head held the cups he had staked large and small, trusting to heaven’s luck, hoping to shake his opponent’s composure. When he himself held the cups he had used every technique he knew and even copied Tang Gwang-ryeol’s methods on the spot.
Yet even after employing every means, he had never managed to tear the net Tang Gwang-ryeol had cast. Caught in a mesh that seemed about to break yet never did, Tang Do-gyeong had no choice but to acknowledge the older man’s superiority.
“But I cannot simply give up like this, so I will stake everything on heaven’s luck.”
As Tang Do-gyeong’s eyes began to examine the three cups, Tang Gwang-ryeol closed his own. He feared that if he watched, the tension would force him to give away some clue about which cup held the die.
A pure contest of fortune. Though his own odds were higher, Tang Do-gyeong still had a one-in-three chance of winning.
Tang Do-gyeong claimed he had already lost, yet Tang Gwang-ryeol understood that the true gap between them was no wider than a hair. The younger man’s thrashing had not torn the net, but it had come within a breath of doing so.
If luck favors Do-gyeong now…
Then Tang Gwang-ryeol had no confidence he could maintain the present flow. If the tiger he had barely confined ripped free of the net—what then? The two characters for “defeat” seemed to hover right before his eyes.
Tang Gwang-ryeol, the Wind Shadow Captain, and Ho Cheon-an all fixed their attention on Tang Do-gyeong’s choice. Luck, too, was part of gambling. Could Tang Do-gyeong truly seize fortune and build a foothold for reversal?
Because no one can predict luck, everyone within the Tang Family held their breath and waited for his decision.
Tang Do-gyeong’s final choice—the one that would either tear Tang Gwang-ryeol’s net or leave him trapped forever.
Clack.
Without opening his eyes, Tang Gwang-ryeol spoke.
“If you have staked, open it.”
Tang Do-gyeong wordlessly lifted the cup. Then he spoke quietly.
“I have lost.”
Tang Gwang-ryeol’s eyes snapped open. The cup Tang Do-gyeong had chosen was the first. The die was not inside. Tang Gwang-ryeol soothed his hammering heart, let out a long breath of relief, yet still did not relax.
“You still have one weapon pouch left in your robes, do you not?”
“Yes. That is so.”
As expected of the Family Head. He even saw through the pouch I never brought out. Thinking this, Tang Do-gyeong produced a large weapon case.
Inside the opened case lay several concealed weapons. One of them immediately caught Tang Gwang-ryeol’s eye.
“Is that not the Throwing Cross Token?”
“Yes.”
Tang Do-gyeong smiled and stroked the token.
“This was given to me by Ryeo-a. When I said I would train in concealed weapons again, she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed it into my hands. How could an older brother refuse a child’s heart like that?”
“...I see.”
“This one was given by Father. This by my uncle. And this by Do-yeon. How could I ever place such things on a gambling table?”
“Heh. Heh heh…”
Tang Gwang-ryeol closed his eyes against the shame that flooded him. Compared with himself—who as Family Head had even wagered the exclusive weapons reserved for the head of the house—how upright was Tang Do-gyeong’s attitude? Ho Cheon-an had been right.
“I truly had been poisoned by the addiction of gambling.”
Gwang-ryeol forced the rising shame aside and moved his hands.
A single weapon pouch now rested before Tang Do-gyeong.
“This is…?”
“I am giving it to you. They are not the exclusive weapons of the Family Head, yet they are high-grade concealed weapons more than sufficient for your training.”
“How can the loser of a gamble accept such a thing?”
“No. This is a gift—and an apology—from Tang Gwang-ryeol, Family Head of the Sichuan Tang Family, to Tang Do-gyeong of the collateral line.”
Tang Gwang-ryeol patted the young man’s shoulder.
“By regulation you are still of the collateral branch. Yet if a family ran on regulations alone, what need would there be for a Family Head? Anyone who trains in concealed weapons should have been given weapons long ago, yet I merely found you admirable and never looked into your difficulties.”
“Family Head…!”
“Because you had a worthless Family Head, you suffered, and discord arose between you and the direct line. That is something for which I must apologize.”
“No, Family Head! Your heart alone is more than enough to move this Tang to the depths!”
Tang Do-gyeong’s eyes glistened as he clasped his fists in salute. Tang Gwang-ryeol kept patting his shoulder.
“Congratulations, Family Head!”
The Wind Shadow Captain offered his congratulations in a voice thick with emotion. He, after all, had shared a full week of mental torment with Tang Gwang-ryeol; his heart now overflowed with joy.
“Thank you…! You have worked hard as well, Wind Shadow Captain!”
“Hahaha! How could my efforts compare to the Family Head’s!”
Tang Gwang-ryeol looked past the captain to Ho Cheon-an standing behind him.
Seeing the man’s smile, complex feelings swirled inside him. It was true he had been struck with forehead flicks, and even now the memory made his brow throb of its own accord.
Ho Cheon-an’s lectures had been nothing less than a complete compilation of the gambling arts. After a week of lessons Tang Gwang-ryeol felt that truth in his bones. The commission fee had been considerable, yet the lectures rendered even that sum trivial.
Still, the forehead flicks had been excessive no matter how one looked at it, and the desire to return just one of them had never quite faded.
Yet after today’s great match, his thoughts shifted once more. Had he not been struck and forced to set everything down—had he not resolved to absorb every scrap of Ho Cheon-an’s teaching so he could repay those flicks—would he have been able to snatch victory from Tang Do-gyeong today?
The victory itself had been overwhelming, yet the watershed of that victory had been a hair’s breadth. Without the fierce driving force of wanting to wipe away that humiliation, could he truly have claimed the win?
Very well. I admit it. The teacher’s every judgment was correct.
“Congratulations, Family Head.”
“Thank you, Master Ya. Without you I could never have acquired the skill to defeat Do-gyeong in so short a time. And I would have lived out my life never knowing that this Tang was nothing more than a frog in a well.”
Tang Gwang-ryeol resolved in his heart to regard Ho Cheon-an as a benefactor—both as the individual Tang Gwang-ryeol and as the Family Head of the Tang Family.
The man who had freely revealed his secret techniques for the sake of Tang Do-gyeong’s Tang Family Fierce Tiger Hidden Dragon Combat Method was more than worthy to be called a benefactor of the entire Tang Family. And as a private individual, he had cured Tang Gwang-ryeol of his narrow thinking and gambling addiction; that made him a benefactor among benefactors.
Even so…! I still have to return those forehead flicks!
He knew it was no way to treat a benefactor, yet he could not ignore the impulse rising from the deepest part of his heart—the urge to deliver just one flick of his own.
Even if he received dozens more in return, it did not matter. Just one! He would return just one!
With that resolve he was about to open his mouth when—
Ho Cheon-an’s mouth opened first.