Just Out of Reach

Dancheon Myeong ran with the lead group for some five li. He was a newcomer to their number, and most of the Dragons and Phoenixes could not have ignored him had they tried; even with their lightness arts in full flight, their eyes kept flicking toward him.

Dancheon Myeong, for his part, let his gaze wander from one Dragon and Phoenix to the next, as though he were the one taking their measure. Before long, he gave a faint smirk, as if he had settled on some conclusion.

"I'll be going on ahead. Do keep up the good work."

The words had barely left him before his figure vanished, his supreme lightness art devouring the distance in a blink.

Shwip.

In an instant he had overtaken every runner at the front and was streaking into first place, the speed beyond all comparison with before, as if to prove he had been matching their pace deliberately all this while.

"...!"

The Dragons and Phoenixes of the lead group scrambled to raise their pace, but Dancheon Myeong's back only drew further away.

"Haah..."

"This can't be..."

For every one of them had long since run his strength dry.

"Tch!"

Only Dancheon Hak and Namgung Tan gave fierce chase at his back, yet Dancheon Myeong stayed forever within a grasp that never quite closed.

"Haah... haah..."

Driving himself past his limits on rage alone, Namgung Tan burned through his stamina in moments. He had failed to pace himself.

Even so, he would not give up. His lofty pride could never tolerate losing to that illegitimate bastard.

But there are things in this world that will alone cannot accomplish.

"Haah... haah..."

No matter how he ran, Dancheon Myeong would not be caught; the gap widened until the man slipped beyond the edge of his sight. It felt inexplicably galling, too, that Dancheon Hak had tailed him closely only to vanish along with him.

"Haah... haah..."

Only Namgung Tan's ragged breathing remained, rasping harshly through the empty air.

Thud-thud-thud-thud.

Before long, the rest of the lead group overtook him in quick succession, for his mismanaged stamina had slowed his lightness art to a caterpillar's crawl.

"Fuck... haah..."

Even so, Namgung Tan did not stop. The pride of the great Namgung Clan demanded it, as did his fury at Dancheon Myeong, who had left him eating dust, flung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mockery over his shoulder, and vanished.

Running on pride and fury both, he could keep his feet moving.

Rage pushed to its extreme, they say, breaks in one of two directions: some lose their reason and run wild, while others turn utterly, glacially calm. For the first time in his life, Namgung Tan discovered he belonged to the latter sort.

Unlike his ragged breath, his mind had cooled to ice and was turning fast. Soon enough, it arrived at a single conclusion: the chance was not yet lost.

Past the return point visible in the distance, the Dancheon Clan's bastard would have to come back.

"Hoo..."

Namgung Tan slowed his stride, and his breathing gradually steadied. This was no surrender; he was husbanding his strength for the moment that mattered most.

He had merely fallen behind the lead group; he was still well ahead of the field. Even with a good stretch of a meal's time still to spare, the return point was already in sight, which meant finishing the round trip within the hour was entirely possible.

Which meant the chance was real: a way to twist that detestable face out of shape. Reining in his chilled fury, Namgung Tan bided his time.

Before long, a figure came racing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back toward him: Dancheon Myeong, rounding the return point at full speed, and alone, having shaken off even Dancheon Hak.

All the better. What he intended to do was something no one should witness.

Running toward each other, the two closed the distance in moments, and in the instant they passed, Namgung Tan caught it: Dancheon Myeong's easy grin. That, unmistakably, was mockery.

The moment their paths crossed, Namgung Tan's eyes flashed cold, and his hand darted into his breast and out again.

In his hand was a hidden weapon, the sort of arm the fair and honorable Namgung Clan would never have condoned.

Fwip!

He had prepared for this in advance. Without a flicker of hesitation he loosed the hidden weapon, and it tore through the air at blistering speed, its target the calf of Dancheon Myeong's leg.

Namgung Tan knew perfectly well that even the slightest wound to the calf would make running impossible, let alone a lightness art. Such injuries from overextended lightness arts were common enough that, short of undeniable proof, no one could ever pin the thing on him.

And then.

Ting!

The hidden weapon struck Dancheon Myeong's calf and bounced away, helpless.

"Huh?"

Namgung Tan could make no sense of it. The unanswered question stopped his feet before he knew it, and he stood rooted there, blank as a man hollowed out by despair.

"..."

Dancheon Myeong was already far down the course, dwindling into the distance.

A short while later, Dancheon Hak went past him, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠casting a puzzled look at the man standing frozen in place. Trailing behind Dancheon Hak came a figure in the dusty garb of a vagabond.

Though he would never have said it aloud, Dancheon Hak could not make sense of recent events at all.

That man was unquestionably his younger brother, Dancheon Myeong. They had never been close, but he was hardly so dull as to fail to recognize a brother raised under the same roof since childhood. And yet the boy had changed. He could not have said what it was, but changed he most certainly had.

Yes. The first time he had noticed was back at the Dancheon Clan. Setting aside how the boy who always shrank into himself now met his eyes squarely, the wretch had dared to declare, to his very face, that there was a will above even the clan head's. How could he not have noticed that Dancheon Myeong had changed?

He had simply chalked it up to the swollen confidence of a man newly arrived at the Peak Realm. Late-stage talents fresh from their breakthrough believing themselves the finest thing in the world was a folly he himself had committed and lived past.

But here at the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly, the boy had changed again. This time, too, he could not name it, yet Myeong's appearance and the air about him had shifted in some uncanny way.

Dissect it however he liked, it was unquestionably the Dancheon Myeong he had always known, and yet, strangely, the man now looked downright handsome.

It was common enough for the young ladies of the murim to blush in Dancheon Hak's presence, but never for his brother. That much had always been certain. And now the sound of those same ladies chattering over which of the two brothers came out on top kept finding its way into his ears, and he liked it not at all.

Dancheon Hak had no idea how deep his brother's martial arts ran, or rather, to be precise, he had never cared. He had never overseen the boy's training nor practiced at his side, so it was only natural.

The elders had always dismissed Dancheon Myeong's talent while showering his own with praise, and so he had simply been certain he stood far above. Today, even that certainty was beginning to waver.

Had he not been utterly unable to catch Dancheon Myeong streaking along at the head of the pack? Turning the reason over in his mind, he arrived at a hypothesis.

The man most adept at the Cloud-Treading Steps in all the Dancheon Clan was his uncle Bang Yeo-baek, and no doubt the boy had received some extraordinary instruction from him. He found himself thinking that he should have persuaded his mother, if that was what it took, to bring Bang Yeo-baek over to his side.

Well, no matter. He understood Bang Yeo-baek's value now, so it was hardly too late. And it was not over yet.

He would grant that the wretch was unexpectedly fast, but swordplay and internal energy could never be made up for by a stroke of short-lived luck. Could a boy who had grown up scorned by his own clan ever measure against one raised as the family's treasured scion, swallowing rare elixirs like meals? He thought not.

He had lost the first trial, yes. But the second and third would be different. So he told himself, and smothered his anger.

At last, the pavilion they had departed from came into view, and there stood Dancheon Myeong, arrived long before him.

First place, Dancheon Myeong. Second place, me. It stings, but judged coldly, it is not a bad result.

He had left behind the late-stage talents of Kunlun and the Beggars' Gang, sects whose lightness arts were famed as the finest in the murim. By any measure, it was a result worthy of note.

Dancheon Hak was moments from the finish.

Shwip.

Something swift brushed past his side, and even at a glance it was familiar: the filthy hem of the vagabond he had looked down upon.

"You've arrived, Brother Chun-baek?" Dancheon Myeong greeted the newcomer.

"Myeong, you're fast."

"Haha. Headlong sprinting is one thing I've been confident of since I was a boy."

Two hundred li covered without a single pause, yet the two conversed with the calm of men returned from a stroll in the hills.

"Whew..."

Arriving at the destination, Dancheon Hak steadied his breathing. He wanted to feign composure, but the taste of blood in his throat and the breath wrung from his lungs scattered his expression.

Damn it all.

He could see an arhat monk recording the standings.

Dancheon Hak had placed third. Dancheon Myeong's gaze, fixed on him with strange intent, was uncomfortable to bear.

Yi Chun-baek had never intended to stand out. This was the first time in his life he had gone against his master's wishes to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠join the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly, and he had no wish to deepen his master's worries by flaunting his abilities here.

He had only wanted to see with his own eyes where he stood among the finest late-stage talents the murim had gathered in one place. He, too, was of an age when the blood runs hot.

But meeting Dancheon Myeong had changed his mind a little. Here was a companion who, like himself, had been born bearing the yoke of illegitimacy, and watching the man spread his lightness art so freely, Yi Chun-baek had simply found himself wanting to match his stride for a while.

But Myeong's lightness art proved superior to anything he had imagined, and in keeping pace with it, Yi Chun-baek had overtaken the lead group before he knew it.

This much should do. Third place, one might say, was conspicuous enough.

Ahead of him ran the second-place man, and in that figure, for a moment, he glimpsed all those who had once looked down on him.

Second place or third, what did it matter.

Only now, with the finish before his eyes, did Yi Chun-baek unfurl his lightness art at full speed for the first time.

Shwip.

In an instant, he was second.

Call it a gift for the younger brother whose heart he had at last found in tune with his own. Yi Chun-baek caught Dancheon Hak's crestfallen stare, and it satisfied him.

"Hoh hoh hoh. So this is the lot of them. More have made it than this old monk expected, and I am quite satisfied."

Once exactly an hour had passed, Abbot Beomgak spoke.

The pavilion was packed with late-stage talents sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath, roughly two-thirds of those who had set out. Namgung Tan was among them.

"Hmm. Shall we wait one more quarter hour?"

The talents were too busy reclaiming their breath to answer, and another quarter hour flowed by.

Not one talent had given up or fallen behind. As if to prove that each had reached the Peak Realm by his own strength alone, every last one of them rounded the return point and came home, and their ragged breathing filled the pavilion to its corners.

The talents who had taken the Assembly lightly, expecting no duels or contests of arms, were all revising their assumptions. The trials of the Dragon and Phoenix Assembly were not to be taken so easily.

"Not a single one gave up? Truly, the future of the orthodox murim is bright indeed. The zero-point ruling shall be struck from the record, as though it never was."

The abbot, in high good humor, raised his voice a notch.

"Now, we must announce first place, mustn't we?"

With that, Abbot Beomgak walked forward, step by unhurried step, and before him stood Dancheon Myeong, without a single drop of sweat upon him.

Taking Dancheon Myeong by the hand, the abbot leapt skyward, and in a blink the two of them stood atop the dais. It was a lightness art of such sublime height that comparing it to the talents' own was not even permitted.

"First place goes to the Dancheon Clan's second son, Myeong."

So saying, Abbot Beomgak seized Dancheon Myeong's hand and thrust it high overhead, and every gaze in the pavilion converged on him of its own accord.

"And his time comes to exactly one meal's span."

Awe and envy alike filled the eyes upon him.

Standing atop the dais, Dancheon Myeong found himself looking down on every Dragon and Phoenix he had once gazed up at with longing.

Dancheon Myeong's eyes met Dancheon Hak's.

For Dancheon Myeong, it felt rather good.