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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 5
Chapter Title: Eighth Elder's Lifeline
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I doubted my ears.
Disciple.
Moyong Taese continued.
"Do you understand your current situation? How far have you pieced it together?"
"Not for certain, but."
At this juncture, what was there to hesitate over?
I gritted my teeth.
"Having reached this point, I at least realized the Moyong Family main branch finds my very existence distasteful."
"Arrogant words. Do you truly believe yourself to be such a presence that the Moyong Family would feel uneasy and uncomfortable about you?"
"Yes. And there are two reasons for it."
"Two reasons?"
Once the words started flowing, they came without restraint.
"First, making my existence public could stain the family's honor. Second, with the patriarch's seat vacant for a decade and a new selection looming amid this turbulent political climate, I represent an unwelcome variable they can't openly ignore."
I caught my breath.
"So the moment someone pinpointed my location, even after over a decade, they sent assassins in a frenzy. And not to be outdone, you, Eighth Elder, sent your own people as well."
With a soft flutter, the candle flame between them wavered.
It was only after a long silence that Moyong Taese spoke.
"Quite perceptive."
A chill autumn breeze slipped in through the open window.
"Listen carefully. I'll say this only once. Moyong Bi."
Moyong Bi.
Since fleeing to the countryside with Mother, no one had ever called me by my full name. To conceal my identity, I had always gone by Bi alone, dropping the Moyong.
It wasn't a pet name—it was my true given name.
Now, hearing my complete name once more, my shredded heart felt faintly soothed.
"To the Moyong Family, you are no more than a stone that rolled in, tainted with lowly blood. Nothing more, nothing less. Rage all you want; there's no changing it. The foolish shout in fury at harsh reality and demand it be revoked, but the wise accept the unreasonable truth, analyze it, and strive to overcome it."
"I understand."
"Not something to boast of—a flaw left by the previous patriarch that the family wishes to bury. That is your position right now."
I listened without betraying a hint of emotion.
Moyong Taese's face broke into a faint smile as he regarded my demeanor.
"Impressive restraint. Even with those rather insulting words, your expression doesn't flicker. If I've wounded you, I apologize."
Moyong Taese went on.
"The Moyong Family will soon name its successor. Three sons of the current patriarch vie for the seat. With you added, that makes four. The other three will see you as a thorn in their eyes. I imagine you've felt it more than enough already."
Moyong Family patriarch candidates: three.
Add me—utterly lowly, less than the dirt under their toenails—but on the surface, four legitimate heirs now.
"I pity the sacrifices you've endured in the family's power struggles thus far. I won't kill you here. That said, I have no desire to forcibly take anyone's side."
A weariness toward the situation colored Eighth Elder Moyong Taese's tone.
"I'll send you to Cheonsubakryeonsa, the training academy overseen by the Nine Great Sects and One Gang. Even that place has gone rotten of late."
Moyong Taese let the words trail off with a bitter grimace.
"It's not perfectly safe, but for someone unaffiliated like you—completely exposed as you are now—it's the best option available. Beyond factions, it's an official institution recognized by righteous, demonic, and blood sects alike: a hub for young martial talents where no family's influence reaches, a place to exchange and cultivate experts."
"…Cheonsubakryeonsa?"
Moyong Taese nodded.
"Even as a trainee there, the other young masters won't be able to come at you openly like this—mobilizing a massive assassin squad as if herding a stray dog for a hunt."
I recalled the swarm of red-clad assassins who had charged like bees to kill just me.
My entire body shuddered.
They hadn't cared a whit for prying eyes.
To them, slaying a rootless wanderer like me posed no more risk than chopping a peasant's head.
Moyong Taese continued.
"For now, secure your safety there and hone your skills. I've already sent a letter bearing my name, so entry will be no issue."
Even a fool like me could see it.
His words sounded like cold abandonment, but in truth, Eighth Elder Moyong Taese was declaring official backing for me.
"I have a question."
"Speak."
Truth be told, I'd hesitated right up to the end about asking.
But without this, I couldn't bring myself to trust him.
"As you said, I'm merely a bastard stained with lowly blood."
"And?"
"Why stake your life for a bastard like me, someone you've only just met?"
Saving me now amounted to open defiance in the eyes of the family's power brokers.
It was a blatant mark that could invite retaliation at any time.
"Hah, your own life teeters on the brink, yet you worry for me?"
"Elder."
"That's my affair; it's none of your concern. I take neither your side nor the other young masters'. Merely—if even half Moyong blood flows in your veins."
After a brief silence, Moyong Taese continued.
"I act in the belief that my choice today will one day surge back as a mighty current to revive our crumbling Moyong Family."
I rose slowly.
Then slammed my forehead against the floor, again and again.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Hard enough to draw blood from my brow.
The Nine Kowtows of Gratitude.
There was no longer any cause to doubt him.
I'd had no choice from the start anyway.
"Enough."
Moyong Taese abruptly raised a hand, halting my kowtows midway.
"The Nine Kowtows can wait. Not yet."
"Yes?"
Had he reconsidered after all?
He smiled faintly at my stunned, frozen form.
"You bear Moyong blood, but as a bastard, many in the main family don't even know you exist. Taking you as my formal disciple now would thrust you politically to the forefront, beyond merely teaching you martial arts. The fallout would exceed imagination. It's too soon."
I hadn't considered that.
"Formal discipleship comes after you complete your training at Cheonsubakryeonsa and return."
"Understood, Elder."
"Then, until then."
Moyong Taese smiled and rose, opening the door.
"Shall we test our young master's skills?"
"…Pardon?"
When I came to my senses, I stood in an empty courtyard, wooden sword in hand, facing Moyong Taese.
"What… what is this?"
"Haha, no need to worry, Moyong Bi."
The elder strode toward me steadily.
In his grip was a wooden sword radiating a menacing aura.
"I know you possess scarcely a wisp of internal energy. Yet your body bears clear traces of martial training. Perhaps the patriarch, learning of his bloodline in you, secretly passed on his arts in your youth."
"Ah, well."
Cold sweat beaded.
That was a gaze brimming with expectation.
"Let's see if your prowess matches that immense potential."
"I—I haven't learned any proper martial arts yet."
"No matter. That refined physique of yours must stem from the patriarch's deliberate grooming. My own strength may intimidate, but fret not. Though an elder of one of the Five Great Families, I'm more scholar than warrior, strictly speaking. Add my age, and I'm frail and enfeebled. Come at me without restraint."
It felt like reassurance meant to ease me.
My mind spun dizzily.
The elder was laboring under a grave delusion.
So that's why he'd accepted me as disciple so readily.
He viewed me as a secretly cultivated prodigy, nurtured by the patriarch out of blood ties.
"What's the holdup? Show me already."
His white eyebrows twitched.
I felt like I'd lose my mind.
I absolutely couldn't reveal the copied Huashan Sect art, Plum Blossom Spinning Dagger.
It was another sect's technique, pilfered by a bastard like me.
Explaining the how would force me to reveal the Cheonma's treasure.
Fabricating more lies risked inconsistencies catching up later.
I'd shatter this fragile trust from Moyong Taese entirely.
I'd be finished.
'Damn it. Only one path left.'
In the end, I had to demonstrate what I'd already learned.
And it was mortifying beyond death.
All I knew was crude street thug swordplay picked up in the markets.
I'd scraped by with it, but displaying it before a Great Family elder steeped in martial lore felt like parading naked through the village.
"Hmm, excessive modesty turns toxic. Very well. I'll strike first—defend yourself."
"No, please. I'll demonstrate now."
No other choice.
With bitter resolve, I assumed the starting stance of Yukhap Swordsmanship—the most decent sword art I'd ever learned in my life, one I'd raised to five-star proficiency.
"…Hm?"
…I wanted to die of shame.
I'd expected that reaction.
Moyong Taese's eyebrows twitched.
"What are you doing? No—perhaps it's something this old man doesn't recognize. Ho. A natural genius, as expected."
I wanted to scream if he meant to toy me to death.
Cold sweat cascaded like a waterfall.
I longed to crawl into a rat hole.
Moyong Taese's gaze remained utterly grave.
He seemed convinced a heaven-blessed talent like me infused this stance with some profound, innovative intent beyond ordinary ken.
His earnest, scrutinizing eyes traced my feet, hands, and sword grip.
"I can't fathom it. Fine. A clash will reveal all."
"E-Elder, the truth is—!"
"Then I'll discern if you're mocking this old man with an improper stance—or the deeper purpose. Haha, most intriguing."
I'd become the world's most insolent brat, insulting an elder to his face, in a heartbeat.
'It's over.'
The sweat soaking my upper garments stemmed from no pre-spar nerves.
Somehow, admitting "I know jack shit. This is all I've got" felt impossibly hard.
Yet seeing Moyong Taese poised to charge any second, I realized further delay spelled disaster.
I could claim weak skills; there was justification enough as a bastard.
'Damn it all. Who'd have thought I'd one day be grateful for my illegitimate birth?'
Just as I squeezed my eyes shut to confess my mediocrity outright—
[Host.]
I nearly fainted in shock.
The calm, toneless, utterly inhuman voice that pierced my mind like a blade was Moomyeong.
[Stop. This is no time for that.]
"This aura…"
At the same instant, Moyong Taese's face stiffened.
Moomyeong's cry thundered through my head.
[Flee. Right now.]
It was the first time I'd heard such urgency from it.
[They're coming.]
"What? Who's coming?"
Moyong Taese stared at me in alarm.
But Moomyeong's voice hammered my mind with desperate intensity.
[Twenty jang out. Multiple bearing killing intent, closing in.]
The words flooded my thoughts.
[Ten jang. Assassins. Fast. I've felt this before. Nine jang. Eight jang. Ah, this sensation…]
"What?"
[The ones who killed the host…]
Moomyeong cut off sharply, like a period slammed down.
[They've arrived. No escaping now.]