Chapter 112: The Clash in the Hall
Moon was watching the heated moment unfold between Kai and Sam. The tension between them was sharp, but now, standing this close, Sam's presence felt heavier, darker, far more dangerous than before. Instinctively, Moon reached out and grabbed Sam's hand. The sudden contact drew Sam's sharp gaze straight toward him, those eyes steady and cold.
Sam's lips parted, his voice beginning to form words.
"So, you're the bro—"
But before he could finish the sentence, Moon pulled Sam's hand away from Kai with a swift tug, dragging it toward himself. The sudden force brought them close—so close that their faces were only inches apart. The heat of their breath mingled in the charged silence, and for a moment, the air between them felt like it might ignite.
And then—
PPRRRRRTTTTTTTT!
A violent fart shattered the silence like a thunderclap.
The entire hall froze. The suffocating tension dissolved instantly into wide-eyed disbelief. Then came the smell—sharp, aggressive, unavoidable.
Sam's nostrils twitched. His voice dripped venom.
"…Who the hell did that?"
Moon's expression didn't change. His voice was flat, serious.
"It was me."
James nearly choked trying to hold back laughter. Kai pressed a hand to his face, muttering something under his breath.
Sam shook his head.
"You know, Moon, people usually fight with fists. Not… whatever nuclear bomb your stomach just dropped."
Moon replied evenly, "Why use fists when my body already has deadlier weapons?"
Sam's lip curled. "Weapons? Bro, you just turned half this hall into victims. I think someone actually passed out."
Moon shrugged, arms crossed.
"If you can't handle a fart, you'll never handle a real fight."
Sam chuckled darkly. "A real fight, huh? If that was your opening move, then your finisher must be explosive diarrhea."
The crowd erupted into laughter. Kai shook his head.
"Honestly, I don't know what's worse—the smell, or the fact Moon looks proud of it."
Moon deadpanned, "Survival means adaptation. Today it's the smell. Tomorrow… who knows?"
The roasting continued, each line bouncing back and forth, until finally Sam's laughter died down. His expression shifted, the humor fading, replaced by something colder.
He stepped closer, voice low.
"You're funny, Moon. I'll give you that. But don't think for a second that a fart saves you from me."
The hall quieted again.
Sam straightened, his tone firm.
"If you really think you've got something—then prove it. Training hall. A spar. No excuses."
The crowd murmured, excitement crackling in the air.
Moon's jaw tightened, but his eyes never left Sam's. His voice was calm, steady.
"Fine. I accept."
James looked between them, worried, but the challenge had already been made. The laughter from earlier still lingered in the air, but now it blended with anticipation.
The fart had broken the tension. The fight would bring it back.
James, who had been standing just behind, sensed the hostility suddenly rising to again at dangerous peak. Panic rushed over him, and he hurried forward, squeezing himself between the three of them as though his presence alone might calm the storm.
"Why are the three of you fighting over this?" he asked quickly, his voice nervous, almost childlike, like someone trying to keep his family from breaking apart.
But no one paid him any attention. The weight of Sam's anger was not so easily dismissed.
And in truth, Sam's fury toward Moon and Kai was not without reason. From his point of view, they were nothing more than opportunists, taking advantage of James's good nature and naivety. He had not seen any real signs of improvement in his younger brother, not yet. So naturally, he assumed Moon and Kai were filling his head with empty lessons and false confidence. What Sam did not realize was that James had indeed been taught valuable skills—but he had never been given the time to truly master them.
Sam's cold, cutting voice broke the silence.
"If you really think you're so skilled, then let's settle this with a match."
Moon's jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed, and rage flickered across his face like sparks catching fire. He did not hesitate, not for a moment. He accepted the challenge instantly, his silence more threatening than words.
The two of them turned almost in unison, heading straight toward the training hall located deep inside the Lee family's great vessel. Their footsteps were heavy, echoing with intent.
Kai reached out quickly, his hand catching Moon's arm. His voice was low, urgent. He tried to stop his brother, to keep him from stepping into an unnecessary fight. But Moon's mind was already set, and he brushed off Kai's attempts without a second thought.
On the other side, Thomas too leaned toward Sam, speaking with a calmness that carried reason. He tried to ease his old friend, urging him not to let his temper lead to chaos. But Sam, like Moon, would not be swayed. The tension had grown too thick; the fight was already inevitable.
And so, one by one, the crowd of hunters began to drift after them, curiosity burning in their eyes. Whispers ran like wildfire through the hall, spreading from one corner to the next until almost everyone had heard.
James followed last, his shoulders heavy, his expression filled with sadness. Of all people, he seemed the most troubled, his steps dragging as though the weight of the moment pressed down only on him.
The whispers grew louder, sharper, mocking.
"Who even is this Moon guy? Is he insane? Doesn't he know who Sam is?"
"I don't care who he is, I just want to see him get beaten into the floor."
Laughter rippled through the crowd, the sound bitter and unkind. Moon had not even thrown a punch, but already they treated him as if he were a fool marching to his own downfall.
At the far side of the hall, Ruby and Minji stood together, their conversation interrupted by the growing noise. They glanced toward a nearby group of men, catching pieces of the excitement in their words.
"Bro, are you going to watch Sam vs. Moon?" one voice asked eagerly.
"Hell yeah, wouldn't miss it," came the reply, full of anticipation.
Ruby's brow furrowed. Her voice dropped, puzzled. "Did they just say… Sam versus Moon?"
Minji's eyes sharpened instantly, her expression turning serious. "Yes."
Without wasting a second, the two of them moved. They approached the men quickly, demanding to know where the sparring would take place. The answer was given without hesitation, and in that very moment, Ruby and Minji set off in the same direction as the others, their pace brisk, their focus sharp.
The atmosphere of the hall shifted entirely. What had begun as quiet whispers was now an uproar of movement, dozens upon dozens of hunters heading the same way, drawn by the promise of blood, rivalry, and pride. And at the center of it all were Moon and Sam, two fighters already bound by the tension of their first clash, moving toward a battle that no one wanted to miss.
When Minji entered, she saw the room already packed—hunters crowding shoulder to shoulder, eager for blood. She and Ruby weaved their way through until they found a spot with a clear view.
The sight froze her in place.
Moon and Sam were already trading savage blows, fists smashing directly into each other's faces. Their shirts were torn, bloodied skin exposed, and yet—both of them were smiling. Smiles that weren't of joy but of raw, unhinged pleasure.
A strike sent them both crashing backward, but with unnatural speed they surged forward again. Moon slipped under Sam's punch and drove his knee into Sam's face. Sam retaliated instantly, seizing Moon by his family jewels and slamming him viciously to the ground.
Every man watching winced, faces twisting in sympathetic pain. Yet Moon only laughed, wild and manic, even as he grabbed hold of Sam's ribcage.
Sam recognized the move. He remembered James once trying to pull it off against daren—failing miserably. But Moon executed it flawlessly, his grip like iron.
With a feral roar, Moon spun in a 360-degree arc, wrenching Sam beneath him. The sickening crack of ribs breaking echoed across the hall—three at once. Still, Sam laughed, refusing to yield.
Blow after blow rained down. Moon fought with brutal technique, each strike deliberate. Sam, on the other hand, fought with nothing but raw ferocity—no skill, no form, just brutal instinct.
Both fighters were drenched in blood now, their smiles sharper than ever. Then, with everything they had left, they charged—fists cocked for the final strike.
But before they could connect, a figure appeared between them, deflecting both punches with effortless precision.
The moment Sam felt his attack deflected, his body stiffened. His breath caught as he turned his head, and when his eyes fell upon the figure standing before him, his rage dissolved almost instantly. Recognition struck like a cold wave.
Tom.
The fury in Sam's expression vanished, replaced by something harder to name—respect, hesitation, and the quiet restraint of someone who had just been reminded of his place. He said nothing, but the fight drained out of him in an instant.
Moon, too, froze the moment his gaze landed on Tom. For a heartbeat, his body locked, and his hand moved almost on its own—fingers rising to his cheek. The memory was still there, carved deep into him: the sharp sting of Tom's slap, the humiliation that came with it. Even now, that single strike lingered like a scar no healing could erase.
Tom did not bother with words. His silence carried more weight than any lecture. He stepped forward calmly, his movements steady, controlled, unshaken by the tension that still lingered between Moon and Sam. Without raising his voice or changing his expression, he reached out, his hands closing firmly around both of their arms.
A quiet surge of energy followed. It pulsed through their veins, warm yet commanding, washing over wounds both seen and unseen. Cuts sealed, bruises faded, torn skin knitted back together. In the space of a few breaths, their injuries were gone, but the effort was not light. The healing itself came with a weight that pressed heavily on Tom, as though every drop of energy had been carefully measured and given at a cost.
Moments later, Luiz arrived, his sharp steps breaking the silence. His eyes swept across the scene, reading more than anyone else spoke aloud. Without a word, he moved to Sam's side, laying a steadying hand on his shoulder before guiding him away.
At the same time, Kai hurried to Moon, his movements almost frantic. He splashed cool water across his brother's face, the droplets sliding down like fragile threads of glass. Moon's chest still rose and fell unevenly, his expression tight with exhaustion. The fight had not been to the death, yet it had carried enough brutality that even the healing left behind a heavy toll.
Sam, too, leaned on Luiz as he was escorted away. His face was calm, but his steps betrayed the strain hidden beneath the surface.
When the dust settled, only Tom and Kai remained.
Tom's gaze softened slightly, and for the first time that night, his lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile.
"You've grown much stronger," he said quietly, his tone steady, his words deliberate. "Stronger than I expected."
Kai hesitated. For a moment, no words came. His throat felt dry, his mind searching for the right response but finding nothing. At last, after what felt like too long, he managed to speak.
"So… you really are James's brother."
Tom chuckled, a low sound that carried no malice.
"Even I didn't know that James was learning handwork and weapon drills from you."
His head tilted slightly, as though considering Kai from a new angle. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully, measuring. Then his voice came again, soft but sharp with meaning.
"Good thing, though. That day, someone called me—told me to head toward Ruok. Said I'd find some very fine… unripe mangoes there."
The words hit Kai like a blow. His stomach sank, heavy and cold, his heart stumbling in its rhythm. His lips parted, the question spilling out before he could stop it.
"Who told you that?"
The question left his voice unsteady. His mind spun, rattled by the weight of what Tom had just revealed.
No one was supposed to know. No one except Moon and himself had been aware of the attack on Ruok. Yes, Ruok had suspected something, but suspicion was different from knowledge. And Ruok, arrogant as he was, would never spread the news of his own crime . That was not his style.
Then how? How could someone else have known?
The thought was chilling, cutting deep into his chest. Someone had been watching them. Someone had seen. And worse, whoever it was already knew the one truth Moon and Kai had buried above all others—their secret. The power that allowed them to return after death.
A shiver ran down Kai's spine, sharp and unwelcome. It crawled through him, leaving behind a cold sweat.
Tom's voice broke through the storm of his thoughts, steady and grounding.
"What are you so lost in?"
Kai blinked, pulled abruptly back to the present. He shook his head quickly, almost too quickly, forcing his voice steady though the unease still lingered in his eyes.
"No… nothing."
But inside, his thoughts refused to quiet.
To be continued…