692 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

Title: The World's Greatest Fighter's Childhood Friend Chapter 692 - Northern Hare Half a shi chen had passed since parting ways with Wi Seol-Ah. I watched the situation unfold and couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret. 'That was a mistake.' The reason was simple. The line was far too long. What initially seemed like a short queue turned out to be otherwise because I arrived late. I had to stand for quite a while. I should have queued up much earlier. I ended up like this because I was too busy idly observing, caught off guard. When the line suddenly swelled, I should have anticipated it and arrived sooner. Thus, here I was, spending half a shi chen stuck in line. “Gu Family's Gu... Yangcheon. Verified.” The member of the League verifying my name hesitated. Why did everyone pause upon hearing my name? ‘This feels oddly unsettling.’ ‘I haven’t done anything bad… yet.’ So what’s causing the issue here? In any case. After standing in line for about half a shi chen, I received my identification verification and followed the signposts. Upon entering, I found a wide, artificially arranged field. By the time I entered, a sizable crowd had already gathered. Given how long I stood in line, it was understandable. Even with a casual glance, there were well over a hundred people. If they were divided over three days into colored groups and the count was still this high, just how many people were there altogether? Moreover. ‘What’s their plan here?’ Even if they split us up, could they really sift through this many people in a single day? Though I heard the preliminaries might go into the second or third rounds, curiosity piqued my interest. With an internal queue already established, I joined the line. After waiting a bit longer. “White Group. A total of 172 members. All present.” A voice from one of the swordsmen ahead could be heard. '...That's a lot.' Nearly two hundred martial artists gathered in just one group. It was laughable, almost ridiculous. What exactly was their plan? Were they perhaps planning a big brawl? ‘That would be the simplest way.’ It’s a method I’ve used frequently in both my past lives and the present. It's the easiest way to reduce numbers, but.... ‘These folks wouldn’t resort to something so obvious.’ Being an orthodox sect, they would likely avoid using 'violent' methods. And as expected. Creaking sounds emerged. “What’s that sound?” “Oh? Something’s coming?” As the martial artists looked toward the source of the sound, they squinted. Several swordsmen were bringing something large. Seeing this, even my eyes widened. “Why is that… suddenly here?” Many were clueless about what the item was, but I knew well. How could I not? ‘I’m the one who brought it. No wonder.’ It was an item I painstakingly found and sold down in the Guangdong region. Thanks to it, I had no lack of funds, no way I wouldn’t recognize it. The item's identity was none other than— ‘Eternal Cold Iron.’ It was reputed to be the hardest of all metals existing in the Central Plains. The Eternal Cold Iron, believed to have all but vanished in the past, stood before us. “Eternal Cold Iron, you say?” It seemed others recognized it too, judging by the surprised murmur. “That pillar's made of Eternal Cold Iron?” “Could it really be?” “Surely, it must be mixed with other metals.” The object appeared to be at least fifteen feet in size. Everyone largely thought that the whole thing couldn’t possibly be made of Eternal Cold Iron. Rightfully so. ‘If it all were Cold Iron, imagine the fortune it would be worth.’ In this era, Eternal Cold Iron was extraordinarily rare. Even the Tang clan, known as the Iron Clan, mixed small amounts of Cold Iron to create masterpieces, conserving it diligently. No way could the entire thing be pure Cold Iron. Then, right at that moment— “This is Eternal Cold Iron mixed with about half other metals.” With that explanation from the swordsman, gasps filled the air. So, as expected, it had been mixed with other metals. However— “Half of it? All of that…? That’s just ridiculous…!” Even with half, the amount was immense. “From where did they procure such a massive quantity…?” “Is it discovered from some uncovered mine?” “…Ahem.” I cleared my throat at such comments. ‘I did receive word that someone had bought a large quantity. So, it was the Martial Alliance.’ I knew because the sellers passed on that information. That it was the Martial Alliance behind it wasn’t a surprise. ‘I did wonder why they purchased so much….’ The amount I entrusted for sale was a third of what I found. The rest was safely deposited elsewhere. Selling it all would line my pockets, leading to some comfort. ‘But there are uses for Cold Iron, so.’ With the utility Eternal Cold Iron possessed, I couldn't possibly sell it all. “The Martial Alliance has certainly prepared something tremendous.” “They must have high expectations for the martial tournament.” Just the revelation of Eternal Cold Iron had stirred excitement among the others. Could this have all been part of the Alliance’s plan? ‘That would make sense.’ To captivate the opponent and claim political advantage. That was something the Alliance excelled at. While everyone was entranced by the sight of Cold Iron— “Thank you all for gathering.” A voice suddenly emerged, drawing everyone's attention. “That person...!” “It’s the Chief...! The Chief of the League.” The man who appeared donned the telltale white robe of a chief. Even though his face was obscured by a mask, it was evident he wasn’t just any ordinary martial artist. His aura clearly surpassed the transcendence stage, a martial artist firmly seated in his realm. His unique weight and presence were unmistakable. “I am Song Yu, the Chief of the Red Dragon Division in the League.” ‘Ah.’ With the introduction, it clicked into place. ‘It’s the Dark Archer, isn’t it?’ The Red Dragon Division was one of eight total divisions within the League. It specialized in the use of special weaponry. The Chief, Song Yu, was an archer renowned for never missing his mark, even in complete darkness. He didn’t have a strong connection to me. ‘He probably died during the Heavenly Demon’s emergence.’ Four chiefs perished during the Heavenly Demon's descent upon the Martial Alliance, and the Dark Archer was among them. “The preliminaries for the White Group, which I will oversee, will begin shortly, so I ask for your understanding.” Following his announcement, murmurs filled the air once more. “A Chief appearing at the preliminaries?” “What a strategic move by the Alliance, alongside unveiling Eternal Cold Iron.” The eight Chiefs who support and uphold the League. Among the orthodox factions, this position is regarded as a tremendous honor. Not only must one be a master so skilled as to be among the greatest of the century, but they must also wield significant influence to earn such a title. A Chief managing the preliminaries—everyone was intrigued about what kind of test this would be, as they turned their attention to the Dark Archer. Finally, the Dark Archer spoke. "The first test, as it's only the preliminaries, is something simple." Tap, tap. The Dark Archer tapped the Cold Iron pillar planted in front of him with his hand. "Each of you will come forth and leave a mark on the Cold Iron." 'Hmm?' I furrowed my brow upon hearing this. I had heard of something like this before. "If the depth of the mark exceeds a certain standard, you will pass." ‘Ha.’ I scoffed inwardly at the Dark Archer's explanation. I wondered what the big deal would be around the Cold Iron, but it turned out to be a repeat. It was akin to the test held at Shinryong Pavilion in the past. The only difference was that back then, only a small amount of Eternal Cold Iron was mixed in, and there was enough to keep replacing the iron. ‘The fact they've prepared just this one pillar.’ They must be confident the Cold Iron won't break. ‘And with Eternal Cold Iron, that's likely.’ Even half-baked, it’s Eternal Cold Iron. It means that with any ordinary force, barely a scratch would be made. 'I thought they’d pit us against each other, but they're keeping it simple.' It was clear that they aimed to filter participants based on internal energy and mastery levels rather than sheer martial prowess. "Then." "Let's begin the preliminary round of the Shinryong Martial Arts Tournament. Step forward one at a time." And thus, the Cold Iron marking challenge commenced. ****************** BOOM! Crackle! Thud!! By what must have been noon, the resounding blast echoed through the wide plains. "Uwoahh!" A large man swung his fist with all his strength. Boom-!! An enormous sound burst forth with a shockwave. Judging by its force, it could have crushed a boulder effortlessly. "Failed. Next." But the evaluation was merciless. There wasn't even a minor mark on the section of Cold Iron where his punch landed. "This can't be...!" The man, not accepting this reality, looked astonished. "There has to be some mistake...! Please, just one more time…." Clinging to the thread of hope, the man pleaded to the Dark Archer, who was overseeing the test. "I made it clear." The Dark Archer's voice was icy. "There's only one chance, and once you touch the Cold Iron, a second attempt is not allowed." With the firm voice, the man's face turned beet red. "Where's the sense in this damn rule! I can't accept this. There's no way someone like me, Palgodon, can't pass the preliminaries—cuss!" The man yelled fiercely but suddenly collapsed, losing consciousness. Witnessing this, the crowd jolted in surprise. In that brief moment, the Dark Archer had struck the man's jaw, rendering him unconscious. Most others likely didn't register his move at all. The fallen man was swiftly carried off by members of the League. “Next. Participant number ninety-two.” The Dark Archer called out without so much as a glance at the fallen man. A martial artist in line stepped forward with a tense expression at those words. A similar tension started building on the faces of other participants. "Palgodon... isn't he the notorious leader of the Guangdong Martial Clan?" "Rumor had it he was nearing the Apex level... Yet he couldn't even leave a mark." "Over ninety people have gone by, and less than twenty have passed... Is this truly the caliber of Eternal Cold Iron?" Within one shi chen into the preliminaries, nearly a hundred participants had tested themselves, but only nineteen had passed. Not even half managed to clear this hurdle. 'Two near the transcendence stage, six fully at the peak level, eight at primary peak level, and three at the cusp of top-tier mastery.' Among them, the three top-tier martial artists had an explosive focus in their martial techniques. They barely passed because they utilized their martial arts to gather and unleash power in one focused point. From this observation, it was clear that— 'The standard is set at the peak level.' The test was structured to assess one's internal energy capacity and its practical application at the peak level. 'Well then, let's evaluate this.' I quickly surveyed the surroundings and calculated in my mind. ‘They said a total of 172 participants.’ When estimating purely based on skill levels— ‘Roughly fifty.’ That many seemed likely to pass. CLANG! Scrrraatch—!! A grating noise echoed, and I nodded, sensing energy emitted from afar. ‘They passed.’ I discerned from the sound, then observed the Cold Iron. A lean man was holding a sword in posture, with a vibrant sword aura enveloping it. Also noticeable was a thin, approximately five-inch sword mark on the Cold Iron's surface. The Dark Archer acknowledged it. “Participant ninety-six. Passed.” “Thank you.” The man gracefully bowed and proceeded to the group of successful individuals. He moved to join his fellow qualifiers. "As expected, it's the Sword of Preeminent Glory... I had a feeling he would pass." "Esteemed figures often have an air about them that's distinctly different. Such precision in a strike!" Hearing the nickname of the passing participant, I tilted my head in contemplation. ‘Where have I heard that title… Ah.’ It clicked. It was a moniker that had caught my attention while I was registering earlier. A reputed martial artist from Cheonghae, if I recalled correctly. The nickname was unusually lengthy, which made it stick in my memory, and it seemed he's in the same group as me. ‘He certainly appears to be at an advanced peak level.' His skill justified his reputation. His unwavering stance and solid training were evident at a glance. Not bad at all. Just as I was digesting the Sword of Preeminent Glory's level of skill— “Next, participant... one hundred and one.” The Dark Archer briefly paused while announcing the number. All others did the same. “…He's here.” “To be in the same group as him...” As one man stood before the Cold Iron, whispers seeped with a mixture of fear and awe. Dao King Peng Zhou. He was also in the same group as me. And his number was directly before mine. He was participant one hundred and one. I was participant one hundred and two. As I observed Dao King's broad back for a moment— “You've got some bad luck yourself.” My attention shifted at the words spoken from behind me. A man with a sly expression appeared, of average height—not tall nor short. He was the participant with the number following mine. “Of all things, right after the Dao King.” I gave a slight nod in response to his remark. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. The man seemed eager to elaborate, his words coming almost too quickly. "Ah, the Dao King. He's bound to shatter that Cold Iron effortlessly... Having to go right after such a performance means you'll be compared to him in every way." "Hmm." "You look young, so even if you fail this test, consider yourself lucky to witness such a show." He spoke with such certainty about my impending failure. "Compared to you, I'm fortunate. At least I won't face any shame," he added with a smirk. What’s this guy's deal? "Oh, so you think you're pretty good, huh?" "Hah. You don't know who I am, do you?" "Do you know who I am?" “…You?” The man’s face crumpled, displeased with my informal speech. "Your manner of speech is rather short." "So is yours." "Well, by appearance, I'm clearly your senior, so naturally..." "Does it matter? I asked if you know who I am." "...I don't know." "So why should I know who you are?" He frowned, realizing the flaw in his argument as he reluctantly introduced himself. "I am known as the Sword of Prolonged Justice from Xian." Ah, I see. But... "And?" "...Huh? Are you pretending not to know even after hearing my title?" Honestly, I had no idea. ‘The Sword of... Sword of what?’ Even after mulling it over, nothing came to mind. It was a title I'd never heard of before. Sensing my genuine confusion, the Sword of Prolonged Justice frowned deeper. "This young man surely lacks manners…” He was about to say something more in a frustrated tone when— Boom! Gasp! Suddenly, an overwhelming aura filled the air. The energy emanated unmistakably from Peng Zhou standing before the Cold Iron. "Hoo." Taking a deep breath, Peng Zhou gripped his broadsword and assumed a stance. And then— Roar!!! An immense wave of energy surged into his sword. The aura of the Dao King's Muktae Sword was palpable. "What tremendous pressure." "This... This is the Dao King's power." Everyone was reacting to the Dao King's imposing aura. The vibrations, the flickering air—this was the overwhelming presence of a martial artist at the transcendence stage. Then. "Hup!" Peng Zhou infused his strength and swung his sword at the Cold Iron. Boom! Crack-crack-crack---!!! As the immense energy touched the Cold Iron, it exploded outward at a single point. Thud!! Whoosh!!! Wind whipped through the gathered martial artists, causing them to stagger. The shockwave was incomparable to anything before. Those with lower skill levels were even knocked off their feet. And when the dust settled, what was left— "Huh! The Cold Iron..." "How can this be…?" "The Cold Iron is dented?" Was the largest mark left on the metal so far. An elongated and deep sword mark marred the pillar. The Dark Archer gazed at it in silence for a moment before speaking. "...Pass." His response, albeit a bit surprised, confirmed the result. With a nod, the Dao King acknowledged it and walked away, as if it were only natural. Even as he disappeared from view, the spectators' excitement remained high. "The clarity of that blade aura... As expected, the head of a noble clan is different." "With that, it seems the winner is already determined. The Dao King says it all." "I'm satisfied just to have seen that sword strike. Truly, the world is vast." Was what they witnessed really that remarkable? The martial artists were buzzing with awe and admiration. ‘Seems like it’s my turn.’ The situation was primed just right. "Indeed, the Dao King... If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have had the courage to stand. I must thank him..." I ignored the buffoon yapping behind me. Ignoring him, I simply stepped forward. "Next, participant one hundred and two." By the time the Dark Archer called my number, I was already standing before the Cold Iron. Despite my presence, the commotion behind was unabating. “The Peng Clan is indeed—” “If the Dao King wins, the Shinryong Division will then…” “These preliminaries…” Chatter filled the air, incessant and noisy. Unconcerned, I slowly extended my hand. Tap. My fingertip touched the Cold Iron. A chill seeped in. "Hmm?" The Dark Archer reacted. "Participant one hundred and two. You've touched the Cold Iron." At his words, the noisy surroundings fell silent momentarily. "You were told before, weren't you? Once touched, it’s over." Touch it, and it's done. There are no second chances. The rule as set by the Dark Archer, yet here I was, touching the Cold Iron. "What is he doing? Did the nerves get to him?" "To make a mistake like that… Tsk tsk. This isn’t a chance that comes often, and he wasted it." "Well, after seeing that display, how could he be calm?" "Young warrior, it's alright—! Everyone understands!" "Hahaha!" Sympathy and mockery echoed around me. I felt nothing. These reactions were ones I'd faced tirelessly in a past life. If I were to be rattled by such trivialities, I’d already have been dead countless times over. "Regrettably, rules are rules. Participant one hundred and two—" As the Dark Archer began to confirm my failure, a hum resonated. Wong. I imbued my hand with energy and exerted force. In that moment. Crack. "Fail…?" My fingertip pierced the Cold Iron. Crackkk---!!! The power tunneled through, all the way to my palm, permeating with a solid, icy feeling. Firmly. Rumble---!!! I gripped a chunk and wrenched it out. Thud. Chunks of iron clattered to the ground as my hand retracted. "Hmm." In my grasp was a handful of iron. A fist-sized hollow was gouged in the Eternal Cold Iron. No sound reached my ears anymore. No one spoke. The silence was so profound even breathing seemed cautious. Feeling the weight of the hush, I inquired of the Dark Archer. "Does this qualify me?" "..." While the Dark Archer gave no reply, the answer was already clear to me.