701 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

Title: The Best Under Heaven's Childhood Friend, Chapter 701: Northern Rabbit Crowds gathered in droves. Despite the appearance of being tightly packed, space undeniably existed within the throng. “Did you hear? Apparently, Daewang participated in the preliminaries yesterday.” “Of course, I’ve heard it many times already. How lucky for me not to be in the same group...” “One can only wonder what happened.” The head of the Peng family, having attained enlightenment in the martial arts realm. Peng Zhou, the King of Swords, entered the martial arts tournament. Just the knowledge of that fact alone was enough to set the atmosphere ablaze. Many were eager to find out what transpired on the first day of Daewang's participation. However, “We couldn't know even if we wanted to.” “That is indeed true.” There was no way to find out. Before entering the preliminaries, the martial artists received a mandate from the sect: A command not to reveal what they experienced during the preliminaries. As a result, the other martial artists couldn’t learn what had happened the day before. “What difference would it make even if we knew?” “It would at least allow us to mentally prepare.” “Given that Daewang is competing, it’s obvious he’ll win. What’s there to prepare?” From a prestigious family, one of the pillars formerly known as the Four Great Families, their leader had entered the competition. This naturally led to a lot of skepticism. “Is it really fitting for the head of a family to run something like the Shinryongdae?” “Frankly, it’s odd for someone of such a rank to even participate.” In a contest where unafilliated martial artists or newly emerging talents usually shine, what significance was there for a renowned leader to compete? There were indeed those who held such views. However, “There’s no rule saying a leader cannot compete. It's merely a prejudice.” “Indeed. They are martial artists, too, regardless of their position.” Some argued that, as martial artists, it was perfectly valid for them to participate, regardless of their status. Such opposing views often sparked debates. “So, you’re saying the Three Supremes should also participate?” “Why bring up those distinguished figures here!” The Three Supremes, known as the absolute masters of the martial world, Would they even concern themselves with such a trivial festival? “For those exalted beings, this would be nothing more than a children's playground. Would they mingle with commoners?” “Exactly. Why would such high and mighty figures ever take part? The suggestion is utterly ridiculous.” “What!?” As the light-hearted talk began to escalate emotionally, For martial artists, it was easy for heated discussions to lead to conflict, but fights were prohibited before the competition, so the situation rarely escalated further. And then. A young man, standing at a distance, suppressed a cough. “…Hmm.” A young man with black hair listening to their conversation wiped his face in exasperation with an unreadable emotion. His name was Bi Yejin, known as the Rising Dragon among the Bi family, More notably, the man often referred to as the Fallen Sovereign. “A child’s playground.” The stinging remark made the Fallen Sovereign stifle a laugh. It was true. A dirt ground where those who haven’t yet shed their youthful inexperience roamed. That was how the Fallen Sovereign perceived the value of the martial arts tournament. ‘Hmm.’ No matter how he thought about it, he was not pleased. The mere fact of being present in such a place was enough for the Fallen Sovereign to feel it was beneath him. A martial arts tournament... he never thought he’d take part in such a thing in his life. ‘It’s because of taking on a troublesome disciple that things turned out this way.’ During his time as an up-and-coming master, unlike now, martial art tournaments were occasionally held, but he had never participated in them. Fighting in front of an audience. He couldn’t understand how that differed from a jester’s act. He lived only focusing on perfecting his martial arts. The battles he engaged in were those which resembled life itself. Win and you live. Lose and you die. That was the life he led. Such was the heart of the Fallen Sovereign. There was always sincerity at the end of a punch. This act held no such sincerity. That was how the Fallen Sovereign viewed it, yet... “Tch.” Despite such thoughts, he found himself here. What choice did he have? ‘It’s the consequence of taking a peculiar disciple.’ The only one he managed to take in was far from ordinary, making it inevitable for the master to step forward himself. Moreover, ‘It’s surprisingly not all bad.’ Separately from his reluctance, he found himself intrigued. The numerous martial artists, the heat they amassed. Feeling the air mingled with long-forgotten desires, the Fallen Sovereign was enjoying himself in his own way. ‘There are some decent ones too.’ The Fallen Sovereign nodded while observing the surrounding martial artists. “Decent” didn’t refer to their proficiency. It referred to their potential. He meant those who showed the promise one hears about frequently. Being a place filled with talents gathered from all over the central plains, many seemed decent, even from the Fallen Sovereign’s perspective. However, as he observed such individuals, one thought consistently arose. ‘None of them compare to that disciple.’ There was still none like his own disciple. In terms of physical completion and the gaze they held. ‘Tch.’ While it was pleasing to have such a remarkable student, The fact that he had only an unpolished pupil reinstated a dip in his mood. Of all possibilities, how did such a disciple appear? Though intended as a means for his own longings, it was mystifying nonetheless. ‘A boy with far too many secrets.’ Given that he possessed so much, he naturally had many secrets. His disciple was such a person. Despite that, his face clearly betrayed him as he was terrible at lying. What on earth did he try to hide to always look so weary? Curious as he was at times, the Fallen Sovereign chose not to concern himself. ‘What matters is whether the boy can fulfill my longings or not.’ The ultimate culmination of his martial art, Tua Chaos Martial Art. Could he breach the limits and break through? What intrigued the Fallen Sovereign was solely that; his disciple’s secrets were of no concern. So, even if his disciple used him secretly for his goals, it didn’t bother him. Let him use him however much he wanted. After all, discarding the useless reputation was of no consequence, he figured. Even if he wasn’t happy about it, having taught him many things, getting a new disciple now would be unrealistic. He needed a body capable of receiving the heart technique of Tua Chaos Martial Art and the mental strength to endure its pain. The disciple also needed to be physically young for the development of his martial heart. To find someone who is both physically outstanding at a young age and possesses strong mental fortitude—where could such a person be found? The Fallen Sovereign believed it was almost a miracle to have found his disciple at all. Of course, “There are similar ones, to be sure.” While perhaps lacking in mental strength, there were those who met the physical criteria. Though hard to find, they could be found if one searched. There was one even here, at this moment. The Fallen Sovereign looked in a certain direction. “They call him the Divine Dragon.” A youth, surrounded by a sea of eyes, stood at a distance. Revered as the hope and miracle of Shaolin—a man named Shinryong. Upon seeing him, the corners of the Fallen Sovereign's mouth curled upwards. “You’ve trained well, haven’t you?” Unwittingly, a hint of admiration seeped through. Although not as shocking as the impression his own disciple once made on him, this was remarkable in its own right. “It reminds me of myself in my younger days.” The days of his youth. A time when he was called a mad dog and accused of being obsessed with martial arts. Back then, he was called a monster, and this young man's demeanor mirrored his own from those days. The disciplined body of Shinryong was akin to finely tempered steel. His aura was imbued with the luminescence unique to Shaolin. Yet, “His eyes are lifeless.” Despite his achievements, there was an emptiness in his gaze. How did such a young martial artist come to possess eyes like those? Does he have some emotional trouble? While feeling a bit of pity for the junior, the Fallen Sovereign concluded: “He's useless.” He judged that he would not be suitable as a disciple. Deeming so, the Fallen Sovereign immediately averted his gaze. Even though he was a raw gem, such eyes meant no future. Despite being worn and weary, passion should burn within, but since it didn’t, Shinryong’s potential was only worth so much to the Fallen Sovereign. No interest. Determining thus, his gaze lost any shred of intrigue when focused on Shinryong. “Rather, the one in front of him might be more useful.” The Fallen Sovereign’s attention shifted to another youth standing before Shinryong. While his physique and rank seemed less impressive than Shinryong's, the light in his eyes was alive. His white gi embroidered with plum blossom caught the eye. He was among the Noble Guardians of Shaanxi, where a close friend of the master was the head. “Mount Hua.” The Plum Blossom Sword Dragon, Yeongpung. He was now facing Shinryong Yoo Yeon. ****************** The weight of countless eyes could be felt. Even amidst this tension, Shinryong Yoo Yeon, the miracle of Shaolin, steadied his breathing as he looked at the person before him. A fragrant floral scent brushed past his nose. Sensing the mysterious aroma, Shinryong looked ahead to find someone standing there. “It’s been a while.” A cheerful and handsome man greeted Shinryong. “Do you remember me?” With a bright smile and a friendly query, Shinryong nodded in acknowledgment. “Of course, I remember. The Sword Dragon Dojang…” The Sword Dragon of Mount Hua. Declared as one of the top prodigies of the Mount Hua sect and predicted to become one of the Sword Kings in the future. He was among the six prominent figures representing the current wave of prodigies, known as the Six Dragons Three Peaks. Upon hearing Shinryong's words, the Sword Dragon laughed pleasantly. “I never thought you’d remember... I’m at a loss for words.” As if embarrassed by his own statement, Yeongpung smiled awkwardly, preparing a reply for Shinryong. “That’s understandable. After being battered like that and rolling on the ground…” “So true, you even ate dirt while rolling, didn’t you?” “Whenever I think about it, I feel too ashamed to live.” The other disciples of Mount Hua, standing behind Yeongpung, chimed in eagerly. Hearing this, Yeongpung’s expression twisted awkwardly. “…Senior brothers…” Looking back with such words, Yeongpung found the others reacting in mock surprise. “Wow, look at that, he's glaring at us, isn’t he? Isn’t there something off about this, senior?” “The hierarchy of Mount Hua has fallen to the ground. Surely it fell along with him when he was rolling on the ground.” “In my day, having that kind of disgrace meant you couldn’t even hold your head high. He has certainly grown brazen. Oh dear.” “...” Faced with relentless teasing, Yeongpung wiped his face with a hand. The senior brothers of Mount Hua’s second generation were relentless with him. The reason was simple. About a year ago, during a friendly match against Shaolin, Yeongpung faced Shinryong and ended up being defeated. As a result, he became the subject of their constant ribbing. “He didn’t just lose; oh no, to put in the kids’ terms, he got absolutely wrecked.” “Wrecked, indeed. He was practically mashed and kneaded like dough, pounded and flattened; it was ridiculous….” “It was getting embarrassing to claim the Sword Dragon was from Mount Hua-.” “Hey, hey! It wasn’t that bad a defeat!” Unable to bear it any longer, Yeongpung protested, and the Mount Hua disciples burst out laughing. What was this atmosphere? Yoo Yeon watched them, caught up in a mix of confusion and disbelief. Though he had been courteous given their unexpected greetings, he felt somewhat overwhelmed by the atmosphere of the opposing sect. And why had Yeongpung come to greet him in the first place? Under the assumption of an overwhelming advance, he pondered if that might be the case. Despite his musings, the ongoing conversation before him unwittingly drew his attention. “It was a fair fight, and it wasn’t such an overwhelming defeat...” “So, you lost, didn’t you?” “...” “In the end, you lost, right? Even after using the secret techniques you were taught and still lost against the Hundred Step Divine Fist? Weren't the plum blossom petals all smashed?” “Then you got called by Master and got chewed out, didn't you? I saw it happen.” “Really? Senior Brother Shinseok called him and reprimanded him?” “Yes. I saw Yeongpung lying flat in front of Senior Brother Shinseok behind the mountain.” “Oh, how embarrassing… Yeongpung, why don’t you go climb the mountain and ascend first? I’ll let you go first.” “Heh heh heh!” “…Senior brothers, please.” Yeongpung looked with a defeated expression at the second-generation disciples whose average age was in their mid-thirties. Yet, they were still thoroughly entertained. The defeat of a representative of the third-generation disciples at the hands of Shaolin—what was so amusing about that? Yoo Yeon struggled to understand their demeanor. In the middle of the teasing, one of the second-generation disciples finally spoke to Yeongpung. “And you still claim to follow Master’s teachings-.” “You idiot.” *Smack!* “Gah!” The young man's head was cuffed suddenly by someone. It was none other than Mae Hwa Yeong Geom, Shin Hyun. He was the most formidable among the second-generation disciples and one of the main representatives of the current Mount Hua, the Plum Blossom Heroic Sword, Shin Hyun. “Calm down. Where do you think this is going?” Shin Hyun, who had been observing from the back, clicked his tongue in disapproval. Excitement was fine, but a careless tongue could lead to trouble. The other disciple had nearly blurted out Yeongpung’s secret, an almost catastrophic event. “…I apologize, senior.” The second-generation disciple Shinjeok quickly realized his mistake and offered an apology. “Is it correct to apologize to me? Especially when the Sect Leader is watching.” Alarmed by Shin Hyun’s words, Shinjeok hurriedly turned his attention toward the elderly man standing quietly behind the muscular second-generation disciples. This old man drew far more attention than both Yoo Yeon and Yeongpung. He was none other than Maehwa Seon, also known as the Plum Blossom Immortal, called the Earth Splitting Three Fists, the 16th Sect Leader of Mount Hua. Recognizing the elder's identity, Shinjeok approached him with caution and began to offer his respects. “Sect Leader… I am deeply sorry for the disciple’s misconduct…. Sect Leader?” Even as he continued his apologies, Shinjeok suddenly noticed that Maehwa Seon’s attention was directed elsewhere. “S-Sect Leader…?” He called the Plum Blossom Immortal a few more times gently, prompting a response. “Ah.” Perhaps realizing only late that he was being addressed, Maehwa Seon responded with a warm smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you. I was just glad to spot an old acquaintance.” “An acquaintance, do you say?” Could it be that someone Maehwa Seon knows is here? The disciples immediately turned their gaze in the direction the Plum Blossom Immortal had looked. The crowd that had been staring in their direction earlier was now apparent, but it was unclear who had captured Maehwa Seon’s interest. At that moment. “A disciple of Shaolin greets the Sect Leader.” Yoo Yeon approached Maehwa Seon, offering a polite bow. Other Shaolin disciples followed suit. Even while offering his greetings, Yoo Yeon felt bewildered. ‘Why would the Sect Leader come all the way here?’ It might be understandable for the disciples due to the competition. But what purpose could the Sect Leader have for coming here? Though it eluded his understanding, given it was Mount Hua’s Sect Leader, proper decorum was still a necessity. “Yes, it’s been a while.” Maehwa Seon responded to Yoo Yeon’s greeting with a benevolent smile. “Ah, the child from Shaolin. You’re called Yoo Yeon, aren’t you?” “…Yes, Sect Leader. I am Yoo Yeon….” As he replied, Yoo Yeon felt something touch his hair. Maehwa Seon was gently patting his head. “…!” Startled, Yoo Yeon’s eyes widened. “You seem to be burdened with many hardships for your age. Is it difficult?” “N-No, it’s not.” “Nonsense. It is a challenging yet delightful age. Please make good relationships with our children.” “...” Suddenly, Yoo Yeon found himself biting his lip. “I appreciate your wor—” Just as Yoo Yeon was managing to utter relief-filled words to Maehwa Seon, “Big sister! I’m jealous of that old man!” A loud voice rang out from somewhere. So loud that it captured everyone’s attention. “Miss Bong! You can’t do that! You’ll get in trouble with the young master…!” Another woman's voice attempted urgently to intervene. “I want to do it too!” “No—! Wait…!!” With that cry, the people around fell silent. Especially the expressions of the Shaolin martial artists hardened as if carved from stone. Did they mishear? It sounded like she said something about being bald…? While everyone hesitated, trying to process what they heard. “I want to touch that shiny bald head too!” “...Please, stay still.” “It looks like an egg! So perfectly round!” “Oh my goodness… this is a mess.” The woman with light green hair, who was desperately trying to hold things back, finally hid her face behind a look of utter defeat. The black-haired woman dashed excitedly, standing right in front of Maehwa Seon and Yoo Yeon. “Hello?” “...” Faced with such a bright greeting, Yoo Yeon couldn’t utter a single word. He simply couldn’t grasp the absurdity of the situation before him. “Nice to meet you.” “…Yes…?” “I’m Bongsun.” Without any hint of reservation, the woman introduced herself and asked Yoo Yeon. “Hey, can I touch your head too?” “…Miss, what do you mean by that…?” While speaking, Yoo Yeon glanced towards Maehwa Seon for guidance. “I really want to feel what a shaved head is like for the first time!” “…!” Her words sent Yoo Yeon’s heart pounding violently. Brother…? Did she just call him brother? While Yoo Yeon was reeling from the unexpected shock, other martial artists began to step in to stop the woman. “Miss, what on earth are you doing?” “Miss… Whoever you are, it’s utterly disrespectful. Even the heavens would frown upon such a thing!” To want to touch a bald head—what frightful indiscretion! Even the disciples of Mount Hua, who had just been teasing Yeongpung relentlessly, looked at the woman with a mix of horror and disbelief and tried to intervene. Yet the woman continued, indifferent to the reactions around her. “Can’t I? Just once, I won’t ask again….!” Her voice was filled with genuine pleading. The others winced at her words, shutting their eyes tight in response. They also prepared to intervene if Yoo Yeon showed signs of anger. As calm as Yoo Yeon normally was, enduring such an insult quietly seemed improbable. Fearing it might incite a conflict, everyone stayed vigilant. Then, Yoo Yeon, with a rigid expression, finally opened his mouth to speak to Bongsun. “…Feel free.” What would the Divine Dragon of Shaolin retort with, they wondered. Amidst the tense anticipation, “…Feel free to touch it.” A surprisingly subdued reply echoed in the air.