708 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

**Chapter 708 of "The World's Best Friend" - The Northern Rabbit** The Tang Clan had been kidnapping orphans for human experimentation—news that spread rapidly across the Central Plains one day. The Tang Clan, one of the Four Great Families and responsible for a significant portion of armor distribution, had transitioned from being deemed a heretical sect to a respected orthodox faction after playing a key role in halting the Blood Calamity War. It had long been a pillar of trust and adherence, considered the protector of Sichuan Province. However, the revelation of their unimaginable atrocities shocked many. It was said that the Tang Clan's hidden underground chambers were filled with the corpses of children and the remains of demonic creatures. An investigation by the Martial Alliance confirmed that these experiments had been conducted for over a century. A century. One hundred years. How many children had perished during that time? The public was inflamed with outrage and more outrage. Although the Poison King didn’t offer any significant defense and chose to seal the clan's gates, the anger did not subside. People clamored for the Tang Clan to be declared enemies of the martial world, to be expelled from the Four Great Families and executed as a heretical sect. Yet, despite the public's cries, the Martial Alliance chose not to do so. They identified that the elders had conducted the experiments behind the back of the current clan leader, the Poison King, and consequently, the Poison King executed the elders swiftly, settling the matter internally. Considering the contributions of the Tang Clan in protecting the Central Plains in the past, the Alliance opted against extermination. Instead, they limited the exclusive deals with the clan and suspended the clan's right to vote or nominate candidates in future elections for the Alliance's leader for three generations. Though this was the Martial Alliance's decision, when analyzed practically, the verdict seemed lenient. Critics argued it was merely a superficial punishment, considering that merchant guilds engaging with the Tang Clan would naturally pull back, and the Tang Clan had historically shown no particular interest in Alliance leadership affairs. The general sentiment was that while the Tang Clan was guilty of its crimes, the Martial Alliance chose to show leniency, taking into account the clan's former contributions. Despite the death toll linked to its experiments, some felt the Tang Clan was allowed to get off lightly by the Martial Alliance. Nonetheless, a series of successive incidents somewhat diminished the number of skeptics questioning the Alliance's decisions. But for the Tang Clan, circumstances remained dire. “Damn those fiends. I feel guilty for ever thinking Sichuan was safe under their protection,” someone opined. “How can any family claiming orthodoxy commit such vile acts?” another expressed disbelief. “Did they really expect us to believe the Poison King was unaware? Preposterous,” skepticism persisted. The Tang Clan’s reputation crumbled further with each passing day. Even though it was stated that the Poison King and his family were not involved in the experiments, few believed this. “How could the leader be ignorant of what transpired within the family?” people questioned. Their minds were already set that the Tang Clan was inherently such a place. “Of course, coming from a sect dealing with poisons, their tracks are filthy.” “They were originally from the sect of assassins. The Alliance just chose to overlook it.” “Much is said about their craftsmanship these days, yet it was a gathering of assassins from the beginning. Hardly a place to trust.” Resentful voices filled the air, criticizing the Tang Clan, disparaging the Poison King, and even cursing themselves. A fallen noble house—the Tang Clan of Sichuan. Every time rumors swirled, Tang Xiaoye, a member of the Tang family, wanted to ask why no explanations were being offered. He wanted to bombard his father, the Poison King, with questions. But he couldn't. While making decisions, the Poison King addressed his children, saying, “Even if we are innocent, being born into the family means shouldering its burdens. Not knowing about internal matters is the clan leader’s failing, and no excuse is viable. Moreover, regrettably, your father’s crimes become your own. Responsibility works that way.” Though he felt wronged and resentful at those words, ultimately, Tang Xiaoye remained silent. What was unfair? Hadn't the Poison King declared it? The clan's crimes are the leader's responsibility, which inevitably extends to the family. Tang Xiaoye also lived in the clan's embrace, ignorant of its secrets. Numerous turned their backs on them, countless hurled insults. Yet, frankly, Tang Xiaoye wasn't particularly scared of this. If it truly was his crime, he had to accept the scorn. It didn't hurt. What he feared was something else altogether. Perhaps. By any chance. “That even he might be harmed.” His fear was maddening—that his precious ones might suffer because of this. Even if his life crumbled, he dreaded that they might be hurt in the collapse. The world was dark for him—though the lights around him shone brilliantly, his place had grown exceedingly dim and if, having lost even the remnant prestige of a noble family, they became a harm instead— What could he offer? He had nothing. Many could offer their love, but not with his flawed heart, not enough to stay by him. He knew painfully well. Perhaps he would understand. Because he was such a person. But he couldn’t endure the uncertainty with understanding alone. It was fortunate, however, that there was at least an opportunity. "I will turn you into a monster," said a figure who visited in the night. Now that figure was his master—Anwang, the King of Shadows, the greatest assassin in the Central Plains. He claimed to have accepted Tang Xiaoye as his disciple at his father's request, and said he could refuse if he wanted. Warning him that his training would be harsh and brutal, surpassing any pain Tang Xiaoye had ever experienced. It made no sense. Why would the King of Shadows approach him with such an offer? It was incomprehensible. Nonetheless— “Please take care of me,” Tang Xiaoye replied. The choice was always just one. And so, Tang Xiaoye became Anwang’s disciple. That was the only path he could choose. As time passed, it proved to be as excruciating as Anwang had warned. How many times had he died? Quite literally, he experienced the essence of death countless times. "Become numb to death." He hardened over time. It took him a year to grow desensitized enough to the concept of his own death that pain no longer scared him. "Become numb to killing." He hardened further. Another year passed before killing others became a matter of indifference. "Not bad." Finally, after much death and his expression never wavering, Anwang gave Tang Xiaoye his first compliment. At that moment, hearing those words, he realized how much had changed. His mastery had evolved, and something within him had altered as well. How much time had passed? Anwang stated it had been merely two years, but Tang Xiaoye felt it couldn't possibly be true. In the world crafted by Anwang, many things were warped; perhaps even time itself. With the corpses of children piling beneath his feet, even if it was only an illusion Anwang created, he found he was unperturbed. He realized he was broken. He assessed himself. Did he have regrets about this? No, he didn’t. “…Ah…” Blood and tears from others mingled with his own tears. His heart thudded with anticipation. Now, he felt he could truly stand by his side. Neither the heights he had dreamt of, nor the broken pieces of himself mattered now. To Tang Xiaoye, that was all that mattered. **Swoosh—!** The world he was trapped in lifted. The darkness faded, and the blood that had stained his body vanished. The serene night and moon returned. Anwang regarded Tang Xiaoye and spoke. “Descend the mountain.” “Yes.” At last, he could see him. --- The murmur of voices enveloped his ears. Below the tightly packed stands, Tang Xiaoye stood on the martial arts stage. A new dragon tournament hosted by the Alliance. Tang Xiaoye stood there in the middle of the celebration. The fresh air brushed against his nose. The weather was notably pleasant. Voices resounded from all sides. “It's the Poison Phoenix. It’s true she’s entered the tournament.” “The Poison Phoenix? Is she of the Tang Clan?” “Look at her hair.” Tang Xiaoye’s deep green hair and pale green eyes. They bore the marks of the Tang family's bloodline on his body. "Tch." Someone clicked their tongue at the sight. “She has the gall to show her face here…!” "How disgusting." "Participating in the Alliance’s festival in these circumstances? She must be out of her mind." Everyone recalled the atrocities committed by the Tang Clan, their expressions twisted in disdain. Voices laced with heat echoed around him. Despite hearing such things, Tang Xiaoye maintained a calm demeanor. Did he feel nothing? It might have been the stance of a silent criminal. Or simply enjoying the breeze quietly. The opponent observing Tang Xiaoye spoke. “Wouldn't it be wise to step down now?” Upon hearing the words, Tang Xiaoye looked over at his opponent. Yoo Tan-geum. Standing there, she looked at him and sneered. “Isn’t this situation too cruel for a young woman like you?” Insults flew from every direction. For one not yet in their prime, it was a harsh and brutal situation to endure. “If you step down now, I can show you mercy and let you go gently.” It’s easier to bear the shame of stepping down under pressure than it is to lose on the martial stage. There was an underlying meaning in Yoo Tan-geum’s words. “Pfft.” Tang Xiaoye, who had been quietly listening, burst out laughing. Yoo Tan-geum’s eyebrows knotted further. “Are you laughing?” “Thank you for your concern. I appreciate the sentiment.” “Ha!” At Tang Xiaoye's attitude, Yoo Tan-geum scoffed. “Indeed, just like someone from a criminal family, so shameless.” Her attitude shifted. “I see that you already have plenty of adversaries, so I wanted to spare you further embarrassment.” “Yes, and I’m telling you there’s no need for that.” “Even if I made a mistake last time, do you really think you can win this time?” The fact that Tang Xiaoye stood here facing her—Yoo Tan-geum was irked by it. At best, she was just a promising young talent. Beating a woman in such a manner seemed meaningless. “At least the public sentiment is against her." Born of the Tang Clan, a young woman with advanced skills—it seemed that even defeating her would bolster his standing. "She might have some tricks up her sleeve, but that's about it." Yoo Tan-geum had momentarily forgotten that the Tang Clan’s martial arts specialized in assassin skills. That’s how Tang Xiaoye got the upper hand. That’s what Yoo Tan-geum thought. **Srrp.** As she drew her sword, she spoke. “You’ve made a grave mistake, girl.” As Yoo Tan-geum unsheathed her sword, the air around them began to shift. The breeze that was blowing fell still. “If you had such skills, you shouldn’t have shown them to me. That would have given you a chance.” Her assessment was complete. For Tang Xiaoye, no opportunity remained. “No second chances. So you might as well step do—” “You’re still talking. It’s getting a bit noisy,” Tang Xiaoye interrupted. “You brat!!” Finally unable to contain herself, Yoo Tan-geum unleashed her aura. **Hoooaaah—!!!** The pressure emanating from her filled the entire stage. The audience erupted in amazement. “…Just witnessing it makes my hands tremble. This must be the genuine prowess of a hierarchy master." “The Wind Forest Fist was impressive, but Yoo Tan-geum is on a different level.” Though his opponent, Wind Forest Fist, had just barely reached the martial hierarchy capable of influencing nature, Yoo Tan-geum had surpassed that threshold. The space was being crushed. Cracks were emerging, and afterimages formed in the air. His mere energy impacted the surroundings. This was the true power of a martial hierarchy master. “Are you relying on your pretty face? Or perhaps on your esteemed shadow and poison arts? Look closely—I am Yoo Tan-geum.” She aimed her sword at Tang Xiaoye. “In such an open space, what do you think you can do? You have no chance.” "..." At Yoo Tan-geum's words, Tang Xiaoye glanced around momentarily. She was right. There was nothing. The clear, open scenery was so refreshing it put one's mind at ease. With the sky clear and nowhere to hide, it was the worst possible conditions for an assassin. As Tang Xiaoye surveyed his surroundings, his gaze locked onto a specific spot. Two eyes quietly watched over the scene from there. In that place stood Gu Yangcheon, arms crossed tightly, observing the proceedings. His arms trembled slightly, as if he was suppressing something. Tang Xiaoye chuckled at the sight. Despite his stern demeanor and sharp appearance, Gu Yangcheon always had his eye on everything around him—a kind and gentle person. Initially, Tang Xiaoye had been captivated by his face alone. Now, even if Gu Yangcheon were to adopt the airs of a dandy like Prince Jangryong or Prince Sung, it wouldn't matter. For it was the essence of him that Tang Xiaoye loved. Such was his belief. Thus, he thought— ‘I’ll show you.’ That he no longer needed to worry about him. Tang Xiaoye wished to prove that to Gu Yangcheon. Shifting his eyes from Gu Yangcheon to Yu Tan-geum, he spoke. “Indeed.” “What?” “There really is nothing here. But, that doesn’t present much of a problem.” As he spoke, Tang Xiaoye pulled something from within his robe: daggers—not just one, but dozens of them. With two full hands and arms brimming with blades and daggers, Tang Xiaoye did something unexpected. Crashing and clattering—! “Huh?” He dropped everything he had onto the ground. “…What do you think you’re doing?” Yu Tan-geum asked, dumbfounded, as Tang Xiaoye checked his person to ensure he had nothing left, then laughed softly. “I’m ready, too.” “…” “I promise you—I won’t use any hidden weapons against you. Nor will I use poison.” “Haha…” Yu Tan-geum burst into a malevolent laugh, her face contorting into something fierce. “So you’re mocking me now?” “Yes.” “…You little…!” The air around Yu Tan-geum’s sword shimmered with sharp killing intent. “Fine, then. How dare you mock me to such an extent… I’ll also make you a promise.” Amidst the suppressive pressure, Yu Tan-geum spoke with murderous intent. “I’ll make sure there’s a scar marring that pretty face of yours.” Goaded by her restrained fury, Tang Xiaoye laughed again. “I look forward to it.” Gritting his teeth, Yu Tan-geum adjusted her stance, trying to steady her breathing. The referee eyed them with concern before confirming their readiness. Both had assumed their positions. The referee quietly announced: “Begin.” With that, the match commenced. Yet Yu Tan-geum did not move. He didn’t charge in. He remained vigilant. Uncertainty lingered over what could happen. After their last encounter, Yu Tan-geum was sure of one thing. Not of Yu Tan-geum as a human, but him as a martial artist. That Tang Xiaoye was no ordinary opponent. Despite the unfavorable circumstances for an assassin, he would not underestimate her. While he aimed his guarded sword at Tang Xiaoye, she began to speak in a calm voice. “Did you know?” “What now?” Yu Tan-geum responded warily. “I dislike clear skies.” “…What nonsense is this?” Disliking the sky? It seemed random and out of place. “Like you said, there’s nowhere to hide. I realized I wasn’t someone who could become light. From then on, I disliked clear skies,” she shared. “Huh?” Trying to lower his guard with idle chatter? However, the more Tang Xiaoye spoke, the more Yu Tan-geum’s caution only grew. “Yes, I couldn’t become the light. My mentor said as much, too.” Tang Xiaoye recalled Anwang’s words. When asking how one could become brighter, Anwang had replied, "I don’t know how to become the light." He said that an assassin could not become the light, nor should they strive to. To shine brighter was not their role. Taken aback, Tang Xiaoye had asked then what she was supposed to do. “If you cannot become the light, then become a greater darkness,” Anwang had said. A darkness that could devour the light—that was the path. Anwang might’ve laid it out that way, but Tang Xiaoye didn’t particularly like that notion. “It’s rather pitiful, isn’t it? We stay by the light because it’s warm… consuming it isn’t right, is it?” “What are you even saying…?” “So, I decided to become the shade.” If she couldn’t be the light and didn’t want to devour it, she would become the shade, offering rest and respite. Wasn't that also a form of darkness? Darkness unfolded for light’s rest. Yes, being the shade was enough. A place to rest for the weary after a day of play, like the trees of a forest providing the back for rest shielded from the sunlight. That’s the kind of darkness Tang Xiaoye chose to embrace. To become his shade. So that whenever he needed to rest, she would be steadfast and by his side. She had decided to be that for him. This was the testament to that choice. Tang Xiaoye reached out. “…!” Yu Tan-geum flinched as she reacted, releasing her sword aura. It was a reflex, ready to respond at any moment, yet Yu Tan-geum did not realize. This was something reflex alone couldn’t combat. Tang Xiaoye murmured as she watched him: “Wanma Raeken Tanjung.” With the incantation— **BOOM—!!!** Tang Xiaoye’s shadow expanded and enveloped the martial stage, swallowing it up. In a flash, a black veil covered the stage. “What is…!” Yu Tan-geum’s vision was obscured. Engulfed by darkness, he looked around in confusion. Nothing was visible. He instinctively flared his martial senses to locate Tang Xiaoye. **Thud—!** “Gah!?” Something pierced from behind Yu Tan-geum’s back. It wasn’t a sword. It was a hand. “Ugh…!” Yu Tan-geum looked down, blood trickling from his mouth. Amidst the oppressive darkness where nothing should have been seen, the pale hand protruding through his body was strikingly visible. **Splat—!** The hand retracted. His heart had been pierced. **Thud—!** Yu Tan-geum crumbled instantly. Was this death? Yu Tan-geum felt death’s embrace. As he slowly fell, a soft voice reached his ear. “One down.” Tang Xiaoye spoke to Yu Tan-geum as he lay there. That was one. His personal hell had five more layers to go.