1229 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

The usually quiet and tranquil sect was unusually bustling today. There were a lot of visible people around, and perhaps due to their heightened moods, the air felt unusually warm. This might have been because the energy affected by their emotions was being released outside their bodies. Thinking this, an inexplicable discomfort set in. As I walked, I couldn’t help but notice eyes turning toward me. "Is that the Blue Dragon Squad?" "Are those five participating in the martial arts competition?" "It's a bit different from what I expected. I don't see the Sword Dragon." "Sword Dragon, you say? Haven't you heard? The Sword Dragon had his arm broken by the Crazy Dog." "Ah... that's right." As I caught snippets of their conversation, my ears perked up. What was that? "Crazy Dog...?" Could that possibly be my nickname? Shaking my head with disbelief, I glanced in their direction. "Eek...!" "Be careful. They say even making eye contact with him can bring ruin." "He certainly looks fierce." "..." I was at a loss. Not only had I acquired a nickname, but the nickname itself was a mess. Crazy Dog? Where did that come from? Just as I was puzzling over how this nickname came to be, Soi turned to me and spoke. "They said the nickname 'Fighting Dog' once belonged to the Dishonored Venerable in his youth." Soi looked at me, continuing, "Since you're his disciple and your actions aren’t insignificant, that's why the nickname was created." "...You seem to know quite a bit?" "I heard it mentioned." Soi explained and then moved on ahead, leaving me scratching the back of my head awkwardly. It felt like our relationship was growing increasingly strained, but there was nothing I could do to clear up the misunderstanding anyway. Whatever... it'll work itself out somehow. Shrugging off these thoughts, I focused on the task at hand since I had no time to worry about Soi right now. We soon arrived at our destination—the dueling stage constructed within the martial sect’s headquarters. Many people were already lined up, waiting. Seeing the empty queue, my father stepped forward. Walking confidently, he came to a stop. "Who do we have here?" An individual beside him recognized my father and initiated a conversation. "The renowned Blue Dragon Squad Deputy Lord, isn't it? How have you been?" "The Flying Dragon Lord." In response to my father's acknowledgment, the man grinned slyly, indicating his rank as the Lord of the Flying Dragons. "I heard you've been through quite the ordeal. Are you alright?" "I'm fine." "Ah, is that so? That's a relief then." What’s wrong with this guy? His manner of speaking was seriously irksome. I felt like ripping out his teeth. "Oho." As I entertained these thoughts, his attention shifted to me. "Is this the one? The one supposed to have wrecked the successor of the Namgung Clan?" Speaking as though confirming a widely known rumor, the Flying Dragon Lord sneered. "The Blue Dragon Lord is really something, letting someone who dismantled a fellow member step out like this. Ah, does he encourage it more because the performance is guaranteed?" His tone was infuriating. What should I do? If this were a battlefield, I’d have ripped his throat out, but since I couldn’t, my anger rose. Then... "Lord Flying Dragon." "Hmm?" My father spoke, looking at him. "Shut your mouth." "...What?" "It's noisy and disturbs the mind." "Still as lacking in manners, I see." The Flying Dragon Lord narrowed his eyes, though my father wasn’t even looking at him. "I only show courtesy to people, you see. If that bothers you, I won’t apologize." "...Ha!" ‘This is impressive.’ Watching this display of calm authority gave me a newfound perspective. The Flying Dragon Lord, unable to quell his anger, seemed poised to explode. "That's enough." Someone intervened, stopping the Flying Dragon Lord. It was a small-framed individual with squinting eyes. "Golden Dragon Lord..." "The leader will arrive shortly, so shouldn't you refrain from fighting here?" "...Tch." The Flying Dragon Lord finally fell silent. "You, as well. Regardless of his faults, he's a senior. Show some respect." "I apologize, senior." My father addressed the Golden Dragon Lord with proper titles and manners. The Flying Dragon Lord grimaced again but didn’t say anything further. Taking the opportunity, I looked around at the gathered figures. ‘I don’t recognize these people.’ Whether it’s the Flying Dragon Lord or the Golden Dragon Lord, they were all unknown to me. When all related sword squads gathered... Boom! Boom! Drums reverberated through the air. With that sound, everyone drew their focus. "The Leader is arriving!!" Upon the platform stepped the Sword Supreme, and following him were the Iron Blood Sword Master, the Eulryeong Sword Queen, and the Dishonored Venerable. The presence of these formidable individuals in one place caused the sword squad members to be visibly taken aback. "The Iron Blood Sword Master is at this gathering...?" "Even the Sword Queen and Dishonored Venerable...?" The presence of these almost mythical figures, rarely seen together, filled the martial artists with a sense of awe. "Thank you for gathering here despite your busy schedules," began the Leader from the platform, his voice echoing powerfully as if imbued with inner energy. "Even though this was a request too great to ask, I extend my gratitude to those who have agreed to participate. This martial arts competition will..." I half-listened to the explanations, focusing instead on the imposing figure staring my way from a distance: Iron Blood Sword Master, smiling and waving at me. The Dishonored Venerable, who saw this, frowned visibly. -Have you given it any thought? A voice transmitted directly to my mind. The Iron Blood Sword Master had spoken. -If you need more time, I'll give it. If necessary... Moments later, another voice interrupted. -What a damn old man. This interference came from the Dishonored Venerable. Iron Blood Sword Master glared at him. -What are you doing? -Oh, just expected you’d be up to no good. And I was right. Even you, senior, what are you thinking? This interruption in their telepathic exchange surprised me. Was it possible? Astonished by the Dishonored Venerable’s control over his energies, I watched as Iron Blood Iron Blood Sword Master gritted his teeth. -No good? -What else could it be? This is hardly clean conduct. -Sword Master. You've gotten cocky since I last saw you, daring to speak to me like this. -How amusing. When were you ever different? Why? Do you wish to duel after so long? -Ha! The platform shook violently. "What is this...?" "What's happening... huh?" The sudden vibrations caused confusion among the martial artists nearby. The Sword Master glanced toward the two causing the disturbance. At that moment— Clap—! A tremendous wave of energy dispersed with the sound of a clap. An overwhelming force surrounded the martial artists. It was the doing of the Sword Queen, who had been standing between them. "Oh dear. My apologies, there was a mosquito," she said with a bright smile. Naturally, there was no mosquito to be found; she simply infused energy into her actions to break up the tension. Thankfully, it shifted the atmosphere. Only then did Iron Blood Sword Master and Dishonored Venerable, who were caught in their power struggle, come to a halt. They averted their gazes from each other and looked forward. ‘What on earth are they doing?’ Internally, I couldn't help but click my tongue at the scene unfolding before me. These elders, so advanced in age, resorting to such juvenile displays. Must they act so recklessly? Not a single sane adult in sight. "Anyway..." The Sword Supreme resumed speaking, though it wasn’t of much consequence. Typical instructions about exercising caution during the competition and remembering the righteous ways and beliefs of the sect were just tedious formalities. While half-listening, almost dozing off, I perked up at a particular remark. “And thus, this martial arts stage includes a particular group that has never participated before.” With those words, a spark of attention ignited within me—finally, something worth noting. "The Divine Dragon Squad." The demeanor of the surrounding martial artists immediately shifted. Simultaneously— Thud!! A group suddenly landed in front of the Sword Supreme, seemingly appearing from nowhere. Dressed in white martial robes with striking gold patterns, their attire was impressive. The badge over their chest—the symbol of the martial sect, typically blue but now gilded in gold—distinguished them. "....Is that the Divine Dragon Squad?" "They're really participating?" The air was thick with tension, demonstrated by the visible apprehension in their voices. The total count was four. The members introduced as the Divine Dragon Squad were four in number. And then— 'Huh?' The person leading them caught my eye, prompting me to narrow my gaze. I've seen this face before... Trying to recall while wracking my brain, the leader knelt halfway before the Sword Supreme. “The Divine Dragon Squad. We’ve come at the Leader's summons.” This prompted a nod from the Sword Supreme. So this is the Divine Dragon Squad. Their presence truly felt distinctive, like expertly honed swords, suited to their elite status. The mood shifted instantaneously with their arrival. Could such a feeling be derived from the mere presence of an elite unit? A tension, absent before, spread across all faces—save for my father's, who remained unfazed. ‘Hmm.’ If only I could assess their power, perhaps I’d get an idea of their capabilities; however, for now, I’d have to rely on instinct. Nonetheless, it was unmistakably clear. 'They're strong, no doubt.' There was an unmistakable contrast when comparing them to other squad members; their stances and the sharpness in their eyes were entirely different. As I scrutinized them more closely, my focus inevitably returned to the leader, who had captured my attention earlier. ‘The one who appears to be their Lord.’ The Divine Dragon Lord—he led the Divine Dragon Squad. Since a squad lord isn't permitted to participate, this man must be the squad leader. ‘Who is he? His face is familiar...’ Recognition nagged at me; I was certain I knew him from somewhere... ‘Who could it be?’ As I pondered, searching my memory— ‘Ah.’ It hit me. That man. I didn't recognize him at first because he looked younger, but now I did. Though I don't know him well, he was indeed a familiar figure. Except— ‘...Why is he here?’ The issue was his known irrelevance to the orthodox sect.