366 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

Title: The World's Greatest Close Friend - Chapter 367: Northern Rabbit Two months had passed since the sudden assault. The season, once teetering on the edge of early spring, had already begun to approach summer. Like the swiftly passing seasons, a significant number of events had occurred in Hanam, including at Shinryong Pavilion. Among these events, the most significant was likely the closure of Shinryong Pavilion. Throughout Zhongyuan, it was already widely known that a group of martial artists from the unorthodox faction had been attacked at Shinryong Pavilion. Even with attempts by the League to suppress the information, it was impossible to silence the countless mouths that experienced it. Despite the Alliance's reputation as the eyes and ears of the Murim League, they, too, had limitations regarding what could be contained, being tied to intelligence and mutual interests. As a result, Shinryong Pavilion was forced to close its doors amidst myriad controversies. Though officially cited as temporary closure for building repairs and the aftermath of the assault, people already had their predictions. Most anticipated that Shinryong Pavilion wouldn't reopen for several years. In fact, it might never reopen at all. Even the events scheduled for this year, like the Dragon Phoenix Assembly and martial tournaments, seemed unlikely to occur. Such was the gravity of this incident. The second development involved actions initiated by the Murim League. These unfolded only when the League's support arrived belatedly. Healers were called in to tend to the wounded, while the bodies were collected and stored in the chilly basement of the Murim League's headquarters. Those responsible for the assault were taken to interrogation rooms, and the survivors were provided accommodations by the League. Up until this point, the League had managed the situation reasonably well. However, there were challenges that followed. Regardless of the responses, it was impossible to compensate for the lives lost. Notably, those slain in the attack were mostly low-ranked post-stage masters. They were affiliated with merchant guilds that had been substantial supporters of the Murim League. The massacre of these affiliated individuals meant disruption in the financial conduits that connected to the Murim League. While there were still plenty of guilds continuing their support, not all could remain unaffected, posing potential issues for the League's influence. Alarmingly, among the deceased were not just guild members but disciples from the Nine Great Clans and direct descendants from noble families. From Murim League's perspective, the situation was a catastrophe they were struggling to manage. Consequently, the League chose to cancel all forthcoming festivals and schedules. Voices of discontent were widespread across Zhongyuan. - Why did the Murim League stand idly as young martial artists met tragic ends? - How could they respond so late when their headquarters in Hanam was attacked? - What were the chieftain and Murim League's martial artists doing to let such events unfold? These sentiments of incompetence concerning the Murim League started spreading over the past two months. In the past, guilds supporting the League wouldn't tolerate such rumors, joining forces with the Alliance to suppress them. The current circumstances suggested that even they had partially turned their backs on the League. Once, it was said that the existence of righteous factions allowed the Murim League to stand, and with the Murim League, peace continued to reign. Yet, that fragile notion began crumbling with a single assault orchestrated by the Black Dragon Sword. An attack that lasted barely a day. Certainly, though it barely lasted a day, the entanglement of parties and the resulting chaos weren't trivial matters. Even now, two months post-assault, “It's unbelievable that Cheonghaeil Sword was defeated. How could such a thing happen…?” Stories of that day captivated countless people. Even in broad daylight, those gathered over drinks, engaging in frivolous chatter, harped on the same topic lately. “I heard he had to protect other civil servants during the chaos?” “Still, to lose to mere unorthodox fighters… Tsk tsk, even the Konlun is in decline.” “Who are you to speak of decline when you couldn't even swing a sword right?” “I told you, it was because of my injured leg!” “Sure, sure. Bragging about tripping over while running from a wild boar? Weren't you running fine after a few days?” “…Clears throat.” A middle-aged man tutted, choosing to swallow his words into silence. “You know what? In any case...! The Murim League was great once, but not now!” “This guy is starting again, bring some cold water!” - Yes! The waiter warmly acknowledged and went to fetch the water. “If the Murim League was so competent, they'd have handled the assault.” “They're the ones protecting our lives, can’t you quit complaining?” “To hell with protecting. They couldn't even take care of their own, leading to funerals left and right…!.” As the middle-aged man neared crossing the line, a young man urgently reached out to cover his mouth. “Are you insane? What if a Murim League martial artist hears you!” “Pfew! So what? Isn’t what I’m saying true?” “Sigh….” The young man held his head in his hands. The middle-aged man's words weren't entirely off. The League did indeed orchestrate funerals for those who perished. “Moreover, knowing their faults, they proposed a gathering, didn't they?” The middle-aged man huffed defiantly. The Murim League had publicly announced a righteous faction meeting to occur in seven nights, and perhaps because of this, once unseen figures became noticeable in Hanam. Two months prior, those who received the notice from the League were now arriving for the meeting. There were representatives from acclaimed guilds arrived, alongside individuals from noble families, and even a sect, recognized as one of the Nine Great Sects, made an appearance. Despite coming from various regions and practicing diverse martial arts, all these individuals shared one discernible trait. “Their expressions are all equally grim, aren't they?” “How could they not be? Rotten to the core.” Their expressions were heavy and dark. And understandably so. Their children or sworn brothers sent to Shinryong Pavilion had died in the sudden attack, leaving bitterness etched on their faces. The fact they held back their anger spoke volumes about their immense patience. The middle-aged man, using this conversation as a pretext to drink, turned to the young man beside him. “Do you know who’s going to be there at the assembly?” “No idea. I’m too busy trying to make a living to keep track of that.” The young man chuckled dismissively. “Ah, but I did hear Wudang is attending.” Only a few factions from the Nine Great Sects had expressed their intention to attend the assembly. There weren't many factions allied closely with the Murim League to begin with. Wudang and Huashan were the only sects that had disciples sent to Shinryong Pavilion. Wudang, being a close ally of the Murim League, often sent representatives, but Huashan’s participation was somewhat unexpected. Rumors suggested that the pavilion master being the Cheonghaeil Sword from Konlun might have influenced their decision. “So, Huashan isn’t coming?” “Not sure about that. Haven’t heard anything definite.” While it was expected for Wudang, given the loss of their disciples and their alliance with the League to attend the assembly, Huashan’s decision remained uncertain. “In any case… It’s indeed a massive issue. Hopefully, there’ll be no more wailing or bloodshed.” “At least we get to see things we wouldn't normally see.” “Well…” Soon, the patriarchs of the Four Major Clans were expected to make an appearance. To ordinary people, the patriarchs and their kin seemed like sky-dwellers, far beyond reach. These were not figures one could casually encounter. “The fact that an incident occurred when the noble bloodlines of the Four Major Clans were all present….” Speculation abounded as this was considered an unprecedented gathering of prodigies and geniuses, dubbed the Generation of Shooting Stars, all at Shinryong Pavilion. “Sigh, tsk…” “But didn’t we gain something out of it?” The young man’s words rang a familiar bell for the middle-aged man. “Talking about that again?” “You go on about the same stories every day, Uncle Chu.” “Maybe, but at least I vary my stories.” “Feels like you never get tired of it.” Indeed, it wasn’t as though nothing was gained from the incident. The significance being that amidst the fallen post-stage masters and martial artists striving to protect them, an individual emerged whose brilliance overshadowed all others. As they say, heroes emerge in turbulent times. It was fitting here. “Aren’t you tired of talking about Jinryong?” “It’s more entertaining than your rants about the Murim League.” “You’re hopeless.” Jinryong (True Dragon). Alongside the tale of the Shinryong Pavilion attack, stories about him began circulating widely. He was already a well-known figure. The last of the Six Dragons, Three Peaks, symbolizing the Generation of Falling Stars, a young post-stage master renowned for reaching his peak at a tender age, and for his overwhelming prowess among peers. He was the main character of the current rumors. “Isn't it stunning? They say he hasn’t even reached the age of majority.” “It's impressive if true.” According to rumors, he single-handedly held off half of the unorthodox fighters who attacked Shinryong Pavilion, and subdued the grand demonic leader who defeated Cheonghaeil Sword. The middle-aged man clicked his tongue in disbelief, addressing the young man as if the notion was preposterous. “For someone your age, how can you still believe in such tales?” “You’re saying it’s just another fabricated story?” “No matter how often I hear it, it’s utterly unrealistic.” The middle-aged man downed another drink as he continued, “If Cheonghaeil Sword was defeated, that means the grand demonic leader was a martial artist who reached Flowering Skill. Are you saying this young post-stage master, Jinryong, reached such a level too?” “…” “If you’re going to talk, make it sound plausible, tsk tsk! Even if he did somehow subdue them, it was probably finishing off an exhausted foe.” A post-stage master not yet of age reaching the Flowering Skill? That was as likely as the sun rising in the west. “And defeating all those unorthodox fighters single-handedly? That's quite the embellishment.” “Why do you see things so negatively? There might be truth in it.” “You need more than rumors to convince anyone, you fool! Even their own family didn't push it this far.” The middle-aged man naturally assumed it was the influential Sanseogu household behind spreading these stories, boasting of Jinryong's skill. While they acknowledged Jinryong was exceptional, few believed the rumors painted an accurate picture of his grandeur. The young man furrowed his brows, clearly dissatisfied with the middle-aged man's skepticism. “What’s with your expression?” “Come on, when was Jinryong ever like that?” “Are you picking a fight over this?” “Things should be done properly.” The young man’s insistence seemed to take the middle-aged man by surprise. “It hasn’t been long since the nickname changed, hilariously enough.” “Why are you getting angry for? It’s absurd.” Indeed, after the event’s revelation, Jinryong received a new epithet. His actions were so monumental and striking that those who heard naturally began using the new title. It signified Jinryong was no longer just a post-stage master. “What was the nickname again…? I heard it but…” As the middle-aged man hesitated, the young man couldn't hold back his words. “How can you not remember? It’s obviously So…” Clack. Just as the young man was about to speak, someone entered the tavern. The sudden entrance caused a chill to accompany the opening of the door, drawing everyone’s attention. The young man, ready to speak, swallowed his words upon seeing the new arrival. It wasn't just him; even the noisy patrons were silenced by the sight of the newcomer, holding their breath. “…Tsk.” The woman clicked her tongue as she walked into the tavern, feeling the stares directed her way. Normally, she would've worn a veil, but she had forgotten it this time. As she showed signs of discomfort, the server scurried over to her. "Welcome, miss." "Can you get me what I mentioned earlier?" "Oh...! Yes, I'll get it right away!" Upon hearing the woman's request, the server quickly dashed back to the kitchen and returned with something steaming hot. It was dumplings. After verifying her order, the woman handed the server a silver coin and turned to leave. A silver coin for just a few dumplings? What's the meaning of this...? Amid their confusion, the woman simply walked gracefully out the door. Even as she closed the door behind her, everyone in the tavern continued to watch her leave. Thud. Once the door closed, everyone exhaled the breath they had been holding. "Wow, she's incredibly beautiful. Where did someone like her come from?" "...She definitely looks like she's from a noble family, but why is she here?" The young man, having forgotten what he was talking about, pondered aloud. The server, returning with more snacks, overheard and shared, "Oh, she's a regular." "Huh? I've never seen her before, and I'm here every day during the day." "That's because Uncle Chu is only here during the day. She comes at night." "At night?" "Yes, she just comes, buys dumplings, and leaves." "Dumplings…?" The young man tilted his head, curious about her nightly visits for dumplings. Why bother coming personally when she could have a servant do it? Perceiving the young man's curiosity, the server added, "Apparently, her husband loves our dumplings. So she comes to buy them herself." The surrounding patrons collectively sighed at the server's explanation. "So she’s taken, huh…." "Lucky guy…." While the other men drank in melancholic resignation, the young man was lost in thought. "Aren’t you drinking?" "That woman earlier... she seems familiar for some reason." "Stop talking nonsense and eat. Where would we have seen someone like her?" "No… it's not that I've seen her face. It's more like… her clothes seem familiar." The sky-blue martial attire with impressive embroidery stuck in his mind. He’d seen that embroidery somewhere before…. “Ah…?” And then it hit him. “…The Murong clan?” That was the emblem of the Murong clan's trade guild operating in Hanam. Usually, such embroidery on clothing was worn by members of the clan. ‘Does that mean…’ The beautiful woman who just purchased the dumplings… Was she a member of the Murong clan? For a moment, the young man entertained the thought. “No, that can't be.” He quickly dismissed it. After all, even the tales about Jinryong they discussed earlier were hardly believed. How could one accept the notion that a noble from the great Murong clan personally bought dumplings for her husband in broad daylight? Swayed by these musings, the young man returned to his drink. Meanwhile, the woman who had left with the dumplings had reached her destination. It was a cave situated on a mountainside. The cave appeared somewhat man-made, as if someone had forcibly carved it out. The woman—Murong Hui'a—stepped inside naturally. The cave wasn't deep, illuminated by strategically placed torches. Soon after entering, Murong Hui'a detected a certain smell. There was no need to ponder; it was undoubtedly the scent of sweat. Rather than covering her nose, Murong Hui'a shook her head. She had warned him about tiring himself out, yet he couldn’t resist exerting himself. “I told you, you'll collapse if you keep this up….” Despite her warnings, it seemed he wouldn't listen even if his life depended on it. Murong Hui'a continued walking—for not much longer—until she reached the end. Boom-! Boom Boom-! A series of deafening roars echoed within. The cave walls shook with each sound, causing small rocks to fall from above. Sensing the vibrations, Murong Hui'a called out, “I brought food.” Boom-! Boom! Her voice wasn’t exactly quiet, but it seemed to go unheard. Murong Hui'a knew he wouldn't listen when deeply engrossed in training. Accustomed to such situations, she gently placed the cloth-wrapped food on the ground and cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice. She knew the exact phrase that would capture his attention in such moments. "Hero Xiao Yanluo, your meal is ready.” Silence... Instantly, the booming sounds and vibrations came to a halt. Shortly afterward, a figure came into view, panting heavily as it approached at a remarkable speed, face flushed. “Hey! Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” The young man with fierce eyes and dark black hair was none other than Gu Yangcheon.