367 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

**The Greatest Martial Artist's Childhood Friend - Chapter 368 > Northern Rabbit - Web Novel Archive** There's a saying that heroes are born in turbulent times. It's a well-known phrase that's spread across the lands. The history of the past was like that, just as the present is. The recorded documents proved that the statement holds a certain degree of reality. Where there is a crisis, there are those who try to stop and overcome it. Even in relentless situations, they find hope, and they burn their spirits to nurture that hope. Neglecting their own safety. Trembling in fear of death, yet not stopping their advance. People commonly referred to them as heroes. The recent attack on Shinryongwan is no exception. In a time considered peaceful, with no major incidents save for rare monster appearances. A tragic event occurred, resulting in many post-war martial artists being injured and killed. Fortunately, the situation was subdued within a day. But not before many casualties had already occurred. The Wulin League hasn't provided exact figures, but it's estimated that the death toll may well exceed dozens, possibly reaching a hundred. What could be more sudden and shocking than this? People criticized the Wulin League for failing to manage the situation before it happened. Some even began to view the League’s existence with skepticism. They didn't care about the circumstances at the time or what issues there were. To people, it was just about the League’s failure to protect them. Criticism fell on the League even though the attack was carried out by the Demon Sect. This is how it always was; when incidents occurred, people sought something to blame. This time, it just happened to be the Wulin League. Granted, the League might have been incompetent. And as situations like this arise, people tend to pay attention to the figures highlighted within it. Who played a crucial role amidst such chaos? The Central Plains still couldn't overcome the disaster known as the Demon Realm. Always yearning for heroes, this era also had a tendency to create heroes when there were none. In other words, it was an era where it was easy to become a hero. As long as one had a little capability. Amidst the criticism of the League, who were the figures that stood out in this incident? Was it the Young Dragon, who stepped forward to protect his brothers against the Demon Sect? Or was it the Sword Dragon, who exuded the spirit of chivalry with the flair of plum blossoms? Not only these two, but there were many righteous individuals and instructors who upheld justice even in the brutal attack. Ironically, however, the person starting to gain attention from people was someone else. There was someone who had made the leader of the Demon Sect, which attacked Shinryongwan, kneel. Even the famed Cheonghae Il-gum of the Kunlun Sect had lost an arm in defeat. The fact that a mere final-stage martial artist managed to restrain such a formidable foe left many astonished. This led to widespread talk. With discussions centered around whether this final-stage martial artist had reached the pinnacle of martial arts. The realm of enlightenment known as 'Hwagyeong' is such that even counting every martial artist who had reached it wouldn't exceed a thousand. It's such an elevated position that even after a lifetime of practice, one might never touch it. There's a reason they call the pinnacle 'the grave of martial artists.' No matter how much one strives, many remain stuck at the peak, unable to surpass the wall of 'Hwagyeong.' Thus, it's known as the grave for martial artists, and grave for ordinary talents. Could a final-stage practitioner, not even past his youth, have touched such a realm? It's not easy to believe. For such a martial artist has never existed in history. Yet, the act of the martial artist restraining the Demon Sect leader is not a lie. Cheonghae Il-gum's testimony confirms this. And that's not all. Immediately after subduing the leader, it is said that the young martial artist moved on without hesitation. To vanquish other Demon Sect members conducting slaughter. Witnesses claimed that on that day, the sky was peculiarly red. Mount Tai, where the scent of blood began to spread, soon filled with the smell of burnt flesh as the sky turned red. The cries and fears of the final-stage practitioners transformed into the screams of the Demon Sect members. By dusk, the ominous energy and murderous aura that had engulfed Mount Tai vanished, leaving only a fierce heat. The master of the red sky did not hesitate to judge the wicked. Moreover, the methods were considered shockingly intense for a righteous martial artist. Breaking bones to create cripples or burning them alive was standard. Many frowned at such a violent and brutal manner for a young martial artist. However, it was widely believed that he acted out of overwhelming rage. As fellow righteous warriors were killed by the Demon Sect. When engulfed in the scent of blood that filled Mount Tai, he showed no mercy in his actions due to his fury. "Damn it." Of course, the young man, who heard this, often claimed it was just a diversion and an outlet for frustration. Yet, it was seen as modesty and humility by others. Regardless, he emerged as the hero who made the Demon Sect leader kneel and thwarted the attack. Though he was ruthless against evil. He didn’t hesitate to save others. His fierce appearance might be intimidating at first glance, but behind it lies a gentle nature. He was seen as following closely in the footsteps of his father, the legendary hero. Once dismissed as mere rumors like 'a tiger begot a cub.' Now, many believed those rumors were spread purposefully by the hero to conceal his son's talents. Naturally. The person in question only bristled and gritted his teeth, dismissing it all as nonsense. No matter how much he denied it, claiming he wasn’t like that. The rumors, once spread across the Central Plains, were now too widespread to correct. Especially considering the martial artist’s background. He was the only remaining child of the legendary hero, who once ruled the minds of the Demon Sect with fear. The younger brother of the Sword Peak, once hailed as the greatest final-stage practitioner. The winner of the Yongbong Tournament. The youngest martial artist in history to reach the pinnacle. Among the six dragons and three phoenixes, he was known as the true dragon—a prodigy. Others described him as the most significant star of the Shooting Star generation. In the wake of recent events, the young man emerged from his status as a mere late-stage martial artist, earning recognition as a master by the people. The True Dragon couldn’t be confined to the realm of late-stage martial artists. The people of the Central Plains began to acknowledge him as a genuine martial artist, beyond just a young prodigy. Thus, they crafted a new nickname. No longer as the True Dragon among the late-stage martial artists, but as the emergence of a new master. The crowd longed for a hero, or so they said. In this sense, he became the hero everyone desired. Possessing righteousness and chivalry, moving without hesitation to save others. Yet, unfathomably ruthless to the Demon Sect. To the wicked, he dealt punishments and penalties that instilled fear. His demeanor was likened to that of a malevolent spirit. Thus, many bestowed upon him this new moniker reflective of his fearsome reputation. "Little Yama." "...!" A slip. Bang-! The hand that was extending straight veered off course at those words, striking elsewhere. As my fist hit the wall, cracks spread with a sound that reverberated through the entire cave. Quickly hiding my burning ears, I glared at the person who uttered those wretched words. "Heh-heh." "...Do you find this amusing?" I looked at her with an expression that suggested I couldn't wrap my head around it. Moryong Hia, scooping a dumpling with one hand, smirked and responded. "It's very amusing." "It's not amusing at all. That name." "Is it so unpleasant?... It's quite an impressive nickname." "If you're going to say that... Keep that smirk off your face, Lady Solbong." "My, I made a rare mistake." At my words, Moryong Hia feigned regret, pulling down the corners of her mouth with her fingers. The sight made my teeth grind automatically. 'Ugh.' But daring to vent anger was not an option. It wouldn't do to lash out at someone who had come to see me, bringing food in the middle of the day. All I could do was curse inwardly. 'Little Yama, my foot.' The mere thought of that awful nickname made me feel like something was boiling inside me. 'If I ever find out who came up with that, they'll get to meet Yama himself for real.' Even the title of True Dragon seemed easier to swallow compared to this absurd alias. As a young man of the righteous sect, having a nickname like Yama attached to mine was absurd. 'Who the hell came up with it?' The more I imagined it, the angrier I got. That nickname started trailing me just a month ago. Wherever it originated, strange stories about me began circulating that must have been the root of all this. '…What? Taking down the wicked... and what else?' Already in a foul mood, I was annoyed by the nonsense spreading that all I did was dispatch villains in a supposed rage. While it's true I despised the Demon Sect. There was no need to associate grandiose terms like execution or punishment with my actions. I took life because they were people deserving of death. And I had no qualms about it as it posed no issue for me. I fail to understand why it's being portrayed as some noble and grand gesture. 'People just love spreading rumors.' The biggest issue was likely when Cheonghae Il-gum, that old man, woke up and claimed I handled everything... 'I'm going crazy.' Well, when you dissect it, there's truth to it. If you get down to it, most rumors are accurate except for the parts that exaggerated my motives as something grandiose. The rapid spread of these rumors was also a problem. And the bizarre nickname I earned was overwhelmingly a problem. "Personally, I think it's fine, is it really that bad for you, my lord?" "Do you... really find that fine?" Does she seriously think Little Yama is acceptable? Her awkward smile suggested she didn’t truly think it was a well-fitting nickname. "The name is a bit much, but...." "See, even you agree." "...Anyway, getting a nickname as a martial artist is a big deal, right?" She made a valid point. For martial artists, a nickname was significantly important. It encapsulates an essence of the martial artist. The martial arts I practiced, my unique traits, and the heights I achieved formed this identity. While some immature individuals might fancifully attach a flashy moniker to themselves. Those hollow nicknames inevitably fade quickly. True nicknames are given by others. The esteemed trio of masters didn’t label themselves as such. They earned that label because many simply acknowledged them as the strongest trio. It was the same for my father’s nickname, the Tiger Hero, and the notable titles of the leaders of the Four Great Families. Thus, a nickname, viewed one way, is a value attributed to a martial artist. ...Even so. "But seriously, this isn't it!" Stomping on the ground out of displeasure, Moryong Hia remained unruffled as she watched on. As she had so often seen me behave this way before. ‘Fine, fine.’ Recognized beyond a late-stage martial artist as a true master? Good. That was fine. Surely, that meant earning some fame, which might be beneficial in the future. Little Yama? Even if the nickname is somewhat unpalatable, what can be done? No matter how I looked at it, I thought it was better than the title I earned in my previous life.... '...No, they both seem equally absurd.' ...Even so, if I tried, I could just barely let it slide. Now, wherever I went, people recognized me as Little Yama! The diminutive Yama! Exclaiming at my notoriety, marvelling at my intimidating presence. But that I could also just let slide. The important thing was. ‘Why has the rumor spread so quickly?’ How rapidly my nickname spread was astounding. I couldn’t speak for other regions, but just in Hanam, the speed of its spread was no joke. Every tavern and inn, day and night, buzzed only with stories about me. "This is strange indeed." It seemed that Moryong Hia also sensed something was off and questioned whether the situation was unusual. "It almost feels artificially orchestrated." "Exactly." "But... you do have an idea of the reason behind it, don't you?" "..." She wasn't wrong. I had a faint inkling as to why I found myself in this predicament. 'It's all a ploy.' In my view, while the mess I caused played a significant role, the deeper reason lies with the Wulin League, which was facing a barrage of criticisms. "The speed at which this spread suggests that the Beggars' Sect might be involved too." I was half-convinced of this narrative. The rumors about me seemed to have the Wulin League's fingerprints all over them. It was the only logical explanation for such rapid dissemination. Currently, the Wulin League's public image was at rock bottom. Being considered the symbol of the righteous sects was the only thing keeping them from sinking further. But the trajectory of repeated mishaps and incompetence seemed to have reached a boiling point with the recent attack. As a result, alongside discussions about me, there were frequent murmurs suggesting reforming the League or questioning the League's very existence. Hence, why the confusion? ‘Why me in this situation?’ Initially, I thought the league might be using me to overshadow their tarnished reputation. Trying to distract from the incessant talk about them by making me the single focal point. This is a strategy the Wulin League employed whenever something shocking emerged, redirecting focus to a single person. So, I assumed it was a similar tactic, but upon further inspection, it seemed to go beyond that. ‘At this level, it feels like they’re backing me.' It felt like they were pushing my reputation forward, perhaps even at the cost of their own. ‘Why would that be?’ If that was indeed the case, then why elevate me so? I couldn't quite grasp the motive. Furthermore, the most bothersome part was – ‘…Why does my nickname have to be so absurd?’ I kept returning to the nickname now attached to me. Assuming this was being propagated by the Wulin League. Crunch- I ground my teeth and threw another punch. Boom! Boom! The sound that had echoed through the cave earlier reverberated again. Moryong Hia let out a deep sigh as she observed. "I told you to take it easy." "I've rested enough." Even as I responded, my fists didn't cease their movement. "Five minutes at best?" "That's enough." "You're really crazy." Moryong Hia, sounding exasperated, but my actions didn't falter. How many days have I been doing this? ‘I’m not sure, but it’s been over seven days.’ I couldn't tell since I wasn't counting. That only included the days spent in the cave. Adding the days before that, who knows how long it really was. Even at this stage, it felt maddening, but there was nothing to be done. ‘If told to do it, just do it.’ This relentless routine was at the behest of none other than the Overlord himself. Turning back to the past, I remembered seeking instruction from the Overlord. It was slightly after that point. For a martial artist to learn a new internal energy, it was customary to empty everything first to make way for the new. This was an unspoken rule among martial artists. Given its necessity, this was the general consensus. But I remembered. The look on the Overlord's face when he reluctantly imparted the teachings of his martial art under my insistence. The change in his expression upon realizing I successfully integrated his art without discarding my previous Qianyan Firewheel Art. Perhaps resignation or a kind of disbelief. He seemed shocked, shaken even. Contrary to my expectations, I kept the internal energy from my previous art. And successfully embedded the Overlord's unique internal technique. Ignoring the fact that I received another martial art. People would ask, how did you master the Overlord's martial art in mere days? ‘It was easier than anticipated.’ Surprisingly, the Overlord’s art wasn’t particularly difficult to master. Even the Overlord himself said it wasn’t overly challenging. Of course, embedding two internal techniques is another matter entirely. The Overlord's expression at the time attested to that fact. -It's absurd. Perhaps my exceptionally resilient body, capable of enduring other energies without consequence, made the Overlord's martial art feasible. The fact that it posed no real problem cemented this in reality. Though slightly worried if it would be the same when it came to martial skills. Seeing as there were no issues, it seemed my adaptable body didn't reject martial skills either. However. -You... you truly have a Celestial Martial Body. The Overlord seemed to interpret it differently. With utter shock, he said to me. -To control the flowing energy so finely and accommodate two techniques simultaneously... what kind of mastery is that? He spoke as if he had discovered a new world. But to me, it was just nonsensical rambling. ‘What "method" and what energy control is he talking about?’ Only with his hand on my back guiding me through mastering his art did he perceive this. -How is such precise control even possible? -...Sorry? The Overlord, curious, had even asked me. And the only answer I could provide was: -...I just did it. I simply didn’t know why. It was a frustrating response even to my own ears; I briefly worried about upsetting the Overlord. Surprisingly, the Overlord only grew more excited. What is up with that expression? It’s terrifying… Perhaps that was the issue. I couldn’t see it any other way. The reason I’m embarking on such an insane task now. It’s all because the Overlord asked me to do it. I had learned the internal art; now it was time to learn the martial skill. The technique known as Tuapachonmu. Created by the Overlord himself, a martial art not yet a century old. The martial art was called a divine skill simply due to the strength it showcased through the Overlord. Having faced it directly in the past, I understood its power all too well. At first, I wondered how I would learn such intense techniques. During a moment when I uncharacteristically felt excited and curious, the Overlord said to me with a beaming expression: -You must destroy and pass through this mountain using only the Qi of the Tuapachonmu. -…What? -The only thing you can use is your fists. No other energy should be employed. He took me to the mountain to start the training, and with those unexpected words, he turned his back and began descending the mountain. In a panic, I tried to stop him to demand an explanation. -…Wait a minute…. -By the way. The Overlord interrupted me and continued. -I’m not ready to hear the word ‘master’ yet, so don’t say it. And with that, he disappeared swiftly. Nowadays, he occasionally appears to check on my progress before vanishing again. This was the reason I began this insane task. ‘Crazy man.’ Telling me to penetrate the mountain with just my fists—was that even feasible? It seemed preposterous, no matter how you looked at it. ‘And I’m equally insane for attempting it.’ The fact that he instructed, and that I’m genuinely trying to do it, makes me just as crazy. Others might ask why I'm doing this. Not just for a day or two, but nearly two months. They might wonder why I endure such hardship when I could simply grow stronger through traditional methods. But I realized something the day I decided to give it a shot on a whim. ‘This.’ The internal technique of the divine skill, Tuapachonmu. Why it was surprisingly easier to grasp than anticipated became clear. This technique was more of a restriction than an internal skill. The more I moved my body with the energy active, the more it felt as if my muscles were screaming, the pain intense. My energy center felt heavy, my movements as sluggish as if carrying weights all over my body. Initially, I cursed the Overlord for teaching me such a technique. But after a few more usages, I noticed a transformation. Rather than inflicting pain upon the body. It aimed to reshape the body appropriately. The longer it was used, the more changes occurred. Subtle, but I could feel my muscles strengthening due to the internal art. An unbelievable internal technique. While the rate was excruciatingly slow and seemingly required constant practice to make a difference, just by using it and moving my body, I became stronger. If this were to be revealed, the impact would be monumental. That’s how I began to understand why the Overlord’s martial art was considered divine. It explained why he retained youthful vigor despite experiencing aging reversals. Yet there was a significant problem. ‘It’s incredibly painful.’ Merely activating the internal technique and moving was sheer agony. As mentioned earlier, it produced a pain reminiscent of facing every sort of punishment. The pain made even a simple arm stretch daunting at first. Twisting the waist, raising an arm; each movement was accompanied by intense pain. And even now, the situation wasn't much better. Sweat poured down with just a little movement. Occasionally, unable to withstand the pain, I’d faint. Each time, I wondered; if the internal art was like this, did the Overlord endure such agony each time he employed the martial arts? It seemed almost masochistic… It appeared to be a truly insane martial art. Despite wondering how such a martial art could exist. ‘I can feel myself growing stronger.’ Even if just incrementally, there was a tangible sense of becoming stronger. The very fact that I could feel this growth was significant. It was more of a physical enhancement than an elevation in level. If the Overlord had conceived it with this purpose, he was indeed a monster. Though I haven't properly learned the movements of the Tuapachonmu yet. The reason I've fervently been chiseling away at this cave is purely based on the belief that it is genuinely beneficial. "When exactly are you going to stop?" For those unaware, it might seem like pointless training. Even Moryong Hia thought so initially. "You’ll hurt yourself like this, my lord…." "I’m fine." I couldn’t disclose the truth about the Overlord to anyone. Nor could I reveal that I was training under him, making me look like a lunatic to others just punching away at caves. Despite this, they didn’t try to stop me, instead bringing meals, perhaps resigned to my frequently bizarre behavior…. It was unsettling…. “Ugh…” I paused midway through a punch due to the intense wave of pain shooting through me. Had I been less composed, I might have fainted. “...” Watching this, Moryong Hia sighed deeply once more before standing up. "Make sure to eat your meals." "You’re leaving?" "Yes, tomorrow Miss Namgung will be coming." "She should rest instead of coming." It seemed they had devised some rotation schedule to bring me meals daily. I wasn’t staying in the cave all the time, returning home to eat dinner, so why visit at lunchtime? All on a rotating basis, no less. ‘How on earth does she know when I head out at night?’ In the case of Moryong Hia, she unfailingly came around whenever I left for the cave at night. How could she possibly know? "I wish I could let it be, but it's not that simple. Miss Namgung has quite the knack for observation. Unlike someone else." "Huh?" "Anyway, I’ll head off now. Sir Gu, will you be returning this evening?" "Maybe...?" Moryong Hia frowned, apparently displeased with my answer. However, it seemed she had nothing more to say as she turned her back towards the entrance. Just then. "Oh, and one more thing." "What now?" "Make sure to come back in one piece after seven nights?" With those seemingly urgent words, Moryong Hia disappeared, signaling the end of our conversation for today. “...Tch.” Only then did I recall what I had momentarily forgotten. The seven-night period Moryong Hia mentioned. It marked the day the Righteous Assembly was set to take place. I found myself in a situation where I needed to attend the Righteous Assembly. Though I questioned why I had to be there, it made sense since I was one of the few who had witnessed the attack firsthand. The relentless chanting of "Little Yama" from every corner was another reason. Just thinking about it gave me a headache. And that wasn’t the only thing troubling my mind. “Sigh…” A sigh escaped me as I recalled all the issues. ‘How many are expected to come again?’ It wasn’t just the assembly attendees that troubled me. While the arrival of esteemed figures from the Four Great Families and the Nine Great Sects could be anticipated, my headache was from something else entirely. I’d heard that members from the Gu Family were attending this assembly. Who was expected? Elder Iljang, First Sword Chief, Lady Mi, and Gu Hee-bi, I believe…. And to top it all off, my father was said to be coming too. Frankly, I was okay with this much. Given the incident and the upcoming Righteous Assembly, it seemed natural for the Gu Family to make an appearance, as they were a distinguished family among the righteous sects. But…. ‘…Why would Father come?’ Father’s coming to Hanam carried several implications. Even though the leaders of major families were participating. One might argue that what's there to stop the head of the Gu Family from attending? Father had always been reluctant to set foot in Hanam. Known as the Guardian of Shanxi, he had his hands full with family affairs. Yet, he particularly avoided Hanam. Usually, unless it was a significant matter, he hardly left Shanxi. But recalling his rare attendance for Gu Hee-bi’s issues or my betrothal, it seems Hanam was unwelcoming to him. ‘Does that mean the current situation is grave enough for Father to come to Hanam?’ In some ways, it might be true. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Above all. ‘Meeting Father is uncomfortable in more ways than one.’ It always was. Though better than before, the idea of facing Father was unsettling. It was so troublesome that my extended fist came to a halt. “Should I call it a day here?” With so many distractions, focus was hard to come by. Deciding that today’s hard labor would end here, I retrieved my hanging fist and ceased channeling the internal art through my body. All the restraints binding my body dissipated, liberating me from the agony. Sweat drenched my body. Enduring the pain while moving was uniquely challenging. Yet, there was a sense of clarity in the exertion. Sweating from training had almost become a rarity; if this could induce it, it was a decent outcome. I then dressed quickly and exited the cave. I headed toward the guesthouse assigned to the righteous faction disciples as temporary lodging. The survivors of the attack couldn’t return to their families or sects immediately. Not unless someone from their quarters came to retrieve them. Of course, should their families or sects send word stating there was no need, they could be sent away. However, few issued such notices. With the Righteous Assembly only months away, word had gotten out. The Wulin League had also allocated well-managed accommodations, so most were staying put for the time being. By the time I set foot on the streets of Hanam, conversations filled the air. -As for the League... -That comment the League Master made last time... They were, as always, a cacophony of discussions over circulated rumors. -And about Little Yama... I felt the discourse about me mingling as I pressed the brim of my conical hat deeper. Normally, I wouldn’t bother with such annoyances, but the persistent rumors forced me to wear it. ‘…What a nuisance.’ A sigh came out. It was exasperating. ‘I better get going.’ Determined, I maneuvered around the crowd with that aim. "Hero." A voice called out. Who was it? Had someone noticed? I hesitated and scanned around, debating whether to ignore it but couldn't bring myself to. The person addressing me also wore a conical hat, like mine, obscuring their face. But I could tell. ‘Strong.’ The person was someone of considerable strength. They seemed to flinch slightly upon seeing me, probably sensing my presence as well. “…What do you need?” I sensed they hadn’t recognized me when they stopped me. The man, brushing off his surprise, spoke. “Do you know how to get to Bakrim Guesthouse?” “…Hm?” His words made me frown. He spoke of the very place I was headed to. As I instinctively took a cautious stance, he continued. “My daughter is staying there, but I arrived in secret and am unfamiliar with the area.” Sizing him up, I scrutinized him from head to toe. He was strong. The fact that I couldn't particularly discern his level meant he was either at the pinnacle of Esoteric Energy mastery or at the extreme peak. Seeing my caution, he produced something from his bosom. It bore the seal of the Wulin League. ‘That…’ It was a letter detailing the upcoming Righteous Assembly. Upon seeing this, I turned away from the man. It seemed he was indeed a family member of one of the disciples staying there. With so many disciples lodged there and the impressive aura the man exuded, it piqued curiosity whether he hailed from a prestigious family or a sect. I was curious, but priorities came first. “Follow me.” “You’re offering guidance?” “No, it’s just that I was heading there myself.” I led the way, and he followed. Unbeknownst to me, the man following was the White Heaven Sword Master, Moryong Tae.