388 - Childhood Friend of the Zenith

Title: The World's Greatest Martial Artist's Childhood Friend - Chapter 389: Northern Rabbit - Web Novel Archive Upon following my father into the dining room, I noticed there were already others gathered. The group wasn’t much different from those who had dined last night, but Iljang-ro and Cheoljiseon were nowhere to be seen. Cheoljiseon probably bolted, and as for Iljang-ro, who knows where he’s gone? As I entered the dining hall with my father, attention turned towards us. Scrrrape–! Some people rose from their seats. It was Namgoong Bia and Wi Seol-ah. Their eyes, bright with emotion, fixed on my bruised eyes, and it was clear they were seething with intensity. “Who…?” It was an implicit question about who left me with eyes like this. Though Namgoong Bia spoke casually, the emotion in her words startled Gu Yeonseo sitting beside her. Seeing that, I casually waved my hand and spoke. “It’s nothing serious.” “Liar.” Namgoong Bia’s firm response was echoed by Wi Seol-ah’s nodding. “Yes, you’re lying. When Master says it’s nothing serious, it’s usually something big.” “…” Their certainty made me feel an array of emotions. What must they think of me to speak so decisively? Do they believe all I do is cause trouble? ‘…’ The sad truth was that I couldn’t confidently deny it myself. “Who… did this?” Namgoong Bia looked ready to draw her sword at any moment. What was she going to do with it? She had barely recovered, after all. “Doing what won’t solve anything.” “I’d scold them…” “Scold them?” “Yeah.” Her response brought a wry smile to my face. How could she plan to scold someone even I couldn’t manage to reprimand? While I appreciated the thought, it was imprudent. As I stayed silent, simply smiling, Namgoong Bia approached and gently stroked my bruised eye with care. Despite her cold hands, the concern felt warm. Wi Seol-ah stepped closer too, probing and pressing here and there to see if I had any more injuries, creating an uncomfortable scene for anyone watching. “I’m fine, really. Stop it! People are watching.” It took me raising my voice slightly for them to back off. But their eyes still held concern. For just a bruised eye, why were they reacting like this? Wi Seol-ah seemed to be in shock as she backed off slightly and muttered. “For Master to end up like this… the opponent must have been quite strong.” I nodded at her words. “They were. Absolutely formidable.” “…How terrifying must they have been…?” “Terrifying indeed.” “Were they… evil?” “No, not evil… I don’t think so?” My indecision elicited a presence from behind me, from my father. I felt teasing them more could be dangerous. Sensing the atmosphere, I nonchalantly replied. “My father hit me.” “…What?” “...” Their movements stiffened at my words. Their gaze shifted as well. From my bruised eye to my father, who hadn't even greeted us good morning. Father just stood there, observing Namgoong Bia and Wi Seol-ah hovering over me without much reaction. Ah, maybe that’s more intimidating. Soon enough, they turned their gazes back to me, filled with reproach as if asking why I hadn’t explained sooner. ‘…Weren’t they ready to scold someone earlier?’ They swiftly redirected their reproach towards me. I felt quite wronged and disappointed about it. ****************** After hastily finishing my meal, I headed to a familiar cavern. I needed to resume training, as I hadn’t done so in days, and I also had matters to discuss with Paejong. “I’m here.” As I stepped quietly into the cavern, the sharp smell of alcohol assaulted my nostrils. Frowning at the pervasive scent, I glanced around. The place was littered with bottles everywhere. How many are there? It's more than I can count with my fingers. “You’ve arrived.” Paejong stood amidst a heap of bottles piled into a corner. “What’s all this?” I gestured at the bottles, prompting a chuckle from Paejong. “I shared a drink with an old friend after a long time.” “This doesn’t look like merely a drink was shared.” “Lulled by the atmosphere and joy, one tends to drink more, wouldn’t you say? You’re too young to understand.” “...” I could only shake my head at Paejong’s statement. Even in my previous life, I wasn't much of a drinker. I lacked companions to enjoy it with. At most, I would lift a glass when the Sword Demon took a sip under the moonlight. “Then, was it Iljang-ro who visited?” “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Those elders truly indulged themselves. Judging by the volume, it didn’t seem they drank alone. Were there more people? I couldn’t be sure. Seeing my reaction, Paejong laughed heartily and waved his hand. A fierce wind erupted from Paejong’s body. Whoosh–! The wind swept through the entire cavern and blew outside. Astonishingly, the lingering scent of alcohol in the cavern vanished. ‘Always so remarkable.’ I looked at Paejong in amazement. His ability to use his technique so astutely never failed to impress me. If it were merely generating wind, I could manage that much. But the wind ushered by Paejong only extracted the air without disturbing the cavern's other contents, leaving the amassed bottles and stones untouched. How is it even possible? Paejong, noticing my gaze, asked. “Would you like to learn?” “Is it something one can learn?” “Maybe not for others, but you would manage.” “…No, thank you.” “Really? It’s quite a handy trick. Shame.” Paejong clicked his tongue in disappointment. While I understood it was useful, my refusal wasn’t without reason. ‘That man, he’s overestimating me.’ Paejong often said, ‘You can do it,’ when instructing me, implying… The phrase implies, “Since you're like me, it should be possible for you.” In other words, Paejong seemed to think my talent was on par with his own. ‘But that's the issue.’ It was an expectation I found overwhelming. Observing Paejong closely, one could quickly recognize that he was a true master. Among the many talented martial artists in the central plains, Paejong was one of the few who stood at the pinnacle. During the occasional banter amid training, Paejong would sometimes lament: -“Why can’t they do it? Youngsters these days lack perseverance. If they wish to, they can achieve it.” Whether it was about his unique applications of martial arts or his method of reading opponents, Paejong claimed that it could all be seen if one wanted to. The elder seemed oblivious to the fact that if it were that easy, anyone could become a master. ‘Easier said than done.’ From a listener's perspective, there was little else to say. He was someone who did not just create new martial arts styles but had also purged and started anew at an older age, yet was referred to as one of the Three Masters. That was Paejong. While all those deemed as the Three Masters were exceptional, historically, Paejong was considered a rare genius. And I felt immense pressure from such a man's expectations. No matter how you looked at it, I was at best ordinary, not a genius. “But, boy.” “Yes.” “How did your eyes end up like that? Did you get beaten up somewhere?” “...” “You aren't the kind to just get beaten around... So why so pitiful? Ah, it’s so amusing that it’s fine by me.” How could that kind of nonsensical statement be amusing and fine? “…It's an injury from sparring with my father.” At my words, Paejong looked intrigued. “With the old family head?” “Yes.” “Heh, then it's understandable. How was it, sparring with your father?” “...” Sparring with Father… Honestly, there was nothing much to reminisce about. “I couldn’t even graze his clothes.” At that, Paejong made a peculiar expression. “Seems your father hasn’t changed.” “Do you know much about him?” “Just a little.” “How so?” “If you ask how, I just know. A martial artist of his level isn’t easy to find. But tell me, boy, how much do you know about your father?” “Well… I’m not really sure.” If asked about my father’s skills, I truly didn’t know much. All I knew was that he was much stronger than his reputation suggested. ‘Now that I think about it.’ A question arose regarding Paejong. “Sir.” “Yes.” “Why didn’t you offer my father the disciple’s position? Was he not to your liking?” I wasn’t privy to all of my father’s talents or his martial arts progression, but it seemed he might fit Paejong's ideal better than I did. While Paejong clung to me, urging me forward, why hadn’t he done the same with my father? As if pondering my question, Paejong stroked his non-existent beard and spoke. “You’ve brought up something curious. Why are you wondering about that?” “It’s just something I've been curious about.” “Hmm…” Pausing as if collecting his thoughts, Paejong continued soon after. “When I met your father, it was before I had rejuvenated myself.” So it was a time he wasn’t seeking a disciple yet? “Of course, after certain events, I considered him as a potential disciple.” “Yes.” “But then I immediately dismissed the idea.” “May I ask why?” “Because it was meaningless.” What did that mean? Was my father not suitable? My confusion grew, but Paejong took it upon himself to elaborate. “By then, your father had already become one with his martial arts.” “…Become one with martial arts?” I couldn’t fully grasp what he meant and had to ask again. Become one...? Perhaps due to my continued bewilderment, Paejong, though mildly annoyed, explained further. “Have you heard of the Unity of Sword and Man?” “Yes, I’m aware.” Unity of Sword and Man. It’s said to be the stage where a swordsman becomes one with the sword. You are the sword, and the sword is you. A point of seamless integration, not just elevating a swordsman’s status as a martial artist, but a dream for many. Those who reached this level were often honored as masters and could wield what's called the invisible sword, or ‘Mind Sword’. It was a state the Sword Demon in my previous life had achieved. “To become one with one’s martial arts goes slightly beyond that.” “Beyond that…” “It means understanding all the martial arts you’ve learned, your body not just being a vessel for showcasing them, but becoming them.” Though Paejong’s words were difficult to fathom, they held a weight that seemed to pierce through my entire being. “This is often called Transcendence, but it’s unnecessary for you to grasp right now.” “Transcendence…” Why was this? I found myself puzzled by Paejong’s words. It wasn’t something I’d heard of in my previous life. It seemed significant; why was I only hearing this now? “…Then, are you saying that my father has reached this level of Transcendence?” “In my view, yes. For someone at such a level, it wouldn’t have been right to suggest taking on tutelage.” So, he needed to be at that level for Paejong to deem him worthy and yet have no need to teach him. Moreover, it meant my father had reached such a level. ‘I should ask about this later.’ It seemed like something I should casually bring up with Father. With that resolved, I decided to inquire about something else with Paejong. “Then, Sir, have you reached the level of Transcendence?” “...” I regretted asking almost immediately. Paejong’s expression slightly twisted at my inquiry. Did I upset him? Soon, in a voice tinged with a sigh, Paejong responded. “Do you know what the minimum requirement for reaching Transcendence is?” “I do not.” "The pinnacle of martial arts mastery." "Ah." Only then did I understand why Paejong had that expression on his face. "I haven't reached it. That's why I'm curious—about what lies beyond with my martial arts." "So, you're just using me to find out, aren't you?" "…Your way of speaking keeps getting cheekier. 'Using'? You rascal." It seemed to me that my words had hit the mark. Thus, Paejong commented on my manner of speaking but didn't outright deny it. ‘Transcendence.’ They said you could only aspire to it after mastering martial arts completely. Hearing this made me want to ask another question, but one I couldn't bring myself to voice. Was my father stronger than Sir Paejong? It was a hard question to ask directly. 'Mastering martial arts is the minimum requirement?' It seemed an unbelievably high threshold. Whether it was the Nine Flame Wheel Technique or the Heaven Piercing Saber Dance, both were already exceedingly difficult martial arts. To say that only by mastering these could one reach such a state—what nonsense was that? ‘It means it's not a level I can aspire to at this point.’ For now, rather than thinking about transcendence, I should focus on raising the Nine Flame Wheel Technique to the ninth level. "Enough chit-chat. Let's get warmed up." Paejong twisted his wrists here and there, suggesting a spar. Warming up meant sparring in this context, adhering to the rule of not using inner energy, only techniques. For the past few months, every time I met Paejong, we sparred. Not once had I won against him. This time would likely be the same. As I braced myself for yet another thrashing— “Oh, right, Sir.” “Hmm?” I remembered something I hadn't mentioned to Paejong yet. “What is it? Something more to say?” “Oh, it’s nothing major.” “Go on, speak your mind.” “My father expressed a desire to meet you.” “…Huh?” For once, Paejong seemed genuinely surprised. “Suddenly? Why does your father want that?” “Oh, it’s nothing serious.” I awkwardly scratched the back of my head at Paejong's reaction. “He found out I became your disciple.” “What…?” “I tried using your martial arts during sparring with him. He caught on immediately.” Haha! I had inadvertently let that information slip. “So, my father would like to meet you. Is that alright?” Paejong’s face instantly darkened at my words.