Childhood Friend of the Zenith Novel MTL - Chapter 1055

Chapter 1055

From the heavens to the earth.

A streak of light fell.

A single line was etched across the crimson sky. Along that line, the man’s form was cleanly divided.

His vision whirled.

One part tilted upward. The other, downward.

At the instant his torso was cleft in two, a sharp, metallic ring sounded.

Abruptly, his body reassembled itself, and his sight returned to normal.

“Cough…!”

A choked breath broke from him. The man clutched at his chest, his eyes shaking uncontrollably.

“Huff… huff…”

He concentrated on his breathing, reliving the feeling from moments before.

It was unmistakable. An instant ago, he had stood on the edge of death.

“What…?”

What was this feeling? To have death brush so close.

“I’ve risen in rank…!”

His form had ascended to a divine level. So then, what had just occurred?

Clenching his teeth, the man fixed his gaze forward.

Then, the one who had bisected him with a single stroke came into view. An elder with a wild mane of white hair that fell to his waist. His thick, untamed beard was equally disorderly.

The old man, his crimson eyes holding a look of profound weariness, looked down upon him.

He was someone the man recognized well.

Their history was not deep, but he was not someone one could forget.

“…It has been a long time.”

Just as the man was about to speak the old man’s name, the elder spoke first.

“Shin Сheol.”

Before the man could utter a word, the old man cut him off.

“My name is Shin Сheol.”

“…”

“You will call me that.”

“Shin Сheol…”

The man spoke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. What name he was called was irrelevant.

“I’ve suspected for a while, but you truly are an anomaly.”

Names held no true meaning. What mattered was the nature of one’s existence.

“Your rank is demonstrably low, yet you carry yourself without a hint of humility. And that power of yours…”

The man had long harbored doubts.

Shin Сheol, whom the sovereign of Mangye had labeled an outsider, possessed strength that defied reason.

Even during his brief tenure as a general under the sovereign’s banner, it was evident.

Generals were, by their very nature, pinnacle combatants from their own realms.

And yet, even among them in Mangye, Shin Сheol was exceptional.

Once, a Yusa, overflowing with arrogance, had confronted him, declaring Shin Сheol an outsider of low standing. From that day onward, that Yusa never dared challenge him again.

What transpired between them remained their secret, but the shift in the Yusa’s demeanor was plain to see.

Even so—

“The great Du Ryeong himself hesitated to face him.”

That fool of a general had shied away from a confrontation. It was perplexing. The sovereign had bestowed no special powers upon the generals when he summoned them.

Had it been a stipulation? Most likely.

And yet—

“Even then…”

When Shin Сheol fled with the sacred tree, no one could halt him. Even a combined assault from the generals ended in their defeat.

A truly overwhelming force.

In the end, the sovereign himself had to intervene to place a leash upon him.

Innumerable restrictions were imposed, but the most crucial were these:

“You will not interfere in the matters of Mangye.”

“You will not initiate conflict.”

These were the terms.

So long as it was not his concern, Shin Сheol could not be the first to act. This rule extended to battle as well.

Bound by these restraints, the old man had remained in Mangye all this time.

“This is…”

The man let out a bleak, disbelieving laugh.

One strike.

One downward sweep had nearly delivered him to oblivion.

“Is this not absurd?”

Even after his ascension, could this still be done to him?

Whissss…

A gentle wind brushed his nose, carrying the fragrance of blossoms.

Petals drifted softly on the air.

As a leaf fluttered past his face, he muttered.

“What is this?”

“…!”

A voice sounded directly before him.

The trident in his hand moved. A beam of light erupted from it, shooting straight toward Shin Сheol.

“Have you lost your hearing?”

Crunch.

With a sound like shearing metal, the trident sliced cleanly through the air.

The problem was—

“You refuse to answer when questioned.”

“Cough!”

Along with the path of the trident, the man’s body was severed once more.

His form shuddered. Just as he was about to be split apart, it was violently forced back into its original state.

“Hmm.”

Shin Сheol narrowed his eyes at the spectacle.

Then—

Swishhhhh!!!

“Guh-ah!”

Petals scattered as Shin Сheol swung his sword. Like the falling blossoms, his strikes lashed across the man’s body. A torrent of sword blows rained down upon him.

There was no chance to resist. Agony invaded ceaselessly, yet his body persistently regenerated.

“You bastard—!!”

The man ground his teeth. With every motion, his joints were already marked by the sword’s edge.

His body was being sealed even as it healed.

He had managed to guard the most vital areas, but the situation was infuriating.

Unable to endure it further, the man finally bit his lip and shouted.

“Stop…!”

A command shot forth, intent on binding Shin Сheol.

“Hah!”

Crash!

“What…?”

With a thunderous roar, the ethereal chains meant to restrain Shin Сheol shattered. The man’s eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

What had happened? The command had connected, he was certain of it.

How?

Incredulity washed over the man’s face, but there was no time to process it.

The crimson light of Shin Сheol’s sword descended once more.

Crack—!!

“Ugh!”

The man hissed in pain as his arm was cleanly severed, spinning through the air. It was a narrow escape. A moment later in dodging, and the result would have been far more dire.

His eyes darted about. He was fortunate to have avoided the worst, but a new problem immediately presented itself.

“What… is this?”

The severed arm would not regenerate. Was this a force that could injure divinity itself? No, that wasn’t it. His rank remained intact.

Then what was this? Before his confusion could find voice, the man discerned the cause.

“The energy…”

From the stump of his arm, a hostile energy squirmed and writhed. It was actively preventing regeneration, assailing him without pause.

“This is ridiculous…”

The energy itself seemed possessd of a will, constantly sabotaging his healing. This was not mere brute force—it was the product of meticulously refined and controlled power.

“A lowly being of such rank…”

How could a mortal, one who hadn’t even lived a thousand years, wield such skill?

Crack.

Gritting his teeth as if to powder them, the man moved his trident.

Scrape—!

He slashed across the wounded stump, and only then did the binding energy sever, allowing the regeneration to finally begin.

Feeling his body knitting itself back together, he put distance between them.

Creating space seemed the wisest first move. With that thought, he rapidly retreated.

Throughout, Shin Сheol remained motionless, his sword lowered, merely observing the man.

“What in the world…?”

What had just occurred?

What was the true disparity between them?

He had attained divinity and ascended to his master’s level. And yet, what had this lowly creature just done to him?

To make it worse—

“Why did the command fail?”

It should have worked. Despite the clear hierarchy of rank, it had no hold on him.

No, it wasn’t that it didn’t work. The command had taken effect, but—

“He shattered it.”

He broke it through sheer force of will. What manner of insanity was this?

“This bastard…”

What was he?

“What is your true nature?”

“Hm?”

At the man’s question, Shin Сheol tilted his head.

True nature?

“Well…”

There wasn’t much he could say on that subject.

Shin Сheol.

Patriarch of the Mount Hua Sect.

The hero who saved Zhongyuan.

The greatest sword to ever live.

So many titles surfaced in his mind, only to eventually fade away.

But the core of it was clear.

“I recently realized something.”

How long had it been since he arrived in Mangye?

A body that neither grew nor withered.

Energy that neither increased nor diminished. His form neither deteriorated nor improved.

His soul had its complications, but aside from that, Shin Сheol had retained all he possessed before his death.

It had been part of the agreement.

Thus, he had never truly sought growth.

Truthfully, at his age, what was left to gain from pursuing it? For a moment, he thought this, but—

“In this old, decaying mind, desire still remains.”

In Mangye, he had come to understand things previously unknown to him.

“What?”

“No matter how much I remember, the essence remains ingrained in this body. There is nothing to be done for it. Acknowledging this, I found I had improved somewhat.”

“What are you talking about…?”

“You asked my true nature?”

Shin Сheol shifted his stance. Turning his body fully toward the man, he raised his sword, holding it with innate grace.

The greatest plum blossom of the Mount Hua Sect.

Shin Сheol spoke of his true nature.

“A martial artist.”

“Huh?”

A martial artist? What did that mean?

As the man puzzled over this, Shin Сheol continued:

“One who never ceases to yearn, never ceases to grow. No matter what wall blocks the path, you will ultimately surmount it.”

A martial artist was such a being.

There are no dead ends. A wall in your way is merely something to be climbed or broken through.

The essence of a martial artist is growth and enlightenment.

For Shin Сheol, being a martial artist meant precisely that. Even in a life in Mangye where nothing could be gained, he had still sought something.

A body that did not grow.

But what of his soul?

He had sought.

He had yearned.

What was the martial path?

What was the sword? What was Mount Hua?

What meaning did the things he had achieved hold?

Pondering these questions, one truth became clear.

There is no end to martial study.

That meant, for a martial artist, there are no limits.

Faintly, he had discarded the excuse that he could not advance because he had already died.

He had only stopped walking due to the weight of his own excuses.

And so, he released them.

Swoosh.

Shin Сheol’s sword shot into the sky.

The man’s eyes trembled. He had to block this.

The thought propelled his body forward on instinct.

White energy enveloped him, and a sharp gleam filled his blue eyes.

“It matters not what you are.”

The man was clearly no ordinary entity, but to Shin Сheol, it was irrelevant.

What did the opponent’s nature matter?

“You will lose regardless.”

Though he had not taken many steps, just one—

Shin Сheol had moved one step forward, and he could feel it.

That was sufficient.

He had not ceased his journey, and that was enough.

His sword could cut through all things.

That was the purpose he had lived for, and that intent was now concentrated in its edge.

Plum Blossom Sword Style. The Way of the Sword.

Shin Сheol’s refinement.

Plum Blossom Late Sword.

Scrape.

The deliberately slow arc of the sword cut through the man, and the world itself was split asunder.