Childhood Friend of the Zenith Novel MTL - Chapter 1150

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Chapter 1150

Three days had elapsed.

The journey to Shanxi had been finalized, and as time moved forward, the moment of departure was now upon us.

Rumble.

“Hah…”

Standing unevenly on a mountainside some distance from the Martial Alliance, I released a heavy sigh.

It was a site where the earth had been completely torn apart—a place where the marks of conflict remained starkly visible.

This was also where Paejon had brought me previously to demonstrate his power.

Now, in that very location, I was struggling to calm my labored breathing while relentlessly circulating my inner energy.

“…This is utterly draining.”

Only once I had controlled my breath sufficiently to form words did I allow myself to grumble.

It was deeply, profoundly exhausting.

Crack.

As I released the built-up energy inside me, it shot outward and struck the earth, leaving a deep gouge.

A clear mark of the tremendous pressure I had been containing.

While my expanded meridians still quivered from the strain and my muscles continued to ache with the aftermath—

“Tsk tsk.”

A sound of clicking tongue came from behind.

Turning, I saw Paejon observing me with a critical gaze.

“No matter how I consider it, it still doesn’t add up.”
“…What doesn’t?”

Confused, I asked what he meant.

Paejon answered with absolute conviction.

“Why did I ever accept a youngster like you as my disciple?”
“…”

His tone was full of genuine puzzlement.

“Was I truly that desperate?”
“What’s the issue with me?”
“The issue? You’re incredibly sluggish.”
“…”
“Your physical capabilities are abnormally superior, and your control over energy is likely unmatched in this world… yet when it comes to martial arts, you are painfully slow. Compared to your innate gifts, your comprehension is unbelievably lacking.”

…Was that meant to be praise or criticism?

“Still, you possess enough tenacity to force your way through the basics of martial arts by sheer determination, which is commendable. But even with your lack of understanding, I still took you as my disciple…”
“You’ve already told me that a hundred times. There’s no need to repeat it.”
“Right? I thought I’d mentioned it before.”
“…”

He wasn’t incorrect.

I had heard this from Paejon more times than I could count.

When it came to manipulating internal energy, my talent ranked among the greatest in Zhongyuan.

But concerning actual martial arts, I was slow.

That had been hammered into my head long ago.

But—

“You always say to make the impossible possible.”

I threw his own favorite words back at him—the phrase he repeated to me daily.

“Hm?”
“That’s what you preached to me every single day.”
“…Hmm.”

Hearing that, Paejon tilted his head slightly.

Then, he gave a soft laugh.

“You’re right. Fair point. I was merely expressing my curiosity; don’t dwell on it. I’m sure there was a reason.”
“Don’t dwell on it? You’ve already said everything that could possibly leave a scar.”
“So what? If you’re displeased, we can spar. A master is always ready to guide his disciple.”
“…”

Damn it.

If this were my past life, I could have defeated him easily.

But this Paejon? Winning was impossible.

‘What terrible luck.’

Every time I feel the urge to fight someone, my luck fails me.

What a miserable life.

“…Never mind.”

I was already worn out—what else could I do?

“So, tell me what was wrong this time. Was I at least somewhat better?”

I brushed off my hands as I spoke.

Currently, I was training under Paejon.

I was learning the Six Forms of Tua Heaven-Shattering Dance (Tua Pacheonmu).

A single, straightforward thrust—that alone could create an enormous spectacle.

Paejon, a perfectionist, had once proclaimed this technique flawless.

I had spent countless nights tumbling across the ground, training relentlessly to learn it.

And yet—

“Failure.”

Paejon’s judgment remained absolute.

I hadn’t succeeded even once. Not even close.

However—

“You were too slow. And too heavy.”

Hearing what needed correction made me want to tear out my hair.

“…How was I slow? And how was I heavy?”

What kind of explanation was that? He always spoke this way.

My steps were too quick. My breathing was too forceful. My joints were too loose.

Vague, abstract, and endlessly irritating responses.

And—

“Why are you acting like this? This isn’t how you usually are.”

This wasn’t Paejon’s normal method of instruction. Sure, he enjoyed abstract descriptions, but—

‘Only to a degree.’

He typically gave just enough clues for me to piece things together myself.

But the training itself was always built on a foundation of detailed explanations.

‘Even when I learned the First Form, he wasn’t like this.’

He had broken down every motion—

How the energy traveled within the technique, why it flowed from the dantian to the meridians,

How it influenced the density of the joints and muscles—

He meticulously calculated and guided me through every detail, permitting no errors or deviations.

And yet, for the Sixth Form,

“Can’t you just explain it clearly?”

Why was he being so cryptic all of a sudden?

Could it be—

‘Was he always like this before?’

Had his teaching style changed after his rebirth?

Was this how he originally instructed?

“The Sixth Form has a correct outcome.”

Paejon responded to my question.

“However, the way to achieve that outcome has no fixed method.”
“…What does that mean?”
“It means the execution shifts from moment to moment, influenced by every possible variable.”

As he spoke, Paejon pointed to the ground beneath my feet.

“The slight angles of the terrain. The direction of the wind. The exact amount of internal energy released in an instant. Even the state of your body, which changes daily. Some conditions can never be identical.”
“That’s true.”
“And yet, amidst all those variables, you must still achieve the perfect result. So tell me—does a single correct path truly exist?”
“So in other words…”

What he was saying was—

“I have to instinctively account for every changing factor and still deliver a flawless performance?”
“Oh, so you do have some intelligence after all.”
“You do realize how insane that sounds, right?”

It was completely unreasonable.

He claimed that everything about my body and environment is in constant flux, yet the result must always be perfect?

‘…So merely repeating the same motion with the same energy isn’t sufficient?’

Executing the movements with zero error was difficult enough.

But now, on top of that—

I had to achieve perfection beyond that.

And do it—

‘By instinct?’

It was so absurd I had to suppress a sigh.

“That’s why I was surprised.”

Paejon spoke again.

“That someone like me accepted a disciple with such poor martial arts aptitude.”
“…”

Being able to consider all those variables and still achieve the perfect result—

That was pure talent.

A type of talent that I, frankly, did not possess.

“I told you before, didn’t I? That you were ready to learn the Sixth Form.”
“Yes.”

I had heard it.

That I was ready to learn the Sixth Form—but I never actually got the opportunity before arriving here.

‘Not that I ever regretted it before.’

But now, it felt like a missed chance.

If I had spent more time mastering Tua Heaven-Shattering Dance, things would have been much easier.

“Hm.”

Paejon seemed to ponder something as he tilted his head slightly.

“Then I must have seen something.”
“…Are you certain?”
“Yes. I must have seen it. I am not the kind of man who gives definite answers based on sentimental attachment to a disciple.”
“That’s true. You only ever care about yourself.”
“…What did you just say, brat?”
“Just a joke.”

It wasn’t a joke.

Paejon knew that too—his face tightened for a moment before he let it pass.

“…Whatever. You’ll discover your answer in time. If you’re finished, let’s return. We’re going to be late.”
“Yes.”

Choosing not to reprimand me further, he turned and leapt away.

Watching his retreating figure, I prepared to do the same—

But then.

“…”

I found myself glancing back.

At the area where I had been practicing the Sixth Form.

The deep pits scarred into the earth.

The sheer devastation made it appear as if a storm had ravaged the place.

‘…That is what failure looks like.’

Even though Paejon had declared my attempt a total failure, the result was still that level of destruction.

Remembering what he had demonstrated—

A catastrophe. Or despair itself.

No words could fully describe the nature of that strike.

‘…I have to master it.’

I would master it.

I had no alternative.

Maybe that was why—

“Hm.”

A persistent heat kept stirring within me.

I truly was mad.

This wasn’t the time for training, yet the prospect of a new challenge left me feeling oddly exhilarated.

‘…Is this contagious?’

At this rate, I might have caught something from Paejon.

That thought made me smile.

‘Let’s go.’

There was no time to lose.

**********

I returned to the Martial Alliance.

By the time dawn had faded into morning, the departure was imminent, and everyone was occupied with final preparations.

“All the supplies have been loaded.”

At that report from one of the warriors, someone nodded.

My father.

“We leave shortly. I will go see the Alliance Leader. Ensure everything is prepared.”

He turned and walked away.

It was only then that I finally arrived.

As soon as I did, I noticed the warriors casting bitter looks in my direction.

Well, naturally they would.

‘After the incident a few days ago.’

Was it because of how I handled Wi Seok?

Or because I had nearly beaten Namgung Jin to death?

Ever since then, they had been clearly avoiding me.

‘Even better.’

They should have known not to provoke a mad dog.

Why keep testing me when they would only get injured?

Content with the newfound quiet, I entered the carriage.

Someone was already inside.

“Oh, you’re here already?”
“Yeah. They told me to get in.”

Do Yun.

It appeared he was joining this mission as well.

‘…Not surprising.’

I had anticipated his inclusion.

Not only was he someone requiring monitoring—

‘He’s from Shanxi.’

Same as my father.

That alone was reason enough to bring him.

As I nodded and took a seat—

Creak.

The carriage door opened again.

And then—

“Damn. It’s tight in here.”

Someone else climbed inside.

Gu Ryun.

“…Why are you getting in here?”

Then—

Paejon entered.

What was this? Why were these old men suddenly crowding into the carriage?

As I looked at them, bewildered—

“Oh my, you’re all here already?”
“…?”

Following behind them, Hyun Soyeon stepped in casually and sat down.

“…What’s happening?”

I looked at her and asked.

I could understand the old men, but why was she here?

I posed that very question—

“Hm? What do you mean?”

Hyun Soyeon tilted her head as if it were obvious.

“I’m coming too. Naturally, I’m riding in the carriage.”
“…?”

There was nothing ‘natural’ about this. Her presence here was unexpected.

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