Childhood Friend of the Zenith-Chapter 547

"Stop trying to feel unnecessarily and start seeing instead."

It was about half a year after my training under Paejon had officially begun.

As usual, I was sprawled on the ground after being beaten senseless, and Paejon was frowning down at me.

"How many times must I tell you? Moving solely by instinct will only get you into this kind of situation."

Hearing his rebuke, I frowned as well.

"If I rely on observation to react, I’ll be too slow."

The objective of today’s training was to counter and block Paejon's movements.

Successfully completing this step would allow me to begin practicing the second form of Tua Pacheonmu.

However—

"Isn’t moving based on instinct faster in the first place?"

Predicting the opponent’s movements and reacting accordingly.

Obviously, predicting and acting was faster than merely reacting to what I could see.

Even at that point, I still couldn’t grasp Paejon’s approach.

"Tsk, tsk."

Paejon clicked his tongue at my response.

"Prediction is only prediction. How can you act with certainty on something you haven’t directly seen?"

Paejon held out his hand, helping me up despite my groans of pain.

Damn it… My ribs, freshly battered, were screaming with an unbearable chill.

Holding my side, I asked him,

"So, are you saying I should delay myself and act only after I see something clearly?"

"No. As you said, waiting until you see something clearly would make you too slow."

I frowned at his reply. Was he trying to mess with me?

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

In response, Paejon pointed at my eyes.

"Stop relying on your eyes."

Then he gestured toward my chest.

"See with your heart."

"...What? That’s insane—no, that’s ridiculous—"

Smack!

"Argh!"

My head spun from the force of the blow, leaving me staggering.

"Your tongue grows sharper by the day. Do you want this old man to break it for you?"

"...Urgh..."

Admittedly, I’d been reckless with my words, but I still felt wronged this time.

"You tell me to see, then tell me to use my heart instead. How is that different from relying on instinct?"

"It’s entirely different. ‘Seeing’ and ‘feeling’ are not the same."

"Are you just playing with semantics now?"

"Not at all."

Paejon smirked, exuding the kind of confidence I found infuriating.

People who knew they were good at something always pissed me off.

"Every movement has a preparatory action. Are you aware of that?"

"...Yes, of course."

I nodded at his statement—it was obvious.

The shoulder moves before the fist is thrown.

Before that, the upper body shifts.

By observing these preliminary movements, you can predict where and how the punch will land.

That’s how I had trained to counter movements and disrupt the flow of combat.

To me, disrupting and blocking meant predicting the opponent’s actions and cutting them off beforehand.

But according to Paejon’s words now—

"So that’s not the way?"

"It’s still prediction, isn’t it?"

"...Then what are you suggesting I do?"

No matter how much I heard, I couldn’t understand.

This content is taken from freёnovelkiss.com.

What was he even asking for?

After half a year of constant beatings in training, I still couldn’t grasp the concept.

Seeing my frustration, Paejon stroked his beardless chin and continued his explanation.

"Do you know what is the most honest thing in this world?"

"Hmm? Me?"

"Hah! What nonsense."

I tried a bit of humor, but it didn’t land.

Disappointed, I saw him sigh lightly before resuming.

"There are many potential answers, but right now, the correct one is ‘a bet.’"

"A bet?"

"Yes, a bet is as honest and straightforward as it gets. Now, make a feint against me."

At his command, I immediately moved my shoulder, feigning a strike to his face.

Paejon shifted slightly, reacting to the feint. Seizing the moment, I adjusted my angle to aim for his neck—

Bang!

"Gah!?"

Before I could follow through, my attack was deflected effortlessly.

The strike hadn’t even been fully formed before it was blocked.

This was always the case in sparring with Paejon.

Clutching my sore wrist, I glared at him.

"What do you think went wrong?"

He asked me to reflect on the failure. After some thought, I replied.

"...Maybe my feint was too obvious?"

"Not at all. If anything, you’re oddly good at feints for someone with your peculiar temperament."

"You’re just looking for an excuse to insult me, aren’t you?"

"If I insult you openly, your feelings would be hurt."

It would hurt more if he knew how much worse the indirect insults felt.

"Then what’s the issue?"

"I simply saw it. I saw where and how you were going to move."

"But that’s… prediction, isn’t it?"

The words nearly slipped out of my mouth, but I swallowed them.

We’d gone over this countless times in the past half-year.

"As I’ve said repeatedly, predicting based on preparatory movements isn’t inherently wrong, but when you incorporate feints into your techniques, you’ll inevitably falter."

Skilled fighters mix feints into their actions to disrupt predictions.

It’s the only way to break through expectations.

"Lack of certainty leads to unnecessary thoughts. And those thoughts slow the body down."

The more you overthink, the more likely you are to falter.

"That’s why you must see. To reduce unnecessary thoughts and act with certainty."

"...If not preparatory movements, then what am I supposed to be seeing?"

I still couldn’t understand.

No matter how much I tried to comprehend, I always ended up back where I started.

It was an endless cycle of questions and confusion.

"What you need to see isn’t your opponent’s body, you foolish student."

Paejon always emphasized one thing.

"As I said earlier, in my opinion, the most honest thing in this world is a bet. A bet doesn’t lie. It’s transparent."

Swish.

Paejon thrust his fist forward and began to speak.

"What do you think reacts first when a martial artist begins to move?"

As I mulled over the question, Paejon answered it himself, not bothering to wait for my reply.

"It’s Nae-gi (internal energy). The Nae-gi already reaches the intended outcome of the movement before the body does."

I couldn’t fully grasp his meaning.

"What do you mean by—?"

Before I could finish, his fist was right in front of me. I barely managed to dodge by twisting my head to the side.

Bang!

The air exploded with a deafening crack as his fist tore through where my face had been.

Still shaken by the sudden attack, I glanced back at him, only to find Paejon grinning in his signature smug way.

"If I intend to throw a punch, it means my Nae-gi has already set the path for the motion."

"What...?"

"Nae-gi is a path. Martial arts create this path, and the martial artist uses their body to climb upon it."

As I listened to his explanation, I started to think I understood.

If Nae-gi precedes a martial artist’s motion and creates the outcome first—

"You mean...?"

"Exactly."

Paejon smiled, clearly satisfied with my dawning comprehension.

"If your opponent is already showing their path, wouldn’t it be much easier to disrupt it before they can act on it?"

[...]

The idea seemed monumental.

Whether the opponent was feinting or making any other motion—

If they intended to act, their Nae-gi would already express that intention.

‘I can see what they’re planning to do before they do it.’

The solution was simple: intercept the motion before it could be carried out.

As I reached that conclusion, I finally began to understand.

The meaning behind Paejon’s insistence on seeing rather than feeling.

"You’re telling me to see the opponent’s Nae-gi, aren’t you?"

"Correct."

Don’t predict based on preparatory movements.

The opponent’s Nae-gi is already broadcasting their intention—see that instead.

So that’s what Paejon had been trying to convey all this time.

Finally realizing it, I couldn’t help but ask:

"Sir."

"What is it?"

"If you could explain it so clearly now, why didn’t you just say this earlier? Why did you make me go through all of this?"

After being vague for so long, why choose now to explain?

It was an exasperated but genuine question.

Paejon replied with a shrug.

"At first, it wouldn’t have made sense to you even if I had explained. Now, you’re ready to understand."

"Are you saying I’ve gotten smarter?"

"Hah, your arrogance knows no bounds. It’s not confidence you’re showing, my foolish disciple, but hubris."

"...Tch."

Embarrassed, I wiped my nose.

"Though your mind may have grasped it, your body wasn’t ready. Now, your body has reached the point where such an explanation will resonate."

The notion that my body had to “understand” was a bit perplexing.

"So, you’re saying the time is right now."

"Exactly."

I nodded, relieved that I had reached the necessary conditions.

However, one fundamental question still nagged at me.

"But, sir..."

"Speak."

"Even if all of this is true..."

If Nae-gi indeed manifests the path of motion before the body acts, and the solution is to see and disrupt that path—

I was still stuck on one basic problem.

"What do I do if I can’t see it?"

The damn Nae-gi wasn’t visible to me. That was the crux of the issue.

Paejon could see it—that’s why he was able to destroy all my movements before they even began.

But I couldn’t.

"I can’t see it," I stated plainly.

Unless it was a physical manifestation of energy, how was I supposed to see something intangible?

Paejon’s response was laughter—loud, amused laughter.

"Oh, my disciple, you can see it."

"No, I can’t."

"You can, but you’re simply not looking."

"...Sir, are you losing your mind...?"

"Shall I help you see by blinding you permanently?"

"I was joking."

When Paejon raised his fist, I quickly backpedaled.

"You can’t see it because you’re trying to see with your eyes. Haven’t I told you this already?"

He pointed to my chest.

"See with this."

"...This is maddening."

His words were as abstract as ever, frustratingly so.

By now, I was convinced he was being deliberately vague.

"I’ve planted eyes in your chest. Not the ones on your face—use the eyes there."

"There are no eyes on my chest."

"Of course there are. I planted the seeds myself."

"Seeds?"

"Yes. Seeds that will lead you to transcendence, constantly reshaping your body."

[...]

Thinking it over, something clicked.

"...The Tua Pacheonmu?"

As I murmured the name, Paejon’s face lit up with satisfaction.

"That’s right. The eyes you need to see are within that technique."

So, according to Paejon, the Tua Pacheonmu was the key to everything.

Even the understanding my body had supposedly reached was tied to it.

"This is insane."

The words slipped out unintentionally, followed by:

"Is that even possible?"

Artificial transformation of the body.

Forced transcendence of one’s limits.

Those were impressive enough, but now it was supposed to let me see Nae-gi paths as well?

"If that’s true…"

If it really worked, could such power even be called martial arts anymore?

And to think this madman had developed it on his own.

"Nothing in this world is impossible," Paejon said, his grin deepening.

That grin, infectious and brimming with confidence, began to draw me in.

"If you wish to achieve something, you work until it’s achieved. That’s all I’ve ever done."

If you want something, you make it happen.

It sounded so simple when he said it.

"And I will make you capable of the same."

"That’s..."

"Eyes that cannot yet open will simply be forced to open."

His voice carried a hint of madness, and it was clear that Paejon was enjoying himself more and more as the training progressed.

I recalled something Paejon had said at the beginning of my training.

"Nothing is impossible. I will make it possible for you."

If something wouldn’t work, he would force it to work.

That was the essence of Paejon’s twisted belief system.

"Damn it..."

Feeling the weight of that realization, I cursed under my breath. Yet, my body was already moving again.

If I didn’t understand something, I would keep at it until I did.

That was Paejon’s teaching style.

The most annoying part was that no matter how absurd it seemed, he always succeeded in making the impossible possible.

And that maddening truth was what kept me moving forward.

"Six more months to go."

"One year should be enough."

His words from before overlapped in my mind.

He had promised to make it work within a year.

With that in mind, I pushed my body to move.

Satisfied that my rest was over, Paejon resumed his attacks.

Six months later, exactly one year into my training—

Just as Paejon had said, my eyes opened.