Childhood Friend of the Zenith-Chapter 560: The Position (1)

The morning after the fifth day.

The murmur of voices filled the air as people gathered.

Most wore pale blue martial robes, the symbol of Wudang, encircling something on the ground as if trying to confirm what they were seeing.

Shockingly, what they surrounded was a corpse.

The body belonged to none other than Ji Cheol, the Dragon Medicine Sword, a promising disciple poised to lead Wudang in the future.

His lifeless body lay cold, with Yu Baek, the Sword of the Shining Star, silently gazing down at it.

Ji Cheol had died with a sword piercing through his throat, blood pooling beneath him and staining the ground. Beside him lay a letter that appeared to be a suicide note.

The note claimed he could no longer endure the guilt stemming from Wudang’s narrow-minded actions.

Crunch.

Yu Baek clenched his fist tightly upon reading the note.

Suddenly—

Whoosh—!

A powerful surge of energy erupted from Yu Baek’s frail-looking body.

Despite his aged and withered appearance, the aura of someone counted among the Hundred Great Masters of Zhongyuan was undeniable.

Even the surrounding objects trembled under the pressure of his might.

"Ugh..."

"Hurk...!"

The Wudang disciples clutched their chests, staggering under the force. Amidst their struggle, Yu Baek opened his mouth, his gaze sharp and fierce.

"When was the boy discovered?"

"Shortly after the hour of the tiger (between 3 and 5 a.m.), Elder," someone replied.

"The hour of the tiger..."

It was not long after the time Yu Baek had set things in motion.

Clench.

Yu Baek ground his teeth in frustration as he replayed the events in his mind. It wasn’t Ji Cheol’s apparent suicide that angered him.

It was the question:

"Who did this?"

Yu Baek did not believe Ji Cheol had taken his own life. It was impossible.

And the reason was clear:

"Wudang’s treasure has vanished."

The treasure entrusted to Wudang was gone.

Some among the third- and second-generation disciples believed the Ghost Thief had orchestrated this, but Yu Baek did not.

Neither did the first-generation disciples or the elders.

From the beginning—

"The Ghost Thief doesn’t exist."

The Ghost Thief’s reappearance was a fabrication. In that context, Ji Cheol’s sudden death—particularly on the very night he was playing the Ghost Thief’s role—could only mean one thing:

Someone was behind this.

"Who is it?"

Yu Baek’s cold gaze turned calculating.

Who had dared to commit such a brazen act within Wudang?

And who had done so without leaving a trace?

"Not even the handwriting on the letter, nor any physical evidence, betrays another’s involvement."

The scene was so flawless it could almost convince someone that Ji Cheol had written the note himself and chosen to end his own life.

It was too perfect. Too clean.

Who could pull off such a feat?

Perhaps...

"Was it truly the Ghost Thief?"

For a moment, the thought crossed Yu Baek’s mind. But he dismissed it.

It couldn’t be.

Decades had passed since the Ghost Thief was last seen. The odds of such a figure resurfacing for this incident were minuscule.

Moreover, the Ghost Thief had never taken a life, not even during their infamous heists. That alone excluded them as a suspect.

"Then who is it?"

Yu Baek’s energy flared as he contemplated the possibilities.

His deliberation did not last long. If it wasn’t the Ghost Thief, then there were only a handful of possible culprits.

"If this happened within Wudang’s walls and wasn’t committed by someone from Wudang..."

The list of suspects shrank to one, or at most, two.

"...I must meet with our guests."

Yu Baek spoke coldly, ordering the disciples to retrieve Ji Cheol’s body before turning on his heel.

His expression was frigid, his demeanor as icy as a winter storm.

But within those eyes, there was no hint of sorrow for Ji Cheol’s death.

Not even the slightest trace.

******************

Amidst the clamor outside, I sat in the room, sipping tea.

“Hm.”

I took a sip and savored it for a moment.

“Tastes awful...”

Then I set the cup down. Tea—what's the point of drinking it? I never understood.

Snorting softly, I pushed the cup aside. Across from me, Seong Yul was silently drinking his tea. Watching him, I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Does it taste good?”

“...I don’t know.”

“I see.”

He looked genuinely puzzled. His expression amused me, so I spoke again.

“Ask.”

“...Pardon?”

Seong Yul tilted his head, confused by my sudden words. I continued, ignoring his reaction.

“You have something you want to ask me, don’t you?”

“How...?”

“It’s in your eyes.”

“...”

His gaze was full of questions, so obvious that it was almost comical. Tired of his hesitance, I decided to bring it up first.

“...That is...”

He hesitated, then finally opened his mouth.

“Back when I sparred with Geomryong Sohyeop... there’s something I don’t understand.”

“That time? What about it?”

“How... how did you block it?”

I tilted my head, puzzled by his question.

“Block what?”

“My killing intent. You blocked it, didn’t you?”

“Ah.”

So that’s what he meant.

Seong Yul was referring to the time he lost control of his Heavenly Killing Star and nearly killed Yeongpung, only for me to suppress his murderous aura. His eyes now shone with curiosity—or perhaps...

‘Hope.’

That was the feeling I got.

‘Even if he asks how, there’s no real way to explain it.’

There wasn’t any special trick to it.

“I just told you not to.”

“...”

That was all there was to it. I simply told him, “Don’t.”

Of course...

‘It’s not that there wasn’t a method, just that it’s hard to explain.’

The method I used wasn’t martial arts, nor was it magic or demonic energy. I simply issued a command—a unique kind of command, but still.

‘A benefit I gained after shedding my old self.’

It was one of the changes that came with my body’s transformation: physical growth, the expansion of my dantian, and... something else embedded deep within me.

The Shadow King had once called it a dragon’s authority.

‘Authority.’

The word sounded impressive, and in truth, it was. The Shadow King had explained his own authority to me as something invaluable.

Cursed with the Dragon’s Blood, the Shadow King didn’t possess a dragon’s full power, but he had an immortal body incapable of dying by his own will and wielded the authority of a dragon.

This authority wasn’t tied to any particular energy—it was simply a power inherent to dragons.

‘He said his darkness was part of his authority.’

He could summon black mists, trap others in an endless cycle of death and resurrection—abilities that matched his fearsome title.

‘That’s probably why they call him the Shadow King.’

Whatever it was, a dragon’s authority was undeniably extraordinary.

It was an unfair, almost absurd power that came simply from being a dragon.

And now, that absurdity resided in me.

The problem was—

‘...Why is mine so useless compared to his?’

The Shadow King could manipulate darkness and wield terrifying powers befitting his cursed half-dragon state. Meanwhile, my authority felt embarrassingly lackluster.

‘Dragon Speech. Seriously?’

That was my so-called authority—the ability to speak and have others listen.

That was it. Nothing grand, nothing powerful—just words that carried a bit more weight.

“At least I won’t lose an argument,” I muttered.

“Pardon?” Seong Yul blinked.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

Even calling it "authority" felt like a joke. And it wasn’t even universally effective—those with sufficient strength could easily resist it.

Not to mention, its utility was questionable when compared to demonic energy. Turning someone into a demonic being made them obedient anyway, so what was the point?

‘It’s practically a tool to ease my guilt.’

The authority felt more like a means to alleviate the guilt of corrupting others. After all, if I didn’t have to turn someone into a demonic being, I wouldn’t feel as bad.

‘Not that I use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.’

If someone wasn’t irredeemable, I wouldn’t resort to demonic transformation. That was my rule.

Still, I couldn’t completely dismiss Dragon Speech. I glanced at Seong Yul.

‘It worked. Back then.’

When Seong Yul was about to unleash his Heavenly Killing Star and kill Yeongpung, I used Dragon Speech. The command stopped him, dispelling his killing intent.

‘Maybe Dragon Speech can suppress the Heavenly Killing Star.’

If that were true, it would explain why I hadn’t turned Seong Yul into a demonic being yet. I needed to confirm it first.

‘If it doesn’t work, then I’ll make him fall.’

I would only resort to corruption if necessary.

‘If it weren’t for his connection to Cheonghae Ilgeom...’

Had it not been for his ties to that old man, I might have already turned him into a demonic being. That connection made things complicated.

The face of the elderly swordsman flashed in my mind, his words echoing:

“Find your peace.”

That memory was the sole reason I hesitated with Seong Yul.

Whether he realized it or not, Seong Yul broke the silence.

“Sohyeop.”

“What?”

“May I ask another question?”

“What is it?”

Seong Yul hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.

“Why did Wudang claim to be the Ghost Thief?”

“...!”

His question caught me off guard. I looked at him, my surprise evident. Seong Yul returned my gaze with calm, unwavering eyes.

“How... did you know?” I asked, my voice laced with curiosity and astonishment.

“I can sense lies.”

“...What?”

Another unexpected answer.

He could sense lies? I was about to press him for details, but he spoke again.

“When I encountered Bi Sungum yesterday, I could feel deception in his words.”

The Ghost Thief’s letter, their claims—everything surrounding the situation had been a lie.

“Oh...”

Hearing this, I couldn’t hide the glint in my eyes. If what he said was true, it was an immensely useful ability.

‘Did the Sword Demon have this skill?’

Now that I thought about it, the Sword Demon always used to say:

“I despise lies. That’s why you must die.”

He had often taken on the role of an interrogator, torturing captives for information.

With this in mind, Seong Yul’s claim seemed plausible.

“Fascinating. That’s quite the ability.”

Seong Yul’s eyes widened slightly at my response.

“...You believe me?”

“If you say so, then it must be true.”

My experience with the Sword Demon made it easier to believe. Not many would take such a claim seriously.

“But why are you telling me this?”

It wasn’t the kind of thing you casually reveal. Knowing if someone was lying was a dangerous ability—especially for someone like Seong Yul, who bore the Heavenly Killing Star.

He smiled faintly and spoke calmly.

“Because I want you to see my value.”

“...What?”

“This is a useful talent, is it not? I want you to know I can be of use. So that you won’t abandon me.”

His words, though composed, carried a chilling undertone.

“...Impressive.”

I had thought Seong Yul was nothing more than a madman consumed by his inner chaos. But his sharpness surprised me.

‘Pretending to be naive while watching everything...’

He must have noticed that I was weighing something about him. Whether or not I found him useful wasn’t the point. He had seen through it all.

"Even if that weren’t the case, he’s still valuable."

At an age where he hadn’t yet reached thirty, Seong Yul had already attained a level of mastery approaching perfection, with the potential to one day become the Sword Demon.

That alone made Seong Yul exceptionally valuable.

"What if I take that information you gave me and decide to abandon or kill you?"

"I thought it was information you would find valuable, Sohyeop. As for killing me... I wouldn’t mind."

He didn’t mind dying.

But being abandoned? That was a problem.

That sentiment was curious.

"Strange words. Why would you fear being abandoned by me?"

We’d known each other for less than a month. There was no bond or sentiment between us. If anything, from Seong Yul’s perspective, he should resent me for dragging him around uninvited.

Yet, here he was, revealing information to avoid being cast aside. I couldn’t understand it.

And then—

"I don’t know either."

Seong Yul admitted, his expression calm.

"That’s why I want to take the time to figure it out."

"You’re completely insane, aren’t you?"

"..."

In other words, he intended to stick around. I sighed, shaking my head at his absurdity.

"Do what you want."

In the end, I was stuck dragging him around anyway. Letting him go wasn’t an option.

Not yet.

With that, I shifted the conversation.

"You asked about the Ghost Thief earlier."

It was the question Seong Yul had posed—why Wudang would lie about the Ghost Thief.

"It’s politics. That’s all."

Politics. That was the simplest explanation.

"Wudang is expanding under the newly appointed Sword Saint as sect leader."

Riding the wave of the times, Wudang was making headlines everywhere. The sect leader was strategically deploying martial forces to stabilize the region and bolster his reputation. As a result, Wudang’s influence was growing by the day.

In such a climate—

"If rumors spread that the Ghost Thief targeted Wudang..."

The attention on Wudang would only increase.

The Ghost Thief’s supposed return, choosing Wudang as their target—it had a certain allure.

"And then there’s last night."

I recalled Ji Cheol.

"He even tried to snatch Mount Hua’s artifact while he was at it."

Despite his injured arm, Ji Cheol had acted during the Sword Queen’s brief absence. It was baffling why an injured man would attempt something so reckless.

"He must have been confident in the circumstances."

An injured man confined to the healer’s quarters couldn’t possibly be accused of being the culprit.

"Even the guards were likely in on it."

There was a strong likelihood that the guards were complicit. No, I was certain of it.

Under normal circumstances, Ji Cheol would have declared himself the Ghost Thief and fled with the artifacts.

Had that happened, Mount Hua would have blamed Wudang for their failure to protect the artifacts.

"And public opinion would shift."

The Ghost Thief stole the artifact—can we really blame Wudang alone for that?Such sentiments were bound to emerge. That’s how public opinion worked.

"They might have even coordinated this far in advance."

I didn’t want to think it, but it was possible Wudang had been in talks with the Beggars’ Sect about this all along. If that were the case, Mount Hua would struggle to hold Wudang accountable, while Wudang...

"...would end up with both artifacts."

Wudang would not only protect their reputation but also recover their lost artifact and gain further clout.

Even if Mount Hua protested and demanded accountability—

"They’d have already gained the attention they sought, while lowering Mount Hua’s standing as an independent faction."

No matter how you looked at it, Wudang stood to gain.

What a mess.

Was this the kind of scheming so-called righteous sects engaged in?

"They should just stay quiet and practice martial arts instead of playing politics."

Later, when the Blood War erupted, they’d be the ones getting crushed. Fools.

Of course—

"It made my job easier, though."

A series of fortunate coincidences had made my task relatively simple.

Wudang’s rotting core had done most of the work for me. And that rot would soon play a role in what was about to happen.

Swish.

I turned my head toward the faint sound of approaching footsteps outside.

[Excuse me.]

Someone was at the door. Rising from my seat, I stepped outside.

A group of Wudang disciples stood waiting, led by Elder Yu Baek, the Sword of the Shining Star. Yu Baek greeted me with a faint smile.

"I apologize for disturbing your rest like this."

"Not at all, Elder. To what do I owe the honor? Surely you must be busy."

I was, of course, referring to Ji Cheol’s death and the theft of the artifact. Yu Baek’s eyes twitched slightly at the mention.

"...I assume you’ve heard. Things have become rather complicated."

"I was already worried. Is everything all right?"

"Haha. Thank you for your concern."

Yu Baek’s words were polite, but his expression was anything but grateful.

"Normally, this would be unthinkable, but given the circumstances, I must ask for your understanding."

"What is it?"

"May we search your quarters?"

"...!"

I frowned instantly.

"Elder, are you accusing me of something?"

"I apologize, but this is merely a precaution."

"Hah."

I sighed sharply and held up my wrist, revealing the Enyi Line Yu Baek had made me wear.

"You made me wear this for surveillance, and now that something has happened, you want to search my quarters? What nonsense is this?"

"I am sorry. But I ask for your understanding—it’s necessary to confirm the truth."

Clench.

I ground my teeth but ultimately stepped aside, stomping toward the doorway.

"Outrageous. Do as you please. But I won’t forget this insult from Wudang."

"..."

Growling, I moved aside. Yu Baek gestured, and Wudang disciples rushed into my quarters.

They conducted a thorough search, leaving no stone unturned.

It didn’t take long.

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"Elder!"

A disciple emerged, his voice trembling as he held something up.

"We... we found it."

Carefully, he presented a blue jade bracelet—the very artifact Wudang sought to exchange.

Yu Baek turned to me, his gaze sharp and icy.

"How do you explain this, Sohyeop?"

His voice was cold, filled with suspicion. I stammered.

"I-I... I don’t know why it’s in my drawer! This has nothing to do with me!"

"..."

Despite my protests, Yu Baek’s expression darkened further.

"Immediately."

His voice trembled with anger.

"Restrain them. Lock them in the dungeons. The sect leader will decide their fate personally."

Yu Baek’s tone was like a blade. Disciples moved toward me to restrain me.

I trembled, pretending to be terrified, but inside, I smiled.

"Burn, you rotten wood."

The crumbling remains of Wudang were perfect fuel, destined to burn endlessly.

As I allowed myself to be restrained, I quietly sent a message.

"Hey, little one."

To the worm playing deep in the distant forest.

"It’s ready. Bring it."

And at that moment—

Rumble—!

A tremor shook the distant woods.