Childhood Friend of the Zenith-Chapter 708: The Divine Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (19)
The Tang Clan was accused of kidnapping orphans and conducting human experiments.
One day, this news spread across Zhongyuan.
As one of the Four Great Clans and the supplier of seventy percent of Zhongyuan’s iron goods, the Tang Clan held a prestigious position.
Before the Blood Demon War, they were considered a sect of the unorthodox faction. However, their contributions to halting the bloodshed elevated them to an orthodox sect. For many years, they were a pillar of righteousness, trusted by countless martial artists.
The protectors of Sichuan.
The Sichuan Tang Clan.
The revelation of their unimaginable atrocities left many in shock.
It was said that hidden beneath their grounds were piles of children’s corpses alongside the bodies of demonic beasts.
Upon reviewing the records, the Martial Alliance discovered that these experiments had been ongoing for over a century.
A century.
One hundred years.
How many children had died during that time?
People were enraged—furiously so.
The Poison King did not attempt to explain or deny the accusations. Instead, he sealed the clan’s gates. But the public’s anger did not subside.
They demanded the Tang Clan be labeled as enemies of the martial world.
That the Four Great Clans not only expel them but banish them to the unorthodox faction and see them punished.
Despite public outcry, the Martial Alliance ultimately did not comply.
They concluded that the elders had conducted the experiments without the Poison King’s knowledge. The Poison King executed those elders immediately and declared his judgment on the matter.
Considering the Tang Clan’s past contributions as one of the Four Great Clans in safeguarding Zhongyuan, the Martial Alliance decided not to punish them further.
Instead, they restricted their monopoly over trade through the Alliance. Furthermore, the Tang Clan would be barred from participating in or voting for the election of the next leader of the Martial Alliance for three generations.
Though the Martial Alliance imposed these sanctions, they were not particularly harsh.
In truth, the punishment seemed lenient.
Given the scandal, many of the businesses that had dealings with the Tang Clan would naturally sever ties on their own.
Moreover, the Tang Clan had historically avoided involvement in Martial Alliance leadership affairs. To many, this felt like nothing more than a performative punishment.
Public opinion held that while the Tang Clan had indeed committed crimes, the Martial Alliance had offered them leniency out of respect for their past contributions.
A clan that had killed countless lives for the sake of human experiments.
A Martial Alliance that sought to gloss over it.
The issue remained a subject of heated debate, but a series of incidents that followed reduced public suspicion toward the Martial Alliance.
However—
The Tang Clan’s reputation did not recover.
“Those damn bastards. How could I have ever believed that Sichuan was safe under their protection?”
“The Four Great Clans? An orthodox sect? How could they commit such vile acts under the banner of righteousness?”
“The Poison King didn’t know about this? Do you honestly expect us to believe that?”
The Tang Clan’s standing plummeted further with each passing day.
Although it was claimed that neither the Poison King nor his immediate family were involved, few believed it.
How could a clan head be unaware of what was happening within their sect?
No one believed it. Even if it were true, they would refuse to accept it.
In their minds, the Tang Clan was already a den of evil.
“Of course, a place that deals in poison has a dirty underbelly.”
“They were unorthodox to begin with. The Martial Alliance merely overlooked it.”
“People talk about them being craftsmen now, but this was always a place founded by assassins. It was never trustworthy.”
These words filled the air.
Insults against the Tang Clan.
Against the Poison King.
And even against her—Tang So-yeol.
A fallen noble clan.
The Sichuan Tang Clan.
Every time she heard such comments, Tang So-yeol wanted to ask.
Why didn’t they say anything?
Why didn’t her father, the Poison King, speak out?
She wanted to ask countless questions.
But she couldn’t.
The Poison King had made his decision and told his children:
"Even if we claim innocence, being born into this family means bearing the weight of the clan’s sins."
"A clan head’s failure to know what happens within is a sin in itself. There are no excuses."
"Unfortunately, the father’s sins become the children’s burden."
"That is responsibility."
And so, they bore it.
Though it was unfair and filled her with resentment, Tang So-yeol said nothing in the end.
What was there to protest?
Hadn’t the Poison King already said it? The sins of the clan were the sins of the head, and thus, the sins of the bloodline.
Tang So-yeol had been just as ignorant as the rest of the family, sheltered within the clan’s walls.
A mere descendant, oblivious to it all. Such ignorance would hold no sway in the outside world.
Countless people turned their backs on them.
Countless people hurled curses at them.
In truth, Tang So-yeol wasn’t particularly afraid of such things.
If those truly were her sins, then she would accept the scorn of others.
It didn’t hurt her.
What she feared was something else.
If by some chance—
Even the slightest chance—
‘What if it affects him?’
What if the precious people around her were harmed because of this?
Tang So-yeol was utterly terrified of that possibility.
Even if her own life crumbled,
She couldn’t bear the thought of those around her being hurt as a result.
The world was dark.
Even as the light surrounding him shone brilliantly, her place grew darker still. If the last shred of the Tang Clan’s honor were lost and instead brought harm to him—
What could she possibly offer him?
She had nothing.
Many loved him, and this flawed heart of hers could never be enough to stand beside him.
She knew that painfully well.
Perhaps he would understand.
He was that kind of person.
But merely understanding wasn’t enough for her to endure.
Fortunately, an opportunity arose.
"I will make you into a monster."
A figure who came to her in the dead of night.
The one who was now her master.
The greatest assassin in Zhongyuan, the Shadow King.
He claimed he had come at her father’s request and offered to take her as his disciple.
He told her to refuse if she wished.
He warned her that his training methods were brutal and cruel. That she would face pain beyond anything she had ever known.
She didn’t understand.
Why had the Shadow King come to her with such an offer?
It didn’t make sense.
But—
"Please take care of me."
In the end, there was only one choice.
Tang So-yeol became the Shadow King’s disciple.
It was the only path she could take.
Time passed.
As the Shadow King had warned, the training was unimaginably painful.
How many times had she died?
She lost count of how often she faced what could only be described as death.
"Become desensitized to death."
She did.
It took a year to grow numb to dying and no longer fear pain.
"Become desensitized to killing."
She did.
It took another year before she could kill without hesitation.
"Not bad."
When she had taken countless lives and her gaze no longer wavered,
The Shadow King gave her his first compliment.
The moment she heard it, she realized many things had changed.
Her martial prowess, of course, but also something within herself.
How much time had passed?
He claimed it had only been two years, but to Tang So-yeol, it felt much longer.
The world the Shadow King had created was warped in many ways. Perhaps even time itself was distorted.
The corpses of children piled at her feet—
Even if it was an illusion created by the Shadow King, it no longer fazed her.
She was broken.
Tang So-yeol judged herself.
Did she regret it?
No, she didn’t.
“...Ah...”
The blood of others mixed with her own tears as they flowed.
Her heart raced.
She felt that now, at last, she could stand beside him.
Neither the heights of her dreams nor her shattered self were visible anymore.
For Tang So-yeol, this was everything.
Saaa—!
The world she had been trapped in faded away.
The darkness vanished, and the blood on her body disappeared.
Under a calm night sky and a radiant moon,
The Shadow King looked at Tang So-yeol and spoke.
"Descend the mountain."
“Yes.”
Now, she could finally see him.
******************
The sound of murmurs filled the air.
Tang So-yeol stood on the stage in the middle of the packed arena.
This was the Shinryong Martial Arts Festival, organized by the Martial Alliance.
Tang So-yeol had stepped onto the stage for this event.
The fresh air brushed against her nose. The weather was unusually pleasant.
At the same time, voices rang out from all directions.
“So it’s the Poison Phoenix. So the rumors about her participating in the festival were true.”
“The Poison Phoenix? You mean... someone from the Tang Clan?”
“Look at her hair.”
Tang So-yeol’s deep green hair and pale green eyes—features that marked her as a bloodline member of the Tang Clan—were plainly visible.
“Tsk.”
Someone clicked their tongue upon seeing her.
“She’s shameless. Does she even realize where she is?”
“Disgusting.”
“To think she’d show up at a festival like this in the current situation? She’s out of her mind.”
As they recalled the Tang Clan’s past deeds, their expressions darkened.
The heated voices echoed, resonating across the area.
Yet, despite hearing these words, Tang So-yeol’s expression remained calm.
Was she unaffected?
Her posture resembled that of a criminal silently enduring their punishment. Or perhaps she simply stood still, enjoying the breeze.
Her opponent, observing her, finally spoke up.
“Why don’t you step down while you still can?”
At these words, Tang So-yeol turned her gaze to her opponent.
It was Oil Sword.
Her opponent on the stage, Oil Sword, looked at her with a mocking smile.
“It’s just that... I’m worried this is too harsh a situation for a young girl to endure.”
Voices of criticism filled the air.
The harshness and brutality of this setting seemed too much for a young woman who had not yet reached her prime.
“If you step down now, I’ll let you go gracefully.”
Losing here on the stage would be far more humiliating than retreating under the weight of pressure.
His suggestion carried such meaning.
“Hah.”
Tang So-yeol, who had been silently listening, burst into laughter.
The sight made Oil Sword’s brow furrow.
“You laugh?”
“Thank you for your °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° concern. I appreciate the sentiment.”
“Hah!”
Her calm response made Oil Sword scoff in disbelief.
“Truly shameless, just like the rest of your clan.”
His attitude shifted.
“I was trying to show some mercy, considering how much hate you already face, but—”
“Yes, which is why I’m saying it’s unnecessary.”
“You might be feeling confident after what happened last time, but... do you really think you can win?”
Just the fact that Tang So-yeol was here, standing against him, annoyed Oil Sword.
At best, she was a mere fledgling.
What meaning was there in defeating such a woman?
‘The only silver lining is how despised she is.’
Her Tang Clan origins and youth aside, simply beating someone like her would boost his standing.
‘She might have some tricks, but that’s all they are.’
He dismissed her as someone who relied on cunning tactics, forgetting that the Tang Clan’s martial arts specialized in such methods. This oversight had cost him during their previous encounter.
Oil Sword drew his blade, speaking as he did.
“You made a grave mistake, girl.”
As his sword was unsheathed, the air around them began to change.
The wind that had been blowing gently fell still.
“If you had such tricks, you shouldn’t have shown them to me. Then you might have had a chance.”
He had already analyzed her methods.
Tang So-yeol had no chance of victory left.
“There won’t be a second time. So step down while you can—”
“You certainly talk a lot. It’s a bit noisy.”
Tang So-yeol cut him off mid-sentence.
“You little—!”
Unable to hold back, Oil Sword released his energy.
Hwoooooosh—!
The oppressive force emanating from him engulfed the stage.
Gasps of awe erupted from the audience.
“Just watching this makes my hands tremble. So this is the real Hwagyeong.”
“Forest Tempest Fist was impressive, but Oil Sword is clearly on another level.”
While Forest Tempest Fist, another Hwagyeong-level martial artist, had only recently reached this level and could influence nature to some extent, Oil Sword’s mastery was in a different league.
The air itself seemed to distort.
The space around them cracked and rippled, leaving lingering afterimages in the air.
Such was the power of Hwagyeong—even the mere release of Qi affected the surroundings.
“Are you relying on your pretty face? Or perhaps on your vaunted assassination techniques and poison arts? Look at your opponent properly. I am Oil Sword.”
He pointed his blade at Tang So-yeol.
“What can you possibly do in this open space? You have no chance of winning.”
“...”
At his words, Tang So-yeol glanced around briefly.
He was right. There was nothing there.
The wide-open view was almost refreshing.
The clear skies offered no place to hide, making it the worst possible environment for an assassin.
Tang So-yeol’s gaze shifted to a specific direction.
Toward the two eyes quietly watching the scene.
Gu Yangcheon stood there, arms crossed tightly, observing the fight.
His arms trembled faintly, as if he was forcing himself to hold something back.
Seeing this, Tang So-yeol smiled.
Though he appeared stoic and sharp, his gaze was always attentive to his surroundings.
How kind he was.
At first, she had fallen for his face alone.
But now, she thought even if his appearance became as pompous as that of the Crown Prince or a nobleman, it wouldn’t matter.
He was himself, and that was enough for her to love him.
She believed that.
So—
‘I’ll show you.’
That she no longer needed his concern.
Tang So-yeol wanted to prove it.
She shifted her gaze from Gu Yangcheon back to Oil Sword.
“You’re right.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing here. But that doesn’t really matter.”
As she spoke, Tang So-yeol pulled something from her robes.
It was a dagger.
No, not just one—dozens.
Tang So-yeol retrieved pairs of short swords and daggers from her clothing.
Clatter! Clang!
“Huh?”
Then, she dropped all the weapons onto the ground.
“...What is this nonsense?”
Oil Sword asked in disbelief, but Tang So-yeol checked her robes for more before finally laughing.
“I’m ready now.”
“...”
“I promise. When I fight you, I won’t use hidden weapons. Nor will I use poison.”
“Haha...”
Oil Sword chuckled, but his face contorted into a vicious snarl.
“Are you mocking me?”
“Yes.”
“...You bitch...!”
Crack! Energy surged along the length of Oil Sword’s blade, sharpening the aura around it.
“Fine. To insult me like this... I swear, I’ll leave a scar on that pretty face of yours.”
Despite his furious declaration, Tang So-yeol only smiled.
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Grit.
Grinding his teeth, Oil Sword adjusted his stance, his breath heavy with rage.
The referee glanced at both of them with a worried expression.
Both fighters had taken their stances.
The referee observed them closely, then quietly whispered the signal to begin.
.
.
.
"Begin."
The signal for the match was given.
Even after hearing it, Oil Sword didn’t move.
He didn’t charge forward.
He wasn’t careless.
Who knew what she might have prepared?
Their previous encounter had made one thing clear. Beyond being a person, Oil Sword, the martial artist, knew this much:
Tang So-yeol was no ordinary opponent.
No matter how unfavorable the conditions for an assassin, letting his guard down would be a grave mistake.
As he aimed his blade at her, fully alert—
“Did you know something?”
Tang So-yeol spoke in a calm voice.
“I hate clear skies.”
“...What nonsense is that?”
Hating clear skies? It was such a sudden and nonsensical statement.
“Like you said, there’s nowhere to hide, and I realized I’m not someone who can become the light. That’s when I started to hate clear skies.”
“Hah?”
Was this idle chatter to throw him off guard?
But the more she spoke, the more his wariness grew.
“Yes, I can’t become the light. My master told me the same.”
Tang So-yeol recalled the words of her teacher, the Shadow King.
When she asked how she could shine brighter, the Shadow King had answered.
"I don’t know how to become the light."
As an assassin, one could never become the light, and the very thought of it needed to be abandoned.
Shining brighter was not their role.
So then, what was she supposed to do? Frustrated, she had asked, and the Shadow King had replied:
"If you cannot become the light, then become a greater darkness."
A darkness capable of devouring the light—that was the role they were meant to play.
The Shadow King had made that clear, but Tang So-yeol hadn’t liked that answer.
“It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Light is warm; you stay close to it because of that warmth. Devouring it isn’t right.”
“What on earth are you talking about...?”
“That’s why I decided to become the shade.”
If she couldn’t become the light, and didn’t want to devour it, then she would be the shade that allowed the light to rest.
That, too, was darkness.
Darkness that spread for the sake of the light.
Yes, being the shade was enough.
For someone who played tirelessly and grew weary, she wanted to be like the trees in the forest, casting a shadow where they could lean and rest.
She would become that kind of darkness.
His shade.
A shade that would always stand firm, providing him a place to rest whenever he needed.
That was her resolve.
And this moment was her proof.
Tang So-yeol extended her hand.
“...!”
Startled, Oil Sword flinched, releasing his sword energy.
Ready to react to any sudden move, he failed to realize one critical truth:
This was not something that could be dealt with by mere reflexes.
Tang So-yeol looked at him and softly uttered:
"Wall of Ten Thousand Shadows, Sixfold Rupture."
The moment her words fell—
Boom—!!!
Tang So-yeol’s shadow expanded, engulfing the entire stage.
In an instant, a black veil enveloped the arena.
“What the...!”
His vision was obscured.
Swallowed by darkness, Oil Sword glanced around in panic.
He couldn’t see anything.
Instinctively, he released his Qi to sense her location.
He was trying to pinpoint Tang So-yeol’s position.
But then—
Puk!
“Guh!?”
Something pierced his back.
It wasn’t a blade.
It was a hand.
“Gah...!”
Coughing up blood, Oil Sword looked down.
Even in the oppressive darkness where nothing should have been visible, the pale white hand that had pierced through his body was eerily clear.
Schluk!
The hand withdrew, leaving a gaping wound.
His heart had been pierced.
Thud! Oil Sword collapsed instantly.
Was this death? He could feel it—the sensation of dying.
As his body crumpled to the ground, a soft voice reached his ear.
“One.”
Tang So-yeol spoke as she looked down at him.
Just once.
And his hell had five more rounds to go.
