Childhood Friend of the Zenith-Chapter 727: The Divine Dragon Martial Arts Tournament (38)
TL Notes: Just a reminder. Jin Im-seok is a fictitious name for Seong Yul under which he is registered in the tournament.
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Drip—
Blood spilled across the cracked floor.
The amount was far too much to be just from his mouth. His trembling body showed clear signs that it had reached its limit.
Seong Yul turned his gaze.
His sword lay beside the pool of blood.
A swordsman who had dropped his weapon and was trembling—that scene spoke volumes.
‘Hmm.’
Peng Woojin observed the kneeling youth against the gray backdrop of a dulled, suffocating world.
‘How disappointing.’
It was nothing like what he had expected.
Jin Im-seok. That was his name.
Peng Woojin had harbored some interest in him.
He had expected him to endure a little longer—
hoped that he would make this fight a bit more entertaining.
‘Was I expecting too much?’
The anticlimactic result left Peng Woojin feeling cold.
His eyes shifted.
He turned his attention away from the defeated opponent and scanned the crowd below the arena.
It didn’t take long to find who he was looking for.
It was easy.
In a world painted gray, there was only one person glowing with light.
‘Ha.’
A faint smile crept onto Peng Woojin’s lips as he spotted the young man.
The light was still dazzling.
In this murky, colorless world, that young man shone with a vivid blue hue.
‘As brilliant as ever.’
When he first saw him, the light had been faint—
A dying ember.
A flickering spark.
That’s all he had seen in the boy who was much younger than him.
How fascinating.
Peng Woojin had been drawn to that flame.
And as time passed, the ember turned into a roaring fire.
Color.
Peng Woojin had lost his ability to see color when he turned ten.
Yet now, it danced before him, shimmering and alive.
‘Beautiful.’
The red hue had somehow shifted to blue, but—
it was still breathtaking.
And it wasn’t just the young man who radiated light.
Around the blue glow, other colors had begun to bloom.
The girl from the Tang Clan, whose name wasn’t worth remembering—
she now emanated a faint green light.
‘Bright.’
She had been completely colorless before.
How had she come to possess such a hue?
Peng Woojin had seen others with color before.
The abbot of Shaolin, Cheon-an, possessed it.
The Sword Emperor of the Murim Alliance, revered as its guardian, also had it.
He once thought strength determined these colors.
But he realized long ago that wasn’t true.
His father—
The head of the Peng Clan—possessed no color.
Yet the Divine Doctor, hailed as the greatest in Zhongyuan, radiated it.
‘Then what is color?’
If it wasn’t strength, what defined these hues?
Peng Woojin had pondered this question for years, but no answer ever came.
Instead, he came to one conclusion.
‘It’s dazzling.’
In a world stripped of color, what he saw was mesmerizing and irresistible.
He had long stopped questioning why he could see it.
Now, all that mattered was that it existed.
Like a single ray of light piercing through a void.
Perhaps that was why his perception of the world had changed.
Those without color—
They were like dust.
Even if they shared the same heartbeat, they didn’t feel human.
They weren’t worth remembering.
Pebbles scattered across the ground.
Nothing more, nothing less.
His father was no exception.
Despite inheriting his hair and eyes, Peng Woojin never gave his father much thought.
Was it because he was weak?
Was it because he flailed so pathetically in his struggle to survive?
No.
It was because he had no color.
Peng Woojin cared nothing for those without color.
Blood ties didn’t matter.
His incompetent father and brothers—worthless.
Only his sister, Peng Ahui, whose faint color barely registered, was spared his disdain.
And so—
‘How could I not covet it?’
A being that created color around itself.
Peng Woojin had never seen anyone create color before.
But those near that young man...
They changed.
So—
‘Show me something.’
Peng Woojin smiled faintly as his opponent struggled to stand.
His limbs trembled.
He gripped his sword like a crutch, barely able to hold himself up.
[Indulge me with one request.]
Gu Yangcheon had made this request before the duel, and Peng Woojin’s curiosity was piqued.
Without it, he wouldn’t have gone through with this fight.
‘Or maybe...’
Maybe he would’ve fought anyway.
Because even this pathetic opponent—
‘He has color.’
A flickering, fading ember.
The color around Jin Im-seok was dim, almost extinguished.
Peng Woojin’s interest waned with it.
‘What do you expect to see in him, Gu Yangcheon?’
One strike.
That’s all it would take to judge his worth.
Despite having a color, it was hard to expect much.
Even now, the light was dimming.
Though he had managed to stand and pick up his sword,
Peng Woojin could see it clearly—
There was no fighting spirit left.
A swordsman without resolve—
Was nothing more than emptiness.
‘What a shame.’
Perhaps he was wrong this time.
Thinking that, Peng Woojin raised his blade.
He would finish this in one blow.
He swung—not with the edge, but the flat of his blade.
But then—
Thunk.
“...!”
Peng Woojin abruptly retracted his strike and leapt back—six steps.
“...Hmm?”
His smile vanished as he narrowed his eyes.
A broken stance.
A trembling body.
Nothing about him had changed—
Yet Peng Woojin couldn’t ignore the feeling.
‘The color.’
The flickering yellow hue was gone.
But—
‘What is this?’
Why did he suddenly seem so vivid?
What the hell was happening?
As Peng Woojin questioned it, realization struck.
‘Ah.’
The color hadn’t disappeared.
It had transformed.
The hazy yellow had vanished, replaced by a dark, almost black aura.
The moment Peng Woojin noticed it—
Whoosh—!!!
“Oh?”
Jin Im-seok was cloaked in black.
Peng Woojin glanced at the referee.
The man showed no reaction.
He was merely watching for interference.
‘They can’t see it.’
Peng Woojin laughed.
‘So it’s like this again.’
He had been wrong.
Gu Yangcheon had been right.
That fact sent a thrilling shiver through him.
Creak—
Jin Im-seok moved.
The man who should’ve already reached his limit—moved.
Shrouded in darkness, his expression was unreadable.
Peng Woojin watched with intrigue until—
“Ah.”
Jin Im-seok muttered softly.
His eyes lit up.
Yellow pupils gleamed like burning embers.
Chill.
Peng Woojin felt goosebumps crawl down his spine.
Whoosh—!!!
An overwhelming energy burst forth from Jin Im-seok’s body.
‘This...’
Peng Woojin tilted his head as he felt the surge of energy.
‘Killing intent.’
That overwhelming presence—it was all pure killing intent.
How could someone emit such an immense amount?
It was a sight that could inspire awe, but this wasn’t the time for admiration.
Peng Woojin grinned and raised his blade.
Boom—!
Jin Im-seok charged at him in an instant, his aura roaring like a storm.
Clang—!!
Their weapons collided.
Crack—!
“Huh.”
Peng Woojin’s feet dug into the stage, sliding backward.
‘What’s this?’
The power was entirely different from before.
Creak—!
The once-light strikes now bore crushing pressure.
Peng Woojin shifted his grip and redirected the attack.
Screech—!
Jin Im-seok’s blade grazed past, barely missing its mark.
Peng Woojin immediately countered, channeling strength back into his blade—
But—
Swish—!!
“!”
Suddenly, Jin Im-seok’s killing intent surged forward, sharp as a blade itself.
Peng Woojin quickly altered his stance and swung.
Black Smoke Fang Blade.
His sword, infused with Qi, unleashed a flurry of chaotic slashes.
Clang! Clang! Clang—!
He deflected every wave of killing intent that came at him.
It wasn’t particularly difficult.
But when the last strike subsided, his expression darkened.
‘How strange.’
The intensity of the killing intent was stronger than expected.
It felt less like intent and more like raw force.
‘It’s supposed to be killing intent, but it’s acting like Qi.’
What kind of martial art is this?
Peng Woojin turned his head slightly, fascinated.
Slice—!
Jin Im-seok’s blade grazed his cheek, drawing blood.
‘He’s faster.’
Not just stronger, but faster than before.
‘This might as well be a different person.’
Even his swordplay had changed.
Crash—! Boom—!
What started as steady, practiced strikes had turned into something primal.
He swung purely on instinct now.
The blade carried so much killing intent that it was impossible to ignore.
It was no longer swordsmanship—it was wild, chaotic violence.
“Haha—!”
Peng Woojin laughed.
Instead of retreating, he stepped forward, pressing in.
Slice—!
Killing intent scraped his skin, leaving shallow cuts, but he didn’t care.
If anything, it only excited him more.
‘This is fun.’
Whatever happened to turn Jin Im-seok into this—
Peng Woojin no longer cared.
‘It’s exciting.’
His gaze locked onto Jin Im-seok’s golden eyes, gleaming with malice.
Even if they reeked of madness, Peng Woojin found them beautiful.
“Kill. Kill. I’ll kill you.”
He didn’t even hear Jin Im-seok’s muttering.
Clang—! Clang! Clang—!
Peng Woojin’s precise strikes cut through the waves of killing intent as he closed the gap.
He mixed in feints, but Jin Im-seok saw through them all.
Slice—!
A shallow cut opened on Jin Im-seok’s shoulder.
It had been a deliberate move to create an opening—
but Jin Im-seok used it to dive in closer instead.
“Kill.”
Jin Im-seok stabbed forward.
Thud—!
His sword pierced Peng Woojin’s shoulder, bursting through the other side.
Peng Woojin, however, only grinned.
“Excellent.”
He grabbed Jin Im-seok’s wrist tightly.
Grip—!
“Huff... Huff!”
“Hahaha—!!”
At this range, Peng Woojin couldn’t swing his sword.
And Jin Im-seok’s blade was lodged, locking him in place.
Neither could act without leaving themselves open.
“Now what, Master Jin —!”
But before he could finish,
Crunch—!
Jin Im-seok sank his teeth into Peng Woojin’s neck.
Peng Woojin immediately let go of his sword and struck Jin Im-seok’s stomach with his fist.
Boom—!!
The impact sent Jin Im-seok flying, rolling across the stage.
“Spit.”
He spat something out—flesh and blood.
Peng Woojin ran his fingers over the wound.
“...Hmm.”
It wasn’t fatal, but it was a rough injury.
Had he hesitated even a moment longer, it might have been far worse.
“...I didn’t expect that.”
Biting? Was this a fight or a brawl?
“This... this is fantastic.”
Peng Woojin wiped his bloodied neck, his face alight with joy.
There was so much color.
Jin Im-seok’s killing intent blanketed the area,
and his golden eyes burned brilliantly.
Even with just two colors—
They filled Peng Woojin’s world.
“More.”
He couldn’t get enough.
“Show me more.”
The hum of his blade grew louder.
Wuuuuuuuuuung—!!!
The air trembled as energy gathered around his weapon.
Blood dripped from his wounds.
Pain surged, but it only heightened his exhilaration.
“Huff... Huff.”
Meanwhile, Jin Im-seok’s killing intent grew denser.
It seemed he was starting to control it.
Woom.
Peng Woojin’s blade began to spin slowly in his hand.
‘Let’s see.’
How much more can he show me?
Gu Yangcheon’s request was long forgotten.
How far can he push himself?
How brightly can he burn?
‘I want to see it.’
That was all he cared about.
“So show me.”
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Wuuuuuung—!!
Jin Im-seok’s trembling sword began to change.
The killing intent swirling around him coalesced into the blade.
Was this another technique?
Peng Woojin’s breathing quickened.
Jin Im-seok’s golden eyes burned brighter,
and Peng Woojin couldn’t hold back anymore.
He called upon his own power—
Black Iron Thousand Blades.
Peng Woojin prepared his strongest technique,
ready to match Jin Im-seok’s intensity.
The tension reached its peak—
And then—
Thud.
“Huh?”
Jin Im-seok staggered—
And collapsed.
“Wha—!”
Peng Woojin froze in disbelief.
Jin Im-seok lay motionless, the killing intent gone.
His dark aura faded, leaving only the faint golden hue from before.
“...No.”
Peng Woojin moved to approach, but the referee intervened, checking Jin Im-seok’s condition.
Raising his hand, the referee declared:
“Victory—Peng Woojin of the Peng Clan.”
The crowd erupted.
Or maybe they didn’t.
Peng Woojin couldn’t hear anything.
The only thing he saw—
Was Gu Yangcheon.
And Gu Yangcheon was smiling,
staring at Jin Im-seok like he’d just found something precious.
