WE TRIED TRANSLATIONS

Translator/Editor: Ryuu

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Chapter 10 - Entrance (2)

"Yeah. I can really feel the wind."

The man smiled. He had a blue bandana and even bluer eyes.

"Even a ten-year-old’s Threefold Sword Art has sword wind. You can tell how they wield the sword, what it feels like. Here in Demon Wings, there’s a girl named Baek Mir-yeo whose sword is superb. Make sure to get some guidance from her. She's got quite the sense."

"Sure."

Yeon-shin didn't ask further.

As he circulated his qi in place, his clothes began to flutter slightly.

The full-body manifestation of the Jeong Family Dynamic Training drew intrigued looks from the Demon Wings warriors.

"They call me Cheong Myeong. Born and raised here in Yangyang."

"Xinye, Jeong Yeon-shin."

"Ah, so there's a place like that."

Cheong Myeong laughed lightly. His presence was as clear as his name. Yeon-shin reached for the sword he had received at Desolate Fort.

The Desolate Sword. It was a top-grade item, incomparable to the iron sword he used to wield, and its sharp cry was so clear and loud that Hyeon Won-chang from the next room came running in.

'There’s supposed to be a blacksmith’s shop owned by the dwarves here.'

If the rumor was true, it would make sense why even the standard-issue swords were of such high quality.

Unlike the famously beautiful and strong Elven Race, not much was known about the dwarves aside from their exceptional smithing skills.

"I'll go."

"Yeah. They say your Swift Sword is the real deal. Show me."

"Alright."

From the hand holding the sword, a familiar tremor from the past week surged.

Before Cheong Myeong drew his sword, Yeon-shin saw the calloused hands that looked like they were encased in armor.

The firm, tiny muscles showing through his sleeves and his upright posture showcased his immense martial prowess.

The piercing gaze that seemed to bore through his mind was overwhelmingly intense.

'No need to worry. This is a place to display skill.'

He erased all distractions. Only Cheong Myeong’s breath remained in his qi sense. Inhale, exhale very slowly.

'Now.'

The qi that was supposed to go to his left foot flowed in the opposite direction. A thud resounded.

With a single leap using Overcoming the Beginning and Piercing Through, Cheong Myeong's upper body came into sharp focus.

Breaking the ground he stood on, he drew the Desolate Sword.

Five paces were cut down and scattered with a single draw.

He released his tightly wound muscles and inner energy, following up with a Swift Sword strike.

The sound of swimming through a typhoon beat against his eardrums like a drum, sending shivers through his lower abdomen.

Having gained the Sword Cry, he changed once again. He could feel everything.

Bang!

He collided with an overwhelming sword force. Seeing an opening on the side, he moved in, but suddenly his vision shook white.

An enormous shock traveled from his grip up to his elbow as he was flung away.

He didn’t know when he had raised his sword.

'Still, it’s not as bad as I thought...'

Before flying off, he concentrated his qi on his right knee's acupoints.

As his calf muscles twitched like a beast’s, his right foot planted firmly on the training ground.

At the same time, he exploded qi from the acupoint at his heel.

Crack! Whish!

'This is doable.'

His body rotated half a turn on his right foot. He had actually caught his opponent's blind spot.

At the end of the Desolate Sword’s arc was the trapezius muscle behind Cheong Myeong’s neck.

The sound of cutting through the air was followed by Cheong Myeong’s body twitching as if it were pulsing.

His body seemed to blur, then instantly, Yeon-shin’s vision turned white again.

Cheong Myeong’s sword closed in.

Shhh!

‘Rotational Strike, it rotated properly.’

It wasn’t something he saw; the hum in his grip told him.

Inspired by Cheong Myeong’s words about feeling the wind, Yeon-shin’s Sword Cry reached a new level.

Clang!

The sound was like a bell, and the force imbued with qi scattered, tearing parts of his clothes.

His arm bounced upwards.

The clash was so powerful, he was amazed he didn’t drop the sword.

Whew!

He let himself fall backward, using the Iron Bridge Art.

Thanks to his firmly planted right foot, the move was easy.

The white blade grazed his nose.

The sight of his hair being cut off was chilling.

As he pulled his planted foot free, he kicked out.

Predicting his opponent’s evasion, he flipped in mid-air and landed.

He gripped his sword tightly, eyes fixed on Cheong Myeong.

Something caught on his upward-kicking foot. His bandana had fallen off.

‘As I thought, an elf.’

The golden hair, the pointed ears with ends sharper than a sword's edge, were something no human could have.

Yeon-shin, who had grown accustomed to seeing elves, thought nothing of it and readied his sword.

‘Next, I’ll combine Overcoming the Beginning with the Desolate Sword and… Huh?’

Fully immersed, he suddenly realized the surrounding silence.

Even the formidable Cheong Myeong looked at him in bewilderment.

Everyone in the training hall stared at him in shock.

Cheong Myeong’s identity didn’t seem to be a secret.

"....."

He didn’t know why, but he felt the atmosphere was no longer conducive to sparring.

Carefully sheathing his new sword, Yeon-shin asked out of curiosity.

“How was I? You said you were assessing my talent.”

"....."

“I know you held back. Be honest with me.”

"Uh..."

The experts who had faced the Plum Blossom Swords and even the Namgung First Sword seemed to have forgotten how to speak, merely staring at Yeon-shin.

After a while, Ma Jin spoke, his scar twisting as he did.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen, but does that matter? Skill is all that counts now.”

Yeon-shin frowned. With a potentially short life ahead, age didn’t seem relevant.

However, no one seemed to hear the second sentence.

Cheong Myeong, who had suddenly thrown his sword away, and the Demon Wings warriors began talking amongst themselves.

It was a disbelief-driven chatter.

“That’s monstrous.”

“No, it's a mistake by the heavens.”

“I’ve been to the Gathering of Talents, and I’ve never seen anything like that. Even if you were born with sensory perception, you wouldn’t be like that.”

“In my city, I was considered the greatest prodigy.”

“Greatest, my ass.”

Ma Jin didn’t bother to quiet them but gestured to Hyeon Won-chang.

“Next. Hyeon Won-chang, from Shanxi.”

“Me, now?”

“Take your place. I'll be watching.”

None of the Demon Wings warriors paid much attention to Won-chang’s sparring.

Only Yeon-shin, his fellow trainee, watched intently for anything to learn.

“Demon Wings doesn't discriminate against any weapons.”

Ma Jin, having just returned from a mission, immediately began teaching.

He explained that when performing missions across the vast Central Plains, it wasn't unusual to be away for months, and a month-long rest was guaranteed upon return.

Yeon-shin and Hyeon Won-chang began learning the Demon Wings Formation.

It was the first time Yeon-shin was formally learning a proper technique.

“Sword, knife, spear, fist, palm, axe, staff, whip. Demon Wings accepts everything. If you master it properly.”

“How is that possible? Then why would sword masters bother specializing?”

Won-chang, with his swollen eyes, asked.

Ma Jin answered every question as if he were the most patient teacher in the world.

“The formations are different. Demon Wings is about body usage. It's a comprehensive study of what can be done with human hands and feet. Excluding the bow, it covers everything from close-quarters combat to mid-range spear fighting.”

He added.

“Therefore, it’s shallow. As you already said yourself, it can’t compare in depth to a swordsman who solely studied the sword. But we’re not Taoist hermits on Mount Wudang, endlessly swinging a sword hoping for ascension.”

‘So that’s how they view the Wudang Sect’s Tai Chi Sword.’

Yeon-shin thought it was a swordsmanship worth seeing someday.

“Our martial arts were made for intense battles. Chaos is always expected, even on solo missions. A fight is a collection of variables! Would you insist on holding a sword if your stance collapses? With Demon Wings, you won’t hesitate to discard your sword at that moment. Hesitation is defeat.

Ma Jin glanced at Yeon-shin.

He seemed to be thinking of the kick that had sent Cheong Myeong’s bandana flying.

Conversely, Yeon-shin recalled how Cheong Myeong had tossed his sword after their bout.

“Oh… indeed.”

A voice filled with admiration came from the Entrance Guardian.

Ma Jin’s eyes lit up with a peculiar light as he glanced at him sitting beside Yeon-shin.

“However, Demon Wings requires innate adaptability and insight. If you lack these, you must work hard enough to forcibly imprint it onto your body. But don't worry.”

He continued with a scar-stretching smile.

“That’s what I and Demon Wings are here for. The fact that you passed the Desolate Exam means you have the potential. Follow well, and you’ll join us on the next mission.”

And so began Hyeon Won-chang’s ordeal.

“Ugh…”

The next day, a corpse-like figure stood in the Demon Wings training hall.

Ma Jin’s claim about imprinting onto the body was no exaggeration. He taught Won-chang the Demon Wings Formation’s principles through intense sparring.

“My Demon Wings close combat techniques are precise. I know you can move. It’s commendable that you haven’t collapsed. Reflect and achieve progress.”

Ma Jin spoke nonchalantly to Won-chang and then turned to Yeon-shin.

He looked perfectly fine compared to Hyeon Won-chang.

Wearing the black Desolate Sword at his waist and his white training robe fluttering in the wind, he looked like a full-fledged warrior of Desolate Fort, despite his young appearance.

“You’ve finished. Do you understand the core principle?”

“Adaptability.”

“…Correct. The body always has a way to move. The seamless flow of movements is the essence of Demon Wings' true secret. Insight, creativity, and adaptability. If you fully grasp these principles, then that means you now understand the meaning of the technique.”

“The meaning of the technique?”

“This can’t be explained in words.”

Ma Jin stood before a brick tower on one side of the training hall.

Desolate Fort Sect members rarely used wood, as the stone buildings were a consideration for the Elven Lord of the Fort.

“Watch.”

Ma Jin exuded a powerful aura momentarily, then immediately withdrew it to show complete relaxation.

He extended his fist, and his calloused knuckles struck the tower’s surface.

Thunk!

The dull sound revealed how hardened his skin was.

Simultaneously, the brick tower crumbled.

“The optimal moment and the ultimate strike. The technique draws this trajectory. Following the perfect technique results in the ultimate strike. It might fall under the realm of internal arts, but what I’m conveying is a different principle. Internal arts focus on seeing the opponent’s attack. But your technique starts from the instinctual level. There’s no need to see your own attack.”

Ma Jin didn’t even brush off his hands as he turned to Yeon-shin. Watching the crumbled tower, Yeon-shin thought.

‘The servants are going to have a hard time.’

Wondering about the wages of the Desolate Fort servants, he quickly cleared his mind.

‘It’s about knowing when and where to exert force.’

The point was to find the best moment to unleash power.

Instantly grasping the technique, Yeon-shin stretched his hands.

“This is the realm of practice. You can’t grasp it from just one look. The more you practice, the more you instinctively find the optimal technique. This will be your lifelong task.”

“Is that so…”

Yeon-shin thought otherwise.

Already, a deeper inspiration was igniting a lightning bolt in his mind.

‘I can optimize this… I can do it right now...’

A glimmer of sky-blue light flashed in his eyes, and his hand lifted slightly.

Footnotes:

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