WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 180: Swordsman (3)
──────
It was a fearsome display of noble spirit.
He had declared a duel against the Martial Alliance. He meant to take on the Assembly alone.
Jeong Yeon-shin smiled deliberately. He had taken Hyeon Won-chang's advice.
The Imperial Hero had said that even the slightest smile would be a provocation too difficult to ignore.
Yeon-shin could not understand it at all, but Hyeon Won-chang's way of dealing with people had proven effective time and again.
He had barged in to change the course of a massive event. It was hard to imagine his aim would be realized so easily.
Hyeon Won-chang had said he needed to keep pressing them relentlessly with words.
“...”
A dreadful silence fell.
The flag fluttered, throwing back every ray of sunlight, while the boy looked down upon the Assembly's martial artists.
At the Martial Alliance's grand founding ceremony, he had displayed the might of Desolate Fortress. They said he had returned after going out to perform chivalrous deeds as the Leader of Demon Wings.
“That young master is the Leader of Demon Wings?”
“He drove out the Heart Martial Union...?”
Some spoke cautiously. They appeared to have little connection to the martial world.
Their Taiyang acupoints were sunken or flat, and they wore hemp robes rather than martial attire.
If what the young man in the hero’s headband who had thrown the flag said was true.
If the Heart Martial Union's martial forces had truly retreated.
Then it was no small cause for celebration for the common people living in Hanzhong.
Even escort agencies could no longer be trusted to protect their shipments, and many merchant journeys had ceased. Their livelihoods were directly at stake.
“There have been many people entering the city safely lately.”
“A master from Desolate Fortress has shown us mercy...!”
“Go confirm it! At once!”
Dust rose in one corner, and activity erupted in every direction.
Commoners and monks who had struggled to exchange news with the outside, small merchants indirectly affected by goods moving through Hanzhong, and even people from large merchant guilds and escort agencies.
Different expressions spread across their faces.
Confusion mixed with admiration.
Some even ran off without looking back. Such was the influence of the Thirteen Heavens of the Demonic Sect.
It was a massive faction that most martial sects did not even dare resist.
Seom-ye Jeong Yeon-shin had earned the epithet Dark King Among Flowers through his dealings with the Thirteen Heavens in Sichuan.
The defeat of a major faction's martial forces was an event of great significance anywhere.
“...”
The Assembly's martial artists remained silent. Sitting or standing blankly, they watched the faint smile on the young Leader of Demon Wings' face.
Then the young man in the hero’s headband spoke clearly from one side of the spectator seats.
“A Squad Leader of Desolate Fortress does not speak falsehoods. Nor do we trade in chivalry. We revere the honorable Lord of Desolate Fortress, walk an upright martial path, and silently uphold chivalry. Therefore, the deeds of the Leader of Demon Wings spoken of today are true. So too is his declaration that he will honor the grand founding ceremony alone. Not one word will prove empty.”
With the bearing of a great hero, he praised his own Squad Leader.
It was a declaration of war. A martial artist of Desolate Fortress had thrown down the gauntlet.
The flag of another faction had been planted at a gathering of orthodox sects, yet neither the scene nor the chain of events was crude. It was an exceptionally direct and honorable provocation.
Some in the crowd admired it.
“His words flow like a clear mountain stream. Isn't his tongue like a sword?”
“Anyone from Xuzhou would know that young man. He is Hyeon Won-chang, the Imperial Hero, a chivalrous warrior who protected the people from blood demons. I never expected to see him here again... So he serves under the Leader of Demon Wings.”
A newly founded faction invited the masses and announced its purpose through martial arts.
For it to become a meaningful event, it had to face the swords of martial artists bound by grudges and favors. That was why it was called a grand founding ceremony, a battle held to establish a faction.
The justification Hyeon Won-chang put forward was overwhelming.
It suited the purpose of the grand founding ceremony. This could not end as a mere intrusion.
“He is truly bold. No, magnanimous.”
“A duel between the Martial Alliance and Desolate Fortress...”
The crowd's gazes split in three directions: the young Leader of Demon Wings, the spectator area occupied by the Assembly's leaders, and Jegal Cheon, who had yet to leave the martial stage.
The people's stares carried unspoken urging. Wasn't it only proper to accept?
Though none dared say it openly, the atmosphere itself became pressure they could not ignore.
“...”
Jegal Cheon, the acting Chief Strategist and Wind-Water Mystic Master, pressed his lips tightly together. If he spoke carelessly, he might reveal his predicament.
That could not happen. The Leader of Demon Wings stood before him, an invited guest who had appeared as an uninvited one.
Representing the Martial Alliance, he could not afford to appear weak.
‘A dilemma.’
It was a grave matter. He could not accept it rashly. Yet rejecting the Leader of Demon Wings' proposal would also deal a heavy blow to the Assembly's dignity.
Jegal Hyeon glanced toward the canopy where the leaders were seated. He needed the Family Head's response. This was not a matter for the acting Chief Strategist to decide.
Then the silent Radiant Zen Sword, Seop Un-cheol, opened his mouth. He was a veteran master who had stepped forward with One Hero of Yeoju to begin the fourth day's matches of the grand founding ceremony.
A gleam of cultivated martial power flashed in his eyes beneath his handsome brows as he gave Seom-ye Jeong Yeon-shin a sidelong glance.
“It seems Desolate Fortress's foremost virtue has changed. Has a three-inch tongue become its chief qualification instead of martial arts and chivalry?”
“Isn't sword debate what your orthodox sects enjoy most?”
The boy Squad Leader in black robes replied.
A pure-white long robe served as a flag beside him.
With his hands behind his back, he bore the gaze of hundreds. He had used a force wave from his movement technique to clean himself completely.
From his black leather shoes to his long robe, not a speck of dust remained.
He had brushed it all away with wind he had raised himself. He looked every bit the commander of Desolate Fortress's martial forces.
The young supreme master did not even spare a sidelong glance. Without looking at Radiant Zen Sword and One Hero of Yeoju on either side, he parted his lips.
“Stop babbling uselessly and draw your sword.”
It was an attitude rarely seen among orthodox sects. Some in the crowd sucked in a breath.
Only the hem of the pitch-black long robe draped around the boy swayed calmly.
His words and actions were so arrogant they were difficult to believe, yet his handsome features made him appear noble.
Saaah.
A gentle breeze drifted in. It passed over the Desolate Fortress Squad Leader's collar with crystalline clarity.
The wind seemed unusually pure.
Entertainment was scarce in this world. Many people walked a hundred li just to see a magnificent view.
Outstanding looks shone even more brightly in a place like this.
If a chivalrous warrior was exceptionally handsome, people could still find him appealing even if his conduct was somewhat arrogant. It was a remarkably rare sight.
Many began whispering.
“He is truly magnificent...”
“Are all Desolate Fortress's high-ranking martial artists like that? He looks like someone from Peach Blossom Paradise.”
“I understand what Fruits Filling the Carriage means now... I would have thrown him an armful myself.”
Fruits Filling the Carriage was a tale passed down for centuries.
People captivated by Pan Yue's beautiful appearance during the Three Kingdoms period had filled his carriage with fruit.
Young masters like Gongsun Min and young ladies of prominent families showed their favor without minding the Assembly's reaction.
The Leader of Demon Wings had won over public opinion through his achievements, appearance, and just cause.
Rejection would become the worst possible disgrace.
‘This is serious...! Just how high is the Leader of Demon Wings' martial ability? They said more than half the Heart Martial Union's martial forces had returned unharmed with the Spirit Sky Sword Ghost. There may be masters who stand a chance of winning, but he is not even twenty... We cannot show renowned Assembly martial artists struggling against him.’
As the increasingly desperate Jegal Cheon exchanged sound transmissions with the leaders' spectator tent, the expression vanished from Seop Un-cheol's face.
He had been born into a prestigious family that had built martial renown in Hanzhong for generations.
Today's grand founding ceremony was meant to be the day of the Hanzhong Seop Family, as promised by the Zhuge Family Head. He had intended to display his martial might to the world.
The head of Hanzhong's foremost clan was his elder brother-in-law. His wife's elder brother was the Zhuge Family Head.
He had adjusted the tournament roster. The turns of First Fist of the Eon Family and Mount Hua Sword Absolute had been pushed back until the following day.
Seop Un-cheol had craved renown as a master of a prominent local family. Most people of the martial world lived on the honor earned through their martial arts.
The Martial Alliance's grand founding ceremony was an opportunity. So many outsiders had gathered here.
He had waited only for the moment when he could bask in the admiration of his fellow martial artists and the masses.
This was no time to be obstructed by a brat.
Here.
There was no retreating now. If he cared for his reputation, he had to face him even if he lost.
Those Desolate Fortress bastards had forced him into this. Seop Un-cheol's eyes flashed coldly.
“Let's do this.”
The pride of veteran masters often ignored differences in reputation. It was no different now.
Accumulated effort built over long years did not end with a single martial art. It became one's very life. It was a master's pride, the path one had walked.
It was the same even if his opponent was a Black Uniform supreme master of Desolate Fortress.
No middle-aged martial artist would deny his entire life without testing it for himself.
“Come.”
The young Leader of Demon Wings said.
Seop Un-cheol did not answer. He silently raised his left hand and gripped the sword hilt.
“Wait a moment!”
The middle-aged man opposite Seop Un-cheol stamped once. The martial stage shook briefly with a heavy vibration.
It was a weighty True Step. So Jun, One Hero of Yeoju. He had originally been Radiant Zen Sword Seop Un-cheol's opponent.
“You intend to change the form of the grand founding ceremony so hastily? This So cannot agree to it!”
“Great Hero So, please stand back for now. This Seop Un-cheol will uphold the Assembly's honor.”
“This is not something to decide so hastily! It is a grave matter!”
So Jun shouted as if reprimanding him, then turned to Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Our Alliance's grand founding ceremony still has four days remaining. As I understand it, more than forty people will display supreme martial arts over those four days. They are supreme masters whose epithets are already known throughout the world. Every one of them can face a hundred opponents alone. All possess exceptional skill.”
“...”
“Even if we estimate only twenty exchanges per match, that makes six hundred exchanges. Six hundred breaths at the highest level. Squad Leader, you should think carefully. No matter how deep one's inner energy cultivation, no one can endure it without suffocating. Even if you take back your words, no one would dare blame you.”
So Jun, One Hero of Yeoju, spoke calmly. Unlike his tone, his narrow lips trembled slightly.
The unexpected appearance of the Leader of Demon Wings was bound to steal everyone's attention.
That could not be allowed. It was right to make him face reality and send him down from the martial stage.
‘He will win a few times before falling...’
But if that beginning was now, the Leader of Demon Wings would simply sweep them away.
The eyes of Jegal Cheon, So Jun, and many martial artists and heroes turned toward Yeon-shin.
“This Squad Leader is one of Desolate Fortress's seventeen fortress walls.”
The boy spoke as he touched the sword hilt.
“I am a fortress that you, who wish to oppose the main fortress, must overcome.”
“...”
“As an envoy of Desolate Fortress, I will show your Alliance respect. Tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, until the grand founding ceremony ends, I will exchange moves beneath this flag. You may use this Squad Leader as your touchstone. Think of it as broadening your knowledge through the martial arts of the Leader of Demon Wings, learning how sharp and how hard you are. This very body is the gift I offer your Alliance for its founding ceremony.”
Then he released the flag and sword hilt, slowly placing his hands behind his back. His black hair swayed with his black robe.
It was arrogant. He was calling for battle.
Boom!
Unable to listen any longer, Seop Un-cheol stamped down with a True Step. No martial artist could endure such provocation.
The Leader of Demon Wings had unmistakably challenged the entire Martial Alliance. He had forced his way into the formalities and torn open the grand founding ceremony.
He now had to be considered a full participant.
“Is your sword as sturdy as that three-inch tongue?”
He rushed forward the moment he drew his sword. It was a left-handed grip. Before he could even complete his sword strike, a sharp force wave burst forth.
Dust kicked up beneath Seop Un-cheol's feet was shredded into pieces.
It had finally begun.
The crowd held its breath. The grand founding ceremony's entire structure had changed in an instant. It was a battle between the Martial Alliance and Desolate Fortress.
How far could such a young Leader of Demon Wings endure? Radiant Zen Sword was Hanzhong's greatest sword prodigy.
Even if he won with difficulty, what would happen afterward, and after that?
‘A left-handed sword.’
Jeong Yeon-shin turned. He faced Seop Un-cheol, who charged forward with a burst of lightness skill and thrust his sword.
Radiant Zen Sword. His epithet bore the character for radiance. Perhaps it praised the art of his swordsmanship, for his extended stance was perfectly straight.
It was unity of sword and self. Wind surging from the sword's tip swept in from every direction. Its mere force seemed ready to scrape away his skin.
Even in this wide world, one rarely faced a left-handed sword. Left-handed swordsmen usually exploited that fact.
They often trained dazzling variations. Seop Un-cheol appeared to be such a swordsman.
Though the sword tip swayed endlessly, it somehow carried tremendous strength.
‘I can tell from his opening stance. The Hanzhong Seop Family. Worth adding to the Comprehensive Guide to Breaking the Orthodox Sects.’
The boy watched him steadily, then gripped the scabbard below his waist with his left hand.
His right hand closed around the sword hilt. Force Projection gathered in his palm, carried by qi rising from his heart.
The Record of the Dharma Light Wheel gently churned within his grip. It felt warm.
“Hup!”
Seop Un-cheol drew a breath. Five steps away, he lowered his upper body. His sword tip aimed for Yeon-shin's flank.
Qi erupted from the Yongquan acupoint in the sole of his foot as it struck the ground and extended behind him.
The martial stage shook violently, and fragments of stone surged up in every direction.
Boom! Fwoosh!
Amid the thunderous roar, the boy also drew his sword.
The blade of Northern Light, the divine sword, rose brilliantly. It was as if sunlight rushed after it and wrapped around the blade.
Light flowed from the edge. It lasted only a moment. The Northern Light Sword in Yeon-shin's hand soon vanished from sight in midair.
Wooooong!
A hazy beam of light rippled. Feather-cloud radiance formed before the boy's outstretched hand.
It accurately caught and deflected Seop Un-cheol's rushing sword tip, shattering the force wave released from the blade into fragments.
It was a terrifying display of skill. Even then, the Leader of Demon Wings' sword force surged like a gale.
“...!”
Seop Un-cheol widened his eyes and hurriedly bent backward. The glossy locks hanging on either side of his neck were severed.
A dreadful cutting wind swept past the back of his neck.
Kwoooong!
Thunderous noise erupted in the air. It was the aftermath of Force Projection from the sword strike.
A single sword strike filled the surrounding silence with impact.
Before anyone realized it, the boy stood with the Northern Light Sword pointed forward.
His left hand remained behind his back, while the tip of the pure-white divine sword touched Seop Un-cheol between the brows.
It was the posture of someone instructing an inferior.
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at So Jun, One Hero of Yeoju, standing to one side, then calmly parted his lips.
“You said forty.”
He did not lower his voice. Veins stood out along the boy's arm, revealed by his raised sleeve.
Yeon-shin lowered the sword he had been pointing and gave it a short shake.
Faint white light wavered along the blade. It was the lingering force wave from the sword strike.
The boy moved the Northern Light Sword.
The blade returned in a brilliant arc.
Scattering silver light, the blade slid into its scabbard. The small sound rang out with unusual clarity.
Click.
“Forty exchanges will do.”
The young Leader of Demon Wings murmured.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
