WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈

Episode 198: Sword Thunder Flash Ridge Form (6)

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No one reacted to Hyeon Won-chang's tirade.

The actions of Seom-ye, the Leader of Demon Wings, had shamed the orthodox martial artists. Even if they responded clumsily to the provocation, they would only make themselves look pathetic.

Everyone knew it. Some turned their eyes away, while others merely stared blankly.

'Hmph.'

The Imperial Hero deliberately lifted his chin.

His words had been meant to drive back the Assembly's experts while offering consolation. They were meant to say that this subordinate understood his Squad Leader's heart.

The expression "funeral dirge" was apt. He had crafted the verse to sound that way. Yet its context was strange.

Anyone who knew Seom-ye's constitution would hear it differently.

Hyeon Won-chang had thought that only he and Jeong Yeon-shin would read between the lines.

That was not the case.

"That young man's words carry deep meaning. The master of our family sought to grant a worthy rival rest. He acted in the spirit of chivalry."

The short Poison Commander, Dang Un-hwang, stepped forward.

The aura of the small giant of mixed blood from the dwarven race swelled first. It was immensely powerful.

He had come to repay a debt. This was a seed Jeong Yeon-shin's path through the martial world had sown. He was a most dependable ally.

Now that they lacked neither strength nor justification, the Assembly would have to settle its affairs among themselves.

"From this moment onward, the Tang Sect will place the safety of the Dark King Among Flowers above all else. The Zhuge Family Head should not act rashly and await the Assembly's judgment."

Hyeon Won-chang had been listening with satisfaction when a strange light entered his eyes.

Suddenly, he saw the girl beside the Squad Leader widen her eyes slightly. Her clear gaze darted about.

Only then did he realize it had happened right after he recited that remarkable verse.

The boldness she had shown while exposing her father's disgrace before the crowd had vanished.

She only moved her lips blankly as she kept glancing at Jeong Yeon-shin's profile.

She looked greatly shocked, and even more deeply moved.

Hyeon Won-chang's mind raced as he took in the sight.

'She saw the wounds in enough detail to devise counters to our Squad Leader's martial arts. If she is called the eyes of the Zhuge Family, her attainment in eye techniques must be extraordinary. She could see anything in those wounds. Yet she makes that face after hearing my verse...?'

Damn it, could it be...?

The instant Hyeon Won-chang widened his eyes, his gaze met Jegal Cheong-a's. The girl's face immediately became expressionless.

She had swiftly recovered her usual composure. Hyeon Won-chang thought, A great family is still a great family.

'How sly.'

As the Desolate Fortress Divine Hero, he had something to consider. Could he make the Zhuge Family's treasured daughter a target for murder to erase the matter?

At that moment.

Jegal Cheong-a, who possessed the keen instincts she had inherited from her father, lightly shook her head.

Sunlight rippled through her hair with that unreadable gesture. Was she saying she would pretend not to know?

'How could I trust that?'

Hyeon Won-chang furrowed his brow, driven by his deep distrust of the martial world's major factions.

Meanwhile, the situation rapidly shifted. The matter began to be resolved around Jeong Yeon-shin, who cradled the Clear Qilin's corpse.

It was something that would slowly send great ripples through not just the Assembly, but the vast martial world.

"We must demand a meeting of the leaders! The agenda will be disciplinary self-restraint for the Zhuge Family Head!"

"Heaven-Treading Forest Squad Leader, withdraw your troops. This Assembly will not harm the envoy."

The influence of powerful clans and great families revealed itself in times like these. The heads of old, prestigious sects had many long-standing ties.

There were people who wished to resolve the affair peacefully. Pretending to be enraged, they stepped forward and spoke of disciplinary self-restraint and seclusion.

Their intentions were obvious. They wanted to preserve the Zhuge Family Head's position.

They wanted to protect the standing of that peerless master, who still stood atop the roof like a crane and silently looked down on everyone.

Crouching Dragon Rebirth, the Zhuge Family Head, was cunning.

He knew there was nothing to gain by speaking now. He only hoped the seeds he had planted over the years, his trusted followers, would fulfill their roles.

'Disciplinary self-restraint?'

That could not be allowed. Hyeon Won-chang signaled to the Languid Flame Dragon. The oldest unranked disciple in Demon Wings snorted and reached into his robes.

"Take a look at this."

A single letter was drawn out. It was a document obtained from a dead corrupt official.

It proved that the Zhuge Family Head had won the Prefect's favor in exchange for turning a blind eye to the Heart Martial Union's forces.

Holding the letter, the Languid Flame Dragon raised a delicate, invisible blade.

Slice.

The seal was cut open. The letter unfurled before everyone.

Every person present had trained exceptional martial arts, so reading tiny writing from a distance was easy enough.

They could even see the handwriting, like a living dragon, and the Zhuge Family Head's seal stamped at the bottom of the document.

"...!"

Clack.

The Zhuge Family Head snapped his fan shut.

The strike born from that small motion left an afterimage.

A storm of force blasted from the fan ribs and tried to shred even the Languid Flame Dragon's hand, but Ak Su-rim's long spear strike scattered it into pieces.

The faces of those who had spoken of disciplinary self-restraint for the Zhuge Family Head twisted miserably.

"How dare a bookworm try to diminish Demon Wings' achievements? Stay still."

Her hair, disturbed by the force wave, danced lightly in the air. Xiahou Wi-jin, standing beside her, bared his teeth in a grin.

As if daring them to try again, he repeatedly clenched his fists as though he could barely restrain his violent nature.

The people supporting the young Squad Leader spread Desolate Fortress's influence in the heart of the Assembly.

It was the finishing touch.

Seom-ye, holding the body of a worthy rival, now possessed both justification and strength. His subordinates attended him, while his elders guarded him.

Jeong Yeon-shin, the Leader of Demon Wings, could finally send the Clear Qilin on his way.

"That is the Chief Strategist's handwriting. Even the sorcery power imbued in the seal..."

"Did the Zhuge Family Head not discard all dignity and fawn over the Prefect?"

"Such conduct is worse than Desolate Fortress's..."

A federation had the drawback of being slow to make decisions, but it also made it easy to pass responsibility onto someone else.

The Assembly's veteran masters, who had never viewed the Zhuge Family Head favorably, stepped forward. Though it was an alliance of orthodox factions, it was still a place where people lived.

Political struggle existed. They had simply been too constrained by the Zhuge Family's influence to assert themselves.

The events caused by the Leader of Demon Wings were all woven together, reshaping the balance of power.

Hoo.

The Zhuge Family Head, truly resembling Zhuge Wuhou, only sighed and closed his eyes. He was the head of an orthodox family.

Unlike the other chiefs of the Demonic Sect, he maintained his dignity even as everything fell apart, sinking into the mire with a detached expression.

Yet no one voiced sympathy. No one dared.

At the boundary between silence and uproar, the Assembly's affairs left the hands of outsiders. After the Tang Family Head paid respects to his family's young teacher, the Tang Family Head began restoring order.

Jeong Yeon-shin stood silently, feeling Namgung Se-jin's chill.

Several autumn leaves, carried by the wind at the end of fall, brushed the two men's faces before falling.

They were red and translucent. Sunlight scattered faintly across the leaves, like a child's palm.

The young man who had died, unable to resist the martial world's hierarchy, now rested in the arms of the worthy rival who had come to influence even the great factions.

* * *

Sword Star Hyeon So-baek came from Taekju in Shanxi Province, born to a family with no ties to the martial world.

There were no notable great sects in Shanxi's martial world.

Only recently had it become a land for those seeking sudden wealth because an unidentified Heavenly Demon's tomb had been discovered over a decade ago.

Around that time, Hyeon So-baek had been roaming Henan's martial world.

He was like the heroes of countless tales.

At twelve years old, he suddenly wanted to command the world.

Carrying only a single pouch of travel funds, he left home. By good fortune, he entered the service of a wandering martial artist called the Eternal Spring Swordsman.

He became an attendant who maintained and carried swords. Such attendants were called sword boys.

Hyeon So-baek had been trustworthy by nature since childhood. Even his master and comrades, who possessed rough temperaments, soon opened their hearts to him.

From wandering martial artists who had to worry every day about whether they would live until tomorrow, he learned qi-circulation breathing methods and practical swordsmanship whenever he could.

Then his terrifying talent emerged.

He combined the Three Talents Heart Method, distributed widely by the Ming imperial court, with the Eternal Spring Swordsman's Five Elements Heart Method.

He elevated the elven secret art that lent strength to the body and earth, creating mighty men and making fields a little more fertile, along with a crude wandering martial artist's heart method, into the Limitless Myriad Phenomena Heart Technique.

It was the talent of a founding master who could establish a school of his own.

"Do not live a life adrift. Cut in the direction you desire."

Years later, these were the final words the Eternal Spring Swordsman left behind among the corpses of his comrades.

The rough words contained the sorrows of a wandering martial artist. They pushed the sword boy, now grown into a young man, into the martial world of experts.

Martial arts were a power that turned people into beasts.

Even with government troops and Desolate Fortress, the martial lineages of the Demonic Sect multiplied like insects.

It was a world where one could eat well with a single sword, then flee death with the Body Movement Scripture. That was because the land was endlessly vast.

Hyeon So-baek fought countless fierce battles and helped common people.

He became an enemy of Thirteen Heavens while dealing with insignificant groups of unorthodox sects. By then, Hyeon So-baek had been refining a wandering swordsman's swordsmanship into a sword art of his own.

His swordsmanship became more exceptional with every passing year. In the end, it became a supreme Divine Technique with few equals.

That was thanks to the sword talent people often spoke of. His aptitude had always leaned more toward wielding a sword than cultivating a heart method.

Heaven-Piercing Martial Rakshasa Sword Art.

The Sword Star had appeared.

Achievements followed wherever he went. After a fierce battle, he even beheaded the Heart Martial Union Leader.

His experience and reputation accumulated to an immense degree. He was fully qualified to be elevated as the orthodox leader of the Martial Alliance Assembly.

Though he knew he had been chosen as a figurehead, he accepted.

He had wandered the continent with wandering martial artists and seen a world plunged into misery. He believed the orthodox sect had to become truly orthodox.

And now.

"I have much to apologize to you for. My shame is not small, either."

Hyeon So-baek had achieved a great feat.

He had completely expelled the Zhuge Family Head before facing the Leader of Demon Wings. The powerful figure with the fan had belonged to the orthodox sect and therefore had to leave it.

The First Fist of the Eon Family, his beloved, stood with him. Unable to withstand the Alliance Leader, who had joined forces with the Zhuge direct line, the Moyong Family Head had gone into seclusion.

Above all these matters stood the Desolate Fortress Squad Leader before him.

"On the contrary, I thank you. If the Sword Star had taken the Zhuge Family Head's side, the situation would have become chaotic."

"No. This old man's prestige has already been trampled by the world's storms. I even stood with the Zhuge Family Head because I wished to observe the Divine Sword Squad Leader's martial arts. Those who keep company with ink turn black. I, too, have already become a hypocrite. Even after gaining this Assembly, I cannot free myself from the duty of keeping Desolate Fortress in check. To reassure and lead the uneasy orthodox factions... Hmm, my tongue has grown too long."

It was a calm, bitter exchange between a rising expert and an old master restored through Rejuvenation.

Autumn leaves, more splendid than flowers, covered the garden.

Within the landscape spreading beneath their reddish feet, the Leader of Demon Wings stood with his sword lowered, dressed in a black robe sleeveless only on the left.

Sharp ripples occasionally flashed from his calm, settled aura. Each time, the red leaves at his feet split apart on their own.

The force waves from Force Projection throughout his body were extremely sharp. He was using his body as a swordsman would.

Those gathered with him marveled.

"Our Seom-ye has changed again? His progress is even faster than that old man's. When we return, the old man will grin from ear to ear."

"I don't know about his progress, but his opening stance has considerable refinement. Perhaps one of his ancestors belonged to our clan."

The Desolate Divine Spear, Ak Su-rim, and the Thousand Fists, Dragon-Powered Divine Official, Xiahou Wi-jin, perched casually on a rock and watched.

Behind the Sword Star, the Assembly's representatives stood upright, arrayed behind him.

The Tang Family Head, the Mount Hua Sword Absolute and Yu Hyeon, the Little Sword Empress, Jegal Hyeon and Jegal Cheong-a, Ak Ye-rim, Moyong Myeong-jun, Gongsun Min, the heads of the Namgung Family's branch lines, and others.

Only Miss Ye, the Internal Chief Strategist, stood in a strangely different position. Though she belonged to the Assembly, she was closer to Jeong Yeon-shin than even the Desolate Fortress side.

She stood with her hands loosely clasped behind her back, her ebony hair hanging down. Her distance and position were so perfectly chosen that people found it difficult to say anything.

"How does the Family Head see it? Will the Leader of Demon Wings be able to receive instruction?"

"How could this one's eye for swords compare to that of the Mount Hua Sword Absolute? I am only concerned for his safety."

"This junior would like to hear both of your insights. I have only trained in the Four Escapes Sword Art, so my knowledge is not broad... I have never seen a sword form like that. Could the rumors be true? They say Squad Leader Jeong creates martial arts. Miss Ak, the Spear Phoenix, said the same thing before..."

Several direct successors of martial lineages attended as representatives of their respective major factions.

Their leaders were absent. They had gathered to witness the final sequence of the grand founding ceremony.

A founding ceremony was the most precious event for a sect. The ritual itself symbolized a sect's legitimacy.

A single disturbance could not be allowed to ruin it entirely. At the very least, they had to exchange one sword strike.

The Sword Star and Seom-ye.

The old swordsman with a youthful face looked forward to this day.

Even as he catered to powerful figures for the greater good, he welcomed the appearance of new talent.

The moment he recognized Jeong Yeon-shin's talent and heavenly affliction, he had deeply lamented. He hoped that someone fit to become a guiding star for the common people would not wither away in vain.

He thought he would have taken him as a disciple if their paths had crossed sooner.

'Lord of Desolate Fortress, I do not know what lies in your heart.'

Sword Star Hyeon So-baek had no disciples. It was because he had lost the Eternal Spring Swordsman early, before his very eyes.

The martial world was harsh. He feared that he might one day pass the same grief on to his own disciples.

Now that he had encountered the reverse situation, he became curious about the Lord of Desolate Fortress's heart. What would a master think when keeping a disciple who might die young?

"Come at me."

Hyeon So-baek quietly drew his sword as he spoke. His natural draw had long ceased to make the sound of a sword being drawn.

A serene dignity flowed from the wooden sword hilt.

Expectations had arisen before anyone noticed.

Hyeon So-baek considered when he had last found enjoyment in another person's swordsmanship.

Perhaps memories had been worn blunt by the waves of time, but nothing came to mind.

Perhaps it was because he possessed enough sword talent to rise from a wandering martial artist to the leader of the orthodox faction.

It was all the harder to find inspiration in the methods of lesser fighters. The sword path itself needed to contain dramatic ingenuity.

He had felt only disgust even at the former Heart Martial Union Leader's sword art, so he could not place such a burden on the new Leader of Demon Wings.

That remained true even if the youth's talent was highly unusual. It was fortunate that he had not added unnecessary words.

'What a foolish thought.'

Hyeon So-baek lowered his expectations and decided to act as a senior of the martial world.

"Let us fully refine your sword art."

As the martial world's upper ranks fell silent, a footstep rang out.

Step.

Seom-ye silently stepped forward. Northern Light, was it? He raised the divine sword that the Tang Sect had refined above his head.

It was a sword path that formed a high guard stance. The pure-white blade touched the clouds and stopped.

For a moment.

A chilly silence spread.

Something was different.

Hyeon So-baek sensed it at once. A pale current was flowing from the Leader of Demon Wings' blade.

The force wave, taking form like mist upon meeting the air, covered the blade and ran down to the hilt. It traveled from his right hand to his black robe, making even its hem tremble faintly as though teasing it.

Wind wrapped around his entire body. It was a bitter wind.

An unnamed sword art stood on the verge of gaining its name.

Footnotes:

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