WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 240: Opening One's Eyes (4)
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Elsewhere.
The number of people gathered around the enormous gorge had grown terrifyingly large. The place buzzed with noise.
It seemed every resident of Xi’an, a city that had served as an ancient capital for a thousand years, had come pouring in.
Everyone from filthy beggars to merchants of extraordinary bearing had taken up positions on every peak. There were carriages, palanquins, and silk canopies. Some had arrived in processions worthy of the name.
This was the final act of a rare, great battle.
Some martial artists who had come merely to watch from the sidelines stood with their arms folded atop tree branches. Others used the Wall Gecko Skill to stand sideways against the gorge walls with only their feet.
“Too many interests in Shaanxi are at stake. Have their identities still not been uncovered?”
“A sword form that gives off light... Could they be from the Heavenly Extreme Sect of the Thirteen Heavens? Or one of those elven race bastards who accept only pureblood disciples...”
“Will the sect masters really die? When was the last time we saw those monsters gathered together? The monsters of the unorthodox sects have all sorts of life-saving ultimate techniques...”
Their chatter was deafening.
“Pointless.”
Wi Il-hwa twisted her lips from a distance as she watched Jeong Yeon-shin place his hand on a thread sword.
She was not mocking him. It was not ridicule.
“Did you think we had not accounted for a life-and-death duel between leaders? Displaying our martial forces is one matter. First, we must make the combat prowess of the Seven Great Clans of Xian’s sect masters known to the world. The sudden death of one Sword Demon Sect Master is no great problem.”
A certain satisfaction colored her voice. The leader of the martial force that had cast her into the abyss in an instant was concerning himself with something so trivial.
The sect masters’ combined attack had fully taken shape around him. Wi Il-hwa’s smile deepened.
She smiled deliberately. She would not be satisfied until she saw him disgrace himself somehow.
“You outsider. May you fail to pay the price even in death.”
An unorthodox sect whose sect master still lived would not lose its lineage. The sect master was the sect itself.
The Seven Great Sects of Xian would never relinquish their power.
Swoosh.
A heavy wind split through the web of thread swords Gi So-seul had spread out. It was a move filled with the sect masters’ intent.
The spiderweb that sharply enclosed Yeon-shin from above, below, and every direction resembled the obsession of unorthodox founding masters facing famine. It was incredibly dense.
Bu Jo-wi and Baek Mu-ryang stood ready to strike from either side. Gang Mu-jeong, in the rear, had brought both fists together in the opening stance of the Fortifying Tremor Thunderclap Wave.
The fluttering robes of those towering figures seemed to carry the dignity of sect masters.
Jang Gi-il, the handsome Sobaek Sect Master, stood idly by with a peculiar expression, as if he had plenty of leisure.
‘This is the martial world of Squad Leader-level experts...’
Jeong Yeon-shin silently studied the six sect masters’ faces.
They were filled with confidence, certainty, and ambition. Not one showed the slightest sign of yielding.
The strong who lived in the martial world beneath the heavens. Rulers who had made names for themselves in its raw wilderness.
The scarcer food became, the more they coveted martial power, using it to crush those around them and fill their own bellies.
Rivers and lakes had surfaces stirred by even the smallest waves. Those ripples became great currents.
The steps of the strong affected everything around them. That was why it was called the martial world.
A world where masters of martial arts imposed their will from lofty positions, like mountain gods.
The Jeong Family Manor had been the same.
Everything had begun with a glance from the Elder Council Head of the Tyrant Sword Sect, who rode upon a sword. What had come of her glance at the earth vein? The destruction of a great landowning family.
‘It was the place Mother chose.’
Yeon-shin thought of the Dano Festival swing he had never ridden, yet had still grown attached to.
Slowly, he parted his lips.
“You’ve acted as the strong until now.”
“And we will continue to do so.”
Baek Mu-ryang, the Hwigwol Family Head, answered with a hearty laugh in an old-fashioned tone.
Yeon-shin said nothing more.
Swoosh.
His left hand fully gripped the thread sword.
A distinct, tingling pain ran in a straight line along the thread sword Gi So-seul had spread out. He felt it clearly in his palm.
It resembled the web of thread swords flashing in the sunlight from every direction. It was so sharp that it seemed to contain sword qi on its own.
He bled. He could tell without looking. He had gripped it hard enough that even his Protective Qi Technique struggled to endure it.
At the same time, the sharp strand of the thread sword began to tremble violently. It came into contact with the Radiant River compressed as tightly as possible within his palm. The tremendous vibration transferred through it and spread outward.
‘It’s sturdy.’
It showed no sign of snapping. He had no idea how it had been fixed in place. It had to be one of the peculiar arts unique to the Demonic Sect, the sort of path known as heterodox arts.
It was clearly a martial art based on sorcery arts, yet it moved with astonishing naturalness. The strands swept through the air from every direction like fishing lines.
Gi So-seul, the Sharp Thread Ghost Absolute.
When their eyes met, she drew a faint curve with her thin lips. They said she had played the zither before obtaining her fortunate encounter. Her bearing truly came close to that of an artist.
The sight of her extending both hands while holding coils of thread, nearly divine weapons, was elegant. She even looked relaxed.
‘So one can become powerful in this way, too.’
The higher his martial ability and position rose, and the larger the world he belonged to became, the broader his knowledge grew. Yeon-shin’s martial world expanded once more.
The new Leader of Demon Wings was a supreme master, but not a veteran master. As a rising talent whose growth had only begun, he could use every experience as nourishment.
This was no different.
“His senses are bizarre! Don’t let him do as he pleases!”
Wi Il-hwa shouted from across the battlefield. Though she was certain they had seized victory, she did not grow careless. Her caution toward a supreme master was thorough.
It meant she had abundant experience. The sect masters were the same. They raised strange force waves from both sides of the front.
“Do we even need to use the Fortifying Tremor Thunderclap Wave? This was a combined attack from the start. We’ve discarded our pride, so we should kill him quickly.”
Bu Jo-wi muttered through his thick lips. Then, as he lightly raised one enormous foot, the thread swords below split to either side. Without hesitation, he stomped down.
Boom!
With True Step, Bu Jo-wi’s upper body shot forward. The great saber raised from behind him in both hands rose and began to fall.
The thread sword strands surrounding them scattered in every direction as if alive, while the undergrowth around him sank flat.
Yeon-shin adjusted his grip on the hilt of the Northern Light Sword, which had been caught beneath the thread swords.
The moment he reversed the direction of his grip, he struck upward at once as though flicking a thread. There was no form in his sword strike.
One had properly prepared a saber technique and thrust it out. The other raised an improvised defensive move.
The moment his vision turned white with blades,
Claaang!
A powerful impact struck. It surged fiercely from the space between his thumb and forefinger. The cultivated power anchored at the Chize acupoint in his arm joint was firm.
The recoil concentrated in his forearm. At the same time, muscles tempered by the Jeong Family Youth Technique pulsed, and his tendons tightened sharply.
The instant he clenched the sword hilt, his physical strength fused completely with his cultivated power and surged into overwhelming sword force.
Boom!
He had only pushed upward, but a thunderous sound rang out. The tip of the Northern Light Sword scraped along Bu Jo-wi’s saber tip and scattered colorless ripples.
The technique born of unprecedented talent was equally transcendent in the realm of strength. The balance between his cultivated power, bundles of muscle, footing, and body belonged to an entirely different realm.
It became especially apparent when facing inferior opponents. Bu Jo-wi could not immediately produce any means to make up for the gap in talent.
Whooom!
Bu Jo-wi’s body flipped over and briefly rose into the air. Yeon-shin lowered his sword and glanced up at him.
The wind surging between them continuously shook the surrounding undergrowth. It almost looked like the dance of spectators urging on a blade dance.
“What kind of sword strength is that?!”
Bu Jo-wi shouted rapidly through lip-speech. He still could not steady himself in midair.
Though he had spoken to the Leader of Demon Wings, he meant for the other sect masters to hear. He was telling them to launch follow-up attacks. Anxiety colored his tone.
That bastard really was the Leader of Demon Wings. He could not be handled one-on-one.
Yeon-shin read it as well. The flow made it obvious. The other sect masters likely understood, too.
Flap, flap, flap!
The sound of robes billowing from the left was fierce. There had been two vanguards from the beginning.
Along with Bu Jo-wi, Baek Mu-ryang, the Hwigwol Family Head, blocked the path to Gi So-seul, Wi Il-hwa, and Gang Mu-jeong.
He was a seasoned master. He responded with remarkable skill, protecting the thread swords stretched behind him, the eye technique, and the decisive strike.
It was the same when he slipped into the opening between Yeon-shin’s breaths just as Yeon-shin was about to launch a chain of attacks.
Wi Il-hwa’s short whistle had just sounded. It seemed to be a signal announcing the perfect moment.
Whoosh! Boom!
The heel of Baek Mu-ryang’s palm slammed in. The Hwigwol Tyrant Art of the Seven Great Sects of Xian was said to be a martial art capable of responding in every direction.
Its changes in direction were quick. That meant it excelled at launching variations.
‘Their inner energy is deep to begin with. I can’t kill them with a single strike.’
The moment Yeon-shin raised his left hand, bundles of thread swords narrowed in from every direction.
They blocked his vision as they flashed one after another. If he advanced further, he would be cut. He had no choice but to hesitate.
At the same time, Baek Mu-ryang’s feet crossed twice on the ground. His movements became strange. Afterimages of palm techniques bloomed as if he were performing Illusory Sword with his hands.
He drove in at once the force wave he had accumulated when Yeon-shin clashed with Bu Jo-wi.
Shockwaves striking the air rang out everywhere. They made Yeon-shin’s ears itch.
Kwoooosh!
Wi Il-hwa, who had already rushed in from the front, brought down her sword as well. Her silk sleeves rose stiffly like blades as she came down.
It was a fiercely honed horizontal sword strike. The sound of it tearing through the air was tremendously loud. The face, its mouth stretched wide between a smile and a grimace, was equally wild.
In the air to the right, Bu Jo-wi descended while gripping his great saber in both hands.
He had already regained his stance. The noise of the saber strike’s force wave crashing down was like thunder. It was clearly a saber technique meant to exploit the difference in timing.
The shift in the battle was incredibly fast.
A web of thread swords closing in, three ultimate techniques exploding from three sides of the front in different ways, and the woman in the far rear who seemed to have finished accumulating her force wave as she twisted her waist.
They were strong. This was a combined attack unlike anything he had seen.
They were on a different level from their subordinates. It was just as rumor had it: sect masters alone enjoyed all the benefits, from their sect’s spiritual medicine to its secret arts.
They were worthy of being counted among the Demonic Sect of the martial world beneath the heavens. They were worthy of being called sect masters of the unorthodox sects.
Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha!
A bizarre laugh burst out from behind Baek Mu-ryang’s shoulder. Gi So-seul was laughing as she controlled the thread swords.
Because it resounded through lip-speech, it was especially eerie. Did she want him to carry his resentment with him even as he crossed the Sanzu River after death?
Swoosh.
Yeon-shin placed a finger on one thread sword strand tightening toward his skin. Suddenly, Gi So-seul’s laughter, ringing out like a ray of light, stopped.
Whoooom!
With a resonant hum, a translucent boundary line appeared through his hand.
Like paper windows being torn from a doorframe, a thread line followed his downward-moving finger in a gentle arc.
Through that gap, shimmering strands of light slowly revealed themselves.
Then Yeon-shin’s hand broke through the boundary between sorcery arts and martial arts and seized the coil of thread Gi So-seul had spread. He had felt around with his senses, and it had touched his hand.
The Leader of Demon Wings thought without realizing it.
‘It looks interesting. So it should be mine.’
Lightning-like radiance flashed from the Baihui acupoint at his crown. The threads of qi he had sent out earlier analyzed the Sharp Thread Ghost Absolute’s thread sword technique.
Where it bent, how it was fixed in place, and at what angle cultivated power had to be moved to achieve its intended result.
The understanding born of aura sense shot forth like a flash of light. The parts he could not understand because it was a sorcery art, he replaced with techniques of inner energy.
The talent to live ten days in a day burned like lightning in his mind. It brutally shattered the cliff that stood between ordinary achievement and time, reducing it to empty ashes.
And suddenly,
his analysis of the strange weapon was complete. It was comprehension akin to deciphering a mechanism formation. It was incredibly precise.
Taking control of the thread swords was easy. Yeon-shin had always overwhelmed Gi So-seul in the ability to direct inner energy.
Following the wheel of light turning within his heart, the Record of the Dharma Light Wheel surged like a wave.
At the same time, Gi So-seul’s cultivated power was scattered and driven away from the thread sword strands.
The next moment,
the strong coils of thread embroidered all directions with brilliant rays of light. It seemed as though space itself had been sliced into dozens of pieces.
Whooom!
The resonance of the Radiant River he had stored earlier blossomed from the thread sword strands. The metallic threads resonated along Yeon-shin’s fingers.
They could not penetrate the joints of his fingers, which held the same fluctuations of power. Instead, they seemed to have changed masters.
The threads whispered to Yeon-shin. They told him to lightly tap with his fingers and flick his qi with a quick snap.
The sensation traveled from his palm to his mind. It was extremely vivid.
‘Like this.’
Following that feeling, he brushed his hand delicately as though playing a zither. The thread sword strands released soft musical notes one after another. Their resonance was deep.
At the same time,
Fwoooosh!
The golden threads surged upward explosively. The burning sensation in his upper dantian stopped time purely within the realm of thought.
His movements were as swift as lightning.
The golden threads wove Wi Il-hwa, Bu Jo-wi, Baek Mu-ryang, the other enemies, and dozens of paulownia trees into a net.
As the unorthodox sect masters were bound in an instant and pinned to tree trunks, the radiant strands of thread swords gave off an indifferent gleam beneath the sunlight.
“Gi So-seul! What are you doing?!”
“No, this is... insane...!”
“Aaaah! Mine! It’s mine!”
Bu Jo-wi screamed as if having a seizure, Wi Il-hwa’s eyes widened, and Gi So-seul collapsed like a madwoman with a shriek.
Only Baek Mu-ryang, his beard severed strand by strand, raised aura from his blood-soaked body.
From afar,
Huuuup.
Gang Mu-jeong, the Time-Day Collapsing Mountain Fist, drew a long breath that faded to a stop, as though it had seeped into her soul. She contained the inward breath of inner energy within her body, adding a final trace of immense force.
The air around her changed in an instant. Along with the domain of her fist strike expanding like a tide, the winds accompanying it were forced back in the opposite direction.
Fwoooooosh!
The Fortifying Tremor Thunderclap Wave was complete.
Only then did the momentum surging from her entire body reveal its explosive presence.
The instant her bright red long robe seemed especially vivid, Gang Mu-jeong boldly tilted her balance forward and threw a punch.
It was the stance of a straight punch that placed everything into one blow. Her opening stance was perfect.
The bombardment of Force Projection from her fist art, blazing colorlessly as it rushed forward, was enough to call Shaolin’s Hundred-Step Divine Fist to mind.
Kwoooooosh!
Jeong Yeon-shin’s black sleeve moved at the same time.
Step.
He stood atop a single strand of thread sword.
In an instant, the enormous spiderweb made of golden rays moved as one and blocked the way.
He reverse-calculated the structure of the straight-punch Force Projection, founded on the sixty-four hexagrams, and laid out its directions. He had raised a netted wall to counter it between himself and Gang Mu-jeong.
Whoooooom!
Colorless ripples spread like waves at the midpoint. The fist strike’s force wave passed through the golden net wall and shattered like foam. It was an illusion-like sight.
For the first time, shock appeared on Gang Mu-jeong’s usually calm face. A strand of radiance then wrapped diagonally around her body and lifted her up.
“Light. It won’t work against a supreme master.”
It seemed he was only gaining more tricks. The Leader of Demon Wings muttered from atop the strands of light, his hands clasped behind his back. His resolute eyes sharpened like blades.
“Wait... If you kill us like this, Xi’an’s order...!”
“I am the Hwigwol Family Head of Xi’an. I can offer you much.”
“Give it back! Give me back my Radiant Net!”
Bound to tree trunks, Wi Il-hwa, Baek Mu-ryang, and Gi So-seul each spoke in turn. Bu Jo-wi of the Jongcheon Saber Sect only moved his lips briefly.
“Kill.”
Superiority and inferiority had reversed in a single instant. Life-and-death duels between masters could be this bizarre.
“The foremost principle of my martial sect is not capture.”
Yeon-shin spoke.
It was the same as when the Jeong Family Manor had been destroyed by the Tyrant Sword Sect. Desolate Fortress was a major faction that stood between orthodox and unorthodox, but in its methods, it was closer to the Demonic Sect. It was unlike government officials.
The martial world was savage, following the principle of the strong devouring the weak. Desolate Fortress did not expect martial artists with overwhelming power to reform.
Those who wielded power like mountain gods exploited, killed, and enslaved common people.
Removing future trouble was better for the people’s livelihood. That was the perspective of Desolate Fortress and the state.
“I know you’ve enjoyed yourselves enough. Die now.”
Step.
The leather boot of the Leader of Demon Wings stepped onto another strand of thread sword. The sect masters of the unorthodox sects were not given time to show regret, remorse, or relief.
The meaning Gi So-seul had intended with her earlier laughter returned to her through Yeon-shin. The only thing they carried just before death was despair on their faces.
Fwoosh!
Blood rose in every direction, and dry blades of winter grass scattered upward all around.
At the same time,
the gorge fell silent.
Footnotes:
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