WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 253: Ascent (3)
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A sealed chamber, enclosed on every side by stone walls.
It was broad and bright enough for more than a dozen people to eat and sleep in.
The ceiling was high, with rows of lanterns illuminating every corner.
"There's quite a commotion outside. Listen to that rumbling. What kind of True Steps are those... Should we take a look?"
"Don't bother. We only need to hold our position."
Four shadows flickered in the lantern light.
They were swordsmen in green martial uniforms, standing guard as they glanced at the girl asleep on a bed near the altar. Their vigilance resembled that of attendants.
"Maybe I worried too much. You're right. Getting involved where we shouldn't is defying orders."
"They're probably just rabble. Perhaps bandits who came to rob an escort agency."
"They probably think they're the strongest in these mountains, not realizing they've stepped into Wailing Hell."
Their voices remained level.
"I wouldn't be so sure. Whoever found our headquarters safehouse can't be insignificant..."
"The First Demon is here, isn't he? The child is here, so he likely hasn't gone out yet."
"Mm, that's true."
It was fine for them to be somewhat relaxed. They were carrying out a simple task in the deepest, most secret part of the base.
They were guarding a child of six or seven in an underground stone cavern at the heart of the manor.
The walls were thick, making it difficult for ordinary aura sense to detect any presence. Yeoryeong would not be defeated by enemies who had simply seen the escort agency's signboard and barged in.
A major faction did not handle matters carelessly. Finding this place alone would take them ages.
Even Wi Geuk-sang, an ultimate martial artist, was holding his post as branch leader. Not even the heads of the Seven Great Sects of Xian could cross the threshold of this hall.
"Looking at her features, I'd believe she was an imperial child, no matter whose bloodline she belongs to."
A woman in green glanced at Jeong Hye, whose eyes remained closed.
One hand rested on her sword hilt. Her usual stern bearing remained despite her relaxed manner, and she carried the presence expected of a martial artist from a major faction. It was the ease of the strong.
"Isn't she the disciple of that senile Sword Immortal who died? Her generational seniority in Zhongnan must be high enough to disregard their hierarchy."
"They say no handsome child comes from a lowly background. Perhaps the blood of the elven race runs through her veins."
"She's said to be related to the current Leader of Demon Wings. How could she not be?"
"Seom-ye, you mean? Even after reading the documents, I doubted whether he really existed. The world may be vast, but..."
"The accomplishments of the Ming Cult's Young Sect Master were received the same way at first. Think of it as one of the martial world's mysteries."
Their quiet voices echoed faintly.
As Yeoryeong's guardian martial artists chatted idly, a soft voice rang out.
"Ah..."
It came from the bed nearest the seat of honor. Jeong Hye had opened her eyes.
She flinched and pushed herself upright. Lantern light cast shadows across the girl's small nose. Her youthful features were delicate yet distinct.
Yeoryeong's experts glanced at Jeong Hye. Their eyes swept over her as though she were a precious white porcelain vessel.
"You're awake."
"You'll be asleep again in about fifteen minutes. How much longer do we have to play nursemaids?"
"Until her qi settles, they said."
She was the disciple Wi Geuk-sang, the First Demon of Shaanxi, had brought in. The Grand Method to transform Zhongnan's inner energy into the qi of the Heavenly Mound Demonic Knot had just been performed.
They had given her spiritual medicines such as hundred-year he shou wu and circulated her inner energy extensively.
Everything had been done with extreme care, without harming the child's body. They intended to raise her into one of Yeoryeong's supreme experts.
The preparations had begun. They said it was only natural for Jeong Hye to fall into long, repeated sleeps. The Heavenly Mound Demonic Knot was one of Yeoryeong's finest arts.
One swordsman asked with a smile.
"It should be time to eat. Is there anything you're craving?"
"Mount Zhongnan..."
Jeong Hye moved her lips blankly. She still seemed half-asleep, yet the intent in her quiet voice was clear.
The Yeoryeong swordsman turned toward the door across from them.
"She wants soybean-pulp stew again. She really does love it. I'll have to tell that servant to prepare it properly."
"I'll go. I should check the situation while I'm at it."
Their tone was casual. A faint sheen of tears gathered in Jeong Hye's eyes.
No one paid her any more attention. One man simply stepped toward the large stone door.
Bang!
It happened in an instant.
With a tremendous roar, the door itself was shoved inward. Power beyond the limits of flesh surged from the other side.
A savage force wave turned into a storm and rushed in. Faced with the door flying at him like a shell, the man quickly struck the stone door with the back of his hand.
The reaction speed of a Thirteen Heavens expert was that fast.
"Hup!"
The man narrowed his eyes and exhaled sharply.
The door suddenly accelerated, smashing through the path of his hand and driving forward.
His arm struck the stone door and folded back against his chest. The force wave that had yet to burst from his hand whirled colorlessly, rattling along with the door.
Even so, the man was driven all the way to the wall. It was an irresistible force. The sound of tearing air was ferocious.
Kuuuuung!
His body was crushed against the stone wall along with the door. The fluctuations of his power scattered helplessly through its gaps.
He died instantly. There was no time to inspect him closely.
At the same time.
One worn leather shoe stepped onto the threshold.
Step.
Its toe swayed slightly. Whoever wore it seemed unsteady.
Bloodstains spread outward from beneath the sole of the black leather shoe.
"Defend yourselves!"
"I'll take the front!"
They were martial artists of the Thirteen Heavens. The remaining swordsmen reacted immediately. Even faced with something they had never imagined, their Body Movement Scripture footwork was swift.
The three formed a triangular defensive formation.
The Heavenly Mound Origin-Spirit Sword Formation, Yeoryeong's secret art.
A hazy current fluttered around the experts gripping their lowered swords. It was a dust-filled wind.
Whooong.
It signified the coordination of their energy. The patterns of their inner energy auras had been aligned.
A sword formation was martial learning devised to make proper use of several martial artists' strength. The more profound the art, the more effective the combined attack.
The Heavenly Mound Origin-Spirit Sword Formation was a supreme technique that enhanced speed and sword power through the internal strength of one's fellow disciples. It was exceptionally refined.
Crack!
The three charged at once. Their movements differed from the martial artist who had fallen before them. They leaped and drew their swords with tremendous speed.
The sharp whistle of blades tore through the air. Three streaks of sword light shot from their hands toward the intruder like rays of light.
By then, the intruder's figure had come into view.
Hair hanging loosely around his face, absorbing the lantern light into blackness. Slightly lonely eyes. An unrealistically handsome youthful face. A blood-soaked upper body.
"Trash."
He spoke.
A terrifyingly powerful aura flowed from the figure holding a pure white sword lowered at his side. Translucent power fluctuations swayed unstably around him, yet his presence was overwhelming.
The lantern flames danced violently as though caught in a storm. The shadows of the swordsmen still charging forward and kicking off the ground warped in every direction.
As the three strikes of the Heavenly Mound Origin-Spirit Sword Formation cut through space...
The intruder raised his left hand.
The drifting current of dust twisted. It was the sign of an attack.
The energy gathered in his hand was unbelievably powerful, and the speed at which his inner energy surged was terrifying. Before the three sword paths could reach him, an overwhelming force wave had formed in his palm.
'An ultimate expert...!'
In that brief moment, the composure of the three swordsmen shattered.
But it was too late. A savage storm crossed the distance and burst forth.
It seemed to have been released carelessly, without any particular technique, yet the force wave that struck them was like a hurricane made of blades.
The three swords they had each thrust out were knocked away in different directions with a violent crash.
Krrrraaaang!
Was this what it would look like if Shaolin's Hundred-Step Divine Fist were unleashed by the hand of a drunken wastrel?
Though the force wave was unrefined, it shattered and scattered the hazy currents flowing around the swordsmen all at once.
The method of undoing the sword formation's coordinated inner energy was truly exquisite. Blood then burst from all over the bodies of the two swordsmen enveloped by the colorless force wave.
"Kuhk!"
They collapsed and slid forward with the momentum of their charge.
They died instantly, their eyes wide open.
The surviving swordsman on the right came to an abrupt stop, his face drained of color.
"Squad Leader, the Squad Leader disappeared again!"
"Great Tongue Sword, you bastard! Support him properly!"
"How am I supposed to keep up with the movement art Wind Body? Still, he's definitely that way!"
Several voices rang out chaotically from outside.
The swordsman standing there blankly flinched. Yeoryeong dealt in information. Given a few clues, they could infer anything.
He was the one who had mentioned soybean-pulp stew after Jeong Hye's reply.
He understood at once.
"Leader of Demon Wings?"
The supernatural phenomena they had discussed in jest had taken form before him.
Another wave of inner energy Force Projection bore down on him.
Behind the palm force rushing toward him, the form of Seom-ye, Leader of Demon Wings, blurred as he indifferently lowered his hand.
'How sensitive is his aura sense, to have found this place at once...?'
The Yeoryeong swordsman laughed hollowly.
He had exchanged moves with one of the martial world's wonders. Should he consider it an honor?
Kwoooaaar!
An irresistible force wave swept over the swordsman. Blood burst into the translucent wind, occasionally catching the lantern light.
The palm wind that severed a life in an instant scattered in every direction. The swordsman had not even fallen yet.
Then came the sound of his body hitting the ground.
Silence followed.
Only Jeong Hye had the right to break it.
"Ah...?"
A dazed exclamation escaped her. The child parted her lips slightly.
Despite her young age, she had been revered as the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan's disciple. She had consumed all kinds of rare herbs and been taught Daoist scriptures.
Her already exceptional comprehension had been sharpened, and after experiencing the Heavenly Net of Yeoryeong and the Tyrant Sword Sect, she had even gained an understanding of major factions.
Terrifying people.
That was why the scene before her felt like a dream. Her uncle had always seemed faint and insubstantial at home, but now he looked clearer than anyone in the world.
Was this real?
"Hye-ah."
The low call was pleasant to hear. His voice had grown much deeper.
Jeong Hye, who had feared that this might be a dream even at her young age, brightened through tears.
"Uncle...!"
"It really is Hye-ah."
Only then did Jeong Yeon-shin relax the tension throughout his body.
Even the painkilling effect was no longer enough to let him move properly. He had no choice but to use the distant palm strike he had tested during Hyeon Won-chang's Blue Uniform promotion examination.
He had thought it was like a diminished Hundred-Step Divine Fist, but fortunately, the enemies' attainments were so insignificant that it worked well.
'Thank goodness they're the sort who can get by with skills like that.'
Feeling inwardly relieved, he dropped to one knee.
"Uncle!"
Jeong Hye ran forward on her short legs and threw herself into his arms.
The Leader of Demon Wings wrapped one arm around his niece's back, and a faint curve formed on his lips.
Jeong Yeon-shin thought, Mother, I protected the bloodline that came from your companion.
"It's all right. It'll be all right now."
The words he spoke to reassure her gradually faded near the end.
His eyelids felt heavy. He stroked his niece's small back, then closed his eyes.
Three presences rushed toward them from behind as though flying.
A sharp and refined wind, an aura as deep and warm as an abyss, and bold footwork that made no sound.
It was Ma Gwang-il's Squad, made up of Cheong Myeong, Baek Mir-yeo, and Hyeon Won-chang.
"Your uncle's a little sleepy..."
He whispered softly into Jeong Hye's ear.
He was not afraid of losing consciousness like this. He was only worried about his niece.
"Don't be startled."
Jeong Yeon-shin soon lost consciousness.
* * *
The scene was gradually being brought under control.
The Mount Hua Sect's sect leader stood quietly with her hands behind her back.
"..."
The Starflower Sword God, Yulha.
Yulha Nangnang.
The hem of her pink robe trailed over her white socks. It did not suit the rough dirt ground, yet it looked natural on her.
Nangnang was not a title commonly used. It referred to a Daoist deity.
"This is cargo from the Zhongyang Caravan."
"Move it over there. The government troops will handle it."
"Use your Body Movement Scripture properly! Move, now!"
The presence of a peerless expert was transcendent. She did nothing, yet made everything possible.
The surviving enemies had either killed themselves or surrendered and become laborers. They had already lost the will to fight after the battle between the Leader of Demon Wings and the First Demon of Shaanxi.
Under the watch of Desolate Fortress martial artists, they moved about busily. Yeoryeong's Shaanxi Branch, which had disguised itself as an escort agency, was dismantled in an instant.
"You're entangled with the Sword Demon of the Heart Martial Union."
Yulha Nangnang slowly spoke as she clenched and unclenched the hand that had briefly been suffused with dharma power and inner energy.
"I thought you intended to live and die as a good-for-nothing, but you've put this poor Daoist to shame."
She stood to one side of the area surrounded by many Demon Wings martial artists.
The Leader of Demon Wings lay atop more than a dozen layered sleeping bags. Yulha Nangnang studied Seom-ye's face with an interested gaze, as though she were looking at the finest delicacy under heaven.
"More beautiful than any sword path. If I shared a meal with this child, even fasting pills would go down easily. They wouldn't catch in my throat."
"Master, please have some dignity..."
The young Daoist muttered as he looked down at Jeong Yeon-shin with concern.
He was Yu Hyeon, the Mount Hua Hidden Dragon.
The Demon Wings experts made room for them but did not join the conversation. Desolate Fortress disciples had always been known for their unapproachable temperament.
They focused all their attention on their Squad Leader, lowering their voices.
"His internal injuries are terrible. Moving any farther is impossible. We have to worry about qi deviation."
"I don't know how he moved at all. I can't understand how he displayed such divine might in that condition. It's driving me mad."
"Mm..."
"...Someone dug up the spot beside that Huangbo brat."
"It's his grave. Wait until he wakes up. He should know what he's guilty of before he goes."
"Didn't they say the Tyrant Sword Sect and Blood Flame Sect were moving? We should leave first. What do we do...?"
Their discussion was grave.
It remained so until Yulha Nangnang suddenly spoke.
"It seems right for someone with exceptional lightness skill to carry the Leader of Demon Wings. As you can tell, his internal injuries are severe. He will need a long recuperation simply to regain consciousness, so let him recover at a safehouse. The Sword Fangs and blood demons troubling Shaanxi were originally the responsibility of our sect and Zhongnan."
There was an absolute quality in her clear voice. The words of Mount Hua's sect leader carried weight.
The experts around the sleeping bags silently looked down at Jeong Yeon-shin.
His skin seemed to receive sunlight with unusual brightness. His straight, proud nose rose like a martial artist's bearing. His elegant eyelashes seemed to cast shadows of their own, inviting silence.
Then.
All of a sudden.
The Leader of Demon Wings' eyelids opened naturally.
His black eyes gleamed with the abilities of the Jeong Family Youth Technique.
"..."
Those dark eyes took in more than a dozen gazes.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
"...What?"
A somewhat hoarse voice escaped him.
Footnotes:
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