WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
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◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 271: Master of the Martial Book (8)
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The Chief Steward's Office of Desolate Fortress occupied one of the largest palace complexes in the main fortress.
It was an age that afforded scholars unprecedented respect.
That much was clear from the path leading to the entrance, lined with flowers blooming brilliantly despite the winter chill.
It was a sight the Lord of Desolate Fortress had bestowed upon the scholars of the Chief Steward's Office. A flower garden for literati who could become poets and men of letters whenever they chose.
Step.
The four Blue Uniform masters of Desolate Fortress carrying the palanquin moved with remarkable lightness.
Their aura was so distinct that the petals of the flowers blooming on either side of the path trembled here and there.
Only the Leader of Demon Wings, seated high above the white and yellow flower garden, remained utterly still.
Martial artists had been summoned to attend their Squad Leader. The other Demon Wings masters had already returned to their quarters.
“Hm.”
The man carrying the rear pole of the palanquin spoke. He had a taciturn air about him.
He was a Blue Uniform master with pale skin like the Blood Guard Squad Leader's. His lips, strikingly red like those of Blood Blade Ghost Pung-ran, moved.
“Is this really acceptable?”
Shura Demon Soul Na Il-cheon glanced at the back of Jeong Yeon-shin, the Squad Leader he had only recently begun serving.
Languid Flame Dragon and Hyeon Won-chang carried the front pair of palanquin poles, while Wi Ye-ryeong and Na Il-cheon bore the rear.
Walking ahead, Languid Flame Dragon casually shook his head.
“What can we do if it isn't? An immense crowd already witnessed the Squad Leader's triumphant return. Didn't an order come down from the venerable Lord herself?”
“The more I look, the more finely dressed officials I see. High-ranking officials have gathered in the inner courtyard.”
Wi Ye-ryeong spoke while staring ahead with clear blue eyes. A great bow was slung across her back.
Hyeon Won-chang nodded.
“Didn't you notice all the irritating chatter? It sounds almost like a protest, though at least they aren't raising their voices.”
The five senses of Blue Uniform masters were exceptionally sharp.
There were great differences depending on one's level of Sensory Training, but to pass the promotion examination, one had to be able to clearly sense even a falling leaf.
That was why they could hear them.
“The Provincial Administration Commissioner has voiced his concerns. Those who know martial arts have begun acting as water bandits and mountain bandits, yet Jiangxi has recently been plundered so thoroughly that there is nothing left to take, and only senseless casualties continue to mount.”
“The Right Vice Commissioner's words about Jiangxi are no different from the situation in our town.”
“Now even those who do not know martial arts have taken to banditry. They are swarming everywhere.”
“We too, we too have suffered! Three Blue Uniform martial artists who visited Chengdu in Sichuan were recently murdered by unidentified masters. No reinforcements came for a long time, so we braved the dangerous roads all the way here to Xiangyang. Yet we heard the Tang Sect stabilized Chengdu in the meantime.”
“Then isn't that settled? Haven't you seen the lower-ranking officials outside? They are lining up to plead directly with the Grand Chief Steward of Desolate Fortress. Surely you ought to yield your place and consider the circumstances of those below you.”
“No. This office also requires a definite answer concerning the martial-world security in our region. The Tang Sect's Myriad Flowers Rain is more dependable than Desolate Fortress's blue swords in this situation. I cannot simply leave, so I remain here. I merely wish to see the Grand Chief Steward's face. Yet he has not received me even after half a day. He must be terribly busy with official matters.”
“Many have spent seven days and nights waiting.”
“Goodness...”
“They refuse to let us in no matter what, and the dignity of Great Ming officials...”
It spoke to the recent difficulties faced by Desolate Fortress's Divine Sword Squad.
In the inner courtyard leading into the elegant halls of the Chief Steward's Office, officials in stately robes of every color were questioning the absence of security.
Their manner was restrained, their voices dignified.
The officials here had ignored the announced date of their audience and left their quarters.
None of them raised their voices. They were careful not to cross the line.
These were the grounds where the Lord of Desolate Fortress resided, and she was a Martial God recognized as a Prince of Commandery before the current Emperor ascended the throne.
The dozens of officials knew how to keep their heads.
They simply discussed the facts in calm voices.
Even when the Black Uniform Squad Leader's palanquin approached, they merely glanced at it with composed expressions before stepping back a few paces.
“I heard it before... The newly appointed Squad Leader beneath the Divine Sword Squad was said to be that young.”
“The Dark King Among Flowers of Sichuan. That arrogant bearing suits him strangely well.”
“He has the spirit of a military governor. He is no different from a victorious general, at such a young... no, such a youthful age.”
Each of them kept up appearances.
They must have heard the repeated cries proclaiming the Leader of Demon Wings' achievements from far away, yet they only withdrew a few steps with detached expressions. It was all for appearances.
“Well, well.”
Hyeon Won-chang snorted as he spoke while passing the group of officials with his companions.
Even his quiet steps carried a brisk, peculiar rhythm.
[Those who ate well in a year of famine, then wandered to the main fortress for a tour,
Those who never sent word when they benefited from the main fortress's martial artists,
Though they cannot even send representatives befitting their lofty ranks,
Nor plead for the Imperial Army to march, lest it hinder their advancement,
Gather close and only flap their mouths like turtles.
From Shaanxi, where the Leader of Demon Wings passed through, no one has come,
Yet here stand those who benefited from the Myriad Flowers Rain he restored.]
“You...!”
His voice flowed out in a clear, biting tone. Though he had insulted them by calling them turtles, the officials could not react.
The Leader of Demon Wings sat atop that unrefined mockery. This was no place for rash behavior.
The authority to execute officials on the spot.
It was a tale that had quietly spread among the higher ranks.
Most of the officials fell silent, each wearing a different expression.
Then loud laughter burst from the top of the Chief Steward's Office hall.
“Ha ha ha ha!”
A middle-aged man with a thick black beard poked his head through a window crack, his face alight with laughter.
Several figures appeared at the windows on the floor below him. Scholars who had trained in martial arts revealed amused smiles, then vanished one by one.
The Grand Chief Steward shouted.
“They said the Great Tongue Sword was our youngest Squad Leader's right-hand man. It seems the reputation is well deserved! That was refreshing!”
“I am ashamed. I only said what came to mind.”
Hyeon Won-chang needlessly touched the hero’s headband on his forehead.
The Grand Chief Steward chuckled. His gaze rose to the palanquin.
“Young Master Jeong's breathing has grown incredibly deep. No wonder he could slay such supreme masters one after another. This matter truly was on a different level. I was startled even while receiving the report.”
“...”
Yet the Leader of Demon Wings did not answer, resting his chin on one hand.
He simply sat with his eyes closed, wearing an expression indifferent to all worldly affairs. Winter sunlight rested on his handsome face, making it stand out all the more.
The officials whispered among themselves. The Grand Chief Steward of Desolate Fortress was said to have reached the level of a seasoned Black Uniform master, yet this young man did not even respond to his praise.
“Has he attained such a level?”
“Look at his bearing. Is it not utterly natural?”
“I believe there were rumors that the Imperial Grandson favored him.”
“What...?”
No one paid attention to their murmurs. Only Languid Flame Dragon curled his lips into a faint smile.
The Grand Chief Steward, looking down at the palanquin carried by the four Blue Uniform masters, smiled. Jeong Yeon-shin had surpassed even the bloodline of the Ma Family.
‘He has greatly established his prestige among officials rooted throughout the land. The martial world will hold nothing but harsh trials, but whatever missions he undertakes in the future, this will work in his favor. Young Master Jeong truly aims for Purple Uniform at such a young age.’
It was a chaotic age whose future could not be predicted. This matter would gradually come to have great consequences.
The Grand Chief Steward slowly opened his mouth.
“You should go straight up to see the Lord. There was a solemn order. I have no room to spare at present, so let us meet again when your achievements are assessed.”
“Is that true? Straight there?”
Hyeon Won-chang asked.
But the Chief Steward had already turned away.
* * *
The stairs of the Lord's inner fortress were broad enough to climb while carrying a palanquin.
Rumble.
The enormous stone door opened on its own just as the palanquin bearers reached the end of the stairs.
Beyond it lay an open side without walls, and pale sunset light poured through the wide-open windows.
Languid Flame Dragon lightly bit his lip.
His mind was already hazy, and the dreamlike atmosphere seeped into it.
‘I’m going to lose consciousness.’
A figure reclined against a tree trunk within the hall.
The tips of her grass-colored hair, blended into the twilight, swayed below her waist.
She revealed no presence at all. Because of that, the surrounding scenery, blades of grass, and traces of the wind felt all the more distinct.
Was this the realm famous scholars throughout the world called the Natural Sword?
Even as the eldest son of the powerful family that had ruled Jinan, Shandong Province like kings, Languid Flame Dragon could not fathom it.
“We greet the Lord.”
Wi Ye-ryeong, the Moon-Shooting Bow Ghost, spoke from behind him. Languid Flame Dragon repeated it as though nothing were wrong.
“We greet the Lord.”
“Set it down.”
A clear, lovely voice flowed out.
It began after that.
“Uh...?”
Languid Flame Dragon was swept into an entirely different time. Something overwhelming seemed to shove aside his thoughts.
His consciousness drifted dreamily, as though thought, deliberation, and perception were not permitted within this hall and space.
The sound of a single step. The Lord of Desolate Fortress's shadow falling over the palanquin. His Squad Leader sagging backward as though his sealed acupoints had been released merely by her footsteps. The Lord's long fingers touching the Squad Leader's cheek, pale as one of the elven race. Those fingers rising to his brow. Light shining like blades of grass. A soft breath, the faintest exhale... fingertips passing over the Squad Leader's eyes.
That was all.
He could see nothing beyond it.
Not the sunset swaying in the Lord's hair. Not the scent of grass that had briefly brushed past his nose. Not the Lord of Desolate Fortress's lips moving as she ordered them to leave.
Before he knew it, the palanquin bearers stood outside the stone door, which had already closed.
* * *
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly opened his eyes.
The moment his vision cleared, his focus returned. Familiar walls came into sight. He was in the Demon Wings residence.
As he straightened the back that had been slightly bent while lying on his side, the deeply familiar scent of stone walls wrapped around him warmly.
‘We arrived safely.’
Nothing had happened. Enemies might have appeared to block their way.
It was thanks to his companions' exceptional ability. Even with one incompetent wastrel among them, they had still achieved results befitting Demon Wings' reputation.
Rustle.
Jeong Yeon-shin neatly arranged his bedding, then put on a long robe with only the left side sleeveless.
At the same time, a commotion rose outside. He could sense some presences on the roof, as though they had been guarding their defenseless Squad Leader.
“He's awake!”
“Squad Leader! Everything is because of that Huangbo bastard...!”
“Idiot! Shut up first! He doesn't know yet!”
The corner of Jeong Yeon-shin's mouth lifted slightly. At Jeong Family Manor, such lively energy had never been directed toward him.
Languid Flame Dragon appeared to have caused trouble, but Cheong Myeong and Baek Mir-yeo would settle it. His seniors' commotion amused him.
It was warm and lively.
He murmured quietly.
“Quiet.”
He had not even put qi into his voice, yet the Demon Wings residence fell silent in an instant.
Only the youthful voices of unranked disciples playing in the front courtyard and the Training Hall across from it could occasionally be heard.
There was a reason he silenced them. Jeong Yeon-shin roughly straightened his clothes.
‘North, Wonpyeong One Sword Hall.’
An extraordinary presence could be felt from the meeting place of Desolate Fortress's leaders. His aura sense, which had matured even as a Black Uniform master, reacted as though his skin had been pricked by a needle.
It was wildly unstable, yet overwhelmingly present. It differed from the aura of the Lord of Desolate Fortress, which was nearly impossible to sense at all.
It pressed through the window paper above the threshold like a tidal wave of light, magnificent beyond measure.
The current Divine Sword Squad Leader was calling for the Leader of Demon Wings.
Footnotes:
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