WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 312: Xuanyuan (7)
──────
“Aah! Aaaagh!”
A sudden commotion broke out in the snow-covered forest. Jeon Baek, sent sprawling in an instant, groaned from a distance.
It seemed his severed shoulder stump had slammed into the ground.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyelids lifted slightly.
The range of his aura sense had diminished greatly. The sorcery power of the Yin-Yang Divine Whip and the internal injuries inflicted by the internal heavy-hand technique were to blame, delaying his detection of the distant surge of inner power.
By the time he sensed the strike heading for Jeon Baek, he had not even felt inclined to intervene.
He was simply glad at the unexpected encounter. Perhaps it was because he had come to know loneliness after entering Desolate Fortress.
‘Yu Hyeon...?’
Beyond the brush surrounding their campsite, he saw petals take shape in the fist wind that had struck Jeon Baek.
It carried an immensely familiar quality. Plum Blossom Fist Art and Purple Haze Divine Technique. The essence of the noble martial arts of the Nine Sects.
Had Yu Hyeon fully absorbed the Purple Cloud Pellet Yeon-shin had dissolved for him long ago?
The Force Projection of Yu Hyeon, the Mount Hua Hidden Dragon, was incomparable to before.
It could not compare to Shaolin’s secret Hundred-Step Divine Fist, but the fist wind rushing in from so far away was powerful enough to send Jeon Baek flying.
His friend was clearly moving forward, even if only in short strides. He walked the long martial path of the Nine Sects, a path that had been inherently difficult for Jeong Yeon-shin to climb from birth.
‘Did he say it was Shaolin’s spiritual beast?’
He clearly heard a voice that had become familiar long ago. Yu Hyeon seemed to have been tracking Jeon Baek and Gwi Yun-rin.
“What bastard did that?!”
As Gwi Yun-rin sprang up and yanked the great saber from her back, Jeong Yeon-shin swept his gaze around. There should be an unfamiliar animal nearby.
Animals with spirituality were all exceedingly precious. They were animals raised to intelligence through the secret arts of the elven race.
They were said to have achieved great mastery in tracking, though the abilities possessed by each spiritual beast differed.
‘That child.’
On a snow-white branch to one side sat a squirrel.
It watched Jeong Yeon-shin with its gentle brown cheeks puffed up enormously.
Its eyes gleamed with a strange light. At a glance, it was unlike any ordinary animal. Bright intelligence glimmered within them.
“Come here.”
When he held out his hand, the squirrel’s eyes widened.
The tiny creature tilted its head in quick, short motions as it studied him, then hopped onto his palm and began sniffing him with its tiny nose.
The sensation of its claws, split like thick needles, pressed softly into his hand.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips had just curved faintly.
Boom!
A thunderous sound erupted beyond the brush. A fierce gust of wind swept in as well.
Whoosh!
It seemed Gwi Yun-rin had swung her saber. Judging by the forceful impact wave, Yu Hyeon had somehow blocked it. Gwi Yun-rin’s rough voice followed.
“You filthy bastard! How dare you strike first! Does this half-grown Daoist pup want to become a corpse so badly?!”
“I tracked down a one-armed martial artist pretending to be a scholar! I heard he stole beef in the village below? Shaolin’s galhon, the fur-clad squirrel, caught the scent at once!”
“What?”
“Did you think there would be no consequences? If you play bandit with your paltry martial arts and get caught by a chivalrous hero, you die alone on the road! Today will be the death anniversary of you demonic heretics next year!”
“Beef? When?”
“Don’t play innocent. Judging by your martial level, appearance, and conduct, you are clearly that man’s master. The one before you is a Daoist of the Mount Hua Sect, and this venerable monk is one of the Four...”
“I only ate wild game. Hey, Jeon Baek!”
“Demonic attendant Jeon Baek? You bastards are from the Heart Martial Union? As expected...!”
“I, I only needed to recuperate, miss! With injuries like this, I need to eat well so my acupoints aren’t harmed...!”
“You madman, you said you were going to the latrine, then stole meat behind your master’s back? Have you forgotten I grovelled when it wasn’t even in my nature, just to keep you alive? The moment I saw qi sword control, my heart nearly fell out, and this is what my subordinate does!”
“Miss? You are Gwi Yun-rin, the Crimson Phoenix-Slaying Saber, aren’t you? You should make a fine touchstone for the Plum Blossom Sword. Come at me.”
“You arrogant brat! Do you think you’re Lotus Nezha or something?”
Crunch.
What a mess.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been stroking the squirrel’s cheek with his index finger, turned around.
If Yu Hyeon suffered even the slightest injury at Gwi Yun-rin’s hands, he would be unable to face either himself or the Mount Hua sect leader.
Then.
“Amitabha.”
It rang out right beside him.
The aura spreading from the low Buddhist invocation brushed the fabric at Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.
It felt immensely cool and firm. It immediately brought to mind a hermitage and the sound of a wooden fish.
“A strange group of companions. Benefactor, you do not seem to walk a demonic or heterodox path, so what could you seek from those who treat the lives of common people so lightly?”
It was an exceptionally pleasant voice. If the low sound of a bamboo flute became human speech, it might sound like this.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly turned his head.
He first saw elegant, sharply pointed ears. A cleanly shaven head came next.
A clear aura clung to the monk’s dark orange robes.
An elven monk.
There was not a single wrinkle on his profile, yet he did not appear simply young. With a long staff planted in the ground, he looked like a heavenly guardian deity.
‘He reached here in a single step. He crossed space.’
Four movement arts were said to tread the clouds in the martial world.
The extinct Kunlun Sect’s Cloud Dragon Eight Steps.
The Blood Flame Sect’s Graceful Body Method.
The Thirteen Heavens’ Golden-Wing Sect’s Dragon-Slaying Scale-Treading Body Art.
And the Vajra Immovable Body Method passed down through Shaolin.
The word immovable was attached to its movement art. It meant the pinnacle of movement within stillness. No motion had been visible, yet the monk had suddenly appeared at Jeong Yeon-shin’s side.
It would have been impossible unless the mysteries of his movement art rivaled sorcery arts.
It was profound and immensely threatening.
‘Who is he in Shaolin?’
Jeong Yeon-shin wondered how much he might have sensed if his aura sense had been normal.
“The person this humble monk seeks may be you, benefactor.”
The monk did not look at him. He simply stared blankly ahead as he continued slowly.
“That galhon is not even affectionate toward the novice monks at the temple, yet a quality similar to that of the elven race seems to flow from you. The children may grow jealous if they see this. It is quite meaningful to my clan.”
The squirrel sitting on Jeong Yeon-shin’s hand moved its mouth. Its cheek pouches seemed full of something like acorns.
Jeong Yeon-shin withdrew his index finger from the galhon’s cheeks. His hand lowered to his waist and twitched slightly.
The monk beside him gave off an overwhelming sense of unity. At a glance, he was an elite master at Three Flowers Gather at the Crown, enough to make even Yeon-shin’s dulled aura sense ring an alarm, and he had also mastered a Shaolin divine art.
Though he sensed no hostility, it was hard to lower his guard.
“My name is Won Jeok. I have forgotten my secular name.”
The monk spoke.
Jeong Yeon-shin was greatly surprised inwardly.
‘The monk said to have trained facing a wall for a hundred years.’
It was an overwhelming dharma name. He was widely known for his terrifying martial prowess.
One of Shaolin’s Four Vajra.
Even in the sect called the strongest among the Nine Sects, it meant he ranked among the top five.
Clearly above the Eighteen Arhats, he was also called Master Won Jeok, a man universally respected throughout the world.
He had guarded the temple for a long time in Shaolin, where the limits of seniority had disappeared after the founding of Ming.
Won Jeok of the Four Vajra had played a major role in making modern Shaolin famous for a hundred years of wall-facing meditation.
“May I ask your identity, benefactor? Hm, it is rather noisy here.”
Won Jeok suddenly opened his mouth wide.
Then he shouted.
“Gaal!”
In an instant, a powerful aura spread out, and the brush ahead all toppled backward at once. It was as if a sudden storm had descended.
As the air roared fiercely from all directions, two figures beyond the brush were revealed flying in opposite directions. They had stopped their clash the moment the shout reached them.
Though it was not one of the Seventy-Two Supreme Arts, it was one of Shaolin’s signature techniques.
The Buddhist Lion’s Roar.
* * *
Conflicts in the martial world were generally settled by the strong.
Gwi Yun-rin, who had charged at Yu Hyeon as if to kill him, had quieted down. Sitting somewhat close to Jeong Yeon-shin, she glared back and forth across the campfire at Won Jeok, Yu Hyeon, and Jeon Baek.
She had drawn both legs slightly toward her chest and casually rested her forearms on her knees. Her posture was bold, as though she could rise at any moment if needed.
Jeon Baek wore an aggrieved look on his refined scholar’s face.
“Why me?”
“Shut up, you faithless bastard.”
Jeong Yeon-shin, meanwhile, met the eyes of the young Daoist in white robes.
His cheeks had grown a little leaner, making the pink plum blossom embroidery on his robes suit him even better. The voice in his sound transmission had grown more dignified as well.
―...I was really startled. To think you would show up there. So, have you been well?
―I’ve been fine. You’re the one who showed up. In any case, how is Yulha Nangnang?
―Master? Well, she has recovered greatly. I had a hard time stopping her from saying she would go take the Tyrant Sword Sect Master’s head. She said she came up with a new sword form for the Plum Blossom Sword Art. Anyway, it is a great relief our paths crossed. I stopped by the Gongya Family while tracking you down, to let the galhon smell your scent. Then we came this way and heard about a meat thief.
―My scent?
Galhon.
The squirrel had somehow climbed onto Won Jeok’s shoulder as Won Jeok sat with his eyes closed.
It was said to be a spiritual beast raised by Shaolin.
It helped find common people kidnapped by martial artists, and it was a reaper that would chase Shaolin disciples who broke their vows all the way to the underworld to cripple their limbs, meridians, and dantian.
―Fortunately, the Gongya siblings gave me your things. Torn pieces of clothing and fragments of your sword. They were preserving them like treasures in some wooden box. Both of them. Come to think of it, I heard the young master of the Gongsun Family keeps the sword you used as a decoration in his room. At this point, aren’t you closer to a spiritual beast than a person?
―What nonsense...
―Your reputation is already incredible these days. Right, how did you kill the Zhuge Family Head? You really defeated them, didn’t you? What kind of martial accomplishment is that...!
At that moment, Won Jeok, seated cross-legged on the snow to one side, moved one ear almost imperceptibly.
The two friends continued their conversation regardless.
―I knew you would be indifferent. After causing something that has the entire martial world in an uproar... Anyway, you said you were hiding your identity, right? Are you certain she does not know who you are? I am worried I ruined things by making a fuss the moment I saw you.
When Yu Hyeon gestured toward Gwi Yun-rin with his eyes, she suddenly snorted. She carried herself so theatrically that the hair at her temples lifted.
“What are you whispering about through sound transmission, half-grown Daoist pup?”
“You are fully grown, yet matching this Daoist Yu Hyeon is something to boast about? If you were not that friend’s companion, my sword would have painted plum blossoms with your blood.”
“Matching you? If that Shaolin monk were not here, the likes of you...!”
She glanced at Won Jeok, then at Jeong Yeon-shin, and her fingertips trembled slightly. Caught between advance and retreat. Campfire light flickered dark red over the back of her hand.
Their exchange sounded like a comedy routine amid the popping embers, yet the late winter air surrounding them was strangely cold.
It was an immensely awkward and sudden gathering.
That was the mood of the camp. Martial artists of the Thirteen Heavens and the Nine Sects had gathered in one place.
If not for Jeong Yeon-shin, who needed to travel with Gwi Yun-rin until she led him to the Assassins’ Sect, trouble would have broken out long ago.
“Benefactor.”
Won Jeok, who had suddenly opened his eyes, spoke.
The two rows of three burn marks on his forehead grew noticeably redder. Inner power had risen inside him.
A strange pressure stirred from his body. It made even the campfire before them feel suddenly chilling.
―So what could you seek from those who treat the lives of common people so lightly?
Those were the words he had spoken earlier.
Shaolin’s mercy generally extended to common people.
Slogans such as slay demons and eradicate heresy, and Destroy Evil, Reveal Righteousness, showed how ruthlessly orthodox sects dealt with demonic and heterodox practitioners.
The methods of orthodox martial artists were exceptionally harsh toward their enemies. They showed no mercy.
Shaolin was the same. They were reluctant to accumulate the karma of killing, but their fists, kicks, and staffs were the foundation of martial arts in the martial world, possessing mystery, purity, and overwhelming force alike.
They had easily shattered the limbs of demonic and heterodox martial artists.
There were extremely few in the vast world who did not know the Four Vajra. Time, martial prowess, and reputation had made that so.
“Will you exchange hands with this humble monk? It will only take a moment.”
“...!”
Yu Hyeon, Gwi Yun-rin, and Jeon Baek each showed surprise.
One of Shaolin’s Four Vajra had requested a spar. It was a matter weighty enough to make one consider the context behind it.
* * *
Won Jeok could hear the sound transmissions of others.
When his wall-facing training reached seventy years, he felt as though his ears had opened. Shaolin’s abbot called it the beginning of the Six Supernatural Powers.
He had said it was an extreme level of Sensory Training primarily granted to elven monks.
It held no particular meaning.
Over a hundred years ago, Won Jeok had lost his family to a branch of the Ming Cult and entered the Buddhist order.
Even on the day he first set foot on Mount Song, and on the day he shaved his head and received his burn marks, the faces of his parents screaming amid black flames would flicker before his eyes.
It was the Samadhi True Fire of the Heavenly Demon, the Ming Cult Master who appeared in every age.
It was something the senses could scarcely fathom.
To oppose demonic qi and sorcery power required a fundamentally opposing method, yet Shaolin’s warrior monks had rarely managed to restore the Guanyin Azure River Hand infused with dharma power.
It was an art whose lineage had been cut off long ago, one for which even the Sutra Repository struggled to find a secret manual.
Even Shaolin’s abbot did not like scribbling down lost martial arts on blank paper. He would tell them to master the martial arts already in the temple.
―You intend to seek out the Leader of Demon Wings... Yes, I knew you would say that the moment you left seclusion. But I cannot send you alone... The problem is that there is no disciple suited to follow you. If I tell them to attend you, they will all be terrified. Could you not have been a little kinder?
―What is wrong with expecting a warrior monk to cultivate himself as a warrior monk? I will be fine traveling alone.
―You may be, but Shaolin will not be. What manners and refinement could a monk who spent a hundred years staring blindly at a wall possibly have? This old monk is deeply worried.
Won Jeok let the words pass through one ear and out the other. He was used to the abbot’s empty chanting.
After hearing the conversation between Yu Hyeon of Mount Hua and the young man before him, he knew that the person facing him was indeed the Leader of Demon Wings of Desolate Fortress.
His hands hung quietly at his sides.
Even though his opening stance was close to a natural posture, it was perfect. Anyone in Shaolin would see a trace of martial talent worthy of admiration.
‘But.’
He was someone who associated with demonic and heterodox practitioners for his own purposes.
That could not be allowed. If the Leader of Demon Wings truly possessed dharma power, he should show conduct worthy of his strength.
A junior from generations far below needed guidance. Won Jeok did not know why Jeong Yeon-shin had accepted the spar, but still.
‘As an elder of the martial world, I must do my duty.’
It was with that thought that he prepared the Hundred-Step Divine Fist.
Then, suddenly, a strange energy flowed from Seom-ye’s body. He had released the inner power he had kept tightly concealed.
Won Jeok narrowed his brow. Before the dharma power he had failed to attain even through a hundred years of wall-facing meditation, he sought to calm his mind.
The owner of sacred energy should fulfill their heavenly duty. Guidance came first.
But.
Saaaaa...
An energy filled the forest with translucent white light and brushed his skin with spiritual grace.
It was too.
Far too auspicious.
The slowly spreading waves of inner power sent supreme refreshment through his entire body. The sensation was nearly like paradise.
Even the abbot’s unrivaled power felt like an art that was merely pointlessly powerful.
“Heh, hehehe.”
Won Jeok’s lips began to twitch upward.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
