WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 322: Shaking Heaven
──────
* * *
Taiyuan.
It was a vast metropolis. They said the Assassins' Sect's main headquarters was hidden there.
The Moyong Family and the Heart Martial Union sought to plunder the Heavenly Demon's legacy from them. They wanted something left unreaped during the Heavenly Demon's Tomb Uprising more than a decade ago.
It had nothing to do with Jeong Yeon-shin. So long as common people and his comrades remained unharmed, that was enough.
He did not care how his enemies regarded him. He was an adult with little time left to live.
'About a hundred remain.'
Jeong Yeon-shin considered his self-cultivation exceptionally deep.
Even when the Heart Martial Union's Winged Blood Venerable treated him as little more than a variable, mildly irritating him, and when the Moyong Young Family Head's talk of the Dharma Power Jade greatly displeased him, he remained the same.
He was unlike those monkeys who lost the precision of their forms over a few taunts.
His strikes remained cool-headed. He revealed his full strength at every turn. It proved that his mental cultivation was on an entirely different level.
Even though his body was somewhat exhausted, a single Myeongjeong Pill would restore his martial prowess to nearly its peak.
Click.
A clear scent rose the instant he opened the wooden case. It was the fragrance of incense burned in a temple.
Inside lay a round, white pill. It was the Myeongjeong Pill, Shaolin's secret medicine for internal injuries.
Its efficacy was said to be the finest under heaven. Having taken one before, Jeong Yeon-shin agreed.
Tap.
Shaolin's galhon, the fur-clad squirrel, the spiritual beast that had delivered the Myeongjeong Pill, leaped onto Jeong Yeon-shin's shoulder and burrowed into his clothes.
Where was Master Won Jeok, its master? No ordinary incident could so much as damage the robes of one of Shaolin's Four Vajra.
"Be sure to chew it thoroughly."
Hyeon Won-chang approached with his sword lowered.
The two tails of the hero's headband, knotted behind his head, fluttered without pause. They swayed irregularly.
The waves of power spreading from his body were extraordinary. They differed greatly from before.
'His inner energy has grown far stronger.'
Jeong Yeon-shin thought so.
The aura brushing his skin was incredibly dense. The Desolate Fortress Divine Hero's qi storage had more than doubled.
No.
It was close to three times as great.
If that inner qi were poured into assassination martial arts that prized a single exchange, it would threaten anyone. In a contest of power, he could likely withstand even Languid Flame Dragon.
Many questions arose.
What had happened to the Desolate Fortress Divine Hero? What circumstances had befallen Master Won Jeok?
This was not the time to ask.
Jeong Yeon-shin placed the Myeongjeong Pill in his mouth and observed the inside of his body.
Its effect was immediate. The moment he chewed and swallowed it, the medicine spread.
It was a treasure born from elven race secret arts combined with the medical knowledge of Shaolin's Medicine King Hall. A clean fragrance seemed to rise from every acupoint in his body.
Mystical power took root throughout him. His blood channels regained their elasticity, while every minor meridian throughout his body tightened once more.
The faces of Baek Mir-yeo, Cheong Myeong, and the other seniors of Demon Wings came to mind. Desolate Fortress was always short-handed, so they would worry about Jeong Yeon-shin even while carrying out separate missions.
Now it was done. He would not have to make them worry.
"No! Don't give him time!"
"Spread out! Stop the Leader of Demon Wings from recovering!"
"Ignore the one using killing sword arts!"
Boom! Slash!
The Moyong Family masters, frozen by the Young Family Head's death, gripped their swords anew and sprang forward.
Waves of power rising everywhere violently pushed the ground away. They were elite swordsmen capable of generating gales on their own.
The difference between them and a martial army was stark.
Even after losing their commander, they made their own judgments at once. They could hardly be called an army. They were martial artists of an eminent clan whose martial lineage had endured for centuries.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not waver. He focused on spreading the medicine's effects as fully as possible while walking slowly onward.
The current Leader of Demon Wings had mastered moving cultivation. Unless circumstances were extreme, there was no need for him to sit cross-legged. He could perform energy-circulating meditation while walking toward his destination.
Step.
Hyeon Won-chang, acting as Jeong Yeon-shin's Divine Technique-level Protective Qi Technique, took the lead. His lean, assassin-like body was honed to a fine edge, and he held the Desolate Sword, whose blade bore unusually dark shadows.
"Squad Leader, White Cat and that opium-poppy addict are at the Assassins' Sect headquarters those bastards are after. From the look of things, they seem to have discovered its location.
"They stayed quiet as if they had set a mousetrap, then rushed out like a pack of dogs the moment you arrived, Squad Leader."
"Competing with a master like the Squad Leader over treasures inside a sealed headquarters would be troublesome..."
Laughter lingered in Hyeon Won-chang's unfinished words.
Was he enjoying the situation, standing guard over his Squad Leader? Ever since killing the Moyong Young Family Head, everything he said and did had been refreshingly bold.
"Will you join them right away?" he asked.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer aloud.
A brief pause in his exhale was enough. The Desolate Fortress Divine Hero's senses ranked among the keenest in Demon Wings.
A short question came from Hyeon Won-chang's back as he raised his sword.
"It won't take long, will it? Not with your command of inner energy, Squad Leader."
There had been no need to say it.
It was the distinctive way Desolate Fortress martial artists spoke. During a mission, they conveyed layered meanings.
Jeong Yeon-shin understood at once. Hyeon Won-chang lacked the leeway to use sound transmission, and it would be dangerous if the energy-circulating meditation took too long. It likely had something to do with the sudden increase in his power.
'He's concentrating.'
What had to be done became clear.
First, Jeong Yeon-shin would recover from his serious internal injuries. Then he would follow Hyeon Won-chang's lead and reach the Assassins' Sect headquarters.
It did not matter what treasure the Assassins' Sect possessed. Rejoining his comrades came first.
It would not take long.
Both Jeong Yeon-shin and Hyeon Won-chang thought so.
Then they collided with the Moyong Family swordsmen rushing at them.
Slash!
No sound of metal meeting metal rang out. Only the heads of the three swordsmen charging from the front fell away.
A soundless backwash swept in after the sword strike passed.
It was assassin martial arts. They avoided direct clashes.
"Are you perhaps the child of an illustrious family?"
The Hyeon Won-chang who had been astonished by young Jeong Yeon-shin's swift sword at the Desolate Exam was gone. He opened a path with an incredible swift sword.
Only the loud rustle of the Moyong Family swordsmen's clothes filled the surroundings as they rushed in without pause.
Slash! Boom!
Countless sword traces were carved into the air. At least two people fell whenever Hyeon Won-chang swung his sword once.
The Imperial Hero's force waves evoked a total solar eclipse.
Assassin secret arts had been blended into the Radiant Art Formation. Dark assassin force waves mingled within the dim white radiance.
The pale currents of force waves were used as a feint. Beyond them, noiseless cuts spread with chilling precision.
Blood surged.
The afterimages of a sword sending heads flying.
Even while displaying insidious swordplay, Hyeon Won-chang did not stop advancing.
That was why he looked so bold. The young nobleman guarded by a reaper in a hero's headband merely moved forward at an unhurried pace, within the encirclement advancing with them.
A noble figure.
Scholars fearlessly peeking from alleys throughout the city stared at the sight in a daze, as though they were martial-world connoisseurs of gossip.
Slash!
A person's neck was cut through in one strike amid violently scattering stones and dust.
A path made of headless corpses.
What Hyeon Won-chang drew with the Desolate Sword clearly defied common sense. He was repeatedly fighting decisive single-exchange battles within an encirclement.
At every moment, he wagered his life on the tip of his sword. That was why so few could properly receive killing sword arts even when they were used in a direct confrontation.
They were collateral relatives raised by Moyong Myeong-jun to secure his succession rights, so they could not be called the Moyong Family's finest. Still, they were undoubtedly masters.
"He's using killing arts. Do not approach carelessly."
"Those who mastered Meteor Sword, fall back! Forceful sword arts won't work! Let the experts of Galaxy Thread-Flow Sword go first!"
They were thinking as well. They had fully grasped the compatibility of their martial arts.
Tap tap tap.
The masters forming a sword formation switched places in perfect order. No one reprimanded the person who openly named their inherited martial arts.
With the deceased Young Family Head's identity exposed to the Leader of Demon Wings, their attitude seemed to say that killing everyone was the only answer.
The more than ten swordsmen stepping to the front of the encirclement carried exceptionally thin blades. Even their loosely lowered sword blades were narrow. They were close to narrow-bladed swords.
They appeared to be masters of illusion sword arts and swift sword arts.
Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been walking in silence, hesitated. He was concerned for Hyeon Won-chang's safety.
The Imperial Hero only shrugged once.
Then he continued walking and swung his sword diagonally upward. There was not a trace of hesitation in the broad arc of his arm.
Clang!
It was the first sound of a collision. Two crossed swords blocked him.
Two Moyong Family swordsmen in white martial robes looked at Hyeon Won-chang with flat eyes. They had received the killing art with a slight delay between them.
The swordsman targeted first placed his blade against Hyeon Won-chang's Desolate Sword, while another master supported it from beneath with a swift sword to withstand the force.
"Your sword art has no proper foundation," said the swordsman on the left.
Hyeon Won-chang's lips curled slightly.
"High praise."
"Isn't that another way of saying it's hell to fight against?"
Hyeon Won-chang echoed the man's tone exactly. The eyes of the swordsmen facing him sank heavily.
That was the end.
Slash! Clang!
The clash between the guard and those seeking to kill him continued.
Within the tangled sword paths, the two swordsmen's heads fell first. Blood began to spray from Hyeon Won-chang's body as well.
This style of combat did not suit the Imperial Hero to begin with. An assassin's sword normally revealed its strength when ambushing someone without warning.
The swordplay Hyeon Won-chang now showed blended the combat art he had learned during his days as a sword attendant, the Radiant Art Formation, and killing sword arts. Calling it a sword art without a proper foundation was not entirely wrong, if one exaggerated.
"Minor wounds!"
He shouted as though it were a battle cry. He feared that Jeong Yeon-shin might stop meditating and intervene.
It was not only because he cherished his Squad Leader. With enemies surrounding them on all sides, the best option would be the manifestation of Lotus Nezha.
Jeong Yeon-shin accepted the Imperial Hero's intent.
Step.
He continued walking without intervening, concentrating on recovery. The roughly two gak, about half an hour, felt incredibly long.
It remained that way until they entered a wasteland near the edge of the city, sunken like a basin.
"They haven't undone the entrance formation yet! I can tell just from the presences skulking around nearby!"
Hyeon Won-chang shouted in a somewhat hoarse voice as the forest of blades formed by the crowd rushed toward them, then split apart.
They had reached their destination.
Below the cliffs of the wasteland was a basin surrounded by sheer rock walls.
Whooo.
An incredibly dry, dirt-laden wind swept past them. It sounded like ghosts wailing.
"They say it was the aftermath of a battle that took place when the heavens opened."
Hyeon Won-chang swallowed a ragged breath. His attempt to appear unhurt was somewhat clumsy, but the enemies surrounding the pair and descending along the cliffs did not seem to see it that way.
The Moyong Family swordsmen.
They wore unadorned masks, and the aura surrounding each of them was grave.
Their numbers had greatly decreased. About forty remained.
Then.
Step.
Someone wearing a Bull Demon King mask marked with ox horns walked out through the encirclement. His astonishingly light steps attested to an advanced realm of the Body Movement Scripture.
"You're right."
The masked swordsman spoke in a middle-aged voice.
The hem of his white long robe fell to his leather shoes.
Invisible sword qi flowed from his massive body, well over six feet tall, cutting into the ground. Anyone could see that he was a master of supreme transcendence.
"We found the entrance. Is it not there?"
He pointed toward one side of the cliff. Beyond the encirclement was a deeply indented spot.
Ten men and women dressed like scholars inspected the area from every direction.
They acted as though Jeong Yeon-shin and Hyeon Won-chang did not concern them at all. They seemed to be searching for the core of the formation blocking the entrance.
"Their faces have not changed much. They are the ones who pierced my body with needles and tore through my veins when I was young."
Hyeon Won-chang ground his teeth.
Jeong Yeon-shin's clear gaze swept over them.
The Bull Demon King-masked swordsman lowered his hand.
Rustle.
The pure white sleeve brushed his waist.
Even that small movement was elegant. It carried the dignity of martial nobility that had lived among eminent families for decades.
The black treasured sword tied to his white sash also looked immensely precious. The mask lent him an air of mystery.
The moment he stepped forward with light strides, the Moyong Family masters lost their proud bearing and shrank back. It was enough to show what position he held within that noble family.
He did not appear to care about the family masters who had died.
"We can state our names here. Shall we exchange names before crossing swords? I am..."
"Great Ritual Sword Moyong Gi-hwang!"
Hyeon Won-chang bared his teeth and shouted.
"You damn bastard, you finally showed yourself!"
"..."
The swordsman in the Bull Demon King mask said nothing further.
The Great Ritual Sword of the Moyong Family.
Few among the upper ranks of the martial world did not know him. They said he was the swordsman second only to the Family Head.
The fame he had built with a single sword reached throughout the Nine Provinces. In the harsh lands of Liaodong, he was known as King Yama.
"You must have taken Shaolin's medicine for internal injuries. I wanted to know whether the rumors about you were true."
Moyong Gi-hwang gestured past Hyeon Won-chang's shoulder.
"I will strike."
The direction of that warning was clear. It was aimed at the Leader of Demon Wings, who stood motionless.
Words foretelling a clash rarely seen under heaven.
Everyone held their breath. Even the clear wind blowing through the area stopped at that moment.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
"Brother Hyeon."
"Say the word. If needed, I can..."
Hyeon Won-chang spoke while lightly waving his blood-soaked sleeve.
Yet the tails of his hero's headband had already drooped limply. It seemed the duration of the method that had increased his power had ended. It appeared to be an art similar to Ultimate Thunder.
"I can sense presences around us similar to yours, Brother Hyeon."
"I am deeply ashamed. They are senile old fools trying to get at you, Squad Leader. The few elders who care for their disciples must have entered the headquarters long ago. Or perhaps they are helping their disciples escape elsewhere..."
Hyeon Won-chang could not continue.
Swaang!
Moyong Gi-hwang suddenly drew his sword.
"Leader of Demon Wings. After this fight is over, I will show you my face. You should at least know what your opponent looks like."
After that unfitting banter rang out, an immensely thick sword radiance flashed in succession from his fingertips. At the same time, the white Force Projection of his sword strike fully took form and split through the air.
The sound of it tearing through the atmosphere was savage. A force-wave sword rushed in, drawing a line as huge as a sailing ship's mast.
At the same time, five elders in black cloaks leaped down from the high cliff. Every inverted, downward-pointing sword tip aimed at Jeong Yeon-shin's head.
Was this retaliation for the counterattack he had delivered to an old woman before the city gate? The moment Moyong Gi-hwang unleashed his slash, they glided down from above as though they had been waiting.
A momentary interval.
The only people at peace were the men and women inspecting the formation across from them.
Jeong Yeon-shin closed his eyes.
Along a thread of time ahead of theirs, he recalled a single line of mnemonic formula.
The upper dantian in his head blazed white-hot. Strands of light rising from the Baihui acupoint swiftly formed a single shape, then took the form of a fan and overlapped with the mental image of the Northern Light Sword at his waist.
A chill ran through Jeong Yeon-shin's mind.
Sword.
'Go.'
At the same time, a line of sword path raced straight through his mind.
It did not end as imagination. The instant he opened his eyes at the piercing blast that erupted violently from his waist, space split horizontally.
A pale line passed through the incoming sword-strike force wave and Moyong Gi-hwang's neck, surged upward, then traced a circle like a ray of light before slamming into Jeong Yeon-shin's scabbard with a bang.
Boom! Rumble!
Sixteen headless bodies collapsed and fell. Blood spurted from the severed necks of Moyong Gi-hwang, the elder assassins, and the martial scholars who had been studying the formation.
"..."
The Moyong Family masters forming the encirclement froze like ice.
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked past the head wearing the Bull Demon King mask, as though he had no interest in the bare face beneath it.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
