WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 358: Breakneck Rush (7)
──────
The sight unfolding across the manor defied all natural law.
It was a marvel wrought by qi.
Beyond the paper window, a rim of light outlined someone seated in meditation, hands gathered at the lower abdomen.
It was a Protective Qi Technique.
The light spreading from the faintly luminous robe did not blend with the lantern flames in the banquet hall.
Instead, it formed a soft, fan-shaped domain and repelled them. Its nature was strangely domineering.
Haa.
A quiet breath escaped from beneath the Young Sect Master's silver mask.
"That makes things a little troublesome..."
The murmur, born of deep inner-energy breathing, had barely faded when the cluster of light suddenly died away as though it had been a lie, and darkness rushed back in. It was as if there had never been any light at all.
It was an art unseen in the martial world.
"......"
Silence followed. The lanterns once again illuminated the surroundings, but the boisterous noise did not return.
The Young Sect Master swept the loose strand of hair brushing his cheek behind his ear.
Concern showed in the pale fingertips that had briefly touched his skin, while blue-black light flickered from behind the silver mask.
'That aura was unstable. Is it not complete yet?'
The Young Sect Master stared intently at Jeong Yeon-shin's room, then relaxed his gaze.
He had suddenly realized he was being uncharacteristically impatient.
Had something neither black nor white finally entered the world that had been covered in gray?
How ugly.
Laughing at himself, the Ming Cult's Laughing Heaven Unrivaled looked away from the room where Jeong Yeon-shin stayed.
Then he surveyed the surroundings.
"...This isn't the Spring and Autumn period or the Sixteen Kingdoms."
The Young Sect Master let out a dry laugh. Mockery, contempt, and self-derision mingled at the corner of his twisted mouth.
"So this is where living mummies, unable even to die, were buried as grave goods."
At that moment.
Wind Lord Lee Si-myeong, seated at the place of honor in the outdoor banquet, slowly shifted his gaze over. At the same time, the Young Sect Master's expression turned serious, and his figure rose like smoke before vanishing without a trace.
Only the shaggy-haired old master who had pointed toward Jeong Yeon-shin's room remained.
"Hm...?"
A question formed in Lee Si-myeong's eyes. When the old woman beside him asked what was wrong, he only shook his head and stared at the annex where Jeong Yeon-shin was staying.
"Do not let anyone approach."
Lee Si-myeong spoke slowly.
"That person uses peculiar arts. I must watch them carefully."
"Wasn't that one called an imperial dog? The light that spread from there just now was highly unusual. Wouldn't it be better to wipe him out root and branch while we can..."
It was the old woman's voice. A long scar ran diagonally across her face.
Peng Mo-ran, the Severing Gate Ghost Saber, was a collateral member of the Peng Family. She had long adored the Wind Lord, who was old enough to be her elder brother. In her younger days, she had roamed the martial world as the king of Hebei's wandering martial artists without ever setting foot in the family estate.
This was because her birth had allowed her to inherit only half of the Peng Family's Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber.
After many years, she entered this manor following Lee Si-myeong, but the Wind Lord treated her only as one of the Hidden-Realm Peng Family's foremost fighting forces.
His eyes had always been on Peng Yeo-ran, the Ghost-Cry Tyrant King.
"Wipe him out? Tomorrow is the wedding day."
It meant that she should not speak such harsh words.
Marriage was a grave matter. The Ghost-Cry Tyrant King's future was tied to it.
The scent of blood could not be spread on an auspicious day.
"...All right."
Lee Si-myeong silenced Peng Mo-ran, his eyes darkening.
The young Leader of Demon Wings inside that room would be unable to do anything during the grand ceremony.
The Tyrant King and the Wind Lord would be holding their ground together, and even Ice Soul Cheon So-so's allegiance was uncertain.
He seemed younger than he looked. It would be fortunate if he did not suffer too great a shock upon seeing the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit's betrayal.
It was difficult to predict where such a powerful youngster might spring off to, so it was better to keep him in sight.
Once the wedding ended, his Wind-Blossom Four-Wheel Kick would crush the young Leader of Demon Wings' neck anyway.
'That bastard will surely oppose the Family Head.'
Contrary to what the world believed, he did not see the Ghost-Cry Tyrant King as a woman.
It had been that way ever since he lost to Peng Yeo-ran in a match at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering in his youth.
After spending the night with her, Lee Si-myeong had seen Peng Yeo-ran whispering sweetly into another woman's ear amid the light of dawn the next morning. At that moment, he suddenly comprehended the profound essence of the sixteen moves of Wind-Blossom Four-Wheel Kick, which swept forth like the wind through the principle of Unhindered Adaptability.
There was an unbound wind within it.
Similar things had repeated over the long years.
To the Wind Lord, the Ghost-Cry Tyrant King was an incarnation of inspiration wearing human form, someone he ought to protect until he attained Martial Extreme...
He admired the Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber Peng Yeo-ran wielded with world-shaking power, and loved her conduct, freer than anyone else's beneath heaven.
Even when the Golden-Wing Sect Master suddenly appeared before them one day and took away the dharma treasure that could summon a flood dragon, Peng Yeo-ran had been beautiful.
Dragon-Manifesting Heaven-Rending Cannon. When she swallowed her fury and ultimately created an ultimate move that manifested the flood dragon's breath, a technique previously passed down only by word of mouth, Lee Si-myeong's martial arts also took a step forward.
"Everyone, raise your cups!"
He calmly rose from his seat, as though he had not seen the spectacle caused by the Leader of Demon Wings' martial arts earlier.
'Not even the Eight Families of the martial world are this powerful.'
Below the dais stood the old masters who served as his and Peng Yeo-ran's armor.
The old masters of the Hidden-Realm Peng Family, colorless light flashing in their eyes, seemed to Lee Si-myeong like an unrivaled Protective Qi Technique shielding him.
They were people who had accomplished enough to force their way through a heaven-gifted formation to capture a flood dragon.
"Tomorrow! The day the Hidden-Realm Peng Family Head takes the Lord of the Immortal Wood Spirit, this mystical sanctuary of the flood dragon shall become our Peach Blossom Paradise alone!"
There was no great response.
As always, the old masters of the previous generation cared deeply for appearances.
Only the thick, colorless light flashing in the eyes of those gathered gave the Wind Lord great satisfaction.
* * *
A forge open on all sides.
Sizzle!
Cloudy steam rose in thick curls.
A long piece of metal was firmly compacted and shaped beneath the hammers of a short boy and girl.
Both wore only thin sleeveless undergarments, with their outer clothes tied around their waists.
The green hems distinctive to Sichuan Tang Clan attire hung down, caked in ash.
Heat rolled fiercely from the furnace. Their constantly rippling upper-body muscles were both compact and dense.
The furnace kept breathing out heat.
Mallets, hammers, and tongs hung in neat rows on the stone wall beside the anvil to the left, adding to the forge's rugged air and metallic scent.
It was the fifth day.
Birth, refinement, and the intensity of forging had been with them all that time.
Faint sky-blue smoke had begun to stream from the eyes, noses, and mouths of the Tang siblings, but the village smiths, entranced, could only stare at them blankly.
The small boy worked the bellows with huge movements, while the girl, who resembled him, swung her hammer ceaselessly against the sword-shaped metal with pale-blue light flashing in her eyes.
From time to time, they switched places and roles, preserving the blade-sharp sensation gathered in their hands.
A hundred people stood around them, watching. Xiahou Wi-jin, who had protected the villagers as village chief, was among them.
"Are my eyes deceiving me?"
He murmured as he stared at the siblings, clear beads of sweat gathered at their chins.
Tang Yeo-hwa and Tang Ryeo-ryeo.
Their features seemed to shift now and then like a mirage in the Great Desert.
Tang Yeo-hwa's face had such sharp lines that at a glance, he resembled Jeong Yeon-shin. Tang Ryeo-ryeo's features were so beautiful that even the furnace flames seemed like ornaments adorning her.
If Jeong Yeon-shin had been born a woman, he might have looked like the present Poison Phoenix.
Whoosh!
The fire in the furnace surged. This time, Tang Ryeo-ryeo took over the bellows.
They were entirely of one mind. As though they had achieved unity of sword and self not with a sword but with each other, the ringing of hammers never stopped.
The sweltering heat grew thicker.
The furnace, fueled with Sichuan ironwood, Yunnan firestones, and the soil powder that seemed to come only from the flood dragon's mystical sanctuary, produced such monstrous heat that it could melt any metal in an instant.
The scarlet sword blade, resting on the anvil, had to endure the siblings' endless hammering.
"It will perform well with swift-sword techniques. At this rate, it will face almost no air resistance."
"We're really giving it spirituality right now, aren't we? Do you remember dharma power?"
"I only know the feeling, but if this child knows that feeling too, it won't break when dharma power fills it."
"I haven't seen the Thunderclap Flash-Ridge Sword Art. The center of balance..."
"Let's judge it by our benefactor's bearing."
"His arms were like iron bars, as light as True Silver Ore. The waves of inner power never broke."
"His reaction speed will be faster than ours, so we should focus on the joints."
"Shoulder, elbow, wrist. Jianyu acupoint, Quchi acupoint, Neiguan acupoint... We don't need to worry about the Hegu acupoint between the thumb and forefinger. Our benefactor's grip can withstand even that Radiant River, so we should make the joints move as freely as possible."
"Yeo-hwa, use the Later Heaven Eight Trigrams from the sword tip. A quarter inch below the Dui side. Strike with ten percent inner power."
Bam!
"Li. You don't need me to tell you where...?"
Bam!
"Will it be all right if our qi enters it? I fear our qi may taint it."
"We don't have another way."
"Qian. The exact center, slanting left."
Crash!
It was no ordinary hammering. Every strike sent Force Projection in all directions.
Whenever pale circular shockwaves tore through the area, at least one nearby onlooker fell over.
"Looking at the body he has built, he'll be good at variation moves too. Or he'll use them often."
"I know."
"I have seen the Thunderclap Flash-Ridge Sword Art. The counter move that stores force waves before releasing them was impressive."
Xiahou Wi-jin's occasional interjections were a great help as well.
"Elasticity. Add more soil. Counter-Origin Three Yang Art at thirty percent."
"Now!"
Whooosh! Clang!
They were saving Jeong Yeon-shin without seeing him.
They engraved his form in their minds, imitated his talents, and dissected him as though to overcome him, all to repay his kindness. The sword on the anvil advanced toward completion.
Just as martial arts become a Divine Technique when spirituality is contained within them.
Over five days, their hammering had breathed spirituality into the metal.
The wielder would not have to adapt to the weapon. The weapon would understand its wielder's will without limit in their hand.
Then, on the sixth day.
When bluish dawn broke over the distant ridge.
"Just a little more... Yes! Here, this is it!"
With Tang Ryeo-ryeo's cry, Tang Yeo-hwa delivered the final blow.
A faint, pale-blue wave of light flowed from the blood-soaked hammer handle.
Wooooong!
It sounded like the clear ring of a bell, spreading far from the anvil.
The red-hot metal, hardened by tremendous heat, instantly drove away its own crimson glow and regained its silver body.
Sunlight rippled lengthwise across the blade, engraved with the shape of intersecting streams.
Xiahou Wi-jin's thick Adam's apple moved. Having watched the Tang siblings without shifting even once, he did not turn to look at the sword.
The siblings did not insert the blade they had made into the prepared handle.
They only stood facing each other across the anvil where the sword lay, staring blankly with faint arcs upon their lips.
The siblings no longer gave off sky-blue light.
Repay kindness twice over, and return grievances tenfold.
The Tang Family's chivalric spirit converged upon the one person absent from this place. In that instant, sunlight shattered down and ran white along the blade.
Poison Dragon Tang Yeo-hwa. Poison Phoenix Tang Ryeo-ryeo.
They forged a divine sword, then died young while standing.
They were seventeen years old.
Footnotes:
Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried
