WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈
Episode 427: Grandmaster
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* * *
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly came to his senses.
He was in a banquet hall crowded with renowned martial artists from the orthodox sects.
‘Kgh.’
Only then did he feel the pain in his hand. It burned fiercely. The hand gripping the sword hilt had been torn apart.
Drip. Drip.
Drops of blood fell. Beneath the tip of Lingering Thunder, the dirt floor darkened crimson, spot by spot.
That was the only sound echoing softly.
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his eyelids slightly.
Every experience was valuable.
He instinctively reviewed the exchange they had just had.
The breaths of peerless masters were tremendously long.
Within the span of a single breath, Jeong Yeon-shin and the Peng Family Head had exchanged nearly twenty forms.
All while he faced an unfamiliar Transcendent Martial Art head-on.
‘Three-Blade Defying Sealing God...’
It had been a tidal wave of saber strikes. To cut through the surging force waves, Jeong Yeon-shin had needed to unleash every form of the Sihwa Boundless Hand and the Thunderclap Flash-Ridge Sword Art.
The rebound had been immense. The meridians from his palm to his elbow were in tatters.
An internal injury to the Hand Taiyin Lung Meridian. At that moment, it felt as though lightning were racing through his arm.
Jeong Yeon-shin’s martial arts were far from the principle of using softness to overcome strength.
He had crushed one of the Eight Family Heads’ life-saving ultimate moves with the Lingering Thunder sword, and the result was the Peng Family Head with the left half of his body blown away.
‘He was stronger than the Ghost-Crying Tyrant King.’
Peng Yeo-ran’s saber art had been far less fierce than her son’s. It was likely because she had lived in seclusion within the formation of an unrivaled flood dragon.
Once again, Jeong Yeon-shin understood the importance of real combat.
And he thought that he had gained another several decades’ worth of experience. This time, it had been especially valuable.
The outcome of this martial duel was no different.
The martial arts of the Nine Sects’ leaders ran too deep to measure. A short, decisive battle like this would likely not work against them.
That was why he needed to use this occasion to show that Desolate Fortress remained strong.
Then.
“...This is absurd.”
A somewhat dazed voice rang out.
Step.
A woman walked toward the Peng Family Head’s corpse.
The corners of her eyes slanted upward like blades, and her hair was braided into long twin plaits. It was Peng Ga-inhu, famous as Peng Family’s Night.
Every time she took a step, her bones cracked.
A supreme divine art. The height of mystery.
Her petite frame was changing.
Her limbs rapidly lengthened, drawing her trouser hems up to her calves. Her carefully braided black hair came undone in strands and spilled down her back.
The rumors were true. The Yoga Divine Art of India seemed capable of reshaping one’s muscles and bones at will, without any noticeable backlash.
It was likely due to the spirituality unique to that martial art. A divine art worthy of Bodhidharma’s homeland.
Step.
Peng Ga-inhu, now as tall as an entirely different person, came within arm’s reach of Jeong Yeon-shin.
“To think he would die like this.”
She murmured as she gazed at the Peng Family Head, whose body had been shattered in half.
“Take care of him.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke indifferently.
Martial artists from across the world were watching. He had to preserve the dignity of a Purple Uniform.
Peng Ga-inhu raised her head.
“...I knew you were strong, but you are an unbelievable supernatural phenomenon.”
Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer. She would soon inherit the Peng Family Head’s position, but at present, Peng Ga-inhu was not qualified to speak as an equal to a Purple Uniform of Desolate Fortress.
That was even more true here, before so many eyes.
Shing.
The pale blade of Lingering Thunder slid into its scabbard.
At the same time, the faint glow that had shrouded Jeong Yeon-shin vanished. He had withdrawn both his weapon and his Protective Qi Technique.
Only then did people begin to breathe again.
“Gasp!”
“How could the Great Severing Tyrant Blade... No, isn’t that Jeong Yeon-shin of the Jeong Family, the Leader of Demon Wings...?”
“Send an urgent dispatch...”
“A new Purple Uniform! Desolate Fortress has a new Purple Uniform...!”
A wave of shock swept through the hall with terrible force. He could almost feel that whirlpool of emotion against his skin.
The hall erupted into disorder in an instant. Some sat blankly in place, while others hurried away.
Jeong Yeon-shin alone remained calm.
He rested a palm on his sword hilt and thought of the Tang siblings.
The life-and-death duel had begun without warning. Thanks to the clothes they had made from starlight, his injuries had been limited to his right arm.
It was an exceedingly cheap price to pay.
Before martial artists from all under heaven, he had swiftly slain the Peng Family Head. As a newly appointed Purple Uniform, it should have left quite an impression. It would have greatly raised Desolate Fortress’s standing as well.
But above all else...
“A mere White Uniform martial artist has sent one of the Eight Family Heads to the Sanzu River. That friend is the one who drew a Purple Uniform’s wrath.”
Peng Ga-inhu glanced toward Shin So-bin in the distance while lifting the Peng Family Head with both hands.
Jeong Yeon-shin did not deny it. In truth, the dignity of a Purple Uniform and Desolate Fortress’s reputation had been secondary to him.
Even while the Peng Family Head clutched Shin So-bin’s life in his grasp and toyed with it, he could not have spared a thought for such things.
‘My successor...’
Ever since the day those who claimed to belong to Seom-ye’s Lineage had all raised clasped fists to him at the main fortress, a certain compulsive reassurance had settled in one corner of his heart.
Even if he died young, there would be people who remembered him for a long time. His traces would remain in the world.
There was a term, robe-and-bowl heir. It originally referred to a monk who inherited their master’s robe and alms bowl.
In the martial world, it meant a disciple who inherited a master’s true ultimate arts. To Jeong Yeon-shin, Shin So-bin was such a person.
Though Desolate Fortress prohibited personal master-disciple ties, she had called herself the chief disciple of the Leader of Demon Wings and had always conducted herself accordingly.
Just as she did now.
“Step in already. She keeps talking to Squad Leader. It’s beneath her station.”
Shin So-bin poked Languid Flame Dragon’s back.
Languid Flame Dragon had stood with his mouth slightly open since the life-and-death duel ended, having paused in the middle of chewing opium poppy. At her urging, he only pretended to reluctantly step forward.
“Peng... Ya? Is Peng Ya your name? A neat shortening of Peng Family’s Night, perhaps?”
Languid Flame Dragon spoke in a deliberately languid tone, feigning uncertainty.
It was obvious he was provoking her, yet even as he stood carelessly with his weight on one leg, he carried the bearing of the Huangbo Family’s eldest young master.
“How long are you going to carry your father around? Elder Peng has settled all his debts through a life-and-death duel, so do not subject him to people’s scorn for no reason. Bury him somewhere suitable. You have my condolences.”
“Huangbo Family’s wastrel.”
Peng Ga-inhu’s lips twisted.
“I heard you had dominated the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering again and again while I traveled to and from the Forbidden City... I suppose that was only the glory of your younger days. To stand before me without even achieving Three Flowers Gather at the Crown.”
“Aren’t we both people eyeing the position of Family Head? You’re awfully sharp-tongued. So vulgar before Squad Leader.”
Languid Flame Dragon scratched the back of his head. There was not the slightest movement in his shadowed eyes. He was certainly far more shameless than Jeong Yeon-shin.
Still, Peng Ga-inhu’s bearing remained firm. The sharp aura flowing from her body did not waver either.
Not even with Jeong Yeon-shin, who had now half turned away, standing before her. She had said earlier that she regarded her father only as the Family Head, but she could not truly feel that way in the depths of her heart.
Just as Jeong Yeon-shin filled the emptiness born in his childhood with his own martial lineage.
Peng Ga-inhu slowly moved her lips.
“I have no desire to brawl with an opium addict. Wasn’t the Pact of Mount Hua a four-on-four martial duel from the beginning? The Leader of Demon Wings is right. My family has only suffered one defeat. It does not mean Desolate Fortress has won.”
“And?”
“I’ll arrange the next duel before I leave, so move aside. Languid Flame Dragon... No matter how I look at it, you are not worthy of conveying a Purple Uniform’s intentions.”
She continued as though muttering to herself.
“You’ll be dead in three years at most.”
Wooooong.
The sound came from Jeong Yeon-shin’s waist. The instant he heard those offensive words, Dragon Fan Treading Flowers rose on its own.
If he harmed Peng Ga-inhu here as a Purple Uniform, it would ruin the Pact of Mount Hua completely. Yet the gentleman he knew was one who did not bend when faced with a clash of values that could not be yielded.
Just as the divine sword Lingering Thunder was about to fly free through the principles of sword-control techniques.
“The Peng Family’s Young Family Head should say no more.”
A handsome young man in a pitch-black long robe stepped in front of Peng Ga-inhu.
His long, loose hair was still neat, and he held himself straight. It was White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin.
“You would do well to restrain yourself. The life-and-death duel just now was an official martial duel, and above all, a Purple Uniform from the main fortress is still present.”
“White Qilin...?”
“That is correct. I am Namgung. If the Young Family Head commits any further discourtesy, I will make a move myself. Of course, at that point, I will have no leisure to concern myself with your late father’s remains.”
His voice rang clearly. It cooled the atmosphere in the hall.
“Hmm...?”
Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the opium addict letting out a vacant exclamation.
Was Languid Flame Dragon so shocked by Namgung Hwa-shin’s promotion to Black Uniform? It was such a rare sight that he thought it worth remembering. The useless Languid Flame Dragon.
“Oh?”
One corner of Peng Ga-inhu’s mouth rose.
“So this is Desolate Fortress’s next card. What a shame. Lotus Nezha is the only unbelievable supernatural phenomenon there. I’m not afraid of the rest.”
“What the Young Family Head thinks is of no importance to us. You would do well not to carelessly predict the main fortress’s appointments.”
“No matter what you say, mastering the Muscle-Tendon Change Scripture does not make everyone as exalted as Bodhidharma. My family will place the Seom-ye Martial Lineage on trial.”
The meaning of her words was clear.
Many martial arts had flared brightly for a time beneath the heavens.
Yet only a small number of divine-art martial lineages had remained carved into the history of the martial world. Of those, only some had earned great names and come to be called the Nine Sects, the Eight Great Families, or the Thirteen Heavens.
The Pact of Mount Hua asked Jeong Yeon-shin one question.
Could the Seom-ye Martial Lineage stand shoulder to shoulder with them? In the history of martial arts, it was still little more than a mayfly.
“Let us do this.”
Peng Ga-inhu spoke with a smile.
“In three days, we will hold all the remaining martial duels here. Desolate Fortress must prepare White, Blue, and Black Uniform martial artists who belong to the Seom-ye Martial Lineage.”
“...”
Namgung Hwa-shin looked back slightly. Only after seeing Jeong Yeon-shin give a faint nod did he agree.
Step.
Peng Ga-inhu turned and left the hall.
On the dirt floor of the banquet hall, damp footprints appeared with every step. Cold sweat had soaked into the embroidered shoes she had been wearing.
No one mocked the sight. Peng Ga-inhu had been exposed to Jeong Yeon-shin’s killing intent for an instant and still declared the Peng Family’s certain victory. It was truly a formidable display of spirit.
But only for a moment.
The eyes of the gathered crowd, each carrying an intense gleam, clung to the purple long robe Jeong Yeon-shin now wore. They did not leave it for a long time.
* * *
Dengfeng County had prospered into a great city because of Shaolin.
Security was reliable, and grain was abundant. It was a small martial world in itself.
People could not help becoming numb to most rumors. It was rare for anything to shake the whole city.
This time was different. A tremendous uproar had erupted.
Lotus Nezha Seom-ye’s ascension to Purple Uniform.
The Great Severing Tyrant Blade, Peng Mun-geuk, slain in a short exchange.
It was no exaggeration to say the city was in chaos. The Peng Family Head had died just as countless heroes of the orthodox sects gathered. Worse, he had been utterly defeated.
“The Pact of Mount Hua has begun!”
“Send it by express! Pull our money from the Peng Family’s side! We have to invest in Huguang!”
Voices rang throughout the vast Green Jade Sword Manor.
The Pact of Mount Hua, originally an agreement between Desolate Fortress and the Nine Sects, was returning to its starting point.
It would certainly happen if the Seom-ye Martial Lineage defeated the Peng Family.
Rustle.
Jeong Yeon-shin, seated in a temporary office, unfolded a letter. It was a report filled with neat brushstrokes.
“We held a competition within the martial lineage. The report you are reading contains the results.”
Namgung Hwa-shin spoke as he stood before the desk.
A newly promoted Black Uniform was reporting to a newly promoted Purple Uniform.
The document Namgung Hwa-shin had prepared was exceptionally detailed. He could not be compared with Languid Flame Dragon, whose slapdash ways were ingrained in him.
Namgung Hwa-shin still had not told Jeong Yeon-shin that he wished to receive the Heaven-Reliant Sword and instruction in Judging the Qilin from him, but when it came to work, he pursued perfection. It had been the same at the Martial Alliance Assembly in Hanzhong.
“It is as written. First, Sam Bok of the Nethercurrent Squad, a Blue Uniform martial artist, has achieved a profound grasp of Phantom Wing Step, but is weak in close-quarters combat. Wi Ye-ryeong, the Moon-Shooting Bow Ghost of Demon Wings, has achieved a high level in movement techniques. While remaining wary of the Peng Family’s Five Tigers Severing Gate Saber, they should be able to launch effective attacks with arrows. Hwang Cheong of the Immortal Wood Spirit Squad is a prodigy who has mastered the Radiant Sword Flow to the realm of great mastery, but their disposition is too gentle. I do not believe they are suited to face the Peng Family’s experts, whose blood is now up. Still, if the Leader of Demon Wings personally praises them, their morale will rise greatly, and there is a good chance they will show strength beyond their current attainment.”
Namgung Hwa-shin’s explanation continued without pause.
He knew each person’s temperament, the martial arts and techniques they excelled at, their weaknesses, and which talents were suited to fighting the Peng Family.
There were not just one or two candidates.
Namgung Hwa-shin’s report was flawless, and even after meeting with Ma Gwang-il’s Squad, Jeong Yeon-shin could not help feeling strange.
He felt like the owner of a pasture raising macaques.
“...I should see them.”
“As you may have sensed, I have already assembled them. But...”
Namgung Hwa-shin trailed off.
“Hm?”
“...Most have never received instruction from you directly, so they lack legitimacy in that respect. Whether they should be allowed to take part in the Pact of Mount Hua...”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently rose from his seat.
He intended to teach those who claimed his martial lineage at least a single move.
Jeong Yeon-shin had become a gentleman in Purple. It had happened from the moment he let Peng Ga-inhu leave after she carelessly spoke of his short life.
He was inwardly certain that he had a knack for teaching.
‘Right. At some point, it already...’
For some time now, Demon Wings had studied the Radiant Art Formation only through a written manual. With prose alone, Jeong Yeon-shin had made them aspire to attain the realm of great mastery.
What would happen if he taught them directly?
The hairs on the back of Jeong Yeon-shin’s neck stood on end. The Peng Family was not the problem. He thought of the Nine Sects.
“Let’s go,” Jeong Yeon-shin said.
Footnotes:
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