WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈

Episode 66: Reputation

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“Now, now, the Lord of Desolate Fortress is coming here...?”

Hyeon Won-chang stammered.

Alarm spread across Weiji Myo-hwa’s face as well.

Even the discipline she had cultivated at Zhongnan Mountain, the sacred ground of the Daoist sects, could not contain her shock.

“The Lord of Desolate Fortress is coming in person...”

“It has been a very long time since the Lord ventured into the martial world. Has it been about fifteen years since the Lord destroyed the Dali Kingdom?”

Cheong Myeong spoke slowly.

Fifteen years was enough time in the martial world for an entire generation of young masters to be replaced. It meant the Lord had not displayed divine might for a long time.

Some promising young talents who had accumulated profound inner energy through spiritual medicine were said to look down on the older generation.

Martial arts were arts that advanced with the passage of time.

No disciple of a renowned orthodox martial lineage feared peerless martial arts from centuries ago.

But the Lord of Desolate Fortress was a different kind of being.

“To see with my own eyes the Divine Technique that destroyed the Dali royal family...”

Weiji Myo-hwa muttered as she stroked the hilt of her sword. Her shock was so great that, for a moment, even her concern for Jeong Yeon-shin wavered.

Cheong Myeong glanced at her, then beckoned to Hyeon Won-chang.

“There is no telling how swift the Lord’s lightness skill may be. It would not be strange if the Lord had already entered Southern Zhili. Tell the county magistrate to prepare a reception. We will need to summon Huizhou’s Prefect as well. The Lord must be received with the ceremony due a Prince of Commandery.”

“Even the Prefect!”

Hyeon Won-chang rushed out of the room in a frenzy.

A human god, beyond comparison even to an army of a thousand troops and ten thousand horses, was descending upon them.

The Prefect who governed all of Huizhou stood three ranks above the county magistrate.

The Prefect held a status comparable to the Namgung Family Head. Even so, the official would have to bow respectfully before the Lord of Desolate Fortress.

After all, the Lord was a king recognized by the Emperor.

“The Lord is coming. Make the preparations.”

“...What did you say?”

Hyeon Won-chang relayed Cheong Myeong’s words to the county magistrate, then took great satisfaction in watching the county magistrate’s face drain of color.

The county magistrate here was closely tied to the Namgung Family, a great local clan of Southern Zhili.

The indifference shown whenever government troops had been requested for mobilization vanished without a trace.

Hyeon Won-chang had just stepped out of the government office when he saw a middle-aged swordsman in a blue martial robe standing in the main hall.

The swordsman’s gaze fixed on Hyeon Won-chang was far from ordinary.

The swordsman did not seem to be deliberately raising energy, yet the aura that permeated the air in layer after layer was incredibly heavy.

‘Boundless Firmament Sword!’

Hyeon Won-chang immediately recalled the Namgung Family’s ultimate technique. Even the swordsman’s attire matched the clothes those damned people wore.

“You rabble of Desolate Fortress.”

The swordsman, whose neatly groomed black beard hung down his chest, spoke.

“You are plotting something outrageous. You dare gather martial artists in Southern Zhili while disregarding our family? If this is how you show respect to the local clans, how are you any different from the lawless rabble of the unorthodox sects?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Namgung Wi, you ruffians of Desolate Fortress.”

Hyeon Won-chang fell silent for a moment.

He knew the name well. Namgung Wi was the deputy leader of the renowned Celestial Firmament Sword Corps.

Namgung Wi was said to be one of Southern Zhili’s finest swordsmen. Even an ordinary Blue Uniform expert could not be certain of victory against him.

‘My head might come off if I make one wrong move.’

The Namgung Family was known to rank above even the Huangbo Family.

Judging by the county magistrate’s attitude, its collusion with the local government offices had to be immense.

The family held enough power to commit murder in the middle of a government office and bury the matter.

Hyeon Won-chang carefully opened his mouth.

“You filthy hypocrite. Knowing your family’s shameless conduct, do you still dare speak of respect? How did you study Confucius and Mencius, the Four Books and Five Classics, only to speak such words with a human face and a beast’s heart? Are you not ashamed before your parents, who must already be dead?”

The rage Hyeon Won-chang had accumulated spilled out in a calm voice.

A quiet force radiated from him.

Namgung Wi’s reaction came a beat late.

“What did you say?”

“You are the true martial artist of the unorthodox sects. Did you not stand by and watch a promising young talent die after trying to stabilize the people’s lives by cutting down cultists? Now that the main fortress is gathering martial artists to strike that cult, you bastards ignore your own conduct while speaking of your family’s honor...”

The longer Hyeon Won-chang spoke, the stronger the waves of inner energy rising from Namgung Wi’s body became.

Hyeon Won-chang did not care.

“What a spectacle.”

He finished with a satisfied expression.

Namgung Wi shook his head.

“...Did you think I could not draw my sword just because this is a government office?”

Wooooong.

Namgung Wi’s sword began to let out a grand cry.

As expected of a renowned swordsman, even its sword resonance was extraordinary.

Hyeon Won-chang was about to fill his throat with qi to call for Cheong Myeong and Weiji Myo-hwa.

Tap.

There was not even the sound of cutting.

With a sudden breeze, Namgung Wi’s neck separated from his body. His head dropped unceremoniously.

It was as natural as a fallen leaf settling to earth.

The head rolled across the ground first, while the body of the great swordsman collapsed in the opposite direction.

It was such a hollow end that it did not feel real, even in that instant.

Since when had it begun?

A gentle breeze, unceasing like heat haze, swirled around the area. It was an utterly strange moment.

The colorless currents of wind seemed to ripple faintly green from all directions.

It was as though time within the government office had frozen. A soft transcendence bloomed in the hall, now stained by silence.

“The Namgung Family’s sins.”

A clear voice rang out from atop the roof.

“Will be buried together with Seom-ye.”

The hem of pale grass-colored robes fluttered long in the wind.

Hyeon Won-chang had already raised his head. His eyes widened as if they would split apart.

Then, with controlled movements, Hyeon Won-chang dropped to both knees, trembling from head to toe with overwhelming emotion.

* * *

“Awake?”

A playful whisper tickled his ear. It came with the heavy breath of inner energy, a breath he had grown familiar with by now.

The Seventh Apostle’s exhale.

Jeong Yeon-shin immediately opened his eyes.

His senses did not return at once.

He could sharpen the aura sense across his entire body whenever he wished, but for a brief moment, the activation of his qi was sluggish.

He understood right away. He had been subdued.

‘My paralysis acupoint was struck again.’

The Seventh Apostle’s face filled half his vision. Deep affection clung to her expression.

There was desire in it as well.

Jeong Yeon-shin stared silently into her blood-red eye before speaking.

“What did you do?”

“I wanted to preserve your dazzling body with care. I painted you, so that the child I see before me will remain in this sect forever.”

She smiled and straightened up.

Only then did Jeong Yeon-shin notice the pungent smell of ink and paint.

Was she skilled in painting and calligraphy? A full image of his body had been drawn on the large sheet of paper in the Seventh Apostle’s hands.

It was not an ordinary portrait.

It recreated the inside of his body.

The Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the minor meridians and acupoints throughout his body, and all three dantians.

One part stood out in particular.

It was the upper dantian in his head, connected to the acupoints opened wide from the crown of his head.

It had been painted with astonishing detail.

An anatomical diagram.

The Seventh Apostle had sent qi into Jeong Yeon-shin’s body and observed his physique.

As a master of inner energy, examining his body like this must have been easy for her.

Her lips curved upward.

“Who knows? Perhaps this sect may be able to produce someone who can follow even a fraction of your talent.”

“...I have heard there are strange miracle healers in the Blood Flame Sect. Do you use the regenerative property of your Blood Arts for medicine? It is no wonder orthodox physicians fall behind.”

“This will become a treasure.”

“You will use your cultists as offerings. Just like scum from the unorthodox sects.”

Their conversation did not align.

Their relationship had been forged by the martial-world law of the strong devouring the weak.

The smiling Seventh Apostle and the calm Jeong Yeon-shin had been at odds from the beginning.

He closed his eyes again and focused his will on his lower dantian.

The Moon Spirit Harmonization Formula, taught to him by the Lord of Desolate Fortress, was said to be a peerless martial art rarely seen beneath heaven.

He had spent a considerable amount of time training in hopes of creating a new Static Training method with extremely rapid qi storage.

Simply examining and contemplating its mnemonic formula had broadened his understanding.

That was right. Jeong Yeon-shin had already grown accustomed to advanced breathing techniques.

‘Telling the Lord about Static Training has led to this.’

The mnemonic formula of the Mara Roaring Blood Art he had reviewed immediately after returning with the secret manual from the Blood Flame Sect Master spread through his mind.

He had already classified, at least somewhat, the effects of Static Training qi storage.

He could distinguish the mnemonic formulas that affected the brain.

He extracted them at once.

“What are you doing...?”

The Seventh Apostle asked cautiously. She seemed to remember losing her temper yesterday and repeatedly apologizing afterward.

Jeong Yeon-shin paid no attention and learned the circulation method of the Mara Roaring Blood Art.

He did as the Seventh Apostle wished.

He replicated the nature of the Blood Arts qi she had placed within his body.

‘Done.’

Once he had broken down the mnemonic formulas, the rest happened in an instant.

A new circulation route for qi was engraved into his mind.

He could now remove the Seventh Apostle’s qi from his acupoints, the qi that had held his life in its grasp.

He also realized one thing.

‘The regenerative property of Blood Arts comes from stealing qi.’

The Blood Flame Sect Master’s words came back to him.

Do not tamper with the root.

The two functions of the Blood Flame Sect’s martial arts belonged to a single branch.

Even if he knew the method, he could not openly use it outside.

Jeong Yeon-shin was already considering escape.

He slowly parted his lips.

“Your martial art.”

“Hm? What?”

“I’m revising the Mara Roaring Blood Art first. Can I truly adjust it to suit you? It is the martial art of every Apostle.”

“Ah!”

The Seventh Apostle’s face turned white with joy. She nodded over and over.

“Those others have ridiculous pride because they call themselves supreme masters! They will not learn it, will they? You only need to focus on me! The Blood Flame Sect Master will turn attention to the First Blood Art!”

Then she brought over a neatly folded bundle and handed it to him.

It was red.

Judging by its thickness and shape, it was a long crimson robe. It resembled the clothes she liked to wear.

“It is a Pure Blood Robe. It was made by weaving together this sect’s sorcery arts and heavenly silkworm silk. Ordinary blades cannot even leave a mark on it.”

“...That is a rare treasure.”

“Yes. There are only a few in the sect. Only Apostles may receive one.”

His Desolate Fortress martial robes had already been confiscated.

Jeong Yeon-shin looked down at the bundle before speaking.

“Let us take a walk.”

“Are you still attached to Desolate Fortress?”

The Seventh Apostle asked with a slight tilt of her head, but Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.

He had formed a plan after seeing the formation yesterday.

He needed to move around and plant energy in various objects.

How had she taken his silence?

The Seventh Apostle wore all kinds of expressions by herself.

Perhaps because he had said he was revising the Mara Roaring Blood Art, she seemed to feel anger and possessiveness that she could not readily reveal.

There also seemed to be a slight trace of sorrow.

‘It is not for my sake. It is because of her own desire.’

It was not an emotion Jeong Yeon-shin needed to dwell on.

It was likely the pity she felt as a Blood Flame Sect cultist.

He inwardly shook his head and opened the door wide.

The voice that had irritated his ears since midday suddenly became much louder.

“...And so, a new Grand Preceptor has descended upon our sect! Your hair shall become equal to that of the Apostles! Therefore, you must cast the sword of punishment upon those vile wretches of Beijing and those hypocritical ruffians!”

“That is the Third Apostle’s son. His name is Go Jong-hak.”

The Seventh Apostle spoke in an odd tone.

Red hair filled every direction. There seemed to be at least several hundred Blood Flame Sect cultists.

The man standing on the platform at the center of the village and pouring out impassioned words suddenly turned his head.

His eyes met Jeong Yeon-shin’s.

At once, Go Jong-hak’s lips curled upward.

“There! He is there! He has shown us his divine countenance!”

An overwhelming number of gazes gathered at Go Jong-hak’s gesture.

Even the Seventh Apostle turned to look, smiling softly.

Qi filled Go Jong-hak’s next shout.

“He is the one who will lead our sect all the way to Beijing! Ah! Etch him into your eyes! Let this sect be transformed by the miracle the Grand Preceptor will bring forth! I respectfully ask the Grand Preceptor, please show a miracle to the pitiful lowborn trapped in Flame Blood!”

The miracle Go Jong-hak spoke of seemed to mean altering the mnemonic formula of the First Blood Art. It was an unreasonable demand.

Barely a day had passed since Jeong Yeon-shin had awakened and spent the night at the main headquarters.

‘Even the Blood Flame Sect Master did not speak of immediate results.’

The Third Apostle, whose son this was, had tested Jeong Yeon-shin with an inner-energy barrier.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin realized that even an evil cult had its own political struggle.

Go Jong-hak intended to use Jeong Yeon-shin’s existing reputation to humiliate him badly.

Was even a gathering of lunatics still a place where people lived?

From what the Seventh Apostle had said in the Sect Master’s Hall, Jeong Yeon-shin knew that the Third Apostle and his son coveted the position of Young Sect Master.

The desire for power that had survived the madness of Blood Arts struck him anew.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook out the bundle in his hand.

The bright red, loose-fitting robe unfurled and fluttered like a flag.

Without a word, he began to layer the long robe over his clothes.

With only a few small movements, the Pure Blood Robe covered his body and billowed crimson.

“...”

The crowd fell quiet.

So did Go Jong-hak.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s appearance was that strange.

Wooooong.

Was it because he had begun circulating a Mara Roaring Blood Art cleansed of madness?

It was a bearing that had never appeared in the Blood Flame Sect before.

It was clearly the aura of Blood Arts, yet transparent energy began to create the sect’s uniquely sinister atmosphere.

Some cultists whispered among themselves.

Words rose from all around.

Blood Flame Sect Master, Grand Preceptor, Apostle, Pure Blood...

The aura around his entire body stirred the wind.

Black hair swayed over the shoulders of his crimson robe.

At this moment, he looked no different from the legitimate heir of the Blood Flame Sect’s martial lineage.

“You want to see the grand preceptor's chair miracle?”

He asked.

Footnotes:

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