WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

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◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈

Episode 88: Battle for Supremacy (7)

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Jeong Yeon-shin intended to keep Namgung Mi alive.

If this woman had so meticulously prepared her justification, then he and Namgung Hwa-shin merely needed to use some cunning of their own.

If subduing her had been difficult, he would have cut off her head in a single stroke. But since he had captured her like this, they could draw the best possible outcome.

He would leave the final act to Namgung Hwa-shin.

Yeon-shin wanted him to overcome the wounds in his heart, while also intending to earn merit himself.

He intended to create a situation in which Desolate Fortress could cut down the Namgung Family's blood kin without consequence.

Namgung Mi had been completely subdued. Of the outcomes he and Namgung Hwa-shin had considered, this was among the best.

"What should I do with you?"

He spoke through the demon mask of the Pure Blood Robe. Was it because of the destructive, irregular aura of the Mara Roaring Blood Art?

The veins rising on the back of the hand gripping Namgung Mi's throat looked sinister.

"You are a lowly Namgung of the orthodox martial faction. Yet your name has long been known far and wide, so through you, we may announce that our sect still stands strong."

It was a statement that revealed the purpose of the Blood Flame Sect noble who had barged in.

"Hah!"

"So that is what this is..."

The Wuchang martial artists, who had been observing the battle between the Namgung Family and the heretical sect's masters, sighed.

They lacked the courage and strength to take Namgung Mi's side after her crushing defeat, but they possessed enough insight to understand the situation.

Many of those who had raided the Blood Flame Sect's main altar had been martial artists from regions near Southern Zhili.

There had been more of them than Desolate Fortress warriors at the time. That meant news of the main altar's destruction was far from secret.

Martial artists made their way through the world with martial arts and reputation. The Blood Flame Sect was no different.

Had a noble blood relative of the main altar personally stepped forward to reveal the remaining strength of a sect whose reputation had plummeted? Anyone could understand it that way.

"I could break your neck right now. But that would be such a waste. There are many ways I can use you for a long time."

A low, amused note colored his voice. They said masters who had reached a certain realm no longer seemed human. To those in the lower reaches of the martial world, the Nine Sects and Eight Great Families, as well as the Thirteen Heavens, were like that. The crackling sound of qi mixed with a boy's clear voice deepened that impression.

"What if I make you my servant? You can wash my feet."

"..."

The demon face on the mask seemed to stare intently at Namgung Mi.

Its mouth was split wide like that of a dragon with its jaws open. It looked as though it were considering what to do with its prey.

Namgung Mi opened her mouth with a strained expression, as if she had barely managed to part her lips.

"You bastard, just now you called me lowly..."

"I did."

"A vulgar wretch wearing a mask dares..."

The demon mask laughed.

"Do you dislike being judged? You Namgung spawn, fallen low while wearing the mask of an orthodox sect. Lowly suits you well. You even framed innocent people as martial artists of the unorthodox sects, using them as fertilizer for your own reputation. Even our sect would not commit such acts."

"What nonsense, urk!"

Her curse turned into a pained gasp. The demon mask's left hand blurred the moment Namgung Mi tried to speak again.

Several dull explosions rang out as force waves struck her body.

It sounded as though drums were bursting one after another. Anyone could tell this was no ordinary acupoint strike.

Namgung Mi's body went limp in his grip as the strange noble of the Blood Flame Sect spoke.

"Did you think my words about making you a servant were a joke?"

"W-what...!"

"If you wish to circulate your qi, you must first receive my permission. Such is the sacred power of Blood Arts."

It meant he had placed a restriction on her inner energy. Seom-ye of Desolate Fortress had suffered the same thing at the hands of the Seventh Apostle.

It was not difficult to inflict the effects of the internal heavy-hand technique he had experienced firsthand upon another.

All he had to do was apply the Mara Roaring Blood Art to the circulation of qi in the same manner.

"How dare you! How dare you!"

Her voice rose at once. Namgung Mi's elegant brow twisted viciously.

It was not despair, but furious indignation. Something that should never have happened in her life had happened.

'I will kill you! I'll make you kneel at my feet and kill you!'

He had subdued her and even stolen her freedom to wield her power. Her eyes widened as if she would etch him into her mind.

Her gaze swept over the demon mask's entire body. She focused especially on the edge of his sleeve, where skin was visible.

A master's eye technique could surpass all imagination.

By observing the pulse of qi and blood through which inner energy flowed, there was room to infer his identity.

"Your spirit is admirable."

"Kgh...!"

The demon mask tightened his grip around her throat.

At that moment, the main gate of the Wise Teacher Sect swung wide open amid deathly silence.

A cool breeze rushed in. It carried an extremely direct flow of aura.

"A blood demon has settled where an unorthodox sect was destroyed."

The young man looked perfectly suited to a Blue Uniform. His expression darkened as he looked toward the demon mask and Namgung Mi.

"I came to offer a celebratory cup to my sister, yet..."

A conspicuous, rough-hewn character meaning desolate was inscribed beside his shoulder, and he radiated an unrestrained presence.

His high nose and tightly closed lips resembled Namgung Mi's. Anyone present would have been reminded of their blood relation.

"Hwang...! Desolate Fortress!"

"He said sister. Could it be...?"

"The White Qilin! Namgung's White Qilin!"

Color returned to the faces of those present. Namgung Mi had been defeated, and they had no idea what would happen to them next.

White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin.

He was a martial artist whose name had resounded even before he entered Desolate Fortress.

For a young man widely recognized by the Nine Sects and Eight Great Families, he had already surpassed the level of the younger generation in Wuchang's martial world.

It was difficult to imagine a more suitable master to face the Blood Flame Sect noble after such a fierce battle.

'These are the people who condemned the main fortress.'

Namgung Hwa-shin thought. He had arrived with Jeong Yeon-shin the moment the banquet began.

He had heard every word praising the Namgung Family while insulting Desolate Fortress.

The true faces of the local martial artists, who had changed their attitudes so easily, sickened him.

He forced himself to ignore them and stepped forward.

He had been regretting not inspecting the Wise Teacher Sect sooner. It was because of Namgung Mi's conduct.

He had thought the servants whose dantians she had crippled after branding them martial artists of the unorthodox sects would be enough. He had been wrong. He had not expected her to implicate even the attendants.

'Yes. You were always this cruel.'

Namgung Mi, her throat gripped by Seom-ye, came into view. Perhaps because her paralysis acupoint had been struck, she could not even turn her gaze.

'Has he completely restrained her movements?'

All at once, Namgung Hwa-shin was surprised at himself. It seemed he, too, was no more than a lowly soldier walking the path of the sword.

Before even thinking of his half-sister, he had first worried for the companion who had become closer to him than his half-sister.

Demon Wings Seom-ye, Jeong Yeon-shin. His breathing was as calm as usual, without the slightest change.

'Truly astonishing.'

It was a scene the current Namgung Hwa-shin would have found difficult to create. He had no means to withstand the cold.

Even if he did, it would not have been easy to act so casually. It meant Seom-ye's martial strength was extraordinarily stable.

Such a thing was impossible unless one completely ruled the realm one had reached.

His instincts were exceptional. His martial talent clearly surpassed Namgung Hwa-shin's own.

'You created an opportunity for me. This is a kindness. I must succeed.'

With firm resolve, Namgung Hwa-shin opened his mouth.

"Blood demon. Step away."

"Another Namgung bastard. Step away? Your words are laughable."

The masked Seom-ye spoke in a bizarre voice. For an instant, Namgung Hwa-shin thought that, had he heard it without knowing the circumstances, those words and that tone might have wounded him.

Something in that calm tone provoked the listener.

Namgung Hwa-shin forced spirit into his voice.

"Changnyeong Flower Lord Namgung Mi is the opponent in a martial contest designated by the main fortress. The Divine Sword Squad Leader will arrive as the one responsible for this mission."

"The Divine Sword Squad Leader...?"

Silence fell over the Wise Teacher Sect's Training Hall.

That name warranted such silence.

That peerless master, who overawed the world alongside the abbot of Shaolin, the greatest temple in the Central Plains, possessed a reputation that transcended distance.

Unlike the Lord of Desolate Fortress, said to walk above the clouds, this was a danger that was immediate and impossible to resist.

"Release my sister, unless you wish to be pursued until the day you die by the Purple Uniform supreme master of the main fortress."

"Is the Namgung clan threatening me now?"

The demon mask reacted immediately.

He threw Namgung Mi, whose acupoints and inner energy had been suppressed, onto the ground like garbage.

Without caring that she lay there in a state no one could have imagined when the banquet began, he stepped toward Namgung Hwa-shin at the main gate.

Srrng.

He drew his sword once more from the waist of his red Pure Blood Robe. The presence released with the drawn blade was chilling.

At the same time, Namgung Hwa-shin drew the Desolate Sword.

Sweat gathered in the hands of those watching.

Step. Step.

The air between them seemed to stop moving. Not even the faintest breeze blew.

In that dry, taut atmosphere, only the two masters strode toward one another.

They looked strangely alike, both walking as though taking a stroll while holding their lowered longswords.

The air seemed to compress little by little. Tension that felt eternal rose as the distance shortened. Ten steps, eight steps, five steps... and then.

Boom!

Two heavy stomps sounded at once. Their feet and hands gripping their sword hilts blurred.

Following the brief sound of True Step, two swords caught the sunlight.

The moment the White Uniform sword light split into two streams, the hems of their red and blue robes passed each other.

Claaang!

Namgung Hwa-shin stopped. The sword resonance, ringing as though it might break, forced him to do so. This had been his intention from the start.

Still, the trajectory and sword force differed from when they had faced each other in the Desolate Fortress contest. He felt an astonishing degree of progress.

'He completely blended his increased qi into his sword path. The concentrated power was different.'

The sword path was the route a sword traveled. It was the flow that determined the strength and effectiveness of a sword strike.

He had heard that Seom-ye, Jeong Yeon-shin, had consumed an elixir pill.

He had also watched him fight the Seventh Apostle several times. Yet experiencing his sword strike firsthand was different.

Namgung Hwa-shin thought of his older half-brother.

'Perhaps there truly is a chance of victory.'

Then the stray thought scattered at the sound of a sword being sheathed behind him. It was Jeong Yeon-shin in the demon mask.

With an upright bearing befitting the disposition he had revealed here, he sheathed his sword and spoke.

"You have enough standing to invoke the Divine Sword Squad Leader."

"..."

"Desolate Fortress. Wait. There are many branches to replace the main altar. The nobles of blood will return."

Without even looking back, he strode away arrogantly toward the same main gate Namgung Hwa-shin had entered through.

The Wuchang martial artists, having witnessed the overwhelming exchange of sword techniques, could not bring themselves to speak.

"Vermin."

The Blood Flame Sect noble laughed quietly and departed.

"..."

After a long silence, it fell to Namgung Hwa-shin to settle the situation.

Only then did he turn his gaze toward his enemy, his half-sister, who had always looked upon him with contempt and hatred.

Yet their reunion seemed to hold no interest for Namgung Mi.

She stood proudly as though she had never rolled across the ground. Her upturned eyes faced the main gate.

It was the direction the demon mask had left.

Grudges seemed to blaze in her gaze. It was an obsession Namgung Hwa-shin had never seen in her before.

After watching her silently, Namgung Hwa-shin spoke.

"Our side will take responsibility for your safety. We will guarantee it until the martial contest."

"What...?"

"Demon Wings Seom-ye is with me. With Young Hero Jeong and me, you should be safe until you reach Southern Zhili."

Behind Namgung Mi, who finally turned her head, the faces of the Wuchang martial artists came into view.

Their expressions, revealing complicated feelings, varied greatly.

"This is a serious matter. Wasn't that man just now an incredibly powerful master? To think a blood demon like that is wandering Wuchang."

"We should be more concerned about the Namgung Family's retaliation..."

It was behavior that spat out what was bitter and swallowed what was sweet. Namgung Hwa-shin frowned inwardly and ignored them.

The fruits of the battle for justification were ripening.

"They will protect the opponent they promised to face in a life-and-death duel?"

"That is... truly fair and just, isn't it?"

"Desolate Fortress. They spoke of the people's livelihood..."

This was what Jeong Yeon-shin and Namgung Hwa-shin had intended. Most of those gathered here were people of high standing.

There were escort agency heads, martial hall heads, the leaders of various sects, and even the head of Wuchang Prefectural Academy. Their words would become public opinion throughout the surrounding region.

Now it was done. They would be able to cut down the Namgung Family leadership without worrying about the eyes of the people.

* * *

An ancient tree rising in one corner of Wuchang's market street was the tallest in the area.

A woman sat sideways upon one of its thick branches.

Her hair flowed like black silk, fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Her red eyes, like rubies treasured by a monster, rested on the scene below.

She saw the boy leave with movements as light as drifting leaves.

His movements resembled the elven race's movement technique. He should have made almost no sound, yet the sound of his steps reached her ears clearly.

The Seventh Apostle's lips moved.

"My little Grand Preceptor."

She had begun talking to herself more often. Was it because she had spent so long standing alone in the martial world?

No. She must have always been like this. She had been born a noble being, alone in the world.

She laughed softly, an unintended nasal sound mixed into it.

"You are sweet."

Seom-ye, Jeong Yeon-shin.

His voice, carrying the qi of the Mara Roaring Blood Art, had etched itself clearly into her ears.

The sight of him taking out and wearing the Pure Blood Robe once again was entrancing. It suited him better than anyone because of his shining talent and decisive nature.

It came to her as vividly as the brands on slaves of the unorthodox sects.

That voice and appearance, that bearing of one who stood alone above all.

As she listened and watched, it felt as though her whole body might melt away. Even her mind grew soft and warm like clouds in the night sky.

The Seventh Apostle's right eye, shining a brilliant red, traced Yeon-shin's every movement.

The Blood Flame Sect's young Grand Preceptor, its noble little Sect Master. Before she knew it, he was removing his mask and taking off the Pure Blood Robe in an empty clearing.

Suddenly, her heart hurt as though it were being torn apart. Those things are completely yours, my little Grand Preceptor.

Even that location seemed chosen with the Seventh Apostle in mind. He was not far from Namgung Hwa-shin.

"Haah..."

She let out a sweet breath and murmured as though whispering.

"What must I do for you to accept me?"

If that boy would look only at her.

Would it not be fine to sever all four of his limbs and bring him to her?

The Seventh Apostle immediately shook her head. She had to create a divine art that would illuminate the world like a comet.

He was not someone who could be ruined by wicked desire.

"Show me an opening..."

She lightly licked her lips.

Footnotes:

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