Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 440: The Sun-Setting Banner (2)
The city of Yangyang, Hogwang Province, was a place where the Seventeen Generations of the Divine Sword Division came and went freely. Naturally, it was an immense metropolis.
Its scale, security, and even the wealth of its people were among the greatest in the world.
So much so that a lantern glowing with an unusual light—crafted from materials incredibly rare—was barely worth noticing.
A deep violet hue burned vividly.
It was a shade that neither paper nor fabric could produce. Without a doubt, it had been made by stretching an incredibly thin layer of silk over its frame.
At first, there was only one.
Flickering like a lone firefly within the vast walls of Yangyang Fortress, it was impossible for anyone in the Ipwang Fortress contingent standing on the ridge above to miss it.
Likewise, there was no one present who had witnessed the ascension ceremony of an Ipwang Great Lord enough times for this to be a familiar sight.
Most warriors spent their days recovering from internal injuries after returning from missions—only to be sent back out across the world once more.
“This... doesn’t feel like war or a sectarian battle.”
“There’s none of the usual military aura. No battle formations, no smoke.”
The seasoned masters of Ma Gwang-ik muttered among themselves.
Not a single ordinary individual was present among them. Their senses were razor-sharp.
Then came a clatter—the wheels of the carriage rolling once more.
Yet as they descended the well-paved mountain path, no one allowed themselves to relax.
Most of them silently drew their weapons, steel whispering against the sheaths.
Jeong Yeon-shin, recently gravely wounded in his duel against the Sect Leader of Mount Heaven, sat inside, still in recovery.
With unfolding anomalies ahead, failing to prepare was not an option.
Rustle—
Their sharpened tension accompanied their slow descent.
Inside the carriage, Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.
He simply listened.
The voices that had begun creeping louder into his ears.
Some unfamiliar.
Some vaguely recognizable.
Most were completely unknown.
[He has arrived!]
[The Great Lord has arrived!]
[I see him.]
[He has now entered the city!]
Like an army marching into battle, the messages piled upon each other, voices echoing through an endless canyon.
Most were transmitted via sound transmission techniques.
Only a few whispers mingled naturally among them.
In reality, Yangyang remained eerily silent—unnaturally so.
Only Jeong Yeon-shin, whose heightened senses could intercept these transmissions, experienced this cacophony.
The hurried voices filled the city even faster than their own footsteps as they passed through the open gates.
Inside, the vast, wide main road and even the marketplace streets to the sides were nearly empty of people.
Yet Jeong Yeon-shin did not speak.
He remembered his uncle Ma Jin’s words about the Triumphal Procession of Ma Gwang-ik.
Even Ma Gwang-ik's masters needed to be shaken by this sight.
“...Oh.”
Shin So-bin let out a soft exclamation.
At some point, she had opened the carriage window, leaning out slightly, her back to Jeong Yeon-shin.
The dark night that had draped over her hair was beginning to glow with a soft violet hue.
The sun had long since set.
Even the last traces of sunset should have been gone.
Yet the deep purple glow spreading around them, as if dragging back the remnants of twilight, was coming from violet lanterns being lit all across the city.
They were uncountable in number.
The entire world seemed to be sinking into the Western dusk.
Sching—
The smooth sound of swords being sheathed rang out.
The warriors escorting Jeong Yeon-shin all put away their weapons.
At the same time—
Crash!
The front of the carriage was sliced clean off.
The strike came from Shin So-bin’s bare hand, the edge of her palm razor-sharp.
The carriage had now been transformed into a palanquin—except that it was still being drawn by horses instead of men.
Shin So-bin even kicked aside her own seat, sending it flying away.
Then, she leaped off the carriage in one fluid motion.
The interior was now completely exposed.
Jeong Yeon-shin sat alone, scanning the surroundings.
Reflected in his pitch-black eyes was a familiar yet distant sight.
A memory—
A boy who had lost his family in the destruction of the Jeong Household, wandering into Yangyang with nothing but a single sword.
That boy had later met a young warrior with a Hero’s Headband tied across his forehead.
Together, they had journeyed to Ipwang Fortress.
Now, years later, that same road was being painted over in a pale violet glow.
Step.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
The moment he noticed them, they had already begun to appear.
The people.
Citizens who had lived for generations under the protection of Ipwang Fortress, hesitantly stepping forward into his vision.
Each and every one of them was holding a violet lantern wrapped in silk.
“......”
A sight that seemed utterly unreal.
As if suspended between dream and reality, no one spoke.
The crowd, cloaked in solemn silence, was composed of men and women of all ages, from all walks of life.
Yet none of them uttered a word.
Not even congratulatory greetings.
Only the occasional cry of an infant could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the gentle sound of flowing water from a distant bridge.
Ah.
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly realized.
His ascension to Great Lord was not something to be celebrated.
It was not a personal triumph.
The birth of Ipwang Fortress’s highest authority was not something that could be acknowledged as a mere individual’s achievement.
In this world—where warriors with inhuman abilities trampled over laws and order as if they were nothing—
This moment was an epochal event.
He recalled his grandfather’s letter.
The meaning of "Great Lord."
Its responsibility.
Its symbolism.
The images of Yong Hui-myeong and Ma Yeon-jeok, running through the martial world as if order itself belonged to them, sharpened in his mind.
The path he had taken for his own survival was now unfolding toward the entire world.
These people...
Clatter, clatter.
As his carriage passed through the city, the citizens extended their lanterns toward him—
Not their hands, but lanterns.
They were traveling down the main road toward the heart of Ipwang Fortress.
No matter which path Jeong Yeon-shin and his warriors took—
The scene was the same.
The residences of high-ranking officials in Yangyang.
The manors of merchants who had amassed such wealth that their estates rivaled palaces.
The security agencies, trained by the Blue Rank warriors of Ipwang Fortress, ensuring that even in an era of chaos, their cargo was never lost.
And the smaller, clustered homes of the common people.
No words of praise were spoken.
Only the violet lanterns were raised.
An unspoken reverence beyond language.
The safest land in the world was bowing to him.
***
Inside Ipwang Fortress’s Inner City
Two figures stood atop a towering spire.
One was a middle-aged man with the appearance of a scholar, his thick, unkempt beard giving him the rugged look of a mountain bandit. The other was an elderly man of stately presence, draped in a deep violet robe.
They were Im Jin-myeong, the Grand Marshal of Ipwang Fortress, and Shin Byeok, the Elder Council Lord.
The Grand Marshal gazed down at the city, bathed in the glow of violet lanterns, and spoke in a slow, measured tone.
“I never thought I’d see this sight again so soon. I thought I’d have to grow a few more wrinkles before another event like this.”
“I don’t even remember how many years it’s been since Yongga’s time.”
“Did you receive a welcome like this as well, Elder Council Lord?”
“It’s been over forty years since my ascension. But it was neither as dense nor as silent as this. Times were better back then. Most importantly, there wasn’t a famine. It wasn’t an era of chaos.”
“I wonder what the new Great Lord is feeling right now.”
“You’ve grown fond of formal speech.”
“I never spoke informally to him even when he was White Rank. Wasn’t he the first disciple personally taken in {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} by the Fortress Lord?”
“That’s an outrageous thing to say. And the imperial clan?”
“With the Zhu family, it always felt as though he was reluctantly instructing them. Of course, I cannot claim to know the Fortress Lord’s true intentions, but even from a glance, it was vastly different. He received daily reports on the young lord’s progress from the age of fifteen until seventeen. I believe even the original copy of Jeongga Tonggong remains in his possession. Though I haven’t seen him in quite some time...”
“I thought I told you I have no desire to hear about that divine art. The thought of that old man, who regained his youth thanks to his grandson, coming back just to annoy me is already enough of a headache.”
Elder Council Lord Shin Byeok spoke with a detached air.
Grand Marshal Im Jin-myeong let out a low chuckle. His sharp eyes followed the procession gradually approaching the inner city gates.
His naturally fierce gaze softened at the corners.
“The conduct of the people is extraordinary. This truly is an era of upheaval.”
“There are concerns.”
“What do you mean?”
“The governing authorities. From the past, those who ascended to Great Lord always found themselves entangled in political maneuvering. Some seek to align with them, while others, hiding their status, use every trick to undermine their authority.”
“Weren’t those sorts exterminated? Ever since the previous Grand Eunuch of Salye was eliminated?”
“That was decades ago. The world has yet to recognize the revival of that old wretch who should have rotted away long ago. If the Northern Tribes catch wind of his rejuvenation, we’ll have more than just rumors to worry about.”
“Hmm.”
“And to receive a ceremony of this scale in such turbulent times? Even if the Emperor himself ignores it, the regional lords will see this differently. One can only hope this spontaneous show of reverence doesn’t have consequences beyond its intent.”
“How can the utility of a formal rite be measured? Surely, you’re not suggesting it’s excessive?”
“Think about it. How many of the Emperor’s princes or dukes have ever received a display of respect like this? This surpasses the prestige of the Zhu clan’s entire noble lineage.”
“The fortress cannot restrain the people from expressing themselves. The prestige of a martial fortress that sustains the common people is just as important as the face of nobility, is it not?”
“You are correct. My only concern is King Gungmyeong. He must not act foolishly.”
“This is a day of celebration. Let the unpleasant matters rest with me in the Grand Marshal’s Office.”
Im Jin-myeong’s deep voice carried a playful tone, drawing a rare smirk from Shin Byeok.
“How goes the new appointments?”
“All that remains is for the new Great Lord to approve the documents. Of course, what I’ve prepared is only a rough outline, and much of it will likely change, depending on Lord Jeong’s decisions.”
Lord Jeong.
A title now formally used for Jeong Yeon-shin.
No longer was he addressed as Young Lord, Young Hero, or Great Hero. Inside Ipwang Fortress, the change had already taken hold.
During the Huashan Summit Duel, a new epithet had been coined for the new Great Lord, but upon reaching Ipwang Fortress, it had quickly become a name whispered only in secrecy.
“You’re reorganizing the Divine Sword Division, I hear?”
“There are many still recovering from injuries. That much was unavoidable. More importantly, the Deputy Commander of the Divine Sword Division’s will is paramount.”
“The new Great Lord leading both the Divine Sword Division and the Divine Sword Squad... We need to find an excuse to replace Yongga quickly. Do we have any strong candidates for the new Divine Sword Vice-Commander? Someone capable of supporting a young leader?”
“The current vice-commander is doing everything possible to hold onto his position. He’s already visited the Grand Marshal’s Office several times. Apparently, he’s now learning how to cook Ounsan Braised Dishes.”
“The finest delicacy Lord Jeong favors?”
Shin Byeok snorted dismissively.
“Consider him eliminated.”
“Any unusual developments?”
“A letter arrived earlier from the Blood Sovereign, regarding the Vice-Commander appointment. But it was so long, I haven’t had the time to read it all.”
At that moment—
As Jeong Yeon-shin and his procession approached the outer gates of Ipwang Fortress—
Flap—
A white robe fluttered in the night breeze.
A figure descended, blocking their path.
A woman.
Her movements were flawless, executed with an extraordinary mastery of Bodily Divinity Circulation.
Her attire was unusual.
A gourd bottle in one hand, while her long white robes, embroidered with pine trees, flowed like a royal banner.
It was the distinctive attire of Wudang Sect.
A sheer veil covered her face, allowing only a glimpse of deep, shadowed eyes that gleamed darkly.
Even from the distant spire, the two elders could clearly see her.
An extraordinary presence.
“Who is that?”
“A Wudang Zhangfeng... and an imperial clanswoman. But I have no idea why she’s here.”
Shin Byeok and Im Jin-myeong both expressed mild puzzlement.
That was all.
There was no concern.
Because three figures had already stepped out from Ipwang Fortress’s inner gates, standing behind the Zhangfeng’s back.
Three figures clad in pitch-black robes.
Their presence darkened the very air around them.
“Regardless, I’ll take my leave.”
“Go on, then.”
Thud.
The Grand Marshal, who had been watching in silence, suddenly leapt down from the spire.
But he did not head toward the outer gates, where the Zhangfeng had revealed herself.
He moved in the opposite direction—toward the inner fortress.
Preparing for the arrival of the new Great Lord.
“...Ounsan Braised Dishes, huh?”
As he stepped into the fortress depths, the Grand Marshal murmured to himself.
