Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 447: The Sun-Setting Banner (9)
The Outer Walls of Ipwang Fortress.
White and blue garments gleamed under the sunlight, their textures shimmering. It was clear that all of them were made of heavenly silk or fine silk.
The uniforms of those guarding the fortress walls at fixed intervals bore the same emblem—a smoothly inscribed Huang character.
"Report."
"Nothing unusual."
Masters standing guard on the outer walls.
White-clad warriors were stationed at intervals of ten jang, each positioned next to a flag bearing the Huang character, fluttering against the fortress wall.
Occasionally, a blue-clad martial artist would patrol the wall, receiving reports or giving instructions as the squad leader of the sentries.
Even though the fortress city was encircled by Yangyang's citadel, such vigilance was necessary.
It was to guard against the potential intrusion of martial artists.
Ever since an assassin from Yeo Ryeong had been captured in the city’s market district, the security of the outer walls had been significantly reinforced.
"It's desolate."
A noble martial artist carrying a spear on his back muttered to himself.
Like all warriors residing within the main fortress of Ipwang, his neatly folded pant hems fluttered in a faint azure hue at his feet.
Wigon, the Spear of Soul Restoration.
Currently under the command of Ma Gwang-ik, he was the younger brother of Wi Ye-ryeong, a renowned warrior of the April Palace Ghosts. Unlike his elder sister, however, he belonged to the Blue Order of the Yullyeong Unit, enforcing the fortress’s laws.
A status that rarely allowed for interactions with the other martial divisions.
But today was different.
Even the warriors of the Yullyeong Unit had been deployed to the outer defenses, a sign of the depletion of the main fortress's forces.
Most of Ma Gwang-ik’s men, along with Seomye and the Mu-maek warriors, had long since departed on assignments once again.
The world was calling for them.
With famine sweeping across the land, many martial artists had turned into bandits, marauders, or even violent mountain spirits.
Some had even begun speculating whether the Green Forest faction, led by the Great King of the White Axe, or a group of elite warriors from the northern tribes would rise to claim a seat among the Thirteen Heavens.
"Desolate, you say? Do you mean the main fortress?"
A white-clad martial artist standing nearby responded nonchalantly.
The area was populated only by masters of Naegigong. Even when speaking casually from a distance, conversation flowed with ease.
For the noble martial artists, if they concentrated their qi into the Wangol Acupoint behind their ears, they could even hear the sound of blades clashing in the central training grounds.
Wigon shook his head.
"It's nothing new, really. I was just thinking about the upcoming ascension ceremony of the newly appointed Purple Rank. Traditionally, the festivities should be grand enough to reach even the streets of Yangyang. And yet, a boy who knocked on the main fortress’s gates with nothing but a sword has reached the pinnacle of the White, Blue, and Black Ranks in less than three years."
"Well..."
The white-clad martial artist hesitated, absentmindedly tapping the hilt of his sword.
There was nothing to say.
Everyone knew that now was not the time for a grand ascension ceremony.
It was then that a child beyond the walls of the fortress road waved toward them.
"Sir Warrior!"
A boy, perhaps around eight years old.
His clothes were ragged and dirty.
Wigon, arms crossed, gave a slight nod.
The boy’s face lit up instantly.
The white-clad martial artist who had been chatting with Wigon looked incredulous.
"That’s how you return a greeting?"
"A child’s ideal image of a fortress warrior is always the same. Look at him. Even as his father drags him away, he’s happy."
Wigon gestured forward.
The boy, now in his father’s grasp, was being pulled away by the nape of his neck, his feet dragging through the dirt, leaving two furrows in the ground.
Anyone could tell at a glance that his father was a native of Yangyang. There was no fear in his eyes toward Wigon and the white-clad martial artist.
The man merely kept bowing repeatedly, as if apologizing for his son’s offense, before finally retreating.
Respect is born from familiarity.
For warriors like Wigon and the other martial artists of Ipwang Fortress, it was an everyday occurrence to receive the same level of reverence as high-ranking officials.
The most revered mayflies under the heavens.
"They held up a purple lantern for Lord Jeong."
"They did."
"I suppose we should be grateful. Compared to us, they gave him a much grander ascension ceremony..."
"As warriors of the main fortress, we all feel the same. Who wouldn’t want to give him the proper ceremony he deserves? Lord Jeong will understand."
As soon as the white-clad warrior finished speaking, he flinched.
Beyond the Ipwang Fortress flag he was guarding, a man leisurely walked down the fortress path.
Yet, not a single trace of his presence could be felt.
Even as he strode with large steps, his blue robes, undoubtedly woven from heavenly silk, fluttered gently.
His presence was masked. A level beyond perception, undetectable even by the senses of warriors.
Embroidered across his shoulders and at the center of his torso were the images of dragons—each bearing four claws.
The Four-Clawed Dragon Robe.
Throughout history, emperors of supreme authority had donned Five-Clawed Dragon Robes, while today’s Gunryeong Emperor permitted his vassal kings the honor of wearing Four-Clawed Dragon Robes.
"Jeong Yeon-shin’s ascension ceremony is none of your concern."
The man spoke in a clear and resonant voice.
His elongated ears, reminiscent of the famed lineage of Shu-Han’s Liu Bei, were particularly striking.
"The Emperor and the Lord of Ipwang Fortress have already given their permission. An ascension ceremony is merely an empty formality. It’s meaningless whether it happens or not."
His sharp jawline and nose, which caught the sunlight with perfect clarity, accentuated his ever-present, faint smile.
At a glance, he seemed like a carefree nobleman wandering through the streets of Beijing, indulging in leisurely pursuits. The relaxed way he let his Four-Clawed Dragon Robe sway in the wind only reinforced that impression.
Yet, his appearance was deceiving.
He had no attendants. An unusual sight for a prince renowned as one of the most famous figures in the martial world. He was strolling alone along the fortress wall, casually surveying the area.
Step.
Passing by the white-clad warrior, who was frozen in place, the Prince of Gungmyeong smiled as he approached Wigon.
"A heart that considers its superior—it’s a pleasant sight. If only the vassals of Gungmyeong Palace were like you."
"I greet Your Highness."
Wigon clasped his hands together.
He did not kneel. When guarding the fortress, etiquette could be simplified. The degree of respect shown was left to the discretion of the individual.
Wigon was not particularly arrogant. Among the warriors of the Ipwang Fortress Blue Order, this level of conduct was the norm. Even when facing supreme martial artists like the Prince of Gungmyeong, they held their ground.
They were warriors who lived every day facing the possibility of death, possessing martial skills on par with the elite masters of major sects.
Few bothered with formalities.
The Prince of Gungmyeong paid it no mind.
He had not forced a meeting with Jeong Yeon-shin when the latter was still in the main fortress.
"The weather is perfect for drinking. Heroes, after all, should enjoy strong liquor. But I wonder... would someone as young as the new Purple Rank truly appreciate fine wine?"
"...From what I’ve heard from my superiors, he becomes quite bold when drinking..."
"Yun So-yu, the Commander of Yullyeong Unit, told you that? If it’s her, then I’ll believe it. Now this is getting interesting."
The Prince of Gungmyeong rubbed his hands together in amusement.
The image of the newly appointed Purple Rank, riding upon his sword, suddenly shooting out from the fortress lord’s residence.
Perhaps to avoid causing unnecessary disturbance within the fortress, he had not taken off at full speed.
Naturally, many had witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin’s abrupt departure.
The alarm bells rang not only in the outer fortress but even within the inner city, where the noble houses under the main fortress resided. The warriors stationed in the main fortress were forced into an immediate state of battle readiness.
After all, it was as if the strongest force of the fortress had suddenly vanished.
The one who quelled this state of alarm was none other than the Prince of Gungmyeong.
He had simply said that Jeong Yeon-shin would return soon and told them to remain quiet, his voice carrying the profound presence of an unparalleled master whose Upper Elixir Field was highly developed.
"It seems like it's about time for him to return..."
With his hands clasped behind his back, the Prince of Gungmyeong gazed beyond the fortress wall.
Wigon, along with the other warriors of Ipwang Fortress, remained still in their positions for a long while.
They did not go out of their way to show particular reverence, but Prince Gungmyeong Zhu Yue was a difficult man for anyone to deal with.
Moreover, they were well aware of the debate that had taken place between Jeong Yeon-shin and the Prince of Gungmyeong.
***
The setting sun cast a golden glow.
Jeong Yeon-shin had no particular worries as he soared toward Yangyang after annihilating the two sorcerers.
Before departing, he had already used the fortress lord’s chambers to thoroughly scan the region surrounding Yangyang.
The only opponents who might stand a chance against Ak Su-rim were the elite masters of Taemo Fortress. The rest were nothing more than scattered pebbles.
Under the protection of Ipwang’s strongest spear, the Martial Alliance delegation would arrive at the main fortress before nightfall.
Zhuge Cheong-ah, Elder Hyeon...
He didn't know what had transpired.
There were many things he wanted to ask.
Yet, he found himself unable to readily question Zhuge Cheong-ah.
His thoughts flowed in a single, narrow stream—much like his Baihui Acupoint, which connected him to the heavens.
Hangzhou.
Only those two characters existed in his mind.
Clench.
His grip tightened. At this moment, he was far from a composed gentleman. Nothing could bring him peace unless something was broken—how or what, it didn’t matter.
Right now, even with the immense consumption of his Ability of Law’s Radiant Wheel, Sword Flight was still the most efficient means of travel.
Qi replenishment through circulation would suffice.
Shhhaaaa—!
The sharp roar of the wind scraped against his ears as he shot past the heart of Yangyang.
Far below, the people gazing up at him from the ground looked like mere dots.
The massive citadel drew closer at a rapid pace.
Ipwang Fortress—Main Stronghold.
Even in his current state, Jeong Yeon-shin retained reason.
As someone holding the highest authority in the fortress, he could not simply disregard his responsibilities.
The people of Ipwang Fortress had to accept his decisions.
[Come now, Lord Jeong. I fail to see why you insist on wasting your energy so recklessly. Why not sit down for a drink with me instead?]
Jeong Yeon-shin cut straight through the fortress wall.
The meaningless sound of words drifted past his ears like background noise.
As soon as he landed within the Inner Fortress, he smoothly sheathed Yeorei like a painting and strode toward the General Administration Hall.
He was headed to meet the Elder Council Chief and the Grand Marshal.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
"Lord Jeong! I was preparing a small-scale ascension ceremony for you..."
There was no need to walk far.
Even before he could pass through the Central Training Grounds, they had already come to greet him.
Shin Byeok and Im Jin-myeong.
Although they maintained their composure as befitting their status, traces of discomfort lingered on their faces. frёewebnoѵēl.com
The reason became clear immediately.
Thud!
"I heard you lost some of your subordinates, so as a ruler, I intended to show you the utmost respect..."
A heavy tremor shook the ground, sending waves of dust rolling outward from behind Jeong Yeon-shin.
"But I must say, today is rather unpleasant. This is the first time I’ve ever been ignored to my face."
A fierce gust ruffled the robes of Jeong Yeon-shin, Shin Byeok, and Im Jin-myeong.
It was the Backwind of the Hidden Presence Technique.
The sheer pressure from the impact of the landing was staggering.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly turned around.
A man draped in a blue Four-Clawed Dragon Robe was looking at him with a faint smile.
The Prince of Gungmyeong, Zhu Yue.
A figure he had met once before, after the So Cheonmujuk incident.
A formidable warrior among the Zhu imperial family, and a half-brother to Gunryeong Emperor himself.
The young man, dressed in a flowing plum-colored robe, spoke leisurely.
"Prince Gungmyeong."
"As haughty as ever."
The Prince of Gungmyeong laughed casually.
"Where were you off to in such a hurry?"
"...I am headed for Hangzhou."
"Hangzhou again, is it?"
The Prince of Gungmyeong exaggeratedly smacked his forehead with his fist.
After their first confrontation, they had continuously debated the issue, with Grand Marshal Im Jin-myeong mediating between them.
But their stances remained unchanged.
"Do you even realize how far you have to travel? You would be crossing half the country just to get there. I invited you for a drink just now... unless you can return before the wine cools, I’d say it’s far too long a journey for a casual visit."
"......"
"Jeong Yeon-shin of the House of Jeong in Hanam."
Suddenly, a sharp glint flickered in the Prince of Gungmyeong’s eyes.
"You are the embodiment of an era of chaos.
Whether by coincidence or fate, the moment you entered Ipwang Fortress, a massive wheel began to turn.
Famine spread rapidly.
The renowned grandmasters of the major sects, who had long remained in seclusion, started falling one by one.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that your movements and the spread of this calamity are directly linked."
His words were refined and antiquated.
Jeong Yeon-shin was suddenly reminded of a man.
His own father—who had once blamed a newborn infant for his mother’s death.
"Are you blaming me?"
"Not at all."
The Prince of Gungmyeong, who had been radiating a sharp presence just moments ago, suddenly withdrew it, smiling enigmatically.
His tone reverted to its usual relaxed cadence.
"I simply mean that the weight you carry is far greater than you realize.
Just look at the names of those who have perished by your blade—
The Lord of Zhuge Clan.
The Lord of Mo Yong Clan.
The Head of Geumsi Sect.
The Master of Sipjeon Sect.
The Lord of Peng Clan..."
He listed them slowly, raising his fingers one by one.
"Each of them was a figure who once shaped the world.
You must come to terms with the presence you have built.
Please, be aware of this—Yangyang with Jeong Yeon-shin and Yangyang without Jeong Yeon-shin are two completely different places."
"I am not some fortress cannon meant to simply sit and hold my position."
"Cannon? You are much more than that. You are the sword of this nation itself!
The Purple Blade personally decreed by His Majesty!
And yet, you intend to abandon the very heart of this famine-ridden land and rush off to its farthest eastern reaches?
Anyone who hears that would call it preposterous."
"...A comrade ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) of mine is trapped in a death trap."
"How many times must I tell you?
Hangzhou is currently a battleground for absolute masters.
Even the Grandmasters of the Mountain Sect Clans cannot predict its outcome—there is no need for you to waste your strength on this matter."
"I intend to go alone."
"When a Purple Rank warrior sets out, there must be justifiable cause and proper procedures.
Hold your ground. If you leave, who will protect Yangyang? What of the common people?"
"...Is that not why Your Highness is here?"
"......?"
"I humbly request that Your Highness remain here until I return. After all, the administration must oversee its own affairs. Do not place the entire burden of public stability solely on the fortress. It is already heavy enough."
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.
Behind them, Grand Marshal Im Jin-myeong had stopped breathing altogether.
Elder Council Chief Shin Byeok had his eyes widened to the size of saucers, his face utterly devoid of wrinkles in sheer disbelief.
For a moment, the Prince of Gungmyeong stared blankly at Jeong Yeon-shin. Then, suddenly, the corners of his lips stretched wide into a grin.
"Ahaha... Ahahahaha!"
He didn’t stop.
Like a man struck by a sharp and unexpected blow, the supreme figure beneath one yet above all laughed helplessly for a long time.
"......"
Jeong Yeon-shin reaffirmed his belief—among the supreme martial masters, only a handful of orthodox elders, himself included, were still in possession of sound reasoning.
His hand inched toward Yeorei’s scabbard when, at last, the Prince of Gungmyeong ceased laughing.
"You mean to use me? Ipwang Fortress, using me?"
"How long could a sect last if it abandoned its disciple in the jaws of death?"
"The audacity of the new Purple Rank is beyond measure. If you were to incur the wrath of Gungmyeong Palace, supplies could be fatally disrupted. Do you truly think Ipwang Fortress would shoulder such a burden just to chase your singular cause? The faction you belong to is far greater and more vast than you realize."
The Prince of Gungmyeong was right.
Jeong Yeon-shin had never seen all seventeen units of the Divine Sword Corps. He had never witnessed the Black Blades of Wonpyeong One Sword Pavilion, each leading their own subordinates into battle.
Whenever he envisioned such a scene—something that could only exist in dreams—the scale surpassed what any single sect should be capable of.
"......"
Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.
For a brief moment, he let the weight of his Purple Rank responsibility sink in—the burden of supporting such an immense fortress alone.
And then—
Boom.
A deep sound echoed.
It came from the outer walls.
When he lifted his head, he saw a distant figure—a man whose name and face he knew but had rarely encountered.
Wigon, the Spear of Soul Restoration.
The younger brother of Wi Ye-ryeong, one of his own subordinates, from the April Palace Ghosts.
But Wigon was not holding his spear.
Instead, he held a long Ipwang Fortress banner, striking the stone pavement of the fortress road with it.
The sound grew louder.
Boom! Boom—!
It wasn’t just one person.
More and more warriors surrounded the main fortress, lowering their banners and striking the stone in unison.
Their combined echoes merged into a singular, resounding beat.
Boom!
The sound wasn’t loud.
Boom!
It blended faintly with the vast golden twilight, sending only a quiet tremor through the earth.
After all, fewer than a hundred warriors striking the walls could never recreate the atmosphere of a battlefield.
And so—
The quietest ascension ceremony in history took place.
And at the same time—
It was a departure ceremony.
"......"
The Prince of Gungmyeong closed his mouth.
That day, Ipwang Fortress sent its Purple Rank warrior into the martial world.
