Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 419: The Hem of the Clothes of Seocheon (4)

“You have a talent for blowing things out of proportion. Your view of Ma Gwang-ik is much the same. Do you think if Ma Gwang-ik hadn't stormed out before the Crown Prince, Beijing’s marketplace would have been left standing?” The Crown Prince countered.

“Ma Gwang-ik’s promotion to purple robes should be in accordance with the people's will... Please, reconsider.”

The Crown Prince sneered as he spoke, his words almost a mockery. “The people’s will? You all are too stubborn. Do you even know where these letters are coming from?”

“It’s the Emperor’s personal letter,” the elderly official replied quietly. “We will hear no other voices on this matter.”

A subtle wave of energy emanated from the ears of the scholars and cabinet members.

They had deliberately focused their internal energy to block out all distractions, creating a silence around them.

This was a world where martial arts thrived. Even the children of noble families in Beijing had mastered at least basic internal techniques.

It was the same even for scholars. They were skilled not only in archery but also in internal martial arts.

“This is troublesome. It’s only a matter of time.” The Crown Prince muttered to himself, reclining back in his chair.

He understood why they were taking such a hard stance. It was because of an event long past.

The incident where the notorious bandit leader Ma Yeon-jeok had nearly crippled the previous senior minister, with little to no punishment.

A few rare officials had spent decades fearing the martial dominance of the purple robes of the Imperial Sword Corps.

Now, with the gathering of the Sword Corps’ leaders, a major event had unfolded. It was only natural that there would be attempts to prevent the birth of a new purple sword.

“Your actions only prove the significance of the purple robes,” the Crown Prince muttered under his breath.

But his words failed to reach the ears of the officials. They had long since lost respect for the Crown Prince’s fading authority.

At that moment, a whistle of peacefulness echoed down through the open ceiling of the Great Hall. Dust began rising from the palace grounds.

The energy within the whistle was intense and thick, shaking the air.

“Ughh...!”

“What... enough!”

The scholars from Hanlimwon and the cabinet minister clasped their hands over their ears in discomfort. They nearly buckled to their knees.

A single note from the whistle had undone all their focus.

“...!”

The ministers who had remained silent now looked horrified. As high-ranking officials, they knew immediately the identity of the person behind the whistle.

“Is that... Lord Yong Hui-myeong?”

“They say he left Beijing...!”

The current leader of the Imperial Sword Corps was a man of exceptional skill. Even when entering the battlefield, he would often use the graceful whistle as a form of sonic attack.

“I’ve personally pierced the ears of the elderly.”

With a smile in his voice, the figure who had appeared beside the Crown Prince spoke. Stepping out from the open ceiling, he was dressed in purple robes that shimmered like those of a scholar.

The tall man gave the Crown Prince a respectful bow.

“My apologies for coming unannounced.”

“Enough with the formalities. You, of all people, should be able to wield the Imperial Sword in the Forbidden City. Have you found the Emperor?” the Crown Prince asked, briefly glancing at the scrolls in his hand.

The leader of the Imperial Sword Corps, Yong Hui-myeong, then gestured toward the letter.

“That’s why I’m here. I never expected the Wudang Sect to support the purple robes. The calligraphy is rather elegant, but the old sword master didn’t turn out to be as skilled as I imagined. Well... maybe he did put some extra effort into it,” Yong Hui-myeong said with a playful tone.

“...!”

The ministers in the Great Hall were in an uproar. Shock spread across their faces, rippling through the scholars and the cabinet ministers.

Some officials, especially those who had hoped for a solution that adhered to the people's will and proper order, now had no choice but to listen to the next words of the Imperial Sword Corps leader.

“The letter from the Poison Commander is here as well. The Tang Clan owes a debt to the Wudang Sect several times over. There’s a letter from the Abbot of Shaolin, and also... what is this? A letter from the noble Hwasan Sect's leader? And from the Peng Clan too. This is rather unexpected.”

“Seems like the same line of thought. Otherwise, how would such letters from the major martial factions pile up? It looks like Ma Gwang-ik traveled the martial world with the grace of a true gentleman,” the Crown Prince commented.

Yong Hui-myeong chuckled softly while stroking his chin.

“He even drinks like a gentleman.”

“Really? Now I’m curious about Ma Gwang-ik’s drinking habits. Maybe we’ll have the chance to discuss it sometime,” the Crown Prince replied.

“I’m not sure about that. Either way, the Emperor will be arriving soon, so it’s best to prepare,” Yong Hui-myeong added.

As the two continued their conversation, the atmosphere in the Great Hall became more chaotic.

The news of the Emperor’s return, coupled with the events unfolding in the Forbidden City, left many ministers and scholars hesitant to speak out. They only stared at the scrolls in the Crown Prince’s hand, their faces filled with a mix of awe and dread.

***

The day was pleasant.

Beneath the vast blue sky, the cries of cicadas and nightjars rang out unusually clearly.

It was noon on a summer day. The golden roofs of the Forbidden City glistened brighter than ever.

This was the Hall of Martial Arts.

It was where the Emperor practiced martial arts.

True to the style of the Forbidden City, the courtyard was expansive—one could call it a training ground or a plaza.

But it looked as if it had been ravaged by war. Even the famous blacksmiths of the world had failed to smoothen its surface.

However, the path leading to the center of the palace was smooth.

Perhaps it was a symbol of the Emperor's future. It was filled with pristine white marble, making it appear even more elegant.

With a swift motion, Jeong Yeon-shin adjusted his clothing and released a white swallow from his sleeve into the air. He added a few words as he watched it fly off.

“Come back in time. Play around a bit.”

The swallow, belonging to Ma Gwang-ik, chirped briefly before flapping its wings and flying away.

At that moment.

“You’re quite bold. Someone might shoot you down.”

A very clear voice vibrated through the air.

The voice came from behind. Jeong Yeon-shin, having sensed the approaching presence from afar, did not flinch. He slowly turned around.

“There’s no worry. It’s just a child playing where my senses can reach...”

He spoke slowly, and his gaze landed on one person.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

It appeared to be someone in their thirties, at least based on their outward appearance.

The figure was neither clearly male nor female in their appearance. Their beauty was not striking but carried an air of mystery.

The sunlight streamed down from a small, rounded forehead, flowing down to a high nose bridge. They wore a crown of twelve strands of shimmering silk, and the surrounding sunlight leaned toward them.

Because of this, the sun and moon engraved on the emperor’s robes stood out sharply.

This was the Emperor.

The supreme master, Emperor Qianling.

His deep blue eyes, like a dense forest, looked transparently at Jeong Yeon-shin.

“Are you saying it’s safe where your senses can reach?”

The Emperor asked calmly, without imposing any particular etiquette or formality.

Such things didn’t even come to mind in this moment. At least, not to Jeong Yeon-shin.

For the first time in a long while, he felt a twinge of tension. A chill ran down his spine. He couldn’t gauge the person standing before him.

Though clearly in human form, this figure was eerily unfamiliar, almost more so than the man-faced beast he had encountered before.

Jeong Yeon-shin took a moment to truly observe the Emperor’s appearance.

He was holding a rolled-up leaf that he lit with fire and smoked, releasing a fragrant, somewhat intoxicating scent. It didn’t smell like poppies, though.

Behind him, a scribe with a brush and scroll followed the Emperor.

Huu—

“Did you not hear my question?” the Emperor asked again, exhaling a cloudy stream of smoke as he slightly tilted his head.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.

“I thought it was safe, but now I’m not sure.”

“You’re more humble than I expected. I heard that the bloodline of the evil sorcerer flows through you.”

“The Analects, in the Ji chapter, say a gentleman should fear three things. Among them, one must heed those who are both wise and virtuous, and the will of heaven...”

Jeong Yeon-shin did not finish his words. Suddenly, the Emperor exhaled a thick puff of smoke from the rolled leaf.

Was it due to the transcendence of his breathing technique? His breath stretched long and deep.

“It was worth the trip to Shaolin. You’ve given me a new subject to think on.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You still had a weakness in your internal technique. You should be like the sea, unyielding and without end.”

Crunch.

In an instant, the leaf the Emperor had been holding turned to dust, scattering without a trace.

“Let’s walk for a moment.”

He motioned toward the front door of the Hall of Martial Arts, and the strands of the Emperor’s crown fluttered gently, covering his ears.

The Emperor’s ears were unusually long, almost resembling those of the legendary warlord Liu Bei.

The three others, including the scribe, slowly made their way toward the palace.

During this time, there were no special words exchanged, even as they entered the inner chamber and closed the door.

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Jeong Yeon-shin’s brow furrowed slightly.

This place was like the Hall of Martial Arts. The energy that had once stretched in all directions had abruptly cut off. It was as if one could no longer sense the outside from inside, or vice versa.

‘The stillness of the Imperial Vision is said to be comparable to that of Taemosan's Moonlight Technique...’

The words that Yong Hui-myeong had once spoken to him flashed through his mind.

The Emperor’s footsteps echoed.

“When Taesa brought in disciples other than the Zhou family, I had planned to come personally to see you.”

The Emperor spoke as he wandered through the hall.

He mentioned the Lord of Yihuang Province. Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at his back.

“But Taesa told me not to come. There were no further explanations, but now I understand what she meant. Had I seen you back then, you would not be Ma Gwang-ik today.”

“...?”

“At that time, you would have been leading the northern conquest forces, a part of the great Three Generals.”

“I have no intentions in the military.”

“I know your background. Did you have any intentions in the martial world?”

“It lies in life.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly, glancing down at his sleeve.

The Hall of Martial Arts was devoid of lantern light, so his dark robes blended seamlessly with the air.

It was the palace’s mysterious formation that interfered with the senses.

“You set your intentions in life? Strange. Around me, there are only those who lightly speak of death and seek to prove themselves.”

The Emperor’s voice held a faint laugh. The sound of brushstrokes tickled Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears.

The scribe, who had been silent, was now engaged in writing. Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly realized how deeply he had entered the inner sanctum of the palace.

“...If one is devoted to life, death will prove it. They are connected.”

Jeong Yeon-shin thought of the traces he would leave behind if he were to fail to overcome his fate and die.

His niece Jeong Hye, Yihuang Province, the old [N O V E L I G H T] friends of the Gu Clan, Seomyeo Mu-maek...

“They are connected? Yes, they are. But why does it sound so different, perhaps because you’ve been to Shaolin?”

The Emperor seemed to enjoy speaking in riddles. It was hard to tell if he was addressing Jeong Yeon-shin or speaking to himself, given the tone of his words.

“They say the bodies of the Shaolin monks who overcome great hardships never decompose. It’s called the Vajra Unbreakable state. In life, they boast an invincible external power, and in death, they preserve their own dignity. I’ve been interested in both of those aspects. As someone who cannot live a mundane life, nor die as such.”

Suddenly, the Emperor’s footsteps stopped. His voice continued.

“But you speak of life’s Vajra Unbreakable. Interesting. Very interesting. A strange realization is beginning to emerge.”

“....”

“You said you had a purpose in life. You are already an inseparable warrior of Ipwang Fortress, bound to the martial world. What kind of legacy do you intend to leave in the martial realm? What do you think the indestructible Vajra that transcends life and death truly represents?”

The question came as a challenge, coming from the purple of Ipwang Fortress.

Jeong Yeon-shin sensed it instinctively. This was the final trial. But there was no way to craft a response, nor could he use his opponent’s martial arts to reverse-engineer a technique to respond. This was a question that had to be answered from the heart.

His lips parted naturally.

“By not compromising.”

It was a statement with many layers of meaning. Heaven’s will, injustice, external oppression, and every other form of tyranny...

The Emperor smiled.

“Is it because you're young? Your resolve is admirable.”

Suddenly, the door to the hall of the martial arts division opened by itself.

Light flooded into the dim palace interior.

The vast courtyard of the hall was illuminated by sunlight, and Jeong Yeon-shin soon saw the orderly crowd in front of him.

How long had they been there?

The term "court officials" barely covered the crowd.

Hundreds of warriors in yellow martial uniforms, embroidered with the azure dragon, were probably the Golden Guards. Eunuchs in blue robes with black headdresses were also present.

Though it was hard to discern whether they were from the Eastern or Western offices, or from the Internal Department, the number easily surpassed three hundred, and it was likely they were all present.

But that wasn't all. The generals of the Gold Army, the high-ranking officials dressed in formal attire, and the various officials in their blue and red uniforms all came into view at once.

They all seemed to be trying to engrave Jeong Yeon-shin's face into their minds, staring up at the martial hall.

'What’s going on?'

Jeong Yeon-shin furrowed his brow.

Swish.

Where had it come from? Suddenly, the Emperor appeared beside him, pulling out a large garment from the empty air.

“Your insight into the Vajra was quite intriguing.”

Jeong Yeon-shin felt the smooth sensation as the cloak draped over his shoulder. A singular thought began to tap at his mind. Finally, it was happening.

The Emperor's lips slowly parted.

“If your heart remains unbroken for eternity.”

The fabric of the cloak settled onto Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulders.

At that moment, there was no symbol to signify Ipwang Fortress—no markings, no other designs. It was just a plain robe, with nothing more than the soft, sunset hues rippling over the fabric. That was enough.

“You are the sword of this country,” the Emperor said.

“......”

Silence spread like a tidal wave.

Seventy-two years of the Kingdom of Geon. On the fifteenth day of the eighth month in the Imperial Palace.

From one side, a scribe elegantly moved his brush, recording the events in writing.