Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 412: Beijing (4)

The spear that Jeong Yeon-shin had returned had landed precisely between the feet of a middle-aged man in golden ceremonial robes.

The ground around him had sunk noticeably, deep cracks spiderwebbing outward from the impact.

Surrounding him, a dozen warriors clad in blue ceremonial robes stood in stunned silence, staring up at Jeong Yeon-shin’s party.

And at the center of them all—

A single blue dragon was embroidered across the chest of the middle-aged man, its form twisting as if alive.

It was an emblem no one in Beijing—no, in all of the Empire—could dare to wear without the Emperor’s explicit decree.

Yong Hui-myeong stroked his chin.

“...Flying Fish Robe (Feiyufu). I recognize it. That makes him a Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard. It seems your spear-throwing skills have improved.”

“Is that what you’re going with?”

Jeong Yeon-shin asked in mild exasperation.

He had only returned fire on instinct, yet now he found himself facing a Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

This is absurd...

Jeong Yeon-shin had spent the majority of his seventeen years as a landowner’s son.

The Embroidered Uniform Guard was a name that had always carried special weight for him—an elite group of military officers, so honorable that they were known as "the Emperor’s Blade".

And among them, a Deputy Commander was a figure of almost unparalleled status.

Among the warriors of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, he was second only to the Grand Commander himself. He was not someone one could just retaliate against at will.

Both by rank and by the deep-seated reverence Jeong Yeon-shin had held for them since childhood.

I really didn’t want to come across as a brute.

Even as he felt this mild frustration, time marched forward.

Step.

Descending from the air with Yong Hui-myeong, Jeong Yeon-shin landed gracefully before the assembled warriors.

The energy that had gathered at the Yongcheon Acupoint beneath their feet dissipated into the warm wind, scattering like wisps of smoke.

Yeon So-ha, now free, stretched fully and let out a breath he had been holding for far too long.

The young Blue Rank officer of Ipwang Fortress, his uniform still fresh with youth, glanced between Jeong Yeon-shin and Yong Hui-myeong.

Next time, I’m taking a solo mission...

“Who are you...?”

The Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard, a man adorned with a Blue Dragon emblem, trailed off as soon as he laid eyes on Yong Hui-myeong.

His sharp eyebrows drew together ever so slightly.

“It’s been a while,” Yong Hui-myeong spoke casually. “You almost got transferred to Dongchang. Though, I suppose you’d have done well there, too.”

At those words, the Deputy Commander’s furrowed brow deepened.

Such was the reputation of the current Singeom Squad Leader.

The Deputy Commander’s attitude, though formally stern, was nonetheless tinged with familiarity.

“So, it is Lord Yong... However, even for someone of your esteemed position, I cannot overlook this incident. That was—without question—an act of aggression against Beijing...”

“I don’t blame you.”

Yong Hui-myeong cut in smoothly.

“After all, if an unidentified wave of energy suddenly came hurtling toward me, I’d throw something, too. That’s just common sense. Our Bright Wing Lord here would surely agree.”

He patted Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.

“...Bright Wing Lord?”

At that, the expressions of the Embroidered Uniform Guard warriors shifted toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

For a brief moment, a murmur swept through them—

A single name whispered among their ranks.

Yeonhwa Nata.

The moniker Jeong Yeon-shin had earned in Shanxi.

And now, here he was, standing at the very gates of Beijing.

For a fleeting moment, the wind of early summer grew heavy, interwoven with the distant hum of cicadas.

“...I will send word to the palace.”

The Deputy Commander’s robes billowed as he turned away.

“Follow me.”

His tone was flat, level, as if to say this matter was no longer within his authority to decide.

Jeong Yeon-shin watched his movement.

The precision of it.

The seamless transition between turning and striding forward.

The way his posture and conduct maintained absolute professionalism.

It was the pinnacle of discipline.

A display of unyielding military order.

Jeong Yeon-shin couldn't help but mutter under his breath.

“...Beijing truly is another world.”

It was nothing like the forests of the Monkey King’s Realm, where warriors carried swords inscribed with "Cut First, Question Later".

Here, the warriors of Beijing spoke first.

That alone gave the city an undeniable air of dignity.

Ahead of them, the Deputy Commander suddenly paused mid-step.

“...Might I inquire as to what you meant by that remark?”

“Hmm? It’s nothing.”

Jeong Yeon-shin smiled lightly.

“I just found your composure... impressive.”

“...Composure, is it?”

The Deputy Commander’s stride lengthened. The warriors surrounding them also picked up their pace, moving slightly ahead.

As they passed the long queue at the checkpoint, making their way toward the colossal city gates, Yong Hui-myeong glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin’s profile and smirked.

“You know, from certain angles, you look a bit like the old man from the previous generation. Anyone with a keen eye will probably notice it immediately.”

“......”

“No need to look so serious. Of course, you’re a hundred times better, but back in his youth, your grandfather was quite famous—not just for his temper, but also for his sharp features...”

Abruptly, Yong Hui-myeong cut himself off.

He let out a dry chuckle, adjusting the sleeve of the violet ceremonial robe he had finally managed to pry off Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder on the way to Beijing.

“They really don’t like you. Just as expected from Beijing’s aristocracy.”

At this moment, they were walking past a long procession of people—

The citizens of Beijing.

Not a single one of them was dressed in anything less than the finest silks, and among them, some even carried the scent of precious ink and rare Longjing tea.

Inside red sandalwood carriages, figures peeked out through partially opened windows, scrutinizing their group.

It seemed as if there wasn’t a single commoner among them.

And yet, no one carried a weapon.

Not because there were no martial artists among them—on the contrary, some possessed fierce internal energy—but they deliberately refrained from wearing weapons.

“......”

The atmosphere was tense.

Many were openly glaring at Jeong Yeon-shin’s party.

Beijing was known as the city with the highest concentration of noble families in all of the Empire.

To their eyes—accustomed to witnessing the mysteries of the world as part of daily life—a black robe embroidered with the character 荒 (wilderness) and a violet ceremonial sash might as well have been the seed of rebellion itself.

And yet—

The people of Beijing had the sensitivity of absolute martial masters.

None of them spoke a word.

Their disdain was voiced solely through their expressions—as if silently declaring:

"You are outsiders."

Their silence weighed heavily.

“The ones sent to guard the north... I heard the masters of the Yao tribes are particularly fierce this time. I can’t help but be concerned.”

Yeon So-ha blurted out suddenly.

Perhaps the oppressive atmosphere was making him uncomfortable.

He was referring to the Northern Commanders—Lord of the Azure Firmament, Master of Everflowing Heaven, and Lord of the Celestial Dragon.

But since their mission was classified, he stopped himself from naming them outright.

Yong Hui-myeong clapped him lightly on the back.

“The hearts of the people always waver. It’s only natural. There are no mainland martial artists stationed in Beijing, so try not to resent them too much.”

“If it were that easy, you wouldn’t have stormed into the Thirteen Heavens Assembly, would you?”

“Well, look at you, calling me Squad Leader now.”

He chuckled.

“In any case, their attitude might change soon enough. The air feels restless.”

In the midst of an eerie stillness—

Jeong Yeon-shin and his party came to a halt, their gaze fixed ahead.

The Outer City of Beijing.

The first thing that came to mind—

Impregnable fortress.

The double-layered city walls towered above them.

They enclosed an expanse so vast that their ends weren’t even visible, yet they emanated an overwhelming sense of unbreakable solidity.

This was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

There was no doubt—the greatest artisans of the realm had poured their very souls into constructing this city.

As Jeong Yeon-shin feigned nonchalance and silently took in the spectacle—

―The Emperor is absent. I can’t sense him here.

It was Yong Hui-myeong’s transmitted voice.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at him, noting the slight parting of his lips.

―He enjoys taking brief excursions, so we won’t have to wait too long. This is actually a good thing. In the meantime, let’s spar a little.

―Are you saying you’ll personally train me?

Jeong Yeon-shin, momentarily surprised, responded.

Yong Hui-myeong’s lips curled into a smirk.

―Train? For someone who already shattered an entire martial sect? No, we’ll just refine a few techniques.

―Until the Emperor has no choice but to dye your robes in violet.

“The Deputy Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard has arrived! Accompanying him are Yong Hui-myeong, Squad Leader of the Singeom Squad, and Jeong Yeon-shin, the Bright Wing Lord, along with one other!”

The voice rang out from the front of their group.

Crrrrkkkkk—!

With a deep, resounding groan, the massive city gates began to open.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Ordinarily, when one stepped onto the grounds of Beijing’s outer checkpoint at dawn, it was said that they wouldn’t set foot inside the Inner City until well past nightfall.

But now—

Whether it was due to the authority of the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s Deputy Commander, or the reputation of the Singeom Squad Leader, no one could say for sure.

To Jeong Yeon-shin, it didn’t matter.

Nor did the sentiment of the people.

All that mattered—

Was securing his violet rank.

If he could accomplish that, then everything would fall into place.

As the gates slowly parted, golden sunlight spilled through the cracks, illuminating their path forward.

***

A sealed chamber of pale marble.

Dust floated in the air like a scattered constellation, gliding through the faint sunlight that seeped through the hairline fractures in the ceiling.

“Three days now.”

A towering figure spoke.

“If you are referring to the Singeom Squad Leader, yes. It has been three days.”

Myeong-yeo, the eunuch with sword-like ears, clasped both hands together and tilted his waist at an angle.

This was the highest courtesy one could offer to someone other than the Emperor in Beijing.

And for good reason.

The absolute authority who held both the Eastern and Western Bureaus, as well as the Grand Internal Affairs Office, underfoot.

A being who, despite being incapable of leaving direct heirs, had remained in the position of Grand Eunuch of the Tribunal for decades by imperial decree—even without being a eunuch himself.

He was even a distant relative of the previous Grand Eunuch.

Bloodline, ability, and rank—all peerless.

If one were to name the sole individual who stood just beneath the Emperor yet above all others, it would be the Grand Eunuch of the Tribunal.

No.

Myeong-yeo inwardly corrected himself.

One should not refer to him as a person.

He was a natural disaster within Beijing itself.

And today, more than ever, Myeong-yeo felt that truth keenly, for the Grand Eunuch’s mood was notably sour.

“Only one letter requesting an audience was sent, and then nothing?”

“No further messages, despite committing an act bordering on treason...?”

The Grand Eunuch spoke to himself.

Myeong-yeo involuntarily tensed.

The Tribunal Eunuch’s voice was naturally hoarse, as if metal were being ground against metal—a voice that sent chills through even the highest officials.

Tap. Tap.

Thick fingers drummed against the silence.

The Grand Eunuch’s desk was lined with inkstones, brushes, and writing tools, all arranged as precisely as blade edges.

Even with Myeong-yeo’s heightened perception, he could find no flaw in their arrangement.

It was a testament to the Grand Eunuch’s mastery of martial arts.

“Quite bold. Anyone else would be losing sleep over this...”

Shff.

She rose from her seat.

For an instant, Myeong-yeo felt as if a mountain had suddenly surged upward.

That was the sheer massive presence of the Grand Eunuch of the Tribunal.

She stood well over seven feet tall, and her body was that of a natural-born master of external martial arts.

Even the broad crimson sleeves of her robes failed to conceal the iron-like musculature of her forearms.

And even more striking—her ears were sharper and longer than Myeong-yeo’s own.

He knew she was every bit as powerful as the finest warriors of the imperial family.

“Are you leaving the palace...?”

Myeong-yeo asked cautiously.

The next moment—

He was suddenly outside.

Somehow, in an instant, he found himself standing beyond the grand palace gates.

Ghostly movement. A speed like flickering will-o'-the-wisps.

“Let’s take a look at his face.”

The Grand Eunuch strode down the great avenue of Beijing, donning her ceremonial headdress and flowing crimson robes, her vast sleeves billowing in the wind.

She held Myeong-yeo by the scruff of his neck, carrying him along like a stray cat.

And with her striking features, she looked less like a person and more like a Judge of the Underworld.

Pedestrians instinctively averted their gazes, stepping aside in silence.

Even high-ranking officials, reclining comfortably in their silken palanquins, immediately descended to the ground to bow in passing.

The two traveled a considerable distance before stopping in front of a grand pavilion.

“Is this really fine? That’s the Imperial Academy’s pavilion, isn’t it?”

“So what? What are they going to do, throw stones at me? What matters right now is that face over there.”

“Hold on—wait a moment, let me at least—whoa?”

A group of noblewomen, who had been loitering near the open gates, immediately scattered in alarm.

Each of them bore the grace of prestigious lineage, yet the moment the Grand Eunuch approached, they bowed hurriedly before vanishing as if fleeing for their lives.

Myeong-yeo did not think them foolish.

In Beijing, that was simply how one survived.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

His heart pounded as he turned his gaze beyond the pavilion’s gate.

And there—

A young man stood, quietly catching his breath.

His jet-black hair rippled in the sunlight, shimmering like waves.

Even to Myeong-yeo, who had seen countless nobles of the highest bloodlines, the man’s features stood out as nothing short of extraordinary.

His sharp, tranquil eyes, the striking contours of his face—so vivid they seemed to blur the line between reality and illusion.

Could that truly be...?

A cold wave surged through Myeong-yeo.

He could feel the blood draining from his face.

There was no doubt—he must have gone deathly pale.

For this was the very man who had caused his own position to rise and fall countless times while he served at the side of the Imperial Heir.

He had never wished to meet him.

Had it not been for the Grand Eunuch, he would have avoided him for a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ lifetime.

“...Hm?”

At that moment, Myeong-yeo’s gaze shifted slightly.

And what he saw shocked him.

The Grand Eunuch of the Tribunal, whose face was always brimming with vitality, had gone—

Pale as a sheet.