Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 304: Softened Nezha (3)

The shockwave, shaped like lotus petals, rippled outward.

Translucent, flickering, it brushed past Zhuge Gaju’s face before scattering.

Shhhhh—

Jeong Yeon-shin felt the divine force surging like tidal waves within his body—having utterly shattered all ten strands of the Zaung Divine Strands.

With the profound power of his Upper Elixir Field enveloping him, his inner energy now followed the speed of his thoughts effortlessly.

It felt as though he had finally donned a garment that fit.

He had entered an entirely different realm.

["Ink-Lin’s Absolute Mandate...!"]

There was undeniable alarm in Zhuge Gaju’s voice—uttered the moment he saw Jeong Yeon-shin’s overwhelming footwork, his legs wreathed in black mist.

The grandmaster sorcerer had immediately leaped backward, widening the gap.

He was a master of battlefield control.

Like a ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) storm infused within his pristine white robes, they fluttered violently with the sheer force of his retreat.

The martial master who once boasted of close-quarters superiority was now nowhere to be seen.

That alone was enough to stun the gathered warriors.

Even veterans, their eyes gleaming with insight, had their expressions twisted in disbelief.

But there was one undeniable truth—

A supreme martial artist had just abandoned all pretense of dignity—

And for that, he had gained an advantage.

Hwaaaah!

His evasive footwork was incomprehensibly swift.

In less than the blink of an eye, Zhuge Gaju had already retreated three full paces.

His lips formed the syllable ‘Hong (宏),’ preparing to invoke his ultimate technique.

For a grandmaster sorcerer, even the briefest of pauses became an opportunity to unleash destruction.

For him, that technique was the Roaring Thunder Strike—the very technique that had crippled the Great Bloodlord.

Thud.

Jeong Yeon-shin landed amidst the shattered remains of the White Crane Fan, his knees slightly bent.

But no one saw him straighten.

Because in that exact instant, his form vanished—

And the battlefield was engulfed in a deafening roar.

ZzzzzzzZZZZZK—!

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The earth split apart, revealing its fiery ochre depths.

Like the passage of a dragon, the land had been utterly overturned.

The sheer friction of his movement sent steam billowing into the sky, obscuring the sun.

And then—

The Northern Darkblade struck—

Slamming directly into Zhuge Gaju’s abdominal qi armor.

At the exact moment of impact, Jeong Yeon-shin’s left hand surged upward, executing a second strike—

Aimed directly at his chest.

His injured shoulder trembled, but his extended hand tore through the space itself, twisting reality into a spiral.

A whirlwind of internal energy roared into Zhuge Gaju’s robes.

And then—

BOOM—!

The sound of flesh and blood bursting apart echoed like retching.

The shattered remnants of his colorless qi armor were swallowed within the gaping wound.

Splurt!

The sound of the strike came only after the damage had already been done.

The battle had completely shifted.

High into the air, Zhuge Gaju’s widened eyes were filled with unmasked disbelief.

‘This wretch—he deciphered my Qi Armor’s internal structure...?!’

This wasn’t just raw brute force.

The spiraling energy hadn’t just struck—

It had poured seamlessly into the minute gaps in his armor before detonating—

A strike that completely dismantled his inner defense.

This was an entirely different caliber of battle.

The Radiant Abyss Lord’s full capabilities were finally being revealed.

He cannot be given space.

There were as many combat styles as there were martial lineages in the world.

And now, the Radiant Abyss Lord had stepped into the heart of Zhuge Gaju’s domain—

Forcing a battle at close quarters—

A catastrophic mistake for a sorcerer.

At this level, even a single direct hit could determine life and death.

Had Zhuge Gaju continued to keep his distance, things might have gone differently.

But now—

WHOOOOOSH!

Both warriors soared into the air, three full paces above the battlefield.

The roaring wind pressed against their ears, as if carrying the breath of another world.

For both of them, it felt that way.

Beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet, pale light distorted and shimmered.

The Ten-Li Radiance Step refused to allow space between them.

And his innate combat instincts followed suit.

["Nine Clouds Inferno Crown...!"]

"Too late."

The Northern Darkblade rose.

Soaked in the blood of its wounded master.

The blade drifted along an entirely separate axis of time—

Faint, colorless currents coiled around its form.

From his arm, a torrent of refined qi erupted—

A spear of energy, pushing him forward.

And then—

The blade’s trajectory vanished.

Only to reappear—

Buried deep within Zhuge Gaju’s gut.

At the same time, a searing shockwave tore up his arm, erupting like fire.

ZZZZZRRK—!

BOOOOOM—!

The colorless qi armor shattered instantly—

The strike plunged deep into his core, splitting even his energy center.

It was a flawless, decisive kill technique.

Both warriors began to fall.

Jeong Yeon-shin, blade lowered, his tattered black robe billowing.

Zhuge Gaju, unable to support himself, plummeted downward.

THUD.

A dull impact echoed through the battlefield.

The supreme martial prodigy lay sprawled across the ground, groaning.

At his side, Jeong Yeon-shin brought down his blade—

And the blood spattered across the dirt.

The sound was deafening amidst the stunned silence.

“......”

The onlookers were speechless.

It wasn’t just shock.

It was a silence of a completely different magnitude.

Even the greatest masters present, those who had witnessed every kind of duel, could not speak.

The ruler of Shanxi Province—

Lay at the feet of the Radiant Abyss Lord, Seomye.

"Haaah... haaaah...!"

The divine voice of the Six Harmonies Transmission Voice had shattered.

From the mouth of the greatest sorcerer of this generation, only mortal gasps remained.

His titles had been many.

Reincarnated Hidden Dragon. Cold-Blooded Supreme Grandmaster. Founder of the Martial Alliance. The Living Incarnation of the Zhuge Clan’s Divine Formation Arts.

But now—

Even seeing it with their own eyes, the crowd could not accept it as real.

It took several breaths for the truth to finally sink in.

And then—

The shockwave of realization engulfed the battlefield.

“The Reincarnated Hidden Dragon... lost?”

“How... how is this possible? At such a young age...”

"Perhaps... we are witnessing the future Lord of the Divine Sword Corps."

"No, no matter how many years pass, that is already certain."

"More importantly—messengers! Carrier pigeons! Rewrite every single letter! The clan must not act recklessly!"

The noble families of Shanxi began to stir.

Some summoned their mounts, while others carefully withdrew intelligent spirit-beasts from their robes—creatures trained to carry messages across vast distances.

In a world where supreme martial masters roamed the land, only those who could maneuver like bats in the night survived.

Even those who held dignity and honor in civil matters now betrayed their unease.

The law of the martial world was predation.

The nobles of Shanxi, despite their refined elegance, could not conceal their emotions.

Their gazes darted between the fallen Zhuge Gaju and the silent figure of the Radiant Abyss Lord.

Hooo—

Jeong Yeon-shin remained still, observing the state of his own body in deep thought.

If he wished to fully master the technique he had just performed, he needed to internalize it immediately.

It can’t just be a one-time occurrence.

It must be something I can summon at will... whenever I stand before a supreme martial master.

And so it would be.

The profound harmony of the Upper Elixir Field was said to be indistinguishable from sorcery.

Lotus-Bound Dragon’s Awakening.

It had already transcended the realm of mere techniques.

Even as its creator, he found it difficult to comprehend its full depths.

It was a delicate balance—one that required immense sensitivity, an ability to feel, perceive, and control both energy and the body with absolute precision.

It was akin to the Zaung Divine Strands that Zhuge Gaju wielded—an unreal, transcendent mysticism.

The ability of his Upper Elixir Field to foresee and predict the unseen had now been woven into his martial arts.

And somehow, his body had accepted it completely.

Perhaps the ancient internal art he scribbled in his childhood had truly become a legendary scripture.

Just like the small jade stone in his robes, which now hummed with a faint resonance.

Understanding the state of Trifold Essence isn’t the difficult part.

It was the synergy of his Upper Elixir Field, body, and senses that truly made it whole.

He had honed his natural talent to its absolute limit.

And now, he had reached a realm where the boundaries between sorcery and martial arts had blurred.

It was close—close to the Azure Flame that his grandfather, Ma Yeon-jeok, had once wielded.

For the first time—he no longer needed to run from supreme masters.

He was certain.

He could summon the Lotus-Bound Dragon’s Awakening at will.

And at this moment, he could feel the flickering embers of Zhuge Gaju’s dwindling essence—

Like a dying candle, its flame slowly fading.

The once-mighty clan leader lay at his feet, eyes vacant, completely drained of strength.

But the aftereffects...

It was different from when he had used Azure Sun Eclipse, the ultimate form of Thunderous Sword Cascade.

This time, it wasn’t his body that felt overstrained—

It was his mind.

The recoil was mild, considering he had defied the heavens with an unparalleled technique—

But it was not something that could be used repeatedly.

And then—

"...Absolute Realm."

A whisper brushed against the back of his neck.

He flinched.

Ak Su-rim.

She grinned as he instinctively took two steps back.

“That swordplay of yours... The Serpent-King’s Flowing Blade... Zhuge Jian’s Zaung Divine Strands...”

Her voice was soft, almost wistful.

“They all feel like things that do not belong in this world.”

“...And now, your technique has entered that realm as well.”

She had felt it.

The moment Zhuge Gaju’s life force had begun to fade, so too had Jeong Yeon-shin’s presence, as if his very existence had shifted.

This was a technique meant for battles against supreme masters.

A martial art that allowed him to step upon their very foundations—

And meet them as equals.

The meanings behind the technique’s principles were many—

But its purpose was singular.

To overcome the insurmountable.

To stand as an equal among giants.

"You did well."

A cool voice echoed near him.

A faint ripple of energy brushed against his collar.

Jin Myeong-jo, the Crimson Bloodlord, was using Transmission Voice.

Perhaps offering him the credit.

Perhaps granting him the final decision.

The way she stood apart from the battlefield, her black robes flowing like the night sky, bathed in shattered moonlight—

It was exquisite, distant, untouchable.

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a small nod of respect.

And then—

He lowered his gaze.

Zhuge Gaju’s lips trembled.

His body kept twitching, as if struggling to rise.

But no matter how he tried, he could not stand.

His throat shuddered—blood pooling at his collarbone.

“You... you wretched...!”

“There’s something I need to ask.”

“I was not wrong.”

His voice was fading, his breath faltering.

“Your insignificant mind could never grasp it... But for the sake of the world... the Lord of Mooncastle Gate must die.”

“Was that why you killed Seonryong?”

“He was your son, wasn’t he?”

Zhuge Gaju froze.

His vacant eyes stared at Jeong Yeon-shin, unfocused and hazy.

His trembling lips moved with difficulty.

"You... dare to speak of me and the world in the same breath? A son? Utter nonsense... meaningless drivel."

Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent.

A dry wind drifted past, scattering his hair across his face.

He made no effort to brush it away.

He simply thought.

What does a child mean to a father?

Then—

The light in the Radiant Abyss Lord’s eyes vanished.

The way he looked at Zhuge Gaju lost all sentiment.

His gaze—once filled with cold focus and relentless will—became empty.

It was the look of someone staring at a pebble on the road.

It was a defense mechanism.

A response born from a lifetime of being denied a father’s love.

But Zhuge Gaju reacted as if struck by a blow greater than any sword.

His once serene, noble gaze widened in shock—

His eyelids stretched so tightly that they seemed about to tear.

"You—!"

This—

This was the last expression his final adversary should never have worn.

In Zhuge Gaju’s world, there was no one more important than the man standing before him.

Martial supreme masters were said to be obsessed with their craft.

The Seven Great Clans’ Lords were no exception.

Their entire existence was woven into martial arts.

Every moment of their lives had been spent clashing swords with others like them.

For someone like Zhuge Gaju, who had sacrificed everything for his own beliefs, even the death of his own child had been subsumed into his greater purpose.

He was the Reincarnated Crouching Dragon—Zhuge Tianshang (诸葛天赏).

A man of peerless beauty—now grotesquely twisted in anguish.

Had he been tortured or judged for his sins, he would have laughed in scorn before dying.

But to be met with this face—this absolute indifference—

That was a humiliation that would last an eternity.

"No... No, this cannot be."

His words faltered.

"You—You must not look at me that way—!"

His final adversary—the one who should have given him a warrior’s death—

Instead, looked down upon him as if he were nothing.

The pale moonlight draped over Jeong Yeon-shin’s face, making him appear unreal, dreamlike.

His ripped sleeves revealed honed muscle and sinew, like a blade forged of flesh and blood.

Even his very breath seemed as if it had been sharpened into a sword.

Haa—! Haaah—!

Zhuge Tianshang’s breath turned ragged.

For a man who had stood above all others, was there any end more wretched?

"Leave."

The blood-stained blade of the Northern Darkness Sword pressed against his throat.

The entire battlefield held its breath.

The death that would shake the world was mere moments away.

Then—

"The Supreme Military Governorate of the Five Armies! The Deputy Commander arrives!"

A thunderous voice rang out, as if perfectly timed.

A rank none dared impersonate had just been declared.

It came from beyond the ruined manor gates.

The sheer force behind the voice carried unparalleled internal energy.

But more than the power behind it—

It was the weight of its meaning that rippled through the crowd.

The Second-in-Command of the Five Military Governorates—

A man who oversaw the armies of the realm—

Had arrived to intervene.

"The Deputy Commander?!"

"What... what is happening...?"

"Silence! Bow your heads!"

The gathered nobles descended into chaos.

The aristocracy and the imperial administration were entangled in countless political interests.

The reason why martial clans could operate so brazenly was not because of some ancient code of neutrality—

It was because of their dealings with the imperial court.

The laws of the land applied only to wandering warriors.

But for the Seven Great Clans—for those who wielded real power—

The imperial court was their true battlefield.

And now—

A figure who held the very leash of the nobility had appeared.

One by one—

Knees hit the ground.

The sound of fine silks brushing against dirt filled the air.

But—

The Lords of Mooncastle Gate did not kneel.

Neither Ak Su-rim nor Jin Myeong-jo moved.

They simply watched.

Ak Su-rim kept her gaze on their youngest, while Jin Myeong-jo remained silent, observing.

And Jeong Yeon-shin—

His focus never wavered from Zhuge Tianshang.

The fallen lord’s eyes remained locked on him, burning with shame and agony.

And yet—

The sword at his throat did not waver.

"You... you do not hesitate."

Jeong Yeon-shin did not answer.

Wuung—

A pure, white glow coiled around his blade.

And then—

With a single fluid motion—

Kwaak—

The Northern Darkness Sword carved through flesh.

For a fleeting moment—

Zhuge Tianshang’s neck remained in place, before his head slipped free.

Drip.

Blood beaded from the severed flesh.

His skull rolled, tumbling across the dust-ridden battlefield—

And came to a halt against a small stone.

His frozen expression—

An unmistakable mask of agony.

A mind condemned to hell, his very soul writhing in torment.

His hatred for Jeong Yeon-shin was palpable, even in death.

And then—

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

His voice was calm.

"You understood, didn’t you?"

It was not a mockery.

Nor was it triumph.

It was simply—the truth.