Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 307: Hyeon-won (2)

A faint aroma of tea lingered in the elegantly furnished guest chamber, its wooden walls polished to a smooth finish.

Sunlight streamed in like gentle waves, casting white light beneath the window frames as the refined fragrance of Dragon Well tea filled the air.

“You said you are seventeen. This reminds me of a question I once had when I first heard the legends of the First Heavenly Demon and the Three Peaks Sage of Wudang. I suppose it applies to you as well. How did you reach such a level of martial prowess at that age?”

“I just lived.”

“Indeed. It makes no sense—that is why someone like you stands before me now. But when Zhuge’s protective energy shattered, I was truly surprised. I have some skill in sensing energy, and when I focused on my upper dantian, the force you unleashed was both precise and terrifying. It seeped into his internal barrier like puzzle pieces fitting together. It happened in an instant, so I doubt even he fully realized what was happening...”

The air within the chamber remained utterly still.

The three warriors of Yuhuang City sat around the round table, their expressions difficult to read, while Grand Marshal Kang Su-hwi maintained a composed yet oddly indulgent look as he spoke.

He spoke only of facts, seamlessly weaving in his insight and experience. His voice carried a deep resonance, dismantling the boundary between restrained praise and outright flattery.

A man of the highest rank within the Northern Imperial Court.

Someone who lived in an entirely different world.

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts drifting to Hyeon-won.

If he had gone to the Forbidden City instead of Yuhuang City, wouldn’t he have become even greater? No, wait—if that were the case, then Ma Gwang-ik wouldn’t have had the Yuhuang Divine Alliance, would he?

Perhaps it was the dull ache of his internal and external wounds that caused such stray thoughts to surface.

“Have I been skirting around the issue too much?”

The Grand Marshal, who had been quietly watching Ma Gwang-ik, gave a faint smile.

A smile that, despite his youthful appearance—around thirty at most—carried an unmistakable weight of experience. His true age was likely far beyond what his face suggested.

“...I intend to kill all the aristocrats gathered here. I will wipe out the martial world of Shanxi. Since my first plan has been blocked, I must move to the second.”

He spoke suddenly.

That was the real issue.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s sleeve, which had been lightly swaying as he exhaled, abruptly stilled.

He was not dressed in the robes of Yuhuang City's lords. The long coat he had inherited from Ma Jin had been torn to shreds during the battle using the Twin Gods Manual.

That was why the Gongya family had given him a plain black robe without any insignia.

There was no Huang character.

The family’s tailor had fled during the chaos, and Gongya Jeong, the young lord, had personally conveyed his apologies.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t particularly care.

He did own another robe from his uncle, but the Huang character on the back was so large that it felt excessive to wear.

Once again, his thoughts drifted to Hyeon-won.

Wipe out the martial world of Shanxi?

He glanced to the sides. His two seniors showed no change in expression.

Ak Su-rim, though tipsy, seemed to be forcing a bit of strength into her lips, while Jin Myeong-jo, as always, lowered his gaze slightly, exuding his usual chilling composure.

Jeong Yeon-shin chose to remain silent for the moment.

“Martial artists are of no benefit to the world. They are not creators but parasites and destroyers. They contribute nothing in taxes, mere beasts that roam the land, treating the common people as nothing more than a backdrop or firewood.”

His voice had the cadence of a low growl, carrying the weight of the highest military authority.

“There was once a servant who attended me but later retired to his hometown. He was a boy with no formal education, yet he possessed an innate sense of decency. When I paid him generously, his smile was bright as the sun. He told me his home was here in Shanxi... He opened an inn, only to be caught in the crossfire of a martial dispute and killed ten years ago. Yes, he is long dead now.”

The more he spoke, the colder his expression became. He was sinking into the memories himself.

“Martial artists.”

As he spoke of the underbelly of the martial world from an outsider’s perspective, his fingers tapped against the table, his grip gradually tightening.

“They are the single greatest source of disorder in the nation. And during times of famine, it only worsens. Instead of aiding in cultivation, they use their martial arts selfishly, just to fill their own bellies. Rather than starve, they exploit their strength to seize what they want. Before they are martial artists, they are humans. And when you give outlaws the skills to kill, they will use them. It is inevitable.”

He spat the words out as if they were poison.

“The martial world is filled with romanticized filth. Only a handful of righteous warriors shine among them, but they are so few and faint that they do not even register in my vision. I have spent ten years preparing for this. I have meticulously uncovered every crime buried by their desperate attempts to protect themselves.”

Swish.

Suddenly, he pulled out a luxurious scroll with a greenish-gold hue from his robe.

It was no ordinary document.

Extending his arm, he handed it directly to Jeong Yeon-shin.

“I swear on my family name, my office, and my honor that every word written here is the truth. It # Nоvеlight # may not seem much at a glance, but this is the result of pressuring the Provincial Inspector, the Pacification Commissioner, and the Commanding General of Shanxi. The Governor of Shanxi, after all, is my own sister.”

Having personally slain Zhuge Chenshang, he appeared to disregard the usual hierarchy among the warriors of Yuhuang City.

“......”

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated to accept it.

If it was an official request from the Grand Marshal, it would count as a merit beyond any standard mission of the Yuhuang City warriors.

Taking it immediately would be disrespectful to Jin Myeong-jo and Ak Su-rim.

What should he do? His thoughts wavered in conflict. His heart’s golden halo loosened slightly.

And then—

A black sleeve brushed over the edge of the scroll. A faint pulse of energy accompanied the motion.

The document rolled toward Jeong Yeon-shin, carried by Jin Myeong-jo’s cold voice.

“You severed Zhuge Chenshang’s head. Do not hesitate.”

Jin Myeong-jo rose from his seat.

Struggling with his injuries, he left only a few words before making his way out.

A gust of his black robe swayed behind him, painting the image of the Blood Demon of the Divine Arts as he walked away. It was an utterly solitary sight.

His steps, however, were natural.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s chest swelled slightly as he watched, feeling the weight of his senior’s presence.

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“Well now—our little Xianye still has me watching over him.”

Ak Su-rim chuckled drunkenly, tilting her head.

She was experiencing pain comparable to Bone-Separating and Tendon-Extracting Torture.

Jeong Yeon-shin could not bring himself to tell her to disperse the alcohol with inner energy circulation.

Slowly, he unrolled the scroll.

Inside was a meticulously written report.

[The Great Lake Hui Family.

A group residing in the Wuliang Mountains of Shen Prefecture, known for plundering.

They train in both sword and fist techniques, making their grip strength formidable.

There are rumors that when they fail to secure food from the villages, they resort to cannibalism. Investigations into the movements of the Hui Family’s leader, Hui Hu-liang, along the Taiyuan Prefecture confirm this to be true.

Past suspicions arose, but they were quelled when the leader killed a notorious Blood Cult swordsman who had been active near Shen Prefecture.

Their lineage is old, giving them significant influence within Shanxi’s martial world.]

[The Supreme Bridge Martial Hall.

A group that accepts students in exchange for silver in Zezhou.

Their disciples frequently go missing. The school claims they send them to take the imperial martial examination in the capital, but none have been confirmed in Beijing.

Their masters are renowned for their high-level martial arts.

They have maintained order against violent rogues, earning them a good reputation locally.

However, this year, four merchants’ sons from Taiyuan and three landowners’ daughters from Pyongyang disappeared.

None were found in Beijing.

They are suspected of being connected to the Thirteen Heavens Sect’s human trafficking ring.]

Rustle, rustle.

Jeong Yeon-shin flipped through the pages.

Each report detailed similar crimes—descriptions of martial factions, their techniques, and their offenses.

At the end, attached documents provided illustrations and account ledgers as evidence.

“There was still work to be done.”

He muttered.

"I know you need time to recover... but I must ask for your help. A day like today, when they all gather in one place, will not come again. However, if we act carelessly and let them escape using their superior movement techniques, we will only end up increasing the numbers of Green Forest bandits. What we need is overwhelming speed and absolute martial strength."

The Grand Marshal’s voice lingered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears.

"I do not intend to tarnish your reputation by offering compensation. I only ask that you hear me out. Though, I believe I have already received your answer."

"......"

"When a violet-rank appointment is decided in Yuhuang City, the Emperor and the Lord of Yuhuang exchange letters through a divine medium. It is an extremely prestigious matter. During this process, the Emperor often seeks the opinions of his highest officials—assessing whether the candidate’s character and martial disposition align with the needs of the state. Since I have personally interacted with you, I will undoubtedly be consulted. Though, I imagine this is of little concern to you..."

"I have read it all. These people hold considerable influence in their regions. How do you plan to handle the backlash if they are all wiped out?"

Jeong Yeon-shin rolled the scroll back up and handed it to him.

The Grand Marshal’s lips curved into a smooth arc.

"There is more evidence. When we execute them, we will publicize every last crime written here."

***

Gongya Clan Leader had yet to regain consciousness.

It was because he had been utterly crushed by the late Zhuge Clan Leader. The fact that he had not died instantly was nothing short of divine fortune.

"I did not expect to be summoned for such a meeting in the midst of a banquet," said Grand Princess Gongya Jeong.

She had no choice but to act as the interim head of the family. That was why she was seated at the head of the spacious room, with the elders of the clan gathered to her left and right.

As the legitimate heir of the Gongya Martial Lineage, she was responsible for receiving the distinguished guests before her.

Seated across from her were the noble clans of Shanxi, each radiating an extraordinary presence, their bodies enveloped in formidable qi.

The setting was a secluded pavilion by the lakeside, one of the Gongya Clan’s private retreats.

It was located some distance from the main estate, a concession made at the request of the noble clans. They had insisted on discussing matters away from the main manor, wary of the sensing paths of the Black Sovereigns of Ipwang Fortress. There was much to discuss.

"We cannot afford to waste time meaninglessly, can we?"

A towering figure chuckled with an air of amusement.

Hui Ho-ryang, the Clan Leader of the Great Tiger Hui Clan of Shanxi.

A woman with a massive greatsword strapped to her back.

Despite the peak of winter’s chill, she wore nothing but a simple hemp robe, her powerful arms exposed, muscles rippling with translucent energy. As the leader of the renowned Great Tiger Hui Clan, her very presence exuded dominance.

Even the way she fixed her gaze on Gongya Jeong was anything but ordinary.

"Hui Clan Leader speaks the truth. The stars of this banquet have already vanished—what reason do we have to linger?"

Seated beside Hui Ho-ryang were three others, identical in both dress and demeanor.

Three long-limbed swordsmen—triplets.

They were the Lords of the Zhijiao Martial Pavilion. After the deaths of the Goga Sword Lord, the Suwol Lord, and the Sanseo Ghost Lord at the hands of Zhuge Clan Leader and Salhyup, they had taken on the role of leading the noble clans.

Their eyes were fierce, their gazes sharp, and even without drawing their blades, the intangible pressure of their sword aura suffused the room.

Both sides were forces beyond what Gongya Jeong could easily handle.

When her father had drawn his sword to face Zhuge Clan Leader, the elders of the clan had become part of the formation that supported him.

Now, those very elders were seated beside her, their expressions grim.

‘This is my burden to bear.’

The Grand Princess steeled herself.

Then, one of the Lords of the Zhijiao Martial Pavilion spoke.

"Build a bridge between us and Ma Gwang-ik. He treats the noble clans of Shanxi as though they are not even human, but that is irrelevant. Regardless of his contempt, we must learn from him."

"Are you proposing a biwu?"

"Precisely."

"Ma Gwang-ik is not in any condition to move freely. The same goes for the Blood Sovereign and the Vice Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. It would be best to wait until spring and visit Yangyang, where the main stronghold of Ipwang Fortress resides."

Gongya Jeong narrowed her eyes as she spoke.

Then, her crimson robes flared as she suddenly rose to her feet.

The oppressive atmosphere in the hall wavered for the first time. Such behavior was unbefitting in a gathering of such high-ranking martial figures.

"Since you have no intention of leaving, we shall. If you wish to enjoy the banquet, come to the main estate."

Boom!

Without another word, Gongya Jeong turned and stormed out, leading eight of her retainers.

Qi surged from her feet, rippling outward. The force of her movement was enough to threaten the very foundation of the tightly woven wooden threshold.

Hwaaaaah!

And indeed, that was the case. Their sprinting figures looked more like fleeing fugitives.

How would martial artists react to such a sudden and unexpected retreat? If they had the instincts of a predator, their first impulse would be to chase.

Among the noble clans who had risen from their seats, Hui Ho-ryang furrowed her brows.

"They're acting suspiciously. It’s not as if we even drew our blades on them..."

"Are you trying to frame innocent people for something?!"

"Do you intend to falsely accuse us right in front of the authorities and Ipwang Fortress?!"

Two of the Lords of the Zhijiao Martial Pavilion stomped the ground. They shot toward the shattered doorway Gongya Jeong had broken through.

As they pursued, their lightness techniques surged with explosive momentum. The sheer force of their qi sent shockwaves rippling through the hall, shattering everything in an instant.

KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA—!

A full-fledged chase had begun.

The eight crimson-clad figures of the Gongya Clan raced across the ground ahead, while dozens of Shanxi noble warriors rapidly closed the distance behind them.

Every single pursuer was the leader of a martial house. Their shouts demanding they stop swept across the earth like a thunderous command.

Then, it happened.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A deafening roar erupted from the side. A series of explosions—far beyond what any human body could normally produce.

The expressions of the noble warriors changed as they glanced to the side. There, cutting through the air, were dozens of pitch-black orbs.

Anyone with even a modicum of experience would recognize them immediately.

Thunderbolt Bombs.

Infamous even in the martial world.

"Disciples, continue the pursuit! The Gongya scum are trying to entrap our comrade!"

"You heard Hui Clan Leader—move!"

Four figures launched themselves toward the barrage of bombs—Hui Ho-ryang and the Lords of the Zhijiao Martial Pavilion.

These were some of the most dominant martial figures in Shanxi, a region that rivaled Shandong under the Hwangbo Clan’s rule.

Every single one of them was near the level of an absolute grandmaster. With their level of skill, they could counter projectiles mid-air using the subtle mastery of Hwagyeong—the Flowing Reversal Technique.

Then, all at once—

The eyes of the four martial masters widened as they reached toward the incoming Thunderbolt Bombs. The warriors behind them, too, felt the overwhelming shift.

Hwaaaaaah—!

The vast wilderness became awash with light, like the first glimmers of dawn.

From where had he leaped?

A lone figure, clad in black robes, streaked upward, dyeing the surroundings in an eerie, pallid glow.

Blurry light trailed him as he shot into the sky in a straight line—like a celestial body breaking free from a constellation.

Ma Gwang-ik, Jeong Yeon-shin, had entered the fray.

As his outstretched hand reached toward the sky, an unfathomably powerful current of qi coiled into a howling Dragon-Turbulence Wind.

The sheer suction force and dispersing shockwaves seized control of the entire barrage of Thunderbolt Bombs in an instant.

And at that moment, the Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain, the signature formation of Ipwang Fortress, revealed itself.

WUUUUUUNG—

The deadly rain of Thunderbolt Bombs, rather than merely being thrown as projectiles, fused into an unpredictable pattern, as if merging with an absolute martial technique.

The noble warriors swung their swords in vain—cutting nothing but empty air.

"Ma Gwang-ik!"

"Could it be...!"

Their urgent cries, spoken in rapid Nine-Syllable Spell, were instantly swallowed by the deafening orchestra of explosions that followed.

The pitch-black Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain left no witnesses behind.

KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-KWAAANG—!