Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 315: Hyeon-won (10)

The young men of the Yu Family, who had just been scolded by Shin So-bin, frowned.

“Ma Gwang-ik? That’s a lie!”

“Why would someone from Ipwang Fortress come here?”

Shin So-bin’s round eyes narrowed.

“You lot... are you really from the Blood Gate? You should be better at gathering information than fighting if you want to survive. Are you looking down on the harsh world of Jianghu?”

“Enough.”

The head of the Yu Family quieted the children and took a step back, his expression turning grave.

“Did you say... Ma Gwang-ik?”

The hem of his light green silk robe swept through the dusty ground. The energy emanating from him was scorching, pulling his long robe tightly against his legs.

It was an intense Yang Heat Energy, something even seasoned masters struggled to manifest. The ability to refine such a distinct force within a human body spoke volumes about one’s skill. It made it easy to guess the identity of the person standing before them.

“So the noble wastrel of the Hwangbo Clan really has been reduced to playing the errand boy for the current Lord of Ma Gwang-ik... It wasn’t just a rumor, after all.”

“That old fool’s crossing the line.”

Tae Yeom-ryong let out a chuckle and tilted his head slightly.

His gaze swept over the fallen elder of the Blood Gate, who lay sprawled on the ground.

The strike he had delivered earlier wasn’t even a proper technique. He had simply lashed out in irritation, hitting with full force.

Yet Qi had responded. His Yang Heat Energy, which had been leading him down a path of destruction, had instantly reacted to his anger.

As if to say, This is how the Internal Energy of the Solar Deity Lineage should be used.

Qi follows the essence. Tae Yeom-ryong mused inwardly.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t truly gone on a rampage since joining Ma Gwang-ik.

Back at the Yongbong Gathering, when he had beaten that Hwasan Hidden Dragon brat, he had used his internal energy however he pleased.

And yet, the Seventh Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult is supposedly younger than me...

And they had already reached the state of Three Flowers Converging at the Crown?

There were few with whom Jeong Yeon-shin could seriously discuss martial arts.

Aside from Tae Yeom-ryong himself, at most, he could think of a handful—maybe the unsettlingly sharp Cheongmyeong or the outright frigid Baek Mi-ryeo.

He had heard the Lord of Ma Gwang-ik talk about Dhunwa’s Profound Purification a couple of times. Back then, he had barely suppressed his laughter. Yet, somehow, he had ended up pondering it himself.

Not bad. There weren’t many ways left to tease the younger Lord of Ma Gwang-ik, who had become somewhat of a brother to him along the way.

The kid had ridiculously high standards.

The irritating Hwangbo bloodline has been wiped clean, so I suppose Ma Gwang-ik is my stop on the River of Three Crossings.

The casual motion of his outstretched hand made him realize it all over again.

Right after the elder of the Blood Gate had spoken of Ma Gwang-ik’s origins, the same Aging Decay had stirred within him that had occurred when that Hwasan Hidden Dragon brat had condescendingly lectured him about the nature of the Solar Deity Lineage.

By this point, even he had to admit it—Ma Gwang-ik was truly a Sect.

Tae Yeom-ryong acknowledged it cleanly.

Three Flowers Converging at the Crown. That’s perfect.

If the rumors from Zhuge Clan’s Patriarch and the Lotus Manifestation were true, then the Lord of Ma Gwang-ik had developed something incredible.

The only reason a once-in-a-millennium genius would struggle to achieve Three Flowers Converging at the Crown was because the world was fundamentally unfair.

But if Tae Yeom-ryong could unify his Essence, Qi, and Spirit here and now... he might just get an interesting reaction from Jeong Yeon-shin.

The younger Lord’s presence had pushed him deeper into his training. Originally, he had just been wandering through life aimlessly, but now, the change was drastic.

If he took the time to temper his body a little more here, and refine his mind to the sharpness of a poppy blade...

Could it be done?

As a slight smirk formed on his lips—

“Mind your conduct.”

The head of the Yu Family stepped forward, his expression sour.

“As you have guessed, our family is indeed a branch of the Blood Gate. Elder Geum Hyeong-won has protected the main sect for over seventy years. Attacking him outright... If you wish to gain anything from our sect, this is no way to go about it. But since you have come this far, I shall grant you a trial against a direct descendant of the Golden Family.”

Shin So-bin, who had been standing to the side, tilted her head with an amused smirk.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want anything to do with the Blood Gate? And yet, here you are, clinging to honor.”

At that moment—

“Blasphemy...! These wretches speak nothing but blasphemy!”

A raspy, enraged voice roared through the air. From Tae Yeom-ryong’s feet, a haze of dust billowed upward.

So the old man really was a master of the Blood Gate, a guardian of the Celestial Demon Stronghold. Even after taking such a strike, he hadn’t completely lost consciousness.

“How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!”

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The elder of the Blood Gate sprang up like a reanimated corpse.

His movement, rising perfectly vertical as if his feet were glued to the ground, was eerie. It bore the marks of someone deeply trained in assassin martial arts.

Just as the old man reflexively reached for his sword—

Whoosh.

The sound of fabric brushing through the air was followed by Salhyup draping an arm over his shoulder.

“Elder of the Laughing Sword,” he said, his voice carrying an air of amused detachment. “I fully understand your concerns about legitimacy, truly...”

His tone, tinged with laughter, took on an unsettling chill.

“But disregarding the opinion of this Geum Jon-hwi so blatantly... Wouldn’t that be a disgrace to our acting sect leader’s authority? It’s been over a decade since that position was left vacant.”

“The acting sect leader...!”

The old man stiffened, unable to act rashly. His deeply wrinkled face froze, lips pressed shut.

Salhyup chuckled.

“The head of the Yu Family branch may administer the test. Our Seon-hwi will pass it, no matter the conditions. No matter what obstacles are thrown in his way—he’s the last direct descendant of the main sect. The very pillar of the Blood Gate.”

The head of the Yu Family didn’t respond.

He had already witnessed Tae Yeom-ryong, fully aligned with Ma Gwang-ik, unleash his overwhelming martial prowess.

And Salhyup—Geum Jon-hwi—was an even bigger problem. There was nothing left for him to do but lead them to the family’s sparring grounds.

A formal duel was issued as the test.

Hyeon Won-chang withstood fifty exchanges before conceding defeat, acknowledging that the opponent had proven themselves worthy of protecting the Gatekeeper’s Legacy Techniques.

“If you fed him the wrong incantation and it causes the Great Snow Sword’s tongue to falter—if he falls into Qi Deviation...”

Tae Yeom-ryong’s smile carried an edge of warning.

“...Then Lotus Manifestation will come looking for you.”

“...We haven’t fallen that low,” the Yu Family head replied stiffly. “You may leave now.”

Thus, Ma Gwang-ik, Salhyup, and the unwilling elder of the Blood Gate continued their journey.

Yu Family.

Gate of the Mist.

Treasure Mountain Villa.

Hyeon Won-chang’s group broke through each checkpoint one by one, their route tracing a wide arc around Taiyuan.

In the end, they had to return to Taiyuan and earn the recognition of the elders. Only then could they retrieve the final incantation stored at the main sect.

And the moment they stepped into Taiyuan—

“Hmm? This isn’t what I expected.”

For once, Tae Yeom-ryong’s usual nonchalance gave way to something more serious.

Every single man and woman lining the streets was a high-level swordsman.

There were easily over a hundred of them.

As the newcomers set foot in the city, every person—each dressed differently, bearing their own martial aura—turned to look at them in unison.

In their gazes, faint traces of Sword Qi flickered.

The Heavenly Web of the Mo Yong Clan.

The group found themselves standing before a forest made of swords.

***

A group of five—three martial artists, a young Taoist priest, and a noble monk.

Wherever they went, they attracted attention. Not only were they all striking in appearance, but the qi that cloaked them was anything but ordinary.

Some warriors, upon seeing the plum blossom embroidery on Yu Hyeon’s robes, flinched and quickly stepped aside.

Every time that happened, Yu Hyeon clicked his tongue.

“They must be demonic cultists.”

Shhhhhh—

Even in the midst of a relentless downpour, where raindrops pattered against the earth like falling glass beads, it was the same.

In a lawless land like the martial world, stealth techniques had evolved to recognize one’s adversary before an encounter could even begin.

“This rain is endless.”

Gun Yu-rin’s voice carried both frustration and weariness.

Although she had been visibly pleased to welcome Lotus Manifestation into their ranks, she had also spent the entire journey on edge, keeping an exhausting level of vigilance ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) against the Four Vajras of Shaolin.

She had openly displayed her distrust of Jeon Baek, her subordinate, to the point of staying awake for days on end.

It was no surprise that Jeon Baek, dressed in the garb of a one-armed scholar, was fidgeting anxiously.

Drenched from the rain, he stood pitifully, holding a bamboo umbrella covered in oiled paper over his mistress’ head while he himself was soaked through.

“My lady, please... If Lienju ever learns of this, my head will roll. I’ll find you some fine meat, so please, calm your anger...”

“Shut up. Why would I take food from some petty beef thief who disgraces his master? I’d rather fill my stomach with the wine from my beautiful guest instead. Their face is so exquisite, even poison would taste good.”

“No men! It would disrupt the great work—!”

“Then go find me a lovely young lady instead!”

The rain poured in fine, delicate threads across the entire Taiyuan region.

The pristine white of the snow-covered plains gradually blurred into a dull, washed-out gray. It was neither a winter rain nor a spring rain—something in between.

The winter that had begun last year was finally drawing to a close amidst the sound of gentle rainfall.

Ahead of them, a fairly large village came into view.

“Why is it so empty?”

Yu Hyeon muttered, walking beside Jeong Yeon-shin.

“This place feels like it needs an exorcism.”

Jeong Yeon-shin, half-lidded and lost in contemplation about sword intent and protective qi, slowly lifted his gaze.

“Does the Mount Hua Sect practice spell-based martial arts?”

“Of course. We’re a Taoist sect, after all. There are several Daoist temples on Mount Hua alone. It’s just that spell techniques aren’t the mainstream like sword arts, so they aren’t well known.”

“How skilled are you?”

“Well... I can scribble a few words on a Demon Expulsion paper and get paid for it. My ‘Urgent as the Law Commands’ calligraphy is particularly exquisite. Just writing that down makes any paper look like a legitimate talisman.”

“What?”

“I’m saying my penmanship is divine. Have you heard of Dragon Soaring and Phoenix Dancing?”

“Stop scamming people.”

“It actually works! If I introduce myself as Mount Hua’s Hidden Dragon, no one calls me a fraud.”

At that moment—

“Amitabha.”

Step.

The approaching footsteps of a Shaolin monk were heavy.

A monk with unusually long ears stepped between Jeong Yeon-shin and Yu Hyeon.

As a revered Shaolin master—often called the Embodiment of Martial Dharma—his body naturally radiated the stance of The Immovable Vajra Technique. He smoothly positioned himself between them, effortlessly pushing Yu Hyeon aside with his back.

“Mount Hua’s celestial martial arts are an exceptionally refined discipline,” he said. “However, if you were to personally rub a piece of paper with your Dharma, Young Master... we might see the birth of a Talisman of Demon Purging. And its potency would surely be remarkable, surpassing the time invested in its creation.”

“Are you saying that I can create a Dharma Treasure?”

Yu Hyeon, startled, recoiled, while Jeong Yeon-shin, ever composed, politely raised one hand in greeting.

As someone from Henan, he was well-versed in Shaolin etiquette.

The Four Vajras of Shaolin smiled broadly at the sight of Ma Gwang-ik’s Half-Palm.

“Indeed,” he replied. “Those who practice corrupted demonic arts and malicious spirits that lurk in the dark... They would fear such an object. The wisdom of common folk spans vast lands, and they say a Prince Nezha has manifested in Shanxi. It seems their words were true.”

His reverence for those who carried Dharma Power was unmistakable.

Even Yu Hyeon, Mount Hua’s disciple, backed away for a moment, muttering under his breath.

Did he learn Bone Shrinking Techniques or something?

Despite the strict hierarchical order among the Nine Great Schools, a sect leader’s disciple and one of Shaolin’s Four Vajras wouldn’t usually bother with formalities in private settings.

They acted as they pleased.

That was why the elder monk of Shaolin, Wonjeok, showed such extraordinary respect toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

“The spirit within your martial arts,” Wonjeok continued as they entered the silent village, “is one of the rarest phenomena in all of martial history. Most sacred arts merely elevate internal cultivation, but Dharma Power can achieve much more.

"Young Master, though your reputation as Nezha comes from your martial might, I dare to speculate... you may possess other capabilities as well. Among them, the ability to create Dharma Treasures.”

“How?”

“Obtain a piece of Demon Expulsion Paper and keep it close to your body day and night. Occasionally run your fingers over it, and the spiritual energy within you will seep into it. You will need it someday. A rare ability may manifest.”

“That simple?”

“Nothing about Dharma Power is simple. Even I do not yet comprehend how such things are conceived.”

A faint smile creased Wonjeok’s lips, revealing the weight of time.

Though he appeared as a youthful monk with nothing but a shaved head, there was a weariness in his expression, an age beyond his years.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head—

And stopped walking.

Gun Yu-rin had already halted, staring at something ahead.

A massive boulder sat beside the road.

It had likely remained there for centuries, standing witness to the village’s long history.

Seated atop it was a man, one knee pulled up to his chest in a lazy posture.

He wore a white pifeng stained with dirt and grime. His long, unkempt hair dripped with rainwater.

His sword lay loosely in his grasp, its hilt resting on the stone.

“This village is dead.”

The man spoke.