Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 317: Hyeon-won (12)

Hwanik Five Steps.

A technique of five mysteriously intricate foot movements.

Jeong Yeon-shin took inspiration from the traces of the Vajra Unmoving Footwork. He envisioned perfecting Hwanikbo up to five steps, and the moment he regained his senses, he realized he had already achieved that goal.

This was a footwork technique he had devised back when he was still the White Sword.

When he first created the initial step, he thought that if he could perfect ten, he would be worthy of taking on the role of the Sword Corps Captain.

Now, in an instant, the stagnated Hwanikbo had progressed three steps further. Thus, it became Hwanik Five Steps.

A martial art designed to seize control over spacing. If he reached seven steps, he might even be able to manipulate his opponent’s breathing at will.

It was a great accomplishment, one worth reflecting upon as he gazed at the twilight sky.

“How dare you, how dare...!”

The Bloodwing Elder had been subdued by the Grandmaster of Yuanji.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s landing caused a tremendous shockwave. He had followed up directly with Vajra Unmoving Footwork, stepping in with immense force.

The foot strike, imbued with overwhelming leg strength, transmitted its impact through the Glass Shadow Sword, severing the ligaments in the Bloodwing Elder’s arm. By the time Jeong Yeon-shin took stock of the situation, even the hem of the enemy’s martial robes had been torn to shreds.

That fleeting moment had afforded Jeong Yeon-shin and the Grandmaster of Yuanji the brief luxury of an exchanged remark.

The saying "The first strike decides victory" had proven itself true.

The Bloodwing Elder.

He had allowed two absolute masters to land the first blow. A swordsman who lost his sword arm could not hope to stand against the Four Vajras of Shaolin.

Jeong Yeon-shin had stepped back from the Glass Shadow Sword, and the Bloodwing Elder could not even pursue him.

— You wretch! What technique was that just now...?!

— Looks like you were right. It wasn’t difficult.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s casual response threw off the Bloodwing Elder’s sword techniques. His once-meticulous strikes, fending off the Grandmaster of Yuanji’s staff, rapidly grew erratic.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin lost interest in him. So, he neglected endurance training...

Despite the tremendous battle that had unfolded, it left no particular impression on Jeong Yeon-shin, who had already witnessed many supreme masters of the Violet Rank.

Only the refined, masterful strikes of the Grandmaster of Yuanji occasionally made his toes twitch in anticipation.

On one side, shattered fragments of rock lay scattered.

Shaa—

A thick cloud of dust swirled around, enveloping the surroundings in a haze—the aftermath of a battle that had ended in mere moments.

Yet, the real challenge was not defeating the Bloodwing Elder, the commander of the Wugong Army, but rather gathering the villagers from the distant hill who had fled in fear.

It took far longer to assemble them.

Fortunately, there were no injuries. It seemed the villagers had been compliant upon seeing the warriors of Simmuryun.

There was wisdom in this village. They knew how to survive.

Even so, luck had been on their side. If Jeong Yeon-shin’s group had arrived even slightly later, no one could say what tragedy might have unfolded.

“You would go so far as to protect us lowly folk... Truly, truly, we are grateful.”

“Thank you, handsome Immortal Monk! Amitabha...!”

“You fool! The monastery isn’t part of Daoism! That young Taoist from the Grand Mount Hua over there is the real Immortal!”

“The noble young master standing there... Oh, if only I could hold his hand for a moment. How could someone be so beautiful?”

“I heard the people of Shanxi are naturally bold... But step back! The Wugong Army of Simmuryun is still out there! Lock your doors and don’t come out until sunrise!”

Yu Hyeon, casting a glance at Jeong Yeon-shin, pushed the villagers further back. He made it clear that it had been that friend and the monk who had done everything.

Though his expression was troubled, his gestures remained firm as he waved them away.

From among the murmuring commoners, whispers of "Four Vajras" and "Lotus Manifestation" spread.

Gun Yu-rin and Jeon Baek had done nothing.

They were outside the orthodox sects.

Gun Yu-rin’s attempt to feign surrender to the Bloodwing Elder had not been a matter of principle.

It had been about her pride, her dignity, and her sense of honor. Even in dealing with the Bloodwing Elder, her mannerisms had been those of a disgruntled noble heir unwilling to bow her head.

Yet, she only expressed her gratitude to Jeong Yeon-shin. Over and over, she stole glances at him, eyes flickering with astonishment.

Gun Yu-rin had now gone to inspect the Wugong Army.

The warriors of Simmuryun.

They had arrived just after the Bloodwing Elder had been taken hostage.

Beyond the dense foliage.

They had witnessed their leader’s humiliating defeat with their own eyes.

None of them dared to approach recklessly.

The standing of the Three Supreme Elders within Simmuryun was evident from this sight alone. And their sheer numbers made even the Grandmaster of Yuanji hesitate.

It was only natural.

The power of one man against a thousand—such overwhelming strength belonged only to the Abbot of Shaolin.

When large-scale battles broke out, the burden on the people had to be considered.

Even now, the presence of Simmuryun’s forces kept growing, surging over the mountain ridges, like an endless swarm of ants.

“Amitabha... What shall be done with these beings?”

The towering presence of the Grandmaster of Yuanji alone kept the Wugong Army at bay.

He stole glances at Jeong Yeon-shin whenever he had the chance, his expression filled with an eagerness to discuss martial arts.

Krrrk—

The Bloodwing Elder lay collapsed, one leg bent at an unnatural angle beneath him.

At the Grandmaster’s feet, pinned to the ground by a staff strike, his arms had been utterly shattered—he could not even support himself.

Jeong Yeon-shin sat down in a less debris-littered area. He had just returned from escorting the villagers with Yu Hyeon.

The Bloodwing Elder’s unfocused eyes weren’t on the Grandmaster. They were fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin.

Yet Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t spare him a glance.

He was focused entirely on introspection.

My bones nearly ruptured.

Slowly.

He pulled his right leg up to his chest.

Swish.

A dull ache set in as he rested his elbow against his knee. The sensation spread from his ankle ligaments up through his calf, gastrocnemius, thigh, and lower back—a clear warning sign. This was the price of forcing his unhealed body into the flow of Vajra Unmoving Footwork.

And yet.

He felt good.

So much so that refreshing might have been the more accurate word.

There was a profound sense of kinship in the Grandmaster of Yuanji’s martial arts. The history of the techniques, faintly etched into his movements, resonated deeply with Jeong Yeon-shin’s senses, as if tracing the origins of that martial lineage himself.

It was as though he had found a companion.

Even if Bodhidharma no longer walked this world, that alone was a great comfort.

Like a single lantern flickering in a cold, dark room.

The Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin.

How many of them were truly Bodhidharma’s legacy?

Jeong Yeon-shin pondered the thought, his body naturally following the smooth flow of Jeong Ga-donggong to regulate itself. He wanted to experience them all.

That was when—

Hwoosh—

A faint breeze swept past his eyes, accompanied by light footsteps. That serene and unrestrained presence was unmistakable. It was the aura of Huashan Sect’s Amhyang Marking Technique.

“What the hell was that movement technique earlier? You vanished for a moment.”

It was Yu Hyeon, just returning from the village.

Jeong Yeon-shin replied, somewhat disinterestedly.

“Your eyes simply couldn’t follow it. You should refine your perception techniques.”

“That’s not what I meant. And you bastard, if you keep stating facts so bluntly, you’re gonna piss off the higher-ups in your own sect—”

Yu Hyeon’s voice trailed off mid-sentence, his brow furrowing.

—Because if you were Ma Gwang-ik Lord, there were no higher-ups above you.

“Do you still have the Jasodan? Keep it on you, and it’ll get crushed.”

“It’s in my pack.”

“Don’t just say that out in the open. Jasodan is the kind of thing people would spill blood for in the martial world. There are countless eyes on you, and if you’re careless, you’ll get ripped apart before you know it.”

“The packs from Ipwang Fortress are sturdy. They can hold just about anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I don’t have enough to worry about without fussing over Lotus Manifestation...”

Yu Hyeon dusted off the plum blossom embroidery on his sleeve. A satchel of a different style than Jeong Yeon-shin’s hung over his shoulder.

Jeong Yeon-shin knew exactly what was inside—it was nothing but Bigeokdan. His friend, despite his occasionally reckless behavior, was a true Daoist.

“You leaving?”

“Yeah. I’ve delivered the elixir, so I’m heading back. Thought about wandering the martial world with you for a while, but honestly, I’m not cut out for a journey at the level of an Ipwang Fortress Lord. I’d just be baggage. It’s better to go into seclusion at Jade Maiden Peak instead.”

“Baggage?”

“I’m just some late-stage prodigy hanging on by a thread. This was the kind of mess where even old fossils like the Blade Lord of the Peng Clan or the Poppy Duelist of the Hwangbo Clan would struggle to keep up. We’ll catch up when things settle down. We’ve got time.”

“...Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Drop by Huashan sometime. My master’s been wanting to see you.”

“Send my regards to the Sacred Fire Sword Saint.”

“You, too—take it easy on your body. To properly absorb the elixir, you need to manage your internal injuries first. Well, without Zaha Divine Art, you won’t be able to draw out Jasodan’s full potential anyway.”

Jeong Yeon-shin simply nodded in silence.

Had the sight of the Bloodwing Elder taking hostages made Yu Hyeon reflect on his own limitations?

The disparity in power was overwhelming. Even if Yu Hyeon had made progress, the difference remained.

If he were to enter the battleground where Salmun, the Mo Yong Clan, and Simmuryun clashed, he would only be a liability.

But there was no trace of defeat in his expression.

Perhaps it was because he was certain—someday, he would reach the level where he could stand above unorthodox masters.

Given enough time, it was inevitable.

Just like Yulha Nangnang, who wielded the sunset itself as her sword.

Yu Hyeon flashed a grin.

“Stay safe.”

“Travel well.”

His white Daoist robes fluttered carelessly.

And just like that, Jeong Yeon-shin’s friend departed.

Before leaving the village, he exchanged brief words with the Grandmaster of Yuanji. But the esteemed monk only gave him a perfunctory nod—his demeanor far more detached than when he spoke to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Gun Yu-rin returned a short while later.

The one-armed Jeon Baek trailed carefully behind her, but she paid him no mind.

Instead, her gaze shifted cautiously between Jeong Yeon-shin and the Grandmaster.

Then—

Step.

She walked straight toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

The snow beneath their feet sank with each step. The power behind Gun Yu-rin’s movements was different from before, as if her very body proclaimed that she had seized control over the martial forces.

Indeed, the massive presence behind her was retreating.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Whether she had leveraged her lineage as a direct descendant of Simmuryun’s leader or employed an unimaginable level of diplomacy was unclear.

She spoke.

“The young Daoist?”

“The Daoist?”

“Apologies. I meant the young sage.”

“He’s gone.”

“So, the responsibility you carried has vanished?”

“It just feels empty, that’s all.”

At his calm response, Gun Yu-rin tilted her head slightly.

“You even have a way with humor? Truly, the Ma Gwang-ik Lord is a man of many talents.”

“The martial forces?”

“As you can see, I sent them away. Simmuryun can’t plunder freely in areas recognized by the Imperial Blade anyway. I’m only taking my own men to destroy Salmun. You’ll be coming along, right?”

“You’re certain about the location?”

“Of course. I’ve spent years preparing for this. Some of them got caught in Tianluo’s web. When I interrogated a few of the ones we captured earlier, they let slip that there’s a hidden Salmun base in Taiyuan.”

“Taiyuan?”

“Yes. It was hiding right under our noses. That must be their main stronghold.”

A smirk crept onto her lips.

“Now we move in a straight line. If we set Taiyuan as our destination, we’ll get there in no time.”

There was exhilaration in her voice. Was the glory of wiping out Salmun and claiming the Heavenly Demon’s legacy truly worth such excitement?

Jeong Yeon-shin stared at her in silence for a moment before speaking. They had traveled together long enough for this to be addressed.

“The sect you belong to is trash.”

“...That’s quite blunt. Unorthodox faction sounds a bit better, at least.”

“I know your conduct isn’t as depraved as theirs. But your goal is still to take the throne of those wretches—to remove the Grand Prince.”

“You’re right. If I want to survive, I have to. Even if I gave up my claim, my dear brother would come after me eventually. He won’t rest until he’s taken my head.”

“If that’s not hypocrisy...”

The snow beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet crunched as he slowly rose to his feet.

“...then you wouldn’t care if Simmuryun suffered devastation close to annihilation.”

“......”

Gun Yu-rin licked her lips, hesitating for a moment.

“...The Imperial Court wouldn’t like that. As despicable as my wretched sect is, it’s still a major pillar of the northern front. The military tolerates our martial forces because they can’t afford an easy replacement. And besides, we’re not exactly the kind of force that can be wiped out so easily.”

“I asked if you’d be fine losing trash.”

Jeong Yeon-shin cut her off with a quiet question.

“......”

Amid the softly falling snow, silence lingered.

Gun Yu-rin couldn’t answer.

***

Far from Shanxi, in a vast, snow-white fortress.

Wood was nowhere to be found in its construction.

The inner walls of the massive citadel were hewn from solid rock, and the only living trees stood along the scattered lakesides, their presence lending the place a trace of vitality.

Even the passing servants bore a certain refinement, their abilities beyond ordinary standards—enough to inspire exaggerated rumors.

“Did you hear? A maid is learning martial arts.”

“There was ever a maid here who didn’t know martial arts? That’s a rare sight.”

“There’s talk of a Black-tier initiation ceremony... unusually soon.”

“Really? Did that come from the main administration?”

“Don’t even start. That’s way above your level. Would you really want to bite off more than you can chew? The Ma Gwang-ik Lord himself ascended to the Black tier, you know...”

“There was an explosion at the One Sabre Arena! Let’s go watch!”

This was the true nature of Ipwang Fortress. Its streets were always bustling with countless warriors.

Even as a robust middle-aged man strode across the street, flanked by over a dozen subordinates, the noise never ceased.

Grand Chancellor Im Jin-myeong furrowed his brow slightly.

“How many Lords have arrived at the Grand Council Chamber?”

“Lord Soyeon, Lord Myul Seom, and Heavenly Will Lord.”

The response came swiftly from a nearby martial officer—Kang Un-chan, the man who had dueled Ipwang’s Champion over the Blue-tier ranking.

“Heavenly Will Lord’s throwing a fit again?”

“Judging by the situation, it seems so. He doesn’t get along with Lord Soyeon.”

“Summon the stoneworkers. And bring in extra desks.”

“I’ve already given the order.”

“I’d rather not go. I just received some news that’s hard to believe, and bringing it up at One Sabre Arena is...”

The Grand Chancellor’s voice trailed off.

In his hands, he held a scroll adorned with exquisite calligraphy.

[Mission Report: Shanxi Developments]

“...No, that’s not right.”

His fingers tightened around the document, veins subtly rising on the back of his hand.

“This... is the perfect weapon to crush those stubborn fools.”

Slowly, he muttered to himself.

This ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) news needed to spread—quickly.