Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 330: Grandfather and Grandson (3)

The technique of a martial arts master reveals much. Even a single move does.

The direction of the movement, the shape of the muscles in the limbs, the depth of internal breathing, and the nature of the energy imbued—all of these serve as clues.

Anyone with enough experience in the martial world can immediately recognize whether their opponent is a swift swordsman or one trained in heavy blade techniques. If they've trained in footwork, it becomes even easier to see through them.

But a true grandmaster is different.

A master of the swift sword can create transformations akin to illusionary blades. A peerless fist master who can shatter a mountain with a single strike must, by necessity, also be adept in soft techniques.

They must be able to dissipate the recoil that affects their own body.

It is said that the Beggar Sect leader, the Swift Light God Beggar, who possessed the fastest movement techniques under the heavens, could produce world-shaking power with just a few steps.

If one does not closely examine their movements, it is difficult to discern their true martial lineage.

The martial arts of the uninvited guest that Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance had seen earlier were close to the culmination of a lifetime’s refinement.

The first attack had been a method of layering force through shockwaves. It was similar to the Tenfold Brocade of Wudang.

A martial art where the second attack within a single breath was exponentially stronger than the first. A style adept at layering force and overwhelming through cumulative impact.

No martial artist could wield such power without having trained in it as their specialty.

Only a seasoned veteran with decades of experience could attain such a profound mastery over multiple techniques.

Even if an opponent could endure the first blow through sheer instinct, if their technique required a sequence of linked strikes to unleash full power, then it was possible for someone with absolute martial prowess to endure just the first hit.

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At least, when it came to techniques directly affecting his own body, that was a reasonable assumption.

The absolute defensive technique, the Radiant Divine Armor, was layered tenfold.

The hurricane-like force of Supreme Martial Radiance’s shockwaves surrounded him.

The Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance’s body was itself a calamity. He was the natural nemesis of martial arts that relied on layering energy, such as the Tenfold Brocade. He could shatter every layer of force as soon as they formed.

That was why, in the midst of his charge toward Magwang Ikju, he had allowed his skin to be exposed to the uninvited guest following closely behind.

He had intended to first shatter the kneecap of the Enlightened One of Luminous Phoenix City.

However, perhaps because he had concentrated too much on the enigmatic presence the boy had briefly revealed earlier—

He had failed to account for the possibility of someone reversing their aging. An exceedingly rare occurrence.

The martial arts of the uninvited guest were not something that could be classified alongside the Tenfold Brocade.

"The pinnacle of tyrannical martial arts...!"

A single strike carried an absurd amount of energy. It was a martial art that did not care for the user’s own well-being.

In an instant, a blue-tinged hand shattered the defensive energy and storm-like shockwaves completely. There was no time to redirect the force.

Had he been facing his opponent head-on, he might not have been struck down so pathetically.

Rumble—

The mighty energy radiating from the Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance’s shoulder flickered. His arm had been completely torn off at the shoulder joint.

His protective energy was destroyed, his meridians shattered. An immense torrent of blood poured out in vivid red.

Time seemed to slow.

Atop the summit, where swords clashed, Jeong Yeonshin and the Murong Clan Head momentarily stepped back.

"That... that military bastard...?"

Murong Zhongrak’s eyebrows shot up. His face showed that he had witnessed something strange and shocking.

His silver gaze captured both Ma Yeon-jeok and the Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance at once, revealing a faint confusion. Yet, an underlying excitement and a thirst for battle shimmered within, giving him an eerie appearance.

Jeong Yeonshin offered a short bow toward the Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance before calmly adjusting his grip on his sword.

It was an incredibly welcome development, but dealing with the Radiant Grand Sword Lord took priority.

Meanwhile—

The lips of the Military King, Lord of Martial Supremacy, trembled faintly.

Even a face that seemed perpetually solemn could not remain unaffected by the shock of having his limb torn away, severed down to the acupoints. An expressionless monster had been broken by another expressionless monster.

He pondered briefly. Why had his opponent layered force in the first place? The moment he struck, it had seemed as though he was deliberately suppressing the blood of the fallen military forces beneath his feet—

"Filthy."

It came from his side.

The hem of a luxurious robe billowed widely. An unremarkable shade. A pink robe, exceedingly rare under the heavens.

"Lowly martial world swordsmen."

Step.

Ma Yeon-jeok moved sideways. He casually flung the arm in his grasp to the ground. The muscular limb, ripped out from the bone, rolled across the dirt.

The intermittent spurts of blood did not touch him, kept at bay by his steady footwork.

Despite unleashing a devastating blow, his robe remained immaculate.

"Presumptuously arrogant."

His tone carried the disdain of the old and the experienced. A posture that rejected all association with martial artists. He exuded a level of arrogance greater than any noble clan in the martial world.

"The master of the Grand Defense Sect? Nothing but a mongrel. You disrupt the very foundations of the nation while indulging in the culture of its cities and villages. You threaten the livelihoods of the people, yet refuse to pay tribute."

"You..."

The Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance’s eyes gleamed with a colorless light. Like flickering flames.

His unstable internal energy had begun to manifest in his pupils. Merely maintaining his Trinity of Internal Essence required an immense amount of mental fortitude.

Ma Yeon-jeok spoke with an indifferent face.

"At least you contribute greatly to the northern front. Live on, even in disgrace."

The recipient of his words was a peerless martial artist. In other words, a madman of martial prowess.

Such a person would rather be struck down in a single stroke, with his opponent announcing his name and sect, than be left alive in humiliation.

The Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance’s gaze darkened. It was accompanied by a fierce surge of momentum.

"The Shadowed Sword of Luminous Phoenix City... Was there another martial artist like the Tyrant of Stone Years?"

The pain must have been excruciating, yet his voice did not waver. It was nearly a monologue, but it carried the weight of probing for something.

"A foolish man."

Ma Yeon-jeok’s lips curled.

"There is no such person in the martial world."

"......."

The Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance fell silent.

The white fur cloak at his back, which had been thrashing wildly, suddenly stilled. The raging storm in his eyes subsided, and his pupils returned to a deep black.

The blood flowing from his shoulder, once a torrent, began to slow as his internal energy forced the wound to seal.

"I..."

The Lord of the Seven Demon Lotus Alliance raised his left arm.

Like a Shaolin monk forming a one-handed prayer gesture, the Lord of Martial Supremacy pressed his left hand into a respectful fist.

His bearing was dignified.

"I have committed discourtesy."

"......!"

At the bottom of the slope, the martial troops who had been ready to launch into a qinggong sprint hesitated. For a brief moment, they wavered, as if shaken.

Thirteen Heavenly Lords. The Unrivaled Martial Monarch. The Lord of the Shenwu Legion.

All the honorifics that exalted Gunwi-hu seemed meaningless here.

Not only had he acknowledged his defeat, but he had also bowed his head. It was an event akin to the upheaval of heaven and earth.

And yet, the words of the man who had torn off the Lord of the Shenwu Legion’s arm only continued to defy all convention.

"Just focus on raising your troops properly."

“...It shall be so.”

Gunwi-hu answered briefly, turning away with slow movements.

His response sounded like unquestioning acceptance.

For martial artists who had cultivated their internal energy, the meridians formed a small universe within their bodies, aligned with the grand order of all things.

For an absolute grandmaster, the energy cycle did not stop at the Great Circulation of the Upper Body but extended to the Full Circulation of the Entire Body.

Within such an inner cultivation system, the loss of a single limb was bound to result in an overwhelming drop in martial power.

From now on—

If a powerful warrior were to storm into Shenwu-hyeon alone and charge at the Lord of the Shenwu Legion, there would be few means to stop them. He was now in a position where he had no choice but to remain cautious.

If he were ever to disgrace himself before the nation again, there was a chance that the new figure clad in violet robes would simply take his head.

Step.

Gunwi-hu descended the mountain slope, his unstable energy bleeding into the air around him. The sound of his footsteps slicing through the silence carried an eerie chill.

The sight of a supreme grandmaster, who had once stood at the peak of the world, now dwindling into the sunset, step by step, felt almost surreal.

It was as if he had been caught in an unexpected natural disaster.

Like a nameless martial artist, breathing their last, leaning against a tree in the depths of an uninhabited forest.

A scene fitting for the world of warriors.

"......."

The cavalry warriors waiting below the slope surrounded the retreating form of Gunwi-hu. None among them dared to lift their eyes toward Ma Yeon-jeok.

They merely mounted their horses and followed, their solemn expressions veiling any emotion. These were the elite warriors of the Thirteen Heavens, men who had always carried themselves with an air of noble supremacy. Yet now, their gazes remained lowered.

Gallop.

The sound of hooves receded into the distance. They did not dare to face the invisible weight pressing down upon them.

Among them, Gun Yu-rin, who had been walking at a slower pace, subtly glanced at the one-armed Jeon Baek and Jeong Yeon-shin before continuing.

—In both today and the future, we have been utterly defeated.

Gunwi-hu’s deep voice murmured, gradually fading.

Under the lukewarm yet bright sunlight, his voice seemed to dissolve between the parting winter and the approaching spring.

And then, breaking through the silence, a voice rang out like a bold, poetic verse.

"Today, that person is the defeated—well, the great hero, I suppose. As for the future, there's no need to say it—he'll be speaking about our Grand Lord. The infamous disgraced heir of Shenwu-hyeon and his barely acknowledged sister? What could they possibly do against the Lotus of Naraka? I'm sure he's already drowning in regret. A warrior’s hands should bear weight, after all."

The voice came from beyond the slope, near the base of the mountain peak. Someone had been clinging to the sheer cliff wall using Wall-Treading Lightness.

No sooner had the storm-like events destined to be spoken of throughout the martial world subsided than this person had begun offering their observations—only to be startled themselves.

From the direction of the precipice.

They were dangerously close to Jeong Yeon-shin and Mo Yong Jung-rak.

As soon as a heroic headband peeked into view, the previously grave-faced Mo Yong Jung-rak moved.

Zzzeoong—!

A piercing arc slashed through the air. His sword was unmistakably aimed at Hyeon Won-chang.

A sharp clang!

Two blades clashed, scattering bright flashes ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) in all directions. The aftershock arrived belatedly, shaking the ground.

The sight below was striking—Mo Yong Jung-rak’s treasured sword and Ma Gwang-Ik’s Northern Darkness Sword had crossed paths.

A single exchange.

At the base of the cliff, Hyeon Won-chang, whose heroic headband’s twin tassels were fluttering wildly, had nearly lost his grip.

At a glance, his face looked panicked, but his eyes were remarkably composed. Mo Yong Jung-rak, gazing down at him, faintly smirked.

"A face you’d only see in a well-disciplined sect. The disciples must truly trust their leader."

"......."

"Ma Gwang-Ik. You’re keeping up quite well. That lotus of yours—seems like you can extinguish and reignite it like a lantern, huh?"

His tone carried genuine curiosity.

During the standoff with Gunwi-hu, Ma Yeon-jeok had briefly suppressed the Final Thunder, which had a time limit on its activation.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly opened his mouth.

"Focus on your swordplay."

His voice was nearly a command.

Not something befitting a Lord of Ipwang Fortress to say to a Grand Patriarch of the Eight Families.

It was nearly an outright defiance of the martial world’s hierarchy.

The implication was clear—forget bloodlines, let’s settle this with sheer power.

Mo Yong Jung-rak’s smile deepened.

"Incredible. This is checkmate, isn’t it?"

As he spoke, his gaze flickered.

There, standing with arms crossed, was Ma Yeon-jeok.

It was impossible not to acknowledge reality. Gunwi-hu had been reduced to that state. For the absolute rulers of the Great Eight Clans, this was a dreadful situation.

"Mo Yong—listen, old man doesn't interfere. Spend your energy showing off that sword skill of yours."

Ma Yeon-jeok spoke in a mild tone.

Mo Yong Jung-rak, however, didn’t seem to hear him.

"No... wait. How? How could you neutralize that? No internal energy art should be able to withstand that level of destructive force—"

As he muttered to himself—

On the opposite side, Hyeon Won-chang had climbed up the cliff alongside two others.

"I shall record this moment and compose a verse to spread far and wide. Ma Gwang-Ik—it’s about time you reached for the ranks of the Divine Sword Battalion. Our Grand Lord has spent an immeasurable amount of time on this...."

"You nearly died, and yet you keep running your mouth. If you become dead weight, know that I will personally end you. Just stay out of the way."

"Wait, was it because of Senior Great Snow Sword? I know it's important to have faith in the Grand Lord, but even this is a bit much!"

The dark blue sleeves and pristine white hems brushed against the ground.

Tae Yeom-ryong and Shin So-bin. The eldest heir of the Hwangbo clan bore an expression of utter disdain for Hyeon Won-chang, while the successor of the House of Ipwang had a gaze filled with rebuke toward his senior.

Both subtly moved aside, careful not to obstruct Jeong Yeon-shin.

"These people don't understand. Just wearing a violet robe doesn't make one the Divine Sword Corps Master overnight. One must first cultivate a reputation formidable enough to strike fear across the martial world. And what better way to spread such renown than through song? There is no force quite as effective in drawing attention as a well-crafted tale with credibility."

It was as Hyeon Won-chang, who had been silently maneuvering behind Jeong Yeon-shin, spoke.

Fwoosh—!

Shadows surged up from below, their energetic resonance razor-sharp.

Dozens of figures burst from the cliffs, their movements honed to near perfection.

Their attire varied wildly.

An elderly scholar of great renown, a merchant leading the trade routes of Taiyuan, a swordsman clad in the garb of a third-rate martial sect, and even a tavern worker reeking of food and liquor.

The May Massacre Sect.

They had remained scattered across the land, their true identities concealed, but now they had returned. Clinging to the edges of the cliffs, their gazes all converged upon one point.

All the icy killing intent gathered toward Mo Yong Jung-rak.

They had finally laid eyes on the enemy of their sect.

"Ah, I nearly forgot."

Srrrng.

Mo Yong Jung-rak’s blade traced the edge of Jeong Yeon-shin’s lowered Northern Darkness Sword, before reversing its trajectory back into his grip. The Monster of Meteor Swordsmanship spoke.

"The last secret formula of the Heavenly Demon's Divine Armor... must be with you lot."

From the surrounding cliff walls, screams of rage erupted.

"You greedy bastard!"

"How dare you! How dare you utter such blasphemy before us!"

"Was the carnage of that day not enough?! I will see your throat slit, even if I must die with you!"

"Elders, remain composed! He is alone! Sharpen your sword energy!"

"Hmph. Not a single one of you could withstand even one of Ma Gwang-Ik’s shockwaves."

He cast a brief glance at Jeong Yeon-shin before continuing. Perhaps they thought they could escape even Ma Yeon-jeok if they executed qinggong properly. Maybe they even had the Protective Spirit Scripture among the manuals acquired from the Heavenly Demon Fortress.

His flowing white robes exuded an air of unwavering confidence.

Even as Ma Gwang-Ik's form became entirely enshrouded in a transparent lotus, the distinct humming sound of his overwhelming power filling the air—

"Now that I think about it, I remember you. Yes, you."

The peerless swordsman’s gaze drifted past Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.

It landed squarely on Hyeon Won-chang.

Hyeon Won-chang’s shoulders flinched.

It was a reaction even he had not intended.

"The scholars of your household hesitated. They were ordered to excavate all of your Eight Extraordinary Meridians to uncover traces of the Heavenly Demon's martial veins... but they let their attention be swayed by the mere presence of a handful of elixirs. And thus, they lost you. I had thought to punish them... but ultimately decided against it."

Saaaah—

A shimmering heat haze rose from Mo Yong Jung-rak’s entire body.

Patches of indigo light began to manifest, gradually encircling him.

At a glance, it seemed as though he was draped in a mystical mist, akin to a celestial being garbed in ethereal robes.

"In any case, my defensive martial art has nearly reached completion."

The moment he finished speaking—

Vwooom—!

The air in all directions rippled into a lifeless gray.

It was a shockwave of mystical resonance, emanating unceasingly from Mo Yong Jung-rak's form.

In an instant, six members of the May Massacre Sect, who had been clinging to the cliffside, collapsed on the spot.

Their eyes remained open, yet they had lost consciousness.

As the sect fell into chaos, the continuous waves of force parted in two distinct streams the moment they reached Jeong Yeon-shin.

Much like how demonic legions would wither before the presence of the Buddha.

Even Ma Yeon-jeok, standing further down the slope, was unfazed.

The torrent of energy that should have engulfed him instead shattered into mist, dispersing harmlessly around him.

Only the softly billowing pink sleeves of his robe remained distinct amidst the haze.

"......."

For a brief moment, Mo Yong Jung-rak fell silent.