Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 339: Tyranny (4)

The Ascension Ceremony in Ipwang Fortress is presided over by the Fortress Lord.

It is akin to the imperial examination's Palace Examination, where the Emperor himself oversees the final assessment. Every rank, from the Azure Robe and beyond, follows this tradition. Discussing ascension to the Violet Rank in the absence of the Fortress Lord is out of the question.

No matter how esteemed the Tyrant of Ipwang may be, he could not disrupt the laws.

This was why the current Lord ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) of Ma Gwang-ik could rightfully refuse the former Commander of the Divine Sword Corps’s robe. The color alone was burdensome. His current plain black robe was preferable.

His original robe had been torn apart by the Zhuge Clan Lord, and the one he now wore had been gifted by the Eldest Daughter of the Gongya Clan.

Ma Yeon-jeok's lips curled into a smirk.

In the hands of this youthful old man, the pink robe seemed even more dazzling than usual.

It was because the technique he had just performed had gathered the starlight of the night sky like bundles of silk thread.

"Five Qi Converging into One, Martial Transcendence. Once you internalize the martial arts you've created, your perspective will change. You’ll likely don Violet robes before then... but for now, let’s leave it for later."

Jeong Yeon-shin, watching his grandfather drape the robe over his shoulders once more, spoke up.

"When will I see you again?"

He asked because it seemed his grandfather was preparing to depart.

Ma Yeon-jeok had already given him a rough explanation of the Violet martial world—calling it a Den of Demons, a realm where those who once fought alongside the Ming progenitors still battled against supernatural foes.

Having traveled all this way upon hearing of his grandson’s crisis, it was only natural for him to return as soon as possible.

Ma Yeon-jeok patted his grandson’s shoulder. A few firm taps, warmth radiating from his large palm.

"I cannot interfere in your journey through the martial world any further. While I will lend my strength from afar for your ascension and longevity, I cannot ignore the affairs of the world or step away from my duty. This old man has always been the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps. Even after handing down the Godpiercing Sword to that wretched Yong Clan brat... even when I lost my daughter..."

There was much left undone.

After a brief pause, he withdrew his hand from Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.

"When you ascend to Violet and take on the same duty as I did, we shall meet again. It is rare for an era to require two peerless masters, but in these chaotic times, who can predict what will come?"

"Then, I suppose it will be sooner rather than later."

The two—proud in their own ways—exchanged a knowing smile.

Wooong—

The distorted sky suddenly returned to its original state.

The radiant, mandala-like streams of light straightened and dissipated, and the once stifling air felt clear again, like prison bars had been lifted from the heavens.

Jeong Yeon-shin gazed up at the sight, reaffirming his thoughts—

He needed to face more peerless masters.

Martial Transcendence.

The concept of encompassing every martial technique one possessed.

A stroke of absolute finality, impossible to use even once unless one had reached profound depths.

The Murong Clan Lord’s Sword-Fist Harmony had only served to hasten his blade.

He had needed over three hundred strokes to carve out that space—three hundred and fifteen, to be precise.

"Your Three Flowers Converging into Purity won’t take much longer. Even now, I can feel your repeated cycles of integration and dissolution quite clearly."

Swish.

The hem of Ma Yeon-jeok’s pink robe brushed against the dirt as he rose to his feet.

"Eat more, even if just a little. Rebirth through Shedding is a peculiar transformation—it replenishes vitality while also consuming it. If you gain a bit of weight, your Essence, Qi, and Spirit will naturally align. Seeing your gaunt face unsettles me. Though, fortunately, your muscles have thickened... The more I think about it, the more incredible it is."

Jeong Yeon-shin stood as well, feeling slightly awkward, and changed the subject.

"The wild boars you caught... are all for me?"

Ma Yeon-jeok nodded.

"I had hoped to see your ascension, but it seems fate has other plans. At the very least, put on some weight for this old man’s peace of mind. You’ve learned how to smoke meat from your uncle, haven’t you?"

"...Yes."

"If you fill out your cheeks a bit more, you’ll be a peerless beauty. You already take after your mother—almost as much as Song-ok and Ban—"

Ma Yeon-jeok cut himself off, unable to say Ban-ak.

Song-ok and Ban-ak were legendary figures known for their exceptional beauty.

"Until we meet again, stay safe. You’ve severed the heads of two of the Eight Great Clans—the warriors of your homeland must be eagerly awaiting your return. They care little for how much turmoil you’ve stirred in the martial world."

Jeong Yeon-shin bowed deeply.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

The late-winter wind was warm.

Just as he opened his mouth to wish his grandfather well—

A deep laugh rang out, and Ma Yeon-jeok’s presence vanished into the sky.

A sudden gust of wind tousled Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair.

***

Descending into the village, Jeong Yeon-shin saw familiar faces.

A swordsman of Hero’s Sword Doctrine and a scoundrel chewing on a poppy pod.

The two stood off against a black-haired, red-eyed woman.

Among them, the only one who appeared at ease was the Seventh Apostle.

Draped in flowing crimson robes, her elegant shoulders framed a posture that seemed far too relaxed for the situation.

There was no discernible current of intent.

It was as if she were wrapped in bedding rather than standing prepared for battle.

She simply watched Hуeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong with those crimson eyes, a faint, red-tinged smile playing on her lips.

Then, her lips parted.

"I am deeper."

Anyone could recognize the implication in her words.

With a mere glance, she had gauged their martial attainments.

Lightless Rupture Blade and Demonic Blood Refinement Art—both techniques originated from a single person.

Pausing mid-step, Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly.

Why does she look pretty?

"Leader!"

From the sidelines, a flustered Shin So-bin called out, waving enthusiastically.

Still a White-robed Disciple, she had no means to intervene.

"Do something about this!"

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin’s body split the air.

Step.

With a flutter of his sleeves, he landed between them, dispersing the heat-charged wind left behind by Hуeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong.

The semi-transparent air currents rippled and tore apart with a deafening noise.

‘It’s gotten heavier.’

Jeong Yeon-shin swallowed a small sigh of admiration. The shortened hem of his pants, now reaching only his calves, was somewhat annoying, but the wind stirred by the two standing before him carried far more weight than that.

A lot had happened. The martial masters of Ma Gwang-ik had relentlessly pursued the grandmaster’s achievements.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, and it’s hard to get used to. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Hyeon Won-chang relaxed as he took in Jeong Yeon-shin’s unscathed appearance.

The distorted space had made it difficult to get a clear look at the grandmaster, and standing before them was the very person who had once kidnapped Jeong Yeon-shin, now greeting them without a care. It was only natural to be on guard.

“I just got here. Baek Miao was trying to tell me something, but I haven’t had the time to listen. Not with that kind of yoma standing in front of me.”

Tae Yeom-ryong, standing at a slight angle, muttered with his characteristic sluggish drawl.

He had just confirmed that the grandmaster was unharmed. The motion of his jaw, which had been chewing on yanggui herb, slowed.

“You know who she is—the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

“She saved Ma Gwang-ik on Myunggong Island. She’ll be accompanying us back to the main stronghold.”

“...What did you just say?”

Tae Yeom-ryong blinked slowly. Jeong Yeon-shin paid no mind to the dumbfounded expression of the yanggui-chewer.

“I need to fix her deviation into madness, but I don’t have time. Help me repay my debt.”

He didn’t elaborate further.

Ip Hwang-seong was a sect structured like a military order.

Although the current Lord of Ma Gwang-ik did not usually treat his comrades as subordinates, there was never any dispute when he made a decision.

That applied even to Tae Yeom-ryong, who only grew sharp in battle.

“If it’s an order, I’ll follow it.”

The former heir of the Hwangbo Clan nodded without hesitation.

Despite their worldly nature, the Eight Great Houses had always presented themselves as a righteous faction.

Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been preparing arguments to persuade him, felt a flicker of doubt. Had the time they spent together, and the growth in their martial prowess, turned into trust?

“She’ll be safe, right?”

“The Seventh Apostle is a low-level fighter. To you, she might be a master, but don’t worry.”

“A low-level fighter...?”

“We don’t need to gather provisions. We’re returning to the main stronghold.”

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at the three boars sprawled across the ground.

“Apostle, cover your eyes.”

“Mm.”

With a soft rustling, the Seventh Apostle pulled out a white cloth from her robes and wrapped it around her eyes. She was oddly obedient, so much so that it was hard to reconcile with her past actions.

As soon as she fastened the Blood-Sealing Silk Scarf, a treasured relic of the Blood Flame Cult, the erratic energy of her Blood Arts vanished without a trace.

Jeong Yeon-shin watched the scene in silence before suddenly parting his lips.

“The last mnemonic of Blood-Dissolving Mara Arts is—”

“Hmm? Taesa, we haven’t even started yet. Why are you talking about the last one? The only thing I remember is the first mnemonic.”

She claimed they hadn’t even started, yet she remembered the first mnemonic.

The Seventh Apostle’s ramblings flowed smoothly, tinged with a slight hint of lighthearted madness. Jeong Yeon-shin had no choice but to ask.

“You’re conscious now, aren’t you?”

“Mm?”

Her reply, mixed with a faint breath, settled into the night air.

He did not press further.

He chose not to.

***

The road leading down to Huguang, where the main fortress of Ipwang was located.

There was no shortage of cities to pass through on the way to Yangyang in Huguang. Naturally, rumors spread far and wide.

"I heard the Radiant Zen Sword is dead."

"You mean the Lord of the Eight Clans? That's ridiculous."

"No, not him. You know, the nobleman from Ipwang Fortress. They say the young Lord of Bright Wings sent a Meteor Sword flying and cut him down."

"You mean... the Lord of the Zhuge Clan?"

"Yeah!"

As the news of the Mo Yong Clan Leader’s death spread in whispers, shaking the vast lands, tensions between the Tang Clan and Geum Si Sect flared, threatening to tear Sichuan apart.

At the same time, word spread that Great Master Wonjeok of Shaolin had slaughtered a demon near the Gongya family estate in Shanxi.

"I swear, Great Master Wonjeok’s hands grew this big, and he crushed that demon’s spear and blade in an instant! I saw it with my own eyes! And those Sim Mu-ryeon soldiers—just wiped out along with it!"

"I heard the White Qilin hero was active in the south... As expected, righteous sects raise warriors of a different caliber."

"The only ones left standing are the Nine Great Sects and Ipwang Fortress. There’s a town where a so-called righteous martial family took over the local government. You can’t trust anything these days. If you’ve got grain stashed away, guard it well."

"They say a massive fog rose in Xinjiang, stretching all the way to Sichuan. Who knows what’s happening to the world..."

Among the countless rumors, Jeong Yeon-shin picked out what he needed—Great Master Wonjeok was safe.

That was a relief. Before his confrontation with the Mo Yong Clan Leader, the squirrel he had placed in Shin So-bin’s arms, along with the Jasodan pill, would occasionally peek its head out, making him feel uneasy.

"I’ll have to visit Shaolin someday to return the Galhon."

The chaotic whispers of an era in turmoil continued until their party of five finally arrived at Yangyang.

The main road was bustling with people.

Here and there, warriors bearing the character Hwang were visible, their presence faintly reassuring Jeong Yeon-shin.

Compared to Shinya County of Hanam Province, where the Jeong family estate had been, this place felt incomparably secure. At last, he had returned home.

In the distance, a stark white fortress came into view.

They had arrived at Ipwang Fortress. The long journey through Shanxi was over.

"Taesa."

"Don’t call me that here."

"Yeon... Shin-ah. Yeon-shin."

"What is it?"

"Something came back to me. I think I cut off someone’s arm. Right here."

"What?"

"It might cause trouble for you. It was a woman from the Ju family."

"Ju Yeon-jeong of the Ipwang Ma Clan?"

"Yeah, I think so. She spoke to you disrespectfully."

The Seventh Apostle’s hair, veiling her eyes, brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder. She had stopped walking.

Her words were not particularly shocking.

An unsettling ripple of internal energy spread across the entire main fortress. The energy wave of the Hwanik Corps.

At the same time.

Someone was approaching from ahead.

A woman, tall and powerfully built.

Onlookers who had been eyeing Hyeon Won-chang and Tae Yeom-ryong murmured in hushed voices before scattering like startled birds.

"Dragon Fist...?"

"Yeouicheon Lord!"

She had appeared suddenly, as if she had been watching Ipwang Fortress’s main gates all day.

Yeouicheon Lord, Bukgung Ah.

She wore a magnificently elaborate black robe, its hem split into multiple tails that flickered in the air like jet-black flames.

The obsidian martial garb clinging to her long legs was riddled with scars, as if she had just walked out of battle.

Her approaching footsteps carried an unusual rhythm.

Step.

"...?"

Something about it struck Jeong Yeon-shin as both familiar and unfamiliar.

It was like a distorted version of the Hwanik Corps' movement technique.

The woman parted her lips.

"Judging by your stance, you’ve learned the Hwanik Steps. Especially you. It’s curious—I can’t sense your energy at all... Are you from the Bright Stream Division? Or the Bloodflow Division? Those bats have been raising a hidden dragon."

She spoke without hesitation, as if she had known them all along.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s group came to a halt.

"Let’s compare our steps. If you can keep up with me for three paces, I’ll give you a precious healing pill. But if your journey’s been exhausting and you need rest, I can understand that..."

Yeouicheon Lord was saying something.

Jeong Yeon-shin was no longer listening.

With an expressionless face, he had fallen into deep thought.