Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 424: Exhausted (5)

The people before him were the representatives of the Great Factions that comprised the martial world. And now, Jeong Yeon-shin was the face of Ipwang Fortress.

“The Head Priest will be here soon. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

White Medic (Baekyak Satae) spoke with a soft smile, and Jeong Yeon-shin nodded in return, trying not to look around.

It was due to the earlier discomfort from glancing at Yulha Nangrang, an incident that had unsettled him. His martial arts skills were enough to handle such a trivial matter.

"....."

A peaceful silence settled.

Cheongsu Jin-in of Cheongseong, White Medic from Ami, Go Geomjin of Mu Dang, and Yulha Nangrang of Hwasan each stole glances at Jeong Yeon-shin, either briefly or openly.

Among them, only White Medic and Yulha Nangrang sent him softer glances.

Jeong Yeon-shin avoided their gazes slightly.

His senses were running wild. It felt as though invisible threads were brushing against his skin.

At this moment, the years that the four unparalleled martial masters had accumulated, the subtle pulsations of their muscles, meridians, and internal energy, all presented themselves as powerful stimuli.

Suddenly, Yulha Nangrang spoke.

"Has everyone decided on the participants for the martial arts competition?"

"I didn’t expect you to bring it up first, Nangrang. I see Hwasan is confident," said Cheongsu Jin-in, the Sect Leader of Cheongseong. His voice had a deep tone, though his ears were sharp like a sword.

As the head of Cheongseong, his sensitivity toward the outcome of the Hwasan General Meeting was clear.

Jeong Yeon-shin realized one important fact.

‘The Hwasan General Meeting is no {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} longer just a competition between the Great Factions and Ipwang Fortress.’

It had become a battleground for the entire martial world.

What sustains a martial artist?

Two things. Their skills and their fame. Those who live in the chaotic martial world are respected for their martial arts and their titles satisfy their desire for honor.

Even those who are indifferent to their own achievements and renown will choose death if their sect’s reputation is tarnished.

Earlier, Go Geomjin had mentioned the Great Martial Arts Tournament. Even the Great Factions, who had transcended personal gain like wealth and power, weren’t taking this lightly.

"Confident? What do you mean?"

Yulha Nangrang waved her hand dismissively.

"Our disciples at the main temple would be proud to stand among any of the other sects, but there are so many powerful factions...”

With her gentle voice, she praised both Hwasan and other sects. Her demeanor was both natural and noble. Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t help but think of a fully bloomed plum blossom.

Perhaps it was a disposition even more dazzling than the Great Emperor’s personal martial skills.

"Hwasan can afford to be confident. Below the Sect Leader, there are the Sword Tribulations, the Three Treasures Sword Dragons, and the Broken Sword—all filled with exceptional sword masters. For Hwasan, it seems there’s no need to worry about selecting participants," said Cheongsu Jin-in, shaking his head.

Yulha Nangrang’s lips curved into a faint smile.

"Yet, it’s said that the Cheongseong Sect Leader secretly merged the Blue Cloud Sword Technique with the Red Sunset Sword Technique and cultivated a master. With that kind of achievement, perhaps there’s no worthy adversary for the Grand Disciples. I believe you entrusted the future of Cheongseong to that disciple, not Jeok Un-ryong."

"Not yet, not fully. Without proper mastery in Blue Cloud Red Sunset, you will be easily defeated by the Mu Dang Sect’s Ten-Dan Sword and Shaolin’s Eighteen Arhats," replied Cheongsu Jin-in.

Indeed, it was dizzying.

Names of legendary figures continued to pour out.

The history of the Great Factions was, in fact, the history of the martial world. These were the ones who inherited the martial arts and legendary elixirs of the Great Factions, boasting their names in Deng Bong Hyun.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze slightly dropped. Even though there wasn’t any direct mental warfare, he couldn’t shake the pressure.

‘My martial lineage...’

The reason Jeong Yeon-shin had obsessed over appearing in Black Robes for so long.

It was because he couldn’t predict the chances of victory from his lower position.

Though his own skills were slow and methodical, the Great Factions had already surpassed that limit, and their teachings were deep and vast.

Could the Soyeong Lineage confront the thousand-year-old martial traditions of the Great Factions?

Until now, Jeong Yeon-shin had compensated for the shallow depth of his instant martial techniques with his innate perceptiveness, but still found himself struggling against masters from the Great Factions.

At that moment.

"May I move the suffering of the benefactors to another place?"

A quiet voice settled into Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

It wasn’t something he heard with his ears. The words seemed to directly enter his brain, resonating deeply, not one wasted syllable.

‘Wisdom Light Heart Speech...!’

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.

Suddenly, the shadow cast on one corner of the temple began to flicker in the shape of a leaf.

It looked like a lotus blooming in the dark. There was no doubt. It was the Nine Grades of Lotus Platform, a legendary secret technique from the Shaolin tradition.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

He was coming.

Whoosh—

In an instant, a monk wearing a blindfold appeared in front of Jeong Yeon-shin.

His sleeves fluttered in the air, empty and billowing, as he wore a worn orange monk’s robe.

"Spiritual Power...? I thought the fragrance was that of a tea brewed at seventy years, but..." the monk muttered, scratching the air.

It was Divine Monk Ban Hye.

He was the head priest of Shaolin Temple.

***

The Green Jade Sword Hall of Dengfeng County

Beneath a bluish wall, as if tinted by melted leaves, stood two men with their arms crossed. Thick scrolls and traveling packs were slung over their backs like weapons.

They stood at the heart of the clamor, silently observing the dense crowd that surrounded them, moving their lips without raising their voices.

“How many have entered so far?”

“Over a thousand. It’s beyond our capacity now.”

“And if we count those lodging in the city, not just the estate?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. Go to the Beggars’ Sect branch and ask the Drunken Beggar King. He’ll have the exact numbers.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone knows he has little patience for martial rogues. He would never set foot at the Huashan Martial Assembly. Either way, we should have filtered them from the start. Isn’t it hard to keep them in check? Even the estate is struggling.”

“We already did. The ones we admitted are over a thousand strong, all with verified identities and reputations that extend beyond city borders. Even so, people outside are furious. The lesser sects claim they weren’t even given a chance.”

These two were secular disciples of the Shaolin Temple, well-known chroniclers of the martial world.

They were Bald Sage and Bald Seer, men who, after obtaining the secret Buddha’s Profound Eye, took it upon themselves to document all events and relay them to Mount Song, ensuring that the esteemed Northern Shaolin remained untouched by worldly turbulence.

Bald Seer, the leaner of the two, gestured with his chin.

“Sambok.”

“Yes, my lord?”

A servant dressed in a faded yellow robe paused in his sweeping and looked up.

His face was dusty, his clothes tattered and patched at the shoulders and arms with rough strips of cloth.

“Did the estate not provide you with proper attire? Even menial labor is an honored duty. What kind of appearance is this?”

The servant grinned.

“My family has many mouths to feed. Every wage I earn, I send straight home.”

“With such poverty, how will you ever find comfort?”

“The tops of your heads seem poor at first glance, yet they shine brilliantly, do they not? Surely, I too will have my time to shine one day.”

“...Tch.”

Bald Seer shook his head.

The "Bald (禿)" in their names was a reference to their shaved heads, yet the two were known for their pride in dressing like the formal monastic disciples of Shaolin’s main temple.

Even Bald Sage, the bulkier of the two, clicked his tongue as he eyed the servant’s unkempt hair.

“You have a reputation for diligence in the estate... Stand down until noon. If you linger, you might get caught up in unnecessary quarrels with the warriors passing through.”

“Yes, sir!”

The reason for his warning was clear.

An unending line of people stretched toward the estate’s grand gates—all martial artists.

The scorching summer air shimmered under the sun, intensifying with the latent heat of Qi rippling through the crowd. The ground frequently stirred with dust from the occasional outbursts of energy.

“Stay in line! Stay in line!”

“Do you think I’m the same as these lowlifes? Make way! I am the Twin Sabers of Hengshan!”

“They think this place is their marketplace... The righteous and unorthodox factions of the martial world are flooding in.”

“Let them be. They’ll collapse on their own.”

“What did you say?”

They were martial artists, inherently aggressive by nature.

The Pang Family, one of the Eight Great Clans, had flung its gates wide open, allowing warriors to attend.

An innumerable number of people had gathered at the Huashan Martial Assembly, each with different motives—fame, knowledge, or a fateful encounter with another warrior.

Among them, the warriors of the Great Households had secluded themselves in closed-door training, seeking absolute dominance.

This was why the tension among the scattered warriors of smaller sects and wandering martial artists was gradually easing.

However, whenever swordsmen from Huashan or Wudang walked by, they would instinctively stiffen. Among the guards, many from the Nine Great Schools had already scattered into the nearby civilian areas.

Bald Sage and Bald Seer shook their heads.

“This will lead to a major incident sooner or later.”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

“It’s inevitable. Martial artists will clash. Let’s continue our discussion.”

Bald Seer spoke calmly, and Bald Sage’s thick cheeks stretched into a smirk.

“You mean the bet?”

“Yes. Merchants have put forth staggering wagers. The stakes are high enough that even the imperial court might take interest.”

“It’s a spectacle for everyone... ‘Which sect will claim victory at the Huashan Martial Assembly?’ Where did your younger brother place his bet?”

“On Wudang, with two sacks of fine rice.”

“Playing it safe.”

“What about you?”

“Well, we are Shaolin disciples, are we not? The Abbot himself won’t participate, but even so, the biggest threats will likely be the other Nine Schools or the Pang Family, with their mastery of Indian Yogic Techniques.”

“What about Ipwang Fortress?”

“Let’s be precise. It’s not Ipwang Fortress itself, but rather Seomye’s Martial School. It hasn’t even existed for three full years—”

Bald Sage trailed off, suddenly halting his words.

Bald Seer, realizing why, nodded.

“...You’re right. Seomye of Ipwang Fortress is undoubtedly an anomaly, a force beyond reason. Whatever shock you’re feeling, I share it. But... his martial lineage is different.”

“Of course.”

“A single supreme master can overturn the tide of a sect war... But a truly powerful martial school?”

The seasoned Shaolin chronicler slowly completed his thought.

“It changes the entire shape of the martial world.”

“The shape of the martial world changes.”

The Huashan Sect had done the same before. In Shaanxi, numerous sects had been inspired by the Plum Blossom Swordsmanship, developing Rapid Sword Techniques and Illusionary Swordsmanship as their own ultimate arts.

The Wudang Sect was no different. In the northern regions of Hoguang, the name Tai Chi had spawned countless imitators, more than those who practiced the original style.

In Henan, the Shaolin Sect’s Muscle-Tendon Classics had long influenced the development of body-strengthening arts, passed down through generations. It had practically become a cultural tradition of the martial world.

Such legendary martial schools didn’t just influence individual warriors—they shaped the power balance among the great sects.

When Rapid Swordsmanship became overwhelmingly dominant, Body Reinforcement Techniques flourished in response. As Body Reinforcement gained prominence, counter-styles such as Internal Heavy Techniques were refined. Then, when Internal Heavy Techniques rose to prominence, Nourishing Meridians Techniques and Body Refinement Arts took the stage. Ultimately, this led to the rise of Overbearing Martial Arts, which allowed practitioners to accumulate power more quickly than internal arts.

During such an era, Ma Yeon-jeok, the Tyrant of the Martial World, reigned supreme.

The massive tides of the martial world were always dictated by great martial lineages—the dominant forces of the time.

“Now, we have four individuals with entirely different martial lineages challenging others. If it were just Seomye alone, that would be one thing... But whether the martial school he founded can pierce through the legacies of the Nine Great Schools over the ages... that remains uncertain.”

Bald Seer shook his sharp jawline, and Bald Sage did not deny it.

“Even within Shaolin, the competition for representatives has been fierce. I heard our own disciples competed internally for a chance to fight in the tournament.”

“That’s the mark of a true Great Sect. Among them, we have a master of the Hundred Steps Divine Fist, a monk who wields the Vajra Unshakable Body, and even one of our senior brothers who has reached the pinnacle of Zen Sleeve Technique... We have so many strong warriors to deploy when needed. I heard that before Ipwang Fortress clashed with the Namgung Clan, Seomye and White Qilin competed against each other. If even a martial school, not the main fortress, had such power, then...”

“It’s difficult to believe, yes.”

“The Pang Family, for instance, has been spending years analyzing dozens of martial arts counter-techniques and cataloging the strengths and weaknesses of fighters from different sects. We’re no different. Compared to that, a newly established martial school—even if it has some dazzling talent—will inevitably be shallow and fragile...”

As the two Shaolin chroniclers spoke quietly, the thick crowd suddenly began to stir.

A rare occurrence.

Martial artists were, by nature, prideful. Even if they had trained alone in the remote mountains, their sense of superiority towered above the heavens.

That was simply the effect of mastering inner strength—it was only natural.

“A renowned figure must have arrived.”

“There’s no space left in the estate, though.”

“Maybe someone who had been staying elsewhere has returned. Judging by the whispers... Ah, Namgung Hwashin, the White Qilin of the Namgung Clan.”

“A young man with nothing in the world to envy has come back.”

“He must be feeling the urgency as well. With the Pang Family and the great sects preparing so rigorously, anything could happen—even a hidden sect of hermit masters could emerge.”

“But even so... After the Divine Sword Corps’ gathering, they must be running out of strength. There may be many warriors from Ipwang Fortress scattered everywhere, but how many of them are truly acknowledged as Seomye’s disciples?”

Just then, a clear voice pierced through the golden hues of the setting sun.

“By the decree of the Black Rank—”

It was a Six Harmonies Transmission, a powerful projection technique that rang through the sky like crystal-clear chimes.

“From this moment forth, the covert operations of the Divine Sword Corps in Dengfeng County shall cease. All members of each martial unit who have studied Seomye’s martial arts, as recorded in the Celestial Treasury, shall follow me as their acting commander and return to their lodgings. We will conduct duels, and the results will be reported to the Purple Rank of the main fortress.”

It was Namgung Hwashin, the White Qilin.

Bald Sage and Bald Seer exchanged glances.

In that moment, a realization flashed through both of their minds.

With so many martial artists gathered here, there was no way that Ipwang Fortress would simply remain idle.

There had to be countless warriors secretly moving among the civilians, ensuring their protection.

But White Qilin’s Six Harmonies Transmission had just given a direct summons—not to all of them, but only to those who belonged to Seomye’s martial school.

How many would answer?

Thud.

A sound echoed from behind them, against the very wall they had been leaning on.

A servant, who had been squatting in silence, had just dropped his broom.

Then, he tore off a strip of cloth from his own patched-up robes, exposing a character embroidered on his shoulder.

It was the character 荒 (Hwang)—Wilderness.

“...So, they’re assigning me to a new mission in Henan again. It was supposed to be a quiet region.”

The servant, Sambok, muttered under his breath.

Then, as he walked straight between Bald Sage and Bald Seer, the two men were momentarily stunned, their faces blank with shock.

Bald Sage quickly snapped out of it and called out.

“Why is that? There aren’t many who can manage their inner strength as well as you.”

“Because I’m from Myeongryu Corps. We only operate in the shadows.”

Sambok answered without looking back, stepping directly toward the crowded line of martial artists waiting to enter the Green Jade Sword Hall.

And with each step he took, a violent gust of wind burst outward, forcing the warriors around him to part ways.

It was as if a forest were splitting apart in his wake.

“...Hwanik Step?”

Bald Seer murmured in disbelief.

At that moment, waves of new martial energies erupted from all directions, filling the air with a deafening surge of power.

On that day, every warrior from Ipwang Fortress in Dengfeng County stood up.