Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 459: Heavenly Motion (3)

Suddenly, So Cheonmujuk let out a quiet laugh from the side. Had she noticed the shift in Jeong Yeon-shin’s aura? Without hesitation, she turned her head.

[I wish the world would perish.]

The tip of her sharp nose brushed against Jeong Yeon-shin’s cheek. She completely disregarded the unspoken rules of martial etiquette, shattering the very notion of maintaining proper distance between warriors.

Like the Heavenly Demon of Chaos, as the Buddhist scriptures might describe, she whispered wickedly in his ear.

[Seeing how you’re trying to escape from here, I suppose you think differently?]

Jeong Yeon-shin kept his gaze fixed on the steel sword of Sambong Zhenren and finally spoke.

“Why should the world perish?”

[Because we are forced to live as dictated by the heavens. I was born with a talent I never asked for, and now, I’m fated to die young because of it.]

Whether they were ascended beings or still alive, it made no difference.

Gathered in this damp cave were three individuals, each possessing a level of talent rarely seen in history. The lingering darkness seemed to draw out their true thoughts.

Droplets of water dripped from an unseen stone wall. At last, the leader of the Ming Sect revealed her true intentions.

“And so?”

[If I’m to die, the world should end with me. At least that way, I wouldn’t feel as resentful. And I have the power to make that happen. I don’t want to cross the River of Three Paths alone.]

Demon.

The Ming Sect Leader laughed.

[Kid, I can truly sense the heavens. Fate exists. When one reaches the extreme limits of their energy in the Upper Dantian, they come to understand that the entire world is nothing more than a tangled mass of threads. And in that fate, we have no role. The heavens bestowed a destiny upon Bodhidharma, Sambong, and the First Heavenly Demon of our Sect, but not upon us. They were heroes born with heaven’s favor, but we were meant to be nothing more than stepping stones for history.]

Softly.

She pushed Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder and took a few steps back. For a moment, it felt as if her very being had moved in unison, the white sleeves of her robe rolling up slightly.

At some point, dense demonic energy had begun flickering around her wrist. It was so thick that it was as if she had become the very incarnation of demonic power itself.

[Even if we die, the world will continue. Is there anything more horrifying than that? We will feel nothing in the abyss of death, and the world we never had the chance to fully see will flow on like a river.]

“Stop saying ‘we’ over and over again.”

Jeong Yeon-shin was beginning to understand. The reason So Cheonmujuk cooperated with the Lord of Taemo Mountain Fortress.

She wanted to take the world down with her.

The Dark Heaven Emperor’s Tiger Dragon Art, which summoned the flood dragon, was merely one of her chosen methods. She had delayed her death through some unknown means and, at some point, had lost her sanity.

A true heretic.

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke nonchalantly.

“No friends, I assume?”

[What?]

“I suppose even the parents who should have cherished you have already closed their eyes.”

That kind of thought was only possible for someone who had nothing to protect. As Jeong Yeon-shin engraved the steel sword of Sambong Zhenren into his mind, he made that assumption.

Then, he dismissed So Cheonmujuk’s eerie presence from his consciousness. There was no reason to entangle himself with a madwoman.

Even so, in the depths of his mind, a single sword was gradually becoming clearer.

A blade with chipped edges, its steel body rusted. The scent of iron from Sambong Zhenren’s sword, once wrapped in Taoist Trinity Energy, seeped into his nose and mind.

He lowered his eyelids slightly and contemplated.

A human’s capacity for energy accumulation has limits. No matter how infinite So Cheonmujuk’s demonic energy might seem, it could not be truly limitless.

However...

Her inner energy cultivation had reached such heights that she could generate light-like bursts of power.

When one’s energy reserves exceed the rate of depletion. Even more, So Cheonmujuk could take in energy as naturally as breathing and convert it into demonic energy.

The former greatest genius of the world, three years older than Jeong Yeon-shin, was indeed a monster.

And.

Sambong Zhenren had likely been the same.

"Softness Overcomes Hardness" and "Four Ounces Move a Thousand Pounds". The art of harnessing and enduring immense power with only a fraction of one’s energy. The founding grandmaster of Wudang had condensed the essence of this flow into the Taiji technique.

Furthermore, if one could accumulate a force as powerful as the Taoist Trinity Energy to the absolute limits of human potential, then nothing would be impossible. No powerful attack could have reached Sambong Zhenren.

That evidence was before him.

Since ancient times, the Taiji symbolized the origin of all things.

It had been engraved onto the skeletal remains of a flood dragon, which had likely been destined to become a true dragon.

The once-mighty beast had fiercely resisted but ultimately succumbed to a single stroke of Sambong Zhenren’s sword, which had drawn a vast circle.

The deeply gouged ground surrounding the long corpse stood as evidence. The sword scar left by Sambong Zhenren’s technique. The very embodiment of Taiji.

Everything was visible.

The art of harmonizing completely different flows into one.

From there, Wudang’s Supreme Yin Mind Technique had likely emerged.

An unworthy junior seeks to learn from you.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

It was a sentiment of respect toward a great predecessor. There was no need to consciously practice humility; the immense sense of kinship naturally humbled him.

What had happened here? Where had Sambong Zhenren disappeared to after leaving behind his sword? Had he, by chance, been swept here by the river due to the flood dragon’s inner core fragment given to him by his grandfather?

He set aside the questions.

Slowly, Jeong Yeon-shin parted his lips.

“...When the sun sets, another day is lost.”

[Hmm?]

Jeong Yeon-shin was a martial artist who breathed through his cultivation. Even words spoken casually carried a spiritual resonance.

In fact, his tone carried an even more profound mystery than the incantations of sorcerers. Since his Heart Radiance was not currently rotating, he could use his voice to replace ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) the power of circulation.

“The flow of the sun and moon is like the waves of a river, yet I am no better than a salmon swimming against the current.”

The Heart Radiance Circulation Technique’s opening verse. The foundation of Taoist breathing techniques. His internal energy technique was based on mind techniques, so there was no issue in speaking while circulating energy.

If anything, he could incorporate the benefits of sorcerers’ mantras.

Immediately, So Cheonmujuk responded.

[You’re bold, aren’t you?]

Jeong Yeon-shin paid her no mind.

Without knowledge of the energy circulation pathways, his words were meaningless. Furthermore, the Heart Radiance Circulation Technique moved through twelve meridians, three hundred sixty-five acupoints, and countless finer pathways.

He had no intention of explaining how this verse was structured.

Thus, to others, it was no different from murmuring a meaningless phrase.

“I desire to defy heaven, yet I follow its providence. No matter how I struggle, I cannot go against it.”

By focusing intent into his words like a sorcerer’s chant, the reaction was immediate.

A low hum.

The air in the cave trembled. Moist energy from the damp cavern floor surged into his lungs. Perhaps because his body was hollowed out from restoring Heaven’s Gate Lord’s sword strike, his circulation speed was unusual.

Suddenly.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Jeong Yeon-shin sensed two presences.

Not So Cheonmujuk.

Two figures stood tall on either side of him. One held a fan. The other held a sword.

Their presence was as distinct as the Ming Sect Leader’s.

Even though they should not coexist.

Silently.

Jeong Yeon-shin rose to his feet.

The steel sword embedded in the flood dragon’s skull quivered.

***

It was a narrow path.

A young man, chewing on a crimson flower, suddenly came to a halt.

Shadows ran deep under his eyes, but his gaze was anything but dull. The long blue robe he wore, embroidered with the character Hwang, was as extravagant as that of an aristocrat. Yet, it was his own presence that lent it such an impression.

“I’ve been caught by my senile grandfather.”

“Hah! Arrogant brat, no matter where you run, you’ll always be in the palm of my hand.”

The voice came from above his head. Perched on a tree branch sat a man clad in yellow robes, strikingly similar in appearance to him.

“How long have you been following me?”

“I’ve always been there. We martial families are all the same—our obsession with our successors runs deep, does it not? More importantly...”

The former patriarch of the Hwangbo Clan, Huangbo Gon, King of Divine Beasts, grinned.

“Aren’t you headed in the wrong direction? What business do you have in the north?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“The martial world is such a wretched place. Jaseok is dead, yet you still have to roam about like this. I thought this duty was absurd even when I was a mere successor myself—imagine being tasked with watching over the entire world. You don’t even have time to grieve, do you?”

“......”

Tae Yeom-ryong resumed walking. But he could not escape his grandfather’s sharp words.

“In the end, what remains? Your lord fell to Heaven’s Gate Lord and the Dark Heaven Emperor. I’d love to avenge him, since I, too, owe him a debt. But taking on those two would be no different from hurling myself into the depths of hell wrapped in dry straw. Even in my prime, they were monsters.”

“They’re not dead.”

“What?”

“If anyone is destined to perish first, it’s me—not Jaseok, who still has a bright future ahead. You, of all people, who lack the courage to sire descendants of your own, shouldn’t be so quick to judge his fate.”

“For a runaway, you sure have a lot to say.”

“Runaway...?”

“You’re just afraid to confirm his death, aren’t you?”

“Northern Region. Ice Palace.”

“......?”

“That is my mission.”

For a brief moment, Huangbo Gon’s eyes widened.

“...You think the Ice Palace will let you in? Even when your family was intact, that was impossible. And now, a halfwit who can’t even use his own name plans to accomplish what? All you have is brute internal energy, yet you haven’t even achieved Three Flowers Converging on the Crown.”

Tae Yeom-ryong did not reply. Instead, he stomped his right foot.

Boom!

As the dust surged into the air, his body shot forward like an arrow. His vast energy reserves made such lightness techniques possible.

The reverberations of Elegant Algae Heavenly King Sutra, an art of the Huangbo Clan, rippled northward.

“You must have something up your sleeve.”

With his hands clasped behind his back, Huangbo Gon followe

***

Long, pale fingers tapped against a golden armrest.

Tap. Tap.

The deep resonance echoed throughout the grand hall. Rows of sorcerers, standing in a manner reminiscent of retainers before an emperor, all lowered their heads.

Seated upon the Grand Chancellor’s Throne was Cho Il-seo, newly appointed Young Lord of the Dark Heaven Emperor’s lineage. A long, crimson scar stretched across one side of his cheek.

“Ten Thousand Blossoms Falling Like Rain.”

He muttered.

“I didn’t expect the Tang Clan Lord to come. The distance alone...”

Traveling from Sichuan to Hangzhou was practically crossing an entire country. For anyone but a martial master, it was sheer madness.

Even for warriors, it was a time to tread carefully. In this chaotic era, no one knew which inhuman monstrosity might end their life.

“What of their movements?”

“They remain stationed at the marketplace where Demon Sword Yeo-roe was struck. There have been no further actions. Both the Tang Clan Lord and Sleeping Dragon of Mount Hua are still there.”

“They must be insane... They’ve come to die.”

A savage smile curled at the corner of Cho Il-seo’s lips.

The sorcerers at his side were all elite warriors of Taemo Mountain Fortress.

Individually, they could not match the Tang Clan Lord. However, once they activated their sect’s Thunder Heaven Nine Abyss Formation, the outcome would be different.

Even within the hellscape of Ten Thousand Blossoms Falling Like Rain, they could escape unscathed.

They had moved as one, retreating in unison, granting the Tang Clan Lord and the Sleeping Dragon of Mount Hua a small patch of land. Of course, the Tang Clan Lord had failed to draw the Demon Sword.

The now-dead Wasteland’s Cataclysm had been nothing short of a monster.

The favorite sword of Ipwang Fortress’ Jaseok was powerful enough to be considered a sacred relic. It was too soon for such an artifact to lose its efficacy.

The Heaven’s Gate Lord might have been able to pull it free, but he had shown no interest in the weapons of Wasteland’s Cataclysm.

“And the Fortress Lord?”

“He remains in seclusion.”

“Tell the guardian warriors to heighten their vigilance. I’ve been informed that Tiger Dragon Art is nearing its peak.”

“Yes.”

“The Heaven’s Gate must have received word as well.”

“No response so far.”

“Those damn cowards. What about the Five Heavenly Swordmasters?”

“Thunder Sword and Net Blade Sovereign entered closed-door training after witnessing Demon Sword Yeo-roe. They are expected to emerge soon.”

“The absence of the Three Sorcerer Thrones is glaring...”

Cho Il-seo let out a soft sigh but did not feel anxious.

After all, they were all fated to die.

Taemo Mountain Fortress had already calculated the consequences of Wasteland’s Cataclysm’s death. Even if there were some miscalculations, they could handle the fallout.

In fact, the more enemies arrived, the better. Those warriors who held a grudge against Jaseok’s death—their vast energy reserves would only add to his own ambitions.

“Now.”

He spoke languidly.

“Report on matters I have not asked about.”

The moment his words fell.

The sorcerers, standing in perfect posture, simultaneously raised their hands. Their disciplined movements reflected their refined education—an orderliness unlike that of Heaven’s Gate.

The disciples of Taemo Mountain Fortress were consumed by an endless curiosity for natural disasters, yet they never acted impulsively. They did not display emotions or move without command. Their rigidity was, in a way, correctness.

Yet, Cho Il-seo furrowed his brows.

Something about this unusual scene gave him a sense of unease.

But he was the one entrusted with absolute authority by the Dark Heaven Emperor, the de facto ruler of Hangzhou’s vast territories.

He steadied himself and gave his command. One by one, they spoke.

Their voices, monotonous and emotionless, filled the hall.

“News from Old Shaoxing. The city walls, both inner and outer, collapsed with a single spear thrust. Ipwang Divine Spear disregarded royal orders in his conflict with Prince of Gungmyeong.”

“The Hangzhou branch of Benseong Sect, as well as its affiliated factions—Black Sword Sect, Tiger Slaughter Pavilion, Qiaozan Sect, Fendao Hall, and Soosan Arts Sect—were all annihilated. A woman, draped in scarlet and black, has stacked their corpses into a mountain and has been lying atop it for half a day. The Eye Sorcerer reports she is an unmatched grandmaster.”

“The Azure South Blade has blockaded the Zhejiang waterways. Two Mansang Waterway Coalition ships were sunk in a single strike. It is suspected to be the work of a Three Flowers Converging on the Crown expert.”

“A beggar with nine knots on his sash has been spotted in Shunan County. He appears to be on the same path as the Heaven’s Gate Lord. They are expected to cross paths within a day.”

“Urgent news. The Abbot of Shaolin is heading south...”

And at that moment.

Unlike the emotionless sorcerers, Cho Il-seo felt something.

He picked up his brush and ink.

The first words he wrote:

Most Urgent.