Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 461: Heavenly Motion (5)

The place where Thunderblade had disappeared.

A wave of astonishment rippled through the crowd, as thick as clouds.

The moment the chaotic battle broke out, those who had either stepped back or fled in a hurry hesitated.

Among them were not only commoners but also numerous poets, scholars, and martial artists, all staring blankly at the sky.

"What just...?"

"The Divine Sword moved on its own!"

"What nonsense are you spouting?"

"I'm telling you, the sword ascended to the heavens!"

The fierce battle came to an abrupt halt. Even those exchanging swift strikes in the upper realms of martial prowess momentarily took a step back.

The compressed winds, trapped within their techniques, all burst forth at once.

Saaah—

A yellowish whirlwind swirled. It drew a massive circle, sweeping through the surroundings before slowly dissipating. The sight was far calmer compared to the storm the Divine Sword had just unleashed.

"......."

In the silence, the hems of the grandmasters' robes fluttered. It was incomprehensible. Their reactions reflected nothing less than complete disbelief at what had transpired.

Among them, Thunderblade was the quickest to react.

Despite the shock, she hadn't fully retracted her energy.

Her upper body, streaked with short yet deadly sword wounds from shoulder to neck, was wrapped in a pale windstorm. Her black hair, cut just above her nape, wavered like the mirage of a summer day.

"We pursue."

Lowering her stance, she shot forward, shattering the ground beneath her feet in a circular pattern.

In the direction where the Divine Sword Thunderblade had vanished. A belated thunderous boom echoed from behind her black leather shoes. Her movement technique was brutally fast.

The swordsmen of Celestial Extreme Sect, who had formed an encirclement, began withdrawing like a receding tide, following in her wake.

Watching over their retreating backs stood the Nether Sovereign.

A man clad in tightly fitted black garments, akin to an assassin's attire. His heavily muscled torso, shadowed by the dim light, emitted an overwhelming aura.

He was a swordsman who had honed his lower energy center to its absolute limits.

"The esteemed Lord Tang wouldn't strike the backs of retreating men, would he?"

The Nether Sovereign spoke with a faint smile.

A middle-aged man with sharp facial features and a long beard, yet with unusually smooth skin. His swordsmanship and appearance were equally refined—thus, he was called the Nether Sovereign.

Celestial Net. Like a net cast by the heavens, there was no escaping it.

Yet even the Left Seat of the Celestial Extreme Five Swords couldn't completely hide his shock.

A fragment of the astonishment that had momentarily surfaced on his face still lingered.

Beyond him, three shadows leaped past.

Pararak—

Shin So-bin, Hyeon Won-chang, and Yu Hyeon. The sharp gusts of their rapid movement technique caused their garments to flutter noisily.

All of them were among the finest talents of their generation. Impossible to predict what impact they might have at any given moment.

"Hyeon senior, was that Sword Flight just now...?"

"I don't know. But one thing's certain—heaven wouldn't shatter Ipwang Divine Alliance's goal so easily. If you fall «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» behind, I'll leave you behind."

"What goal?"

"...A grand composition."

"What are you two talking about? Anyway, Yeon-shin is—"

Their voices faded into the distance.

The Nether Sovereign didn't stop them.

He couldn't afford to be distracted before Lord Tang.

Though his martial prowess had dwindled after being defeated once by the Mad Grand Elder and again by the Golden Ruler, the Ten Thousand Blossoms Rain technique of Poison Commander Tang Unhwang was still not to be taken lightly.

Even as the Nether Sovereign of Celestial Extreme Sect, all he could do for now was furrow his brow.

"Impudent brats...."

"You’re one to talk."

A middle-aged man of small stature stood before the Nether Sovereign.

A man who had once accepted a seventeen-year-old boy from Ipwang Fortress as his master. Tang Unhwang clenched his stone-like hands, and the hammer he gripped began to scatter like pale petals once more.

Sasasaa—

A chilling friction sound.

It was a secret technique passed down from small hands to blunt ones long ago.

***

A vast estuary stretched like a transparent sea.

The land meeting the river was composed of soft-textured sand, and the brightly shining sunlight reflected off the ground, casting a golden hue.

Kaiyun Port of Fuyang County, Hangzhou.

Once brimming with merchant ships that sustained Hangzhou, now only the sporadic sound of the wind teasing the water echoed through the silence.

Accompanying it was the subtle resonance emitted by thirty or so sorcerers standing in formation at the port.

"This is absurd. A so-called warrior of Ipwang Fortress actually blocked the waterway? This will disrupt the supply of Yellow Emperor's Elixir...."

Cho Il-seo murmured, flanked by his subordinates on both sides.

In truth, he already knew.

That the notorious pirate faction known as Ten Thousand Waves, recently classified as one of the Thirteen Heavens following the downfall of the Demon Forest, had long seized control over Zhejiang.

Yet he gestured toward a sorcerer, urging a response.

"...Cheongmyeong of Celestial Lord Sect. A man infamous for his ruthless methods." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

One of his subordinates slightly bowed his head and answered. Seated in the palanquin carried by four servants, Cho Il-seo nodded.

"Indeed. He was so blinded by military accomplishments that he neglected the people. We shall pin the turmoil of Hangzhou’s civilians on him. The Ipwang Divine Sword... If I report him to the provincial governor, he will know what to do. He’s already received so much from us—he wouldn’t dare bite the hand that feeds him. You go. Threaten him if necessary."

"Yes, sir."

The subordinate immediately departed, carrying a bundle of yellow talismans inscribed with the Yellow Emperor's Elixir formula.

All of them would enhance their insufficient sorcery-based martial arts, allowing easy access to the provincial governor.

Cho Il-seo nodded to himself. This was a perfect two-pronged move.

By restraining a presumed grandmaster within government offices and simultaneously securing the full supply of the Yellow Emperor’s Elixir, as initially agreed with Ten Thousand Waves—without expending any real force.

"Ipwang Divine Sword is taken care of."

Grand Sorcerer Cho Il-seo, the young ruler of Hangzhou, muttered.

He was meticulously ensuring that his grandfather, the Dark Heaven Emperor’s Dragon-Riding Sorcery, remained uninterrupted.

"A woman of the Scarlet Eye... If she is truly a transcendent, then we will need at least two of the Celestial Extreme Five Swords...."

"Based on her facial scarring, she is likely the Seventh Apostle of Bloodflame Cult, said to be their greatest prodigy. Two might not be enough."

Another sorcerer, catching the young master’s gaze, added an opinion. Cho Il-seo’s lips curved into a smirk.

"Yes, the True Blood of the Scarlet Clan. I’ve long been aware of her. There was once talk that I might have to marry her, but now she’s a complete lunatic, waging war against Bloodflame Cult alone. She must know that a single rock cannot shatter an entire desert."

"Her reason for opposing us is unknown, but even though the First Apostle has ascended to the position of Cult Leader, she has yet to make a move."

"It matters not. Did you think I would focus solely on Celestial Extreme Sect?"

At that moment—

The golden sunlight over the port began to distort.

Hands emerged from the sandy ground. Pale, bloodless flesh surfaced from beneath the earth, followed by corpses slowly pushing themselves up from the dirt. Among them were skeletal figures, moving despite being made of white bone.

Reversal Sorcery.

Tap, tatak.

Their footsteps carried a dry, eerie sound.

For the first time, a flicker of emotion passed over the expressionless sorcerers.

Overflowing Corpse Grand Art.

An ancient method once used by the disciples of the Daoist Mausoleum Sect to transport bodies.

Today, it had been reconstructed into an absolute secret technique by the prodigies of Tai Mausoleum Fortress.

In other words—Jiangshi.

Cho Il-seo had merely activated what had long been prepared by his sect.

Now, dozens of corpses surrounded him, all exuding a faint bluish aura.

Extreme Yin energy.

And more than that—infused with the powder of Eternal Cold Iron, mimicking the invulnerability of Shaolin monks’ Vajra Indestructible Bodies.

Each one was akin to a divine relic.

Fifty of them.

Unlike the slow-moving corpses of legend, these were fast.

Perfect for hunting supreme martial artists.

"Let’s go."

"Like this?"

Before Cho Il-seo could even ask, one of his subordinates hesitated and countered.

It was a rare but inevitable response.

Why had the Ming Sect been condemned as a heretical religion and exterminated in the distant past? Because they had wielded all manner of sorcery under the guise of demonic energy.

Among their methods were many that defied human comprehension—like the bizarre practice of Bone-Cleansing Rebirth, where a newborn's body was molded to maturity within a year.

'Men who sought to surpass the heavens were punished as traitors.'

Of course, such children rarely survived beyond a few years. But that was of no concern to Cho Il-seo at the moment.

He was a sorcerer—one who applied the wisdom of the past to the present.

"Kill all who witness this. Conveniently, isn't there already a bloodborn fiend in Hangzhou? For some reason, she's been aiding civilians, slaying blood demons and unorthodox martial artists alike. But that doesn't erase her sins. We'll say her madness flared up again. History is written by the victors."

Then, the Young Lord issued his command.

"Follow."

Sssaaah—

The sound of dragging feet. Moist earth cracked open in several places. The living and the dead began to march as one.

***

Hangzhou was a land of refinement.

Even when the dark clouds of martial conflict loomed, those born with a taste for elegance never ceased their chatter.

In a world with few amusements, rumors were an indulgence.

Beneath a large cypress tree—

"I'm telling you! That time, Yeonhwa Nata shoved old Jang's grandson just like that! And this, even with the Jade Emperor of Tai Mausoleum Fortress dropping an iceberg overhead!"

A storyteller, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, spoke with excited fervor.

A villager listening from afar shook his head.

"They say supreme martial artists are practically gods and demons, but if he really shoved the child with that strength, wouldn't he have turned him into paste right then and there?"

"This is why country bumpkins are—"

The storyteller clicked his tongue. The villager bristled at the insult.

"How can someone born in Hangzhou be a bumpkin? And what about you? Just some wandering vagabond spinning tales, aren't you?"

The storyteller gave him a pitying look.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"If you don’t understand the ways of the martial world in times like these, that makes you a bumpkin. Haven’t you heard about the Jeong family from the lower village? Went to buy goods and came back with his coin pouch—along with his head—on display."

The villager hesitated.

"I... I never heard such a thing."

A strange silence settled.

Above the storyteller's head, on the thick branch of the cypress tree, the red hem of a woman's robe rustled.

A breeze swept through the clearing. Her black blindfold shifted ever so slightly against her porcelain cheek.

And on the opposite side of the clearing—

A woman clutching a sword in her embrace slowly lifted her head.

Her long, damp hair and pink robe clung to her body, soaked through. But her bloodshot eyes prevented her from looking remotely gentle.

Instead, she radiated an unsettling air.

'Are such people common outside the village? Maybe I should visit more often.'

The villager, born and raised in Hangzhou, was accustomed to seeing martial artists. But where had such peerless beauties come from?

"Anyway, Yeonhwa Nata Jeong Yeon-shin had surprisingly delicate swordplay. I'm not sure where he learned his movement techniques, but his energy was both soft and unyielding. Without delving too deeply into the principles of flow, he sent Jang’s grandson and Yulha Nangnang of the Mount Hua Sect flying. Just like that Divine Sword Thunderblade, lodged somewhere out there."

The storyteller continued effortlessly.

"In any case, he was a man destined to become a legend in the martial world—if only he hadn’t perished at the hands of the Celestial Extreme Lord."

"Oh, about that."

The usually dull-witted villager perked up.

"Did the Violet One from Ipwang Fortress really lose? I mean, even if the Supreme Unorthodox Sword is one of the greatest swordsmen under the heavens... variables exist, don’t they? No matter how evenly matched two men are, fighting ten times won’t always yield the same result."

"Hmm, there's some merit in that."

"I still can’t believe Yeonhwa Nata was killed. They say he was a child immortal with countless secret techniques...."

"Secret techniques!"

The storyteller, pressing down on the top of his hat, let out a hearty laugh.

"Yeonhwa Nata had two fearsome arts. One that made his body move like lightning, and one that did the same for his sword. Unfortunately, each was too vast to contain within a single form. And not a single one of them left so much as a scratch on the Celestial Extreme Lord."

"Haah..."

"And moreover—"

The storyteller lowered his voice, as if revealing a great secret.

"The Celestial Extreme Lord was a grown man, while Yeonhwa Nata was merely a boy."

"The late Jeong Gong was said to be an exceptional young beauty. But wasn’t he more of a man than a boy? I heard he reached the pinnacle of transformation, so he wasn’t exactly a child—just young."

"It seems our dear bumpkin doesn’t understand metaphor."

"This guy again?"

The villager leaped to his feet. The storyteller tilted his straw hat slightly upward.

Revealing his pale, cataract-clouded eyes. He was blind.

"Want to test me?"

"Bah... Talk about bad luck."

The villager spat in disgust and left the clearing.

"Talking so casually about a young hero's tragic death—you disgust me! Don't live like that!"

"Does death in the martial world ever bother with age?"

The blind storyteller chuckled.

Two listeners still remained.

"Still, you have more patience than I expected. Especially the one from Bloodflame Cult. How surprising. ‘Those who come do not come with good intent’—so I take it this is not a friendly visit."

He stroked the scabbard of his sword as he spoke.

"Could it be that you were waiting for the villagers to leave?"

"Rip them..."

From above him.

The woman draped in red, lounging diagonally across the thick tree branch like a corpse, slightly parted her lips.

Her single, uncovered red eye—hollow and unfocused—stared into the void.

"Burn them, burn them..."

She muttered to herself.

Saaah—

A dry wind rustled the cypress leaves.

"......."

Across the clearing, the woman clutching her sword remained motionless. Her silence was overwhelming, and in her terrifyingly bloodshot eyes, the red-clad woman did not even exist.

Droplets of water slid from her soaked hair and robes, falling one by one onto the earth.

"The great fury of a failure."

The storyteller smiled.

"How thrilling. Sends chills down my spine."

As he lifted the hat’s string from his neck—

The ground trembled.

Boom.

At first, it was subtle.

"Hm...?"

But only for a moment.

Within the blink of an eye, the tremor escalated violently. The force compounded upon itself, rapidly intensifying.

Before a single breath could be completed, the earth shook so fiercely that the very ground cracked open.

Kugugugugung—!

It was as if lightning had struck the soil. Fissures tore through the yellow-brown earth, splitting it apart.

And the sky was no different.

Something comet-like streaked downward from the heavens, vertically piercing through the air.

It wasn’t lightning.

It was a beam of pure light.

Tearing through layers upon layers of clouds in an instant, it descended upon the earth.

A fleeting moment.

Reflected in the Celestial Extreme Lord’s pale, cataract-ridden eyes—

A sword.