Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 369: A Supreme Martial Master (4)
Techniques that incorporate armor are exceedingly rare.
In the vast world of martial arts, there are only three widely recognized martial disciplines that specialize in them.
The Beast Clans of the North, the Imperial Army, and the Ten Gates of Sichuan.
Though the martial artists of the world enjoy the order established by the empire, they shamelessly wield blades without proper qualifications. Yet even such sword-carrying paled in comparison to the audacity of wearing armor—an act that bordered on treason.
That was precisely why the Ten Gates had come to be known as the Thirteen Demonic Heavens.
They had taken in a retired grand general, a former pillar of the northern front, as their leader. Using his military connections, political cunning, and the isolated geography of Sichuan, they had found a way to circumvent imperial law.
And thus, the Peerless Grandmaster of the Ten Gates forged a martial discipline dedicated to armored combat.
A supreme martial art that allowed the Ten Gates to stand as an equal to the Tang Clan and the two great orthodox sects of Sichuan, and even rival the Pure Devil Sect.
A heavy silence followed.
The Tang Clan, Ten Gates, Qingcheng Sect, Emei Sect, and the Pure Devil Sect.
Even in the treacherous lands of Sichuan, these were towering figures—each a master of supreme martial prowess. None among them were strangers to battle formations.
And all of them had witnessed the same thing.
The famed Loyalty-Devouring Sky Art, one of the countless disciplines that cemented the Ten Gates’ reputation, had collided with the black-robed youth—only to be utterly destroyed.
Thud.
Chunks of blood, flesh, and shattered metal that had once been Engraved Scarlet Star, Zheng Qiu-kun, plummeted to the earth.
The vanguard of the Ten Gates had perished exactly as his rank dictated—first.
And in the midst of it all—
The black-robed youth, bathed in an almost bluish glow, didn’t so much as glance at the remains. Instead, his gaze remained calmly fixed on the Lord of the Ten Gates.
It was an unbelievable sight.
Even Zekun Long of Qingcheng, the one who had shouted out Zheng Qiu-kun’s name, could not believe his eyes. Nor could the Lord of the Ten Gates himself, who had been silently observing Jeong Yeon-shin all this time.
“...Qiu-kun.”
The Lord of the Ten Gates murmured.
Sunlight flickered faintly in the eyes of a warrior who had fought through countless battlefields.
Among the elite of the Ten Gates, those who shared the rank of Master were not merely subordinates—they were also disciples.
Most of the sect’s champions had once fought beside their leader as long-time comrades. And Zheng Qiu-kun was no exception—he had followed the Lord of the Ten Gates since their campaigns in the North.
“...You’ve forged an impressive Internal Armor Qi.”
The Lord of the Ten Gates spoke slowly.
The waves of Qi, which had been viciously tearing into the ground beneath him, suddenly dissipated.
At the same time, the glow of his silver armor faded, and an unnatural silence fell upon the battlefield.
He had drawn in every trace of his overwhelming Qi.
Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his gaze slightly.
"He hasn’t withdrawn his True Qi."
His Upper Dantian detected something immeasurably heavy.
He had merely abandoned his battlefield techniques, switching to a Qi circulation suited for a one-on-one deathmatch.
Even after suffering Absorption Techniques from the Bloodflame Cult Leader, this man’s supremacy remained unchallenged.
The Lord of the Ten Gates spoke, his voice emotionless.
“In all of the martial world, only the Little Lord of Yeo Ryeong shares your level of deception. Perhaps the Grey Demon of the Dark Night, or one of those petty war gods of the North, at best.”
“...A lot of names.”
“Lord Ma Gwang-ik... Jeong Yeon-shin. You weren’t lying after all.”
“Your tongue is too long.”
“I originally didn’t believe you. The last time I saw you, you still had the face of a child...”
“......”
“But now that I see you again, it’s as if you’ve been reborn.”
For who else at your age could possibly have done this to Zheng Qiu-kun—?
The Lord of the Ten Gates muttered to himself.
“You also killed Guang and Zhuhua, didn’t you?”
Sword Scorpion Devil, Dokgo Gwang and Mangwol Gwanggeuk, Lu Zhuhua.
Two of the highest-ranking warriors of the Ten Gates. Jeong Yeon-shin remembered them well.
They were the very butchers who had slain countless martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik, right before he had created the Supreme Dharmic Wheel Technique.
"I let them die too easily."
The thought crossed Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind as he once again reflected on the flaws of a short-term decisive battle.
“And so... the little fledgling of Ipwang Fortress has gone and clipped many of my wings.”
His words carried no particular inflection.
But the moment his sentence ended, his hand moved.
It was a motion so subtle that it resembled nothing more than a moth’s wings fluttering.
Yet somehow, in the next instant—
A blade had already been drawn.
There had been no sound of unsheathing.
"That’s not a sword draw—"
Jeong Yeon-shin touched the blade’s Qi flow and met the Lord of the Ten Gates’ gaze.
"That is martial arts itself."
The Lord of the Ten Gates, Zeng Jianwu.
Jeong Yeon-shin had heard of him.
It was said that his martial philosophy bore resemblance to Ma Gwang-ik’s Ultimate Art.
A man whose mastery over body movement techniques had been refined into an entire martial doctrine.
“Come.”
The Lord of the Ten Gates tilted his blade ever so slightly.
His posture was not that of an equal.
It was that of a senior martial artist addressing a junior.
A clear rejection of the idea that the Black Shade of Ipwang Fortress could ever stand as his peer.
For a leader of the Thirteen Demonic Heavens, such an attitude was only natural.
The battlefield stirred.
“Has the Shadow Lord of the Central Plains undergone rebirth?!”
“If the Lord of the Ten Gates says so, it must be true.”
“Then... there’s no way he came alone. He must have brought others with him.”
“We should check immediately.”
“There are two Lords of the Thirteen Heavens present! No matter how strong he is, the Black Shade of Ipwang Fortress is merely a lure!”
The murmurs spread among the Ten Gates and the Pure Devil Sect.
The warriors who glared at Jeong Yeon-shin exuded a violent, predatory Qi.
“Look at his sword!”
“There’s a forging technique imprinted on the blade—one that’s passed only to direct disciples!”
“The sheen... could it be True Silver Radiance? That’s only found in the Coiling Dragon Formation...”
“The Shadow Lord! It’s confirmed!”
“The Young Master and the Young Lady must have intervened!”
“Stop them! We cannot let them flank us!”
Fwooooosh!
The very air of the battlefield warped and trembled.
This was the gathering point of the Thirteen Heavens, the Eight Families, and the Nine Sects.
The Qi fluctuations of warriors from countless disciplines crashed together in a ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) roiling storm of killing intent.
And then—
A deep, aged laughter boomed across the battlefield.
"Kuhaha—"
A laughter so heavy, it crushed the entire field of Qi.
It was Demonic Energy.
[A Child’s Play is Quite Amusing—Let’s See How Well You Dance.]
Whoosh—!
This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.
The dust in the air, rather than dispersing, was suddenly pulled downward.
The walls surrounding the manor trembled precariously, and the scattered pebbles on the ground dug themselves into the earth as if being swallowed whole.
The once-shouting voices abruptly halted, their expressions twisting in shock. Some muttered under their breath like murmured prayers.
“The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect...!”
Another peerless grandmaster had entered the fray.
An elder, his long white beard flowing like that of an immortal.
But he was no sage. He was an absolute force of the demonic path, one who had broken away from the Ming Sect’s martial lineage.
A man whose allegiance was ever uncertain, his words always subject to change.
If the Lord of the Ten Gates and the Lord of the Pure Devil Sect joined forces, even Jeong Yeon-shin would have to brace himself for death.
Yet, without turning his head, he already sensed the presence of the elder floating in midair.
From the very beginning, he had been more concerned about that one rather than the Lord of the Ten Gates.
Because of the young man clinging to the far edge of the cliff, desperately fending off the Pure Devil Sect’s lord like an insect caught in a web.
"The White Warrior of Innate Purity."
A distant memory surfaced—when he had briefly crossed paths with this man years ago in the Sichuan Martial Alliance’s regional branch.
He could not leave him be.
“You take your time measuring the distance,” the Lord of the Ten Gates murmured, seemingly disappointed.
“I heard your martial lineage was known for taking short exchanges, not drawing them out.”
Jeong Yeon-shin silently revolved the Wheel of Light embedded in his heart.
And within his mind’s eye, a single sword was raised.
Sharper than ever before—perfected through Bone Reformation and Tri-Convergence Refinement.
"One strike is enough."
Without changing his calm expression, he aimed the sword in his heart at the Lord of the Ten Gates.
“Hmm?”
Shhhh—!
A wave of white sword Qi erupted from the Lord of the Ten Gates’ grasp.
His reaction speed was beyond extreme.
His body had moved on instinct, the moment he recognized an incoming strike.
The sound that followed was like paper being violently torn apart—as his drawn sword shattered the very air around him.
That was exactly what Jeong Yeon-shin had anticipated.
For he had honed his martial mastery to an extreme level, much like the Lord of the Ten Gates’ Supreme Martial Discipline.
“Seonryong.”
In the instant between heartbeats, Jeong Yeon-shin erased the sword in his mind.
He shifted his fan, aligning it with the sword at his waist.
And then—
BOOOOOM—!
A searing burst of light and sound erupted as the sword shot forward in a blinding straight line.
Seonryong Converging Blade Art.
Imperial Sword Technique.
CRAAAAAACK—!
A circular shockwave burst forth, creating a massive ripple in the air.
The distortions in the battlefield’s Qi field surged outward, violently scattering in all directions.
A seismic tremor followed, sweeping across the ground like an oncoming tsunami.
Through the chaos—
The figure of the Pure Devil Sect’s lord suddenly plummeted.
His descent was near-freefall—his Lightness Technique had been overwhelmed by the sheer force of the counter.
The expression on his wrinkled face was not one of amusement.
For once, he failed to conceal his shock as he stared at Jeong Yeon-shin.
Tap.
“So you are the descendant of the Vagabond Hero.”
The elder narrowed his brows.
And thus—
A scene unfolded that silenced over a hundred martial masters.
The Lord of the Ten Gates, the Lord of the Pure Devil Sect, and the Shadow Lord of the Central Plains.
If one asked a hundred martial artists to predict this battle, ninety-nine would speak of the utter defeat of the Shadow Lord.
Even for Jeong Yeon-shin, the pressure was immense.
If he were to engage them directly, he would inevitably fail to protect the Tang siblings’ carriage.
And so, he laid bare his true martial strength.
So that they, who valued their own lives above all else, would realize—
There was nothing to be gained from crossing blades with him.
For all their demonic ruthlessness, the Thirteen Lords of the Heavens had always been pragmatists.
Had they not been, they would never have survived long enough to become Thirteen Lords in the first place.
The Pure Devil Sect’s lord revealed his yellowed teeth in a grin.
“Ipwang Fortress has raised quite the monster. My disciple should have killed you long ago.”
“No,” the Lord of the Ten Gates interjected, tone even.
“This one grew up alone. I heard it from the Little Lord of Yeo Ryeong.”
The elder scoffed, as if it hardly mattered.
“That a child of your age stands face-to-face with old monsters like us... What a troublesome thing.”
This was the Tang Clan.
A family with a history spanning generations.
And like all ancient martial houses, it harbored secrets forged through the ages.
From the outer gate to the inner halls, there existed labyrinthine formations of poison traps, forbidden artifacts, and assassination techniques.
The Nine Venoms Labyrinth, the Shadow Dragon Ninefold Array, the Ghost King Command, the Thunderfire Duality Formation—
All formations that even peerless grandmasters hesitated to challenge.
For this reason—
Neither the Lord of the Ten Gates nor the Lord of the Pure Devil Sect moved carelessly.
They were not at full strength.
Against lesser foes, this would have been irrelevant.
But now—
For the first time, the aura of superiority they had carried like gods dissipated.
“What do you intend to do?”
The Lord of the Ten Gates spoke, returning his blade to its sheath.
It was as if his subordinate had never died—as if his fury had vanished in an instant.
The calculated nature of a peerless grandmaster of the demonic path.
The Pure Devil Sect’s lord glanced at him, then let out a boisterous laugh before tilting his chin toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
“Boy,” he said, “no matter how strong you are, you cannot take on both of us.”
“Surely you do not believe we will take turns fighting you?”
“How pathetic.”
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly, his hands slowly opening at his sides.
The Tang siblings’ twin blades had floated behind him, gleaming with a frightening edge.
Even without releasing his Qi, an overwhelming aura radiated from him.
The transcendence that only peerless grandmasters possessed.
He slowly parted his lips.
“Attack together if you wish.”
Silence.
The battlefield lost its words.
