Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 401: Transcendent Realm (1)

The soft rustling of sand grains scraped against the ground.

A cool breeze clung to the earth, stretching over the overturned soil, where wisps of dust rose like weary sighs.

Saaa―

What was once a forest clearing no longer appeared desolate. A deep and vivid silence had settled over it.

A young man draped in a purple robe layered like flowing wind. A pair of bisected corpses lying at his sides, their bodies convulsing as they expelled torrents of crimson filth. A single sword embedded in the ground, exuding steam amidst the stench ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) of blood...

The silence was deafening.

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The residual force of his sword arts, which had once spread like translucent ripples, now scattered into fragments. Rays of sunlight, bent in countless directions, slowly flickered back into place.

About ten paces away from the carnage—

"......."

A youthful figure stood frozen, his arm still outstretched. He was Yeon So-ha, the youngest warrior to attain Blue Rank in Ipwang Fortress—until the arrival of Ma Gwang-ik, that is.

The symbol of the Shingeom Squad Leader, which Yeon So-ha had aspired to receive, had now landed upon another’s shoulders.

Under normal circumstances, such an event would have been of great significance.

But now, that was secondary. The overwhelming questions came first. Swallowing dryly, Yeon So-ha slowly opened his mouth.

“...I owe you my life. But may I ask who you are...?”

He had clearly seen the character 荒 (Wilderness) engraved on the intruder’s shoulder.

A tightly fitted black robe at the forearm. It was undoubtedly the uniform of Jin Myeong-jo, Grandmaster of the Blood Medicine Division—a temporary issue exchanged among warriors of equal rank during missions.

But he had never seen this man before.

While internal affairs at the fortress often changed unexpectedly, it was unheard of for a newly appointed Black Rank to display such overwhelming force.

‘This is the battlefield of the Purples...’

Yeon So-ha locked eyes with the young man.

For a fleeting moment, he swallowed the curse that almost escaped his throat. The man’s face was like a mirror image of Ban-ak’s.

Crack—

The sword embedded in the parched earth let out a sharp noise, causing small fissures to form around it. Then, as if answering its master’s call, it lifted itself into the air and returned to his grasp.

"Jeong Yeon-shin, Lord of Ma Gwang-ik."

Gripping the hilt of Yeoroe, Jeong Yeon-shin finally spoke, his gaze fixed on the Shingeom Squad Leader. His words carried the weight of gratitude, though there was no room for formalities.

“The Squad Leader is before me.”

His voice was quiet.

At that moment, Yeon So-ha sucked in a breath, and a peculiar glint flickered in the eyes of Namgung’s First Sword.

Meanwhile, Yong Hui-myeong, Leader of the Shingeom Squad, curved his lips into a grin. He was clad in a white robe styled after a scholar’s attire, though it bore conspicuous stains of blood.

"You’ve grown."

The words carried multiple meanings.

His pupils, split vertically like slits, shimmered with flashes of golden lightning. It was an otherworldly sight—likely an advanced sensory technique.

The top swordsman of the Shingeom Squad had no trouble discerning Jeong Yeon-shin’s true nature.

"When I first saw you, you only came up to here."

He tapped just below his chest with the edge of his hand.

Jeong Yeon-shin narrowed his eyes at the unusual gesture. His direct superior’s movements seemed... unnatural.

The Shingeom Squad Leader was a martial embodiment of the blade.

Every movement he made should have been utterly fluid. But now, something was wrong. His stiff posture resembled that of a wooden puppet, and his pale complexion hinted at poisoning.

"The followers of heretical sects rarely engage in direct confrontations. It seems you’ve fallen prey to their sorcery."

Jeong Yeon-shin stated it plainly.

"......."

The corners of Namgung’s First Sword’s lips twitched slightly, while Yong Hui-myeong let out a quiet laugh.

"You’re certainly blunt. As expected of the Ma bloodline."

"I wouldn’t know..."

Jeong Yeon-shin trailed off. If anyone else had made that remark, he might have responded with a cutting retort instead.

"Your martial prowess has become terrifying. Even Namgung’s ‘Ghost of the Sword’ doesn’t dare rush in. Even I find it hard to believe... And look over there—Amya Battlefront’s archer is watching cautiously. He’s trying to gauge your strength."

Yong Hui-myeong chuckled.

Indeed, Jeong Yeon-shin could feel piercing gazes scrutinizing every inch of his body.

Two sources.

One belonged to Namgung’s First Sword, a transcendent master of the blade. The other—an archer from Amya Battlefront, said to be a reincarnation of the legendary Hou Yi.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t meet their gazes with his eyes.

He met them with his senses.

Wooong—

The air trembled, as if a giant whip had cracked through the atmosphere. His martial perception had clashed with the power waves of two Transcendent Martial Masters.

A phenomenon that proved his prowess.

It meant that, in a one-on-one confrontation, he could stand toe-to-toe with any of them.

"......!"

Their astonishment was palpable.

Even from over twenty li away, Jeong Yeon-shin could sense the slight twitch of Amya Battlefront’s archer’s eyebrows.

Haa—

Namgung’s First Sword let out a low sigh, a strange expression on his face.

"Leader Yong, you have quite the formidable junior under your wing. Continue your conversation. I shall wait."

"You’ll regret it."

Yong Hui-myeong smirked.

He had already seen through the man’s intent. Jeong Yeon-shin was an enigma—a high-ranking martial master with little known about him.

The so-called connoisseurs of martial hierarchy loved debating whether he had ascended to the Transcendent Realm or not.

When rumors surfaced that he had single-handedly slain Moyong Family’s Grandmaster, Seonghui the Celestial Blade, many had gone silent. Yet even then, people still argued over the truth.

The sheer speed at which his feats had unfolded made it inevitable.

Information on the current Lord of Ma Gwang-ik.

Compared to the Transcendent Masters who had reigned over the martial world for decades, knowledge of him remained shallow at best.

Even now, numerous factions were engaged in an unseen war to uncover his martial techniques and signature arts.

Even Yong Hui-myeong himself didn’t know what Jeong Yeon-shin’s signature technique was.

‘The Wurong Assembly, Amya Battlefront, Yeo Ryeong... Those who value their lives prefer certainty.’

They sought tangible proof.

Now, even the Thirteen Heavens and the Unorthodox Sects—groups collectively labeled as the Major Factions—would be busy analyzing Jeong Yeon-shin.

They would not realize that he was analyzing them in return.

Yong Hui-myeong sneered inwardly.

They could watch all they wanted.

‘But knowing him, he respects Myeong-jo more than me. If there’s one thing he’s mastered, it’s keeping his secrets.’

The opponents watching were no ordinary martial artists.

One wielded the Supreme Celestial Sword, a blade of pure destructive force.

The other held the Arrow of the Blazing Sun, a projectile said to pierce even the heavens.

But Yong Hui-myeong was in no hurry.

If anything, he was giving Jeong Yeon-shin time.

"The Sichuan mission—what became of it?"

He finally asked.

Jeong Yeon-shin responded immediately.

“Senior Ha of Suncheon Ik has fallen. The culprits are the former Patriarch of the Peng Family, Geumsi Sect, and Sipjeonmun. There were also reports that Sunmaren clashed with Suncheon Ik before the incident.”

His report was concise, yet it conveyed the most critical information first.

To Jeong Yeon-shin, everything else was insignificant. No matter how many enemy heads were claimed, it would never replace the death of a sworn brother.

A moment of silence followed.

Yong Hui-myeong’s lips parted and closed a few times, as if he had countless words in mind but struggled to voice them—like an unpracticed scholar fumbling for speech.

“...The culprits?”

It was the Shingeom Squad Leader’s question. Jeong Yeon-shin gave Yeoroe a swift flick. A straight line of blood was etched into the ground—the lifeblood of the one who had struck at Yeon So-ha earlier.

Yong Hui-myeong’s lips curved into a faint arc.

“You’ve surpassed me.”

“Let’s return to the fortress. I will escort you.”

Jeong Yeon-shin reached out and placed a hand on the Shingeom Squad Leader’s back. His mannerisms carried a feigned familiarity, the same he had used when he once helped suppress the internal injuries of the Namgung Patriarch, who had been slain in a single breath.

His palm pressed against Myeongmun Acupoint.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Mother.

Alongside the core principles of Jeongga Donggong, he channeled energy into Yong Hui-myeong’s body—gently, subtly, like the refined aura of Divine Blood Extreme Demon that he had studied over the years.

Back in his Blue Rank days, Jeong Yeon-shin would have perceived this process as an entire universe unfolding before him.

Now, it was different.

His meridians, once stretched taut by the sheer force of Yong Hui-myeong’s, now rivaled them. What had once felt like an untouchable Dragon’s Core in Yong Hui-myeong’s Middle Dantian was now remarkably similar to Radiant Wheel Energy, containing the brilliance of an inner sun.

The accumulation of energy was endless.

No longer mysterious.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s body, having undergone rebirth through marrow cleansing, was now every bit as profound as the Shingeom Squad Leader’s Eight Extraordinary Meridians.

Something is off. Is it Mountain Hollow Venom?

The one unexpected factor was Yong Hui-myeong’s condition. His internal energy was continuously scattering like powdered dust, and even his blood flow was unnervingly unstable.

It was difficult to fathom the battles he had endured. There was certainly something to be learned from them.

"Haha—"

Yong Hui-myeong let out a hollow laugh.

"This is a disgraceful sight. Almost amusing."

His words were spoken casually, but the subtle hint of surprise was unmistakable. Was he sensing that his junior’s True Qi Refinement was no longer constrained by his own limitations?

Hwaak!

Jeong Yeon-shin continued channeling Jeongga Donggong’s True Energy, igniting the circulation of Great Celestial Cycle—now at a speed approaching light itself.

Beginning from the Myeongmun Acupoint at the center of the back, the energy surged upward through the Shinju Acupoint, revolving unhindered.

His internal energy, tempered by years of cultivation, effortlessly absorbed and stabilized whatever residual forces were within.

"You brat, this is awkward."

Yong Hui-myeong stepped away. He had been conscious of Namgung’s First Sword watching him. It was also a signal—he had recovered enough.

This level of intervention... Even if a monkey had studied Tongkong Acupoint Arts while eating bananas, it would have been enough to stabilize his internal injuries.

Now I just need to buy time.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

It was his duty to protect the Blue Rank warriors and his direct superior. In this situation, he had no delusions of facing two Transcendent Grandmasters simultaneously.

He had yet to inherit the Absolute Sword of the Divine Realm, let alone receive his purple robe officially.

He was still an unranked Transcendent.

A mere purple-robed warrior could not yet compare to the Shingeom Squad Leader.

Here, he could only do what was within his means.

What is this?

Jeong Yeon-shin found himself puzzled by the purple robe clinging perfectly to his shoulders.

The silken fabric draped down to the back of his calves, soft and smooth. It wasn’t simply black silk—woven from the legendary Heavenly Silkworm Thread, it radiated a faint spirituality.

"It seems we’ve said all that needs to be said."

The middle-aged swordsman, who had been observing the exchange, took a step forward. The wide sleeves of his azure robe rippled, and the milk-white blade he carried hummed with a soft resonance.

"I hear you’ve taken in my nephews. Their titles... if I recall, they were Cheonggirin and The Chivalrous Lady."

There was only one man who could refer to Cheonggirin Namgung Se-jin as his nephew.

Namgung Mu-jin, the Emperor of Sword Howls.

For twenty years, he had been known as the greatest swordsman of Southern Rites.

Once the pride of the Namgung Clan, he had suddenly abandoned his heirship and left to become a recluse.

Now, he had joined Muryong Assembly, becoming sworn brothers with its leader, one of the Thirteen Heavens.

"Namgung’s First Sword is within Muryong Assembly. He is the White Qilin’s uncle."

The words of Ma Gwang-ik’s Cheongmyeong surfaced in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

"A spy from the Murim Alliance told me that my half-brother’s illegitimate son has taken you as his superior. Even though Se-jin and Mi-ah met their end by your hand, they still sought out their origins..."

"The affairs of the martial world are strange indeed."

The middle-aged man shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

"And now, our family’s sworn enemies are gathered in one place. The Shingeom Squad Leader, who slew our Patriarch. The Lord of Ma Gwang-ik, who wiped out our direct lineage. I am Namgung’s First Sword. If I hadn’t seen it, I might have ignored it. But now that we stand face to face, how can I simply let it go?"

"First Sword...?"

Jeong Yeon-shin murmured.

Him?

Namgung So-ga-ju had regarded the illegitimate-born Namgung Hwa-shin as his true brother, even openly expressing sorrow for him.

The Namgung Clan that Jeong Yeon-shin had come to know did not carry such rigid notions of lineage and bloodlines.

Illegitimate birth? True origins?

Even as a provocation, those were words that should never have been spoken.

Jeong Yeon-shin thought of his mother.

Sreung.

Namgung Mu-jin’s sword let out a chilling sound.

"This conversation has gone on long enough. The Amya Battlefront’s Warlord Archer is a transcendent marksman, yet his patience is not limitless."

With those words—

Something flew toward them from the distance.

Through his Heavenly Vision, Jeong Yeon-shin saw it clearly.

A single, elongated arrow.

The moment it entered his sight, it expanded at a terrifying speed.

The sky trembled violently, as if an earthquake had erupted within the clouds.

Kugugung—!

The Ten Li One Shot of Amya Battlefront’s Warlord Archer.

Jeong Yeon-shin gazed at it indifferently.

He flexed his left hand, then clenched it shut.

A deep, reverberating hum emanated from his heart.

Suddenly—

A cascade of starlight enveloped his body.

The surroundings were momentarily washed in a pale luminescence.

Kwaang—!

The next instant, a suppressed explosion rang from his clenched fist.

The ground beneath him caved inward, forming a crater from the force of impact.

Even Namgung’s First Sword widened his eyes in shock.

On Jeong Yeon-shin’s purple robe, the starlight rippled like a celestial tapestry. It was eerily mystical.

In his grip—

A jet-black, unyielding arrow, twisted beyond recognition.

Crack.

With a faint noise, the arrow bent like taffy within his palm.