Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 425: Exhausted (6)

The two tall men gazed into the distance.

They had strikingly similar features—bold impressions, high-bridged noses—but despite standing side by side, the young man dressed in Ipwang Fortress' blue martial robes had a noticeably slanted posture.

It was as if he had taken a step back at an angle, distancing himself, uninterested in entanglements.

The slightly older man beside him was the first to speak.

“You defy your superior’s command so easily? It’s been some time since I delivered the order for you to return to the main fortress, and yet here you are again.”

“You must have the vision of a stagnant well, unable to see beyond its depths. Once we reach Ipwang Fortress’ Blue Rank, we are permitted to carry out independent missions. We judge the situation ahead of time, act at our own discretion, and report later. Whether I receive punishment or reward—that is for my superiors to decide.”

“I was once the king of Shandong’s martial world. The methods of Ipwang Fortress' lower ranks are of no concern to me. In any case, you seem to have more freedom than the great families. Back in my day, Ipwang Fortress was no different from a military order.”

“The moment you step into the martial world, your daily life becomes a battlefield. Unlike the fattened pigs of noble families, we have far too many enemies. Naturally, we have more discretion.”

The young man’s tone teetered between respect and sarcasm, his words sounding both polite and biting at the same time.

With deep shadows cast over his sunken eyes and a blood-red poppy flower between his teeth, his demeanor made such contradictions seem effortless.

The older man scoffed like an amused elder.

“You have quite the tongue.”

“And what of you, Grandfather? What are you doing here? You’ve even reversed your aging with martial arts. If it were me, instead of following around a grandson who severed ties with his clan, I’d be enjoying a hedonistic life in Hangzhou.”

“Hedonistic life? I feel more inclined to hang you from a tree instead.”

With Dengfeng County behind them, grandfather and grandson stared out over the vast plains.

Ma Gwang-ik, the Great Flame Dragon of Ipwang Fortress.

Hwangbo Gon, the Divine Benefactor King and former patriarch of the Hwangbo Clan.

Their gazes stretched toward Jinan in Shandong.

A place where the Hwangbo Clan had once reigned supreme with unparalleled authority.

Yet the wind that blew toward them now carried nothing but hollow humidity, dissipating into emptiness.

“...So, severing ties, is it? That’s why you abandoned your full name. No one in Ipwang Fortress seems to know about it.”

“Well, yes.”

“And why?”

“The so-called retainers of my family were treating the common people as personal slaves, and yet, even as the eldest son, I couldn’t say a word against it. Compared to playing at being a chivalrous hero, I found my own life far more valuable.”

“...”

“Hwangbo is a name with some history, isn’t it? But whether it was the retainers who died or myself, neither of us were worthy of inheriting the name that our ancestors built.”

“You seem to be quite good at playing the warrior of Ipwang Fortress, though.”

Hwangbo Gon tossed the words out casually.

But Ma Gwang-ik didn’t respond.

He merely bit down on a leaf, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Even so, isn’t it excessive to live without a name? You were once the eldest heir of the greatest noble family in Shandong.”

“What great noble family? A ruined clan is no noble family. Until I understand my fate, I am only the Great Flame Dragon.”

“If you’re so determined to die, at least leave behind a descendant. I have no intention of remarrying, so I’ll need someone to pass the name to.”

“Don’t be absurd. Considering how fast our superior’s execution techniques improve each day, it won’t be easy for anyone to leave behind a child only to have them grow up fatherless.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means I’ll be on my way now. Stay in good health.”

Ma Gwang-ik gave a half-hearted nod before turning his back on Hwangbo Gon.

Waiting for him were a young man with a heroic demeanor, his forehead wrapped with a warrior’s band, and a girl dressed in pristine white martial robes.

Beside them, three warhorses from Ipwang Fortress pawed at the ground restlessly.

Hwangbo Gon called out to his grandson’s back.

“If you cannot even achieve the Union of Three Transformations, how do you plan to accomplish anything greater? You know well enough that your Qi is too uncontrollably vast.”

“Our superior was already defeating so-called top masters even before achieving the Unity of Essence, Energy, and Spirit. If he could handle that, then who cares about some minor breakthrough?”

Ma Gwang-ik grumbled dismissively as he mounted his horse.

“Damn, traveling with those lacking proper internal cultivation is a pain. What’s so hard about running all day with light footwork? Why waste time with relay stations?”

“Shut your mouth. That poppy stink is unbearable.”

The long strands of Baekmyo Shin Sobin’s hair swayed as she shook her head and nudged her horse forward.

And so, the three riders galloped across the wilderness, their steeds kicking up trails of dust.

Trailing behind them, the booming laughter of Hyeon Wonchang echoed through the open plains.

***

Jeong Yeon-shin sat quietly at the round wooden table, then suddenly felt a sense of doubt.

He had heard that many of the monks in Shaolin came from noble families.

Considering this, he had assumed that Shaolin, like Ipwang Fortress, would avoid using wood in its architecture. Yet, from the halls to the tables, it was rare to find anything not made of wood.

It felt almost like an ordinary Buddhist temple.

“Buddha is one who has severed the cycle of reincarnation. Anyone who has taken refuge in Buddhism should naturally detach from their family traditions, regardless of their lineage.”

The voice came from a one-eyed monk with no arms.

The Sacred Monk Beomha, the Abbot of Shaolin.

The old monk’s single eye reflected Jeong Yeon-shin’s figure with crystal clarity.

Had he perhaps attained the Buddhist ability to read minds? It was a remark that could not have been made without seeing directly into his thoughts.

‘As expected...’

The rumors he had heard as a child were true.

A Shaolin master whose cultivation was so deep that he had even attained the Six Divine Powers.

Respect flickered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze.

The abbot’s single eye curved slightly, as if smiling.

“Do not be so surprised. Everyone asks the same thing.”

His voice was so deep that it was hard to tell whether he was joking or serious.

Just as Jeong Yeon-shin slightly tilted his head in contemplation, Sacred Monk Beomha suddenly posed a question.

“How was your journey up the mountain? I assume this is your first time in Shaolin.”

“It looked tranquil from the outside, but once inside, the mountain terrain was treacherous. If I had come here as a child, my father might have abandoned me here.”

He thought it was quite a witty remark.

After all, he had learned a great deal about humor from watching Dragon Commander Yong Hee-myeong.

But not a single one of the elders from the Nine Great Sects laughed.

It was then that Jeong Yeon-shin realized something.

They were absolute masters who had long transcended mere martial prowess and had attained near-omniscience regarding the affairs of Jianghu.

“A few words, yet you encapsulate all of Jianghu within them.”

A quiet murmur came from Go Geom, one of the leading figures in Wudang.

The Shaolin Abbot’s gaze slowly swept across the room.

The absolute masters of Wudang, Mount Hua, Qingcheng, and Emei calmly received his gaze.

“Ipwang Fortress’ Purple Rank has arrived. It is time we discuss the formal proceedings.”

“We must recall the original purpose of the Mount Hua Assembly today. It was convened to prevent massacres like that of the Hwangbo Clan, ensuring that no further bloodbaths engulf Jianghu.

Thus, while this tournament will determine life and death, we must not reduce it to a mere spectacle where we casually watch countless martial artists perish.”

This time, Baek Yaksa-tae of Emei spoke.

It seemed that Thunderous Guanyin of Emei was wary of Ipwang Fortress and the Peng Family’s ongoing blood feud spilling further into Jianghu.

As expected of one of Sichuan’s great Buddhist leaders.

Even the righteous men of the Zheng Family were deeply impressed.

“What she says is correct. Even if they have drawn their swords in anger, they are still living beings, no different from beasts. Since this entire ordeal was caused by me, it is only right that I show them mercy.”

Jeong Yeon-shin said this while reminiscing about the wild boars that roamed the mountains behind Zheng Manor.

Naturally, the compassionate gaze of Emei’s Grandmaster fell upon him.

It felt like receiving praise from a grandmother he had never met before.

“That is sincere. You have transcended mere blood ties.”

For the first time, Qingcheng’s Cheongsu Jin-in, whose face had been stern all this time, slightly opened his mouth.

His unhidden admiration was fitting for someone from a lineage of noble scholars.

Thus, the gathering of the absolute masters of Jianghu ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) continued.

“A mediator will be needed. I shall have my sect’s Sword Arbiter oversee it.”

“The Six Kings School has arrived at the Jade Green Sword Arena. One of us should observe their matches closely. Their swift sword techniques are exceptionally fast...”

“Then let Senior Go Geom take on that role. Compared to our sect’s Azure Cloud Dripping Blade, Wudang’s Tai Chi Sword will be able to counter them more gracefully.”

Low voices exchanged back and forth.

As the leading figures of the great sects, they established the tournament’s rules and determined the matchups.

Before Sacred Monk Beomha, a letter suddenly floated in the air—no one knew when it had appeared.

A list containing the names of all the martial artists staying in the Jade Green Sword Arena below Songshan.

There were countless names.

“This seems like an appropriate arrangement.”

“It feels a little unnatural. The Nine Great Sects and Ipwang Fortress are being spread apart.”

“The sooner the bloodshed ceases, the better.”

Yulha Nangrang pointed out a flaw in Go Geom’s brushwork, but the Wudang Daoist—who maintained the appearance of a young immortal—remained as firm as ever.

At this moment, their top priority was to ensure that no unnecessary sacrifices were made during the duels between the great sects.

Strictly speaking, this entire martial tournament was just an offshoot of their true goal—to subdue the Peng Family’s leadership without excessive bloodshed.

That was the reality.

Yet as rumors spread, countless martial artists flocked here to broaden their horizons, make a name for themselves, and seize any opportunities that arose.

But to the Nine Great Sects and Ipwang Fortress, these outsiders were insignificant.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt a strange sensation.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight. ƒreewebɳovel.com

From his seat, he watched Jianghu shift and sway like waves, all in response to the decisions of these sect leaders—who bore no ill will yet commanded absolute authority.

This too was a Jianghu shaped by the Purple Rank.

‘It’s too high up. And...’

Dangerous.

The position he had risen to, and the overwhelming power of Jianghu’s highest echelon, capable of setting such grand stages with ease, were both dangerously unshakable forces.

The Thirteen Heavens, such as Taemosan Castle and Cheongeuk Gate, would likely be no different.

He was now a Purple Rank martial artist of Ipwang Fortress.

It was only natural that he remained wary of all Jianghu forces.

‘Ah...’

Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin understood.

He was not merely a participant in this meeting as a martial artist.

He was here as the Purple Rank of Ipwang Fortress.

As the successor of the Mount Hua Assembly, he needed to uphold a different attitude.

“Benefactor Jeong.”

“Yes, Abbot.”

“I have a request for you.”

Sacred Monk Beomha spoke.

Despite his tattered robes draped weakly over the armrest, his presence carried an immense stillness.

Jeong Yeon-shin found himself needing a great deal of effort just to meet his single eye.

“As long as there is no unnecessary disturbance, we must all exercise restraint.”

At those words, the dust floating in the room seemed to part.

It was a voice imbued not with power but with an overwhelming sense of clarity.

Jeong Yeon-shin immediately grasped the meaning behind the Shaolin Abbot’s words.

These were absolute masters of Jianghu.

Even a minor action from them could spark countless rumors.

Who they spoke to, whom they associated with—each interaction could set entire sects and merchant guilds into motion.

For everything decided in this gathering to play its proper role, unnecessary variables needed to be eliminated in advance.

A flash of blue light flickered in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes—a sign of understanding.

“I have restrained myself for fifteen years. You need not worry, Abbot.”

He assured the monk calmly and with certainty.

***

Jade Sword Pavilion.

The villa where the upcoming Mount Hua Assembly would take place. It housed no fewer than eight sparring grounds, arranged symmetrically across its vast estate.

And yet, the commotion never subsided. The influx of martial artists from all corners of Jianghu was relentless. Their boisterous voices seemed poised to reach the cloudy full moon above.

"One more cup!"

"Hold on a moment! That man looks like he's circulating his Small Heavenly Cycle..."

"Nonsense. Who would dare attempt such a thing so recklessly?"

People of different martial arts backgrounds and varying dialects had gathered in one place.

Dueling matches, both formal and informal, drinking contests, and philosophical discussions on swordplay unfolded daily. Among the crowd, even figures previously spoken of only in hushed speculation were now present.

"That woman is the 'Long Staff'...?"

"Quiet. She’s from the royal Zhu clan. The Emperor himself personally requested to be apprenticed under the Wudang Sect’s leader..."

A high-tiled rooftop.

A woman sat at its edge, one leg folded up, glancing down below while holding a wine flask.

She wore the distinctive white robe of the Wudang Sect, adorned with embroidered pine trees, its wide sleeves cascading down like flowing silk.

Even with a translucent veil covering her face, her pitch-black pupils shone through, deep and unwavering.

The murmuring martial artists hastily averted their gazes.

She was Wudang's Long Staff, one of the key figures scheduled to participate in the Mount Hua Assembly alongside Gogeom.

And she wasn’t alone.

Beneath the eaves of the grand banquet hall, discussions swirled around Hwasan’s Sword Executors, the Three Treasured Dragon Swords, and the Lofty Blade.

Three men, surrounded by Shaanxi martial artists, remained poised like plum tree branches standing tall against the wind. Their posture was neither arrogant nor boastful but carried an innate dignity, making their presence all the more natural.

"Wait... Is that—? Ipwang Fortress!"

"The Burning Dragon!"

The moment the entourage from Ipwang Fortress stepped into Jade Sword Pavilion, the mood shifted. The elite martial artists from major sects instinctively distanced themselves from one another. No one wished to be caught gossiping before such a grand event.

Instead, they silently measured each other’s presence, their internal energy extending out to scan for potential rivals they might face.

Amidst this, Burning Dragon scanned his surroundings, his lips curving into a crooked smirk.

"So, the Immortals of the Nine Great Sects have descended from the clouds."

"Where's Peng Clan? Where’s the Master? Do you sense any auras? I heard something from my grandfather..."

Shin Sobin, who had been glancing around curiously, suddenly fell silent.

A chilling air brushed against her back.

It was as if an invisible wall had surrounded the area. The humid summer breeze had ceased entirely.

And then—she found herself cast in someone’s shadow.

"The granddaughter of the Elder of the Council of Ipwang Fortress, is it? You've inherited a fine innate perception."

A deep, resounding voice carved through the air.

At that instant, from somewhere distant, Shin Sobin heard a barely audible, strangled whisper.

Grand Tyrant Sabre.

The infamous title of the Lord of Peng Clan, a man once considered the equal of the head of the Namgung family.

A name that, for any martial artist, was as ominous as that of Yama, the King of the Underworld.

A massive hand suddenly grasped the back of her neck.

The motion was blindingly fast, yet it somehow felt slow—deliberate.

Such was the power of an Absolute Master. Their perception of time differed so vastly from that of lesser fighters that their movements appeared surreal.

"What did your grandfather tell you?"

Shin Sobin never got the chance to answer.

It wasn’t that she hesitated.

She simply had no time.

For at that moment, from behind the Lord of Peng Clan, another presence emerged.

A shadow darker than the night itself swallowed his silhouette whole.

Suddenly, the moonlight that bathed the courtyard shifted into a subtle, purplish hue.

"...Who are you?"

The Peng Clan Leader asked.

"......"

The answer never came.

The situation was clear to all.

Someone had just taken position behind the Lord of Peng Clan, the same way he had done to Shin Sobin.

The suffocating silence that followed was absolute, as if the entire courtyard had frozen solid.

Then—

"Here."

A familiar voice rang beside Shin Sobin's ear.

But this time, it was different.

It was fierce.

A wild, untamed force surged through the air.

The once still night, infused with moonlight, rippled like waves in a storm.

"The Mount Hua Assembly is now officially in session."

"...What?"

"The Peng Clan Leader shall draw his blade."

"Ipwang Fortress accepts your challenge."