Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 428: Grandmaster (2)

The orthodox martial world has no shortage of renowned figures.

It is inevitable. Those who pursue righteousness and the slow cultivation of mastery are collectively referred to as the Orthodox Sect.

Jade Pavilion of the Green Sword.

A place where only those who had made an extraordinary name for themselves in the White Path were received as guests.

Yet, in the face of the death of the Peng Family Head, even such a gathering of distinguished figures was no different from an ordinary marketplace. Shock and disbelief filled the air.

"Even with their so-called unwavering minds like a calm mirror and still water, the Nine Schools must have been shaken. I can almost see the wrinkles forming on the foreheads of those immortal elders."

Peng Ga In-hu spoke.

Her posture was the same as when she had declared certain victory to Jeong Yeon-shin before.

One of her long legs rested on the office desk, while her large, calloused hand held dozens of letters.

Opposite her, five martial artists knelt in silence.

They were the guest warriors of the Peng Family.

"Who are the expected candidates?"

"For the White Rank, it was predicted that Shin So-bin of the Divine Phoenix House would participate. However, there are reports that she has entered seclusion and refuses to leave. We should consider another candidate."

"That’s worth protecting. She is their top disciple, after all."

Peng Ga In-hu tapped her foot slightly.

"They’ll only send White Qilin against the second-generation disciples of the Nine Schools. It would be a waste if she were to be injured before that."

"That is correct."

"There were far too many warriors aligned with the Seomye Bloodline, so let’s drop the investigation into the White Rank. It’s practically unpredictable at this point. What about the Blue Rank?"

"The top contenders are Azure Silent Sword Cheongmyeong, Flame Dragon of the Hwangbo Clan, and Lone Lotus Sword Baek Mi-ryeo. These individuals are all future contenders for the Black Rank. In fact, Lone Lotus Sword is even considered a prime candidate to fully inherit the rumored legacy of the Celestial Demon Tomb."

"That’s a large pool of candidates. We’ll leave it at that. Unless it's someone on the level of Chief Spear Ju Se-hwa, it will be difficult to handle them all. That monster from the Wudang Sect will only appear when dealing with the Black Rank anyway..."

Fwoosh—

All the documents in Peng Ga In-hu’s grasp went up in flames.

The speed at which the scorching heat of the Tri-Flame Purification Technique reached its peak was astonishing.

As ashes scattered through the air, the kneeling warriors could not hide their admiration.

"And for the Black Rank...?"

The lead guest warrior spoke again, but Peng Ga In-hu cut him off.

"White Qilin Namgung Hwa-shin?"

"That is the only option among the Seomye Bloodline. However..."

"However?"

"The spoils of the new Purple Rank... The Heavenspan Sword of the Namgung Clan is not in White Qilin's possession. Based on what happened at the Jeong Family Mausoleum, it seems Namgung Hwa-shin had not yet begun practicing the Lotus Nirvana technique at that time. If he did not receive the Heavenspan Sword, it is highly unlikely that he inherited the Divine Extreme Qilin technique either."

"Or he might have only received the martial arts themselves. Even just inheriting the Qilin Sword Forms to honor the Azure Qilin in front of all the Orthodox Sect’s people would be burdensome. To also accept an heirloom on top of that? That doesn't seem like something the White Qilin, who left home, would do."

"Hmm..."

"And is there even another Black Rank martial artist within the Seomye Bloodline who can be mobilized besides Namgung Hwa-shin? That makes no sense. Among all the Sword Masters of the Divine Sword Sect, there can only be a handful truly qualified for the Fire Mountain Pact. At best, there would be one or two, and even then, it would be difficult to summon them to this place in time."

"That is correct."

Sending someone other than Namgung Hwa-shin to fight in the Black Rank duel would imply that the Seomye Bloodline’s strength exceeded even the Eight Great Clans.

It was an unreasonable assumption. This was a newly emerging martial lineage, not even three years old. High-level masters were the culmination of a sect’s history, reserved as their ultimate weapons for life-and-death duels.

"Focus on Namgung Hwa-shin as the opponent."

A loud crack echoed from Peng Ga In-hu’s body. It was followed by her murmured words.

"Even if we defeat Ipwang Fortress here, securing dominance over the Fire Mountain Pact is impossible. That means we must at least uphold the prestige of our main house."

Peng Ga In-hu muttered under her breath.

In the corner of her office, a pair of swords hummed.

For a brief moment, the dense wave of energy that filled the room sent shudders through the bodies of the kneeling warriors—before vanishing as quickly as it had come.

Along with the ashes of the incinerated reports, which had now turned to dust.

***

The warriors of Ipwang Fortress walk the line between official martial law and the deep, untamed rivers of Jianghu. They exist in the narrow space between high-ranking bureaucratic offices and the treacherous ravines of the martial world.

Their weapons, hardened by the blood of countless battles, often end up broken in half, but the white, blue, and black robes draped over their bodies remain untarnished—each color symbolizing a distinct rank and honor.

A militant yet noble sect, unparalleled in the martial world. No one in the land could deny their temperament or standing.

Naturally, their dignity was unmatched.

Saaah—

A faint, translucent wind rippled through the fifty warriors assembled in the training grounds.

The air scraped against the dusty ground with a hushed whisper, caught between the relentless summer heat and the ripples of internal energy.

"......."

The warriors dispatched from Ipwang Fortress to the Jade Pavilion of the Green Sword had formed ranks alongside the elite martial artists of Ma Gwang-ik’s faction.

Ten warriors across, five warriors deep. Each standing as straight as bamboo in their respective positions.

Because today, the person they were about to face stood at the pinnacle of Ipwang Fortress's white, blue, and black ranks.

Suddenly, the doors of the grand hall before them creaked open.

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin descended the stone steps. A single step behind him, Namgung Hwa-shin followed in escort.

They were once peers, standing side by side as white-ranked warriors, having undergone the same Ipwang Trials. But now, the trailing hems of their robes fluttered in stark contrast—one a deep crimson, the other pitch black.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The breaths of the assembled warriors grew faint. Without realizing it, they instinctively adjusted their internal breathing, lengthening their exhalations. Some even revealed traces of admiration.

For those who had spent their lives navigating the battlefield, suddenly acknowledging someone as their supreme commander was no easy feat.

Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin was different. It wasn’t just because of his monumental achievements or his martial prowess, which had rendered even divine relics obsolete.

His unprecedented youth, his unconventional rise, and the reputation he had built made him a figure naturally revered within the fortress.

It was a sense of admiration akin to cherishing a younger brother, while still standing in awe of him. Unlike Yong Hui-myeong, the Master of the Divine Sword Sect, Jeong Yeon-shin had come to represent Ipwang Fortress in an entirely different way.

"Have you mastered the Phantom Step?"

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly asked, standing at the head of the formation.

His tone was devoid of highs and lows, making it difficult to discern his true thoughts. Only those with an exceptionally keen sense of intuition hesitated, sensing something uncertain in his words.

"I am Bai Xiang of the Azure Sky Division."

The woman with a white hero’s scarf tied around her forehead and hair responded.

"Yes, I have mastered the Phantom Step."

Falling Peak Sword Bai Xiang.

A prodigy recognized as the brightest talent of her city at a young age, rising to the rank of Honor Guard in Fujian before becoming a renowned name within the Azure Sky Division.

"They say her talent and features are as rare as an ancient legend..."

Bai Xiang's lips twitched slightly as she took in Jeong Yeon-shin's face.

Movement techniques like the Phantom Step and the Wind God’s Flow left distinct marks on a person’s posture.

When mastered properly, even the natural balance of the body changed. To the eyes of experts, such shifts were glaringly obvious.

For a warrior of the Purple Rank, recognizing Bai Xiang’s Phantom Step at a glance was only natural.

But Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t just any warrior. He was the founder of the Seomye Bloodline—akin to a living Bodhidharma appearing before a Shaolin monk practicing tendon transformation.

Who wouldn’t feel a sense of awe?

"If even the newly appointed Purple Rank can see it, then my mastery must be quite impressive."

Bai Xiang allowed herself a fleeting moment of pride.

"By any chance..."

Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze flicked toward her feet, his words trailing off with a hint of discomfort.

Bai Xiang and the other warriors from Ipwang Fortress knew that such hesitation was extremely rare.

They were well-versed in the exploits of Ma Gwang-ik’s Seomye lineage.

For a brief moment, Bai Xiang pictured the once-youngest warrior of Ipwang Fortress standing before her, a child whose head she could have ruffled.

There wasn’t a single senior member in the fortress who didn’t know the story of the boy who had been neglected and scorned in his own family estate in Hanyang.

"Please, speak freely."

Bai Xiang subtly reinforced her energy flow, drawing a clear pulse of internal energy from the Yongchun Point in her sole up to the Yanggu Point at her knees.

It was a deliberate gesture—an attempt to ease the socially awkward new Purple Rank into a more natural conversation.

"Is your body... unwell? I have some effective elixirs on hand if you need them."

Jeong Yeon-shin cautiously offered.

Bai Xiang, inwardly {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} moved by his consideration, gently shook her head.

"I am in perfect condition. Purple Rank, you may deploy me as a combatant in the Fire Mountain Pact duels at any time."

"...I see."

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded.

In that moment, Bai Xiang felt something unique in his gesture—an air of detachment, akin to the monks of Songshan who cultivated both mind and body.

The state of a tranquil mind, mirroring the stillness of a pristine lake.

For a brief instant, she was reminded of the legend of Bodhidharma, said to have meditated for years facing a stone wall.

"At that age, how...?"

She wondered how arduous his life must have been.

In Bai Xiang’s dark pupils, which reflected only muted colors, the face of the young Great Master was captured.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.

"If you only understand martial arts through written text, you’ll lose your head in a real fight. As your superior, would you allow me to teach you a lesson?"

"I humbly receive the Purple Rank’s guidance...!"

She immediately dropped to one knee and raised her voice.

This was the moment every warrior here had been hoping for.

After all, martial manuals were nothing more than commentaries—true lessons were meant to be passed down directly from master to disciple.

That the prodigies of Ipwang Fortress had been refining their techniques solely among themselves as members of the Seomye Bloodline had been the real anomaly.

"Starting with the Yongchun Point."

Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice fell. Bai Xiang listened in silence.

And she was not alone.

Footwork was the foundation of all martial arts. Every warrior in the training grounds had to listen.

A soft, steady voice filled the air.

"Before reciting the mnemonic verses, you must first visualize a footprint in your mind, marking the direction toward your opponent. At this moment, you must think of nothing else but unity—just as the calf muscle folds into a singular line, the propulsion force from the Yongchun Point must be condensed into a single needle of energy, prepared to burst forth from the ankle. The balance you maintain at this moment is the sensation of grounding your body at the very center of all things..."

"......?"

"A needle, projection, balance... I've simplified it for you. You should understand well enough."

It was said that Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin became noticeably more soft-spoken when speaking to commoners. Bai Xiang suddenly realized something.

To the newly appointed Purple Rank, concepts like oneness and the equilibrium of all things were no different from the mundane terms needle, projection, balance.

"Perhaps only those of the Black Rank would truly comprehend this..."

But that revelation was secondary.

The newly appointed Purple Rank was subtly smiling with a sense of fulfillment. Seen up close, it was noticeable.

How could she pour cold water on that expression? But if they wasted time like this, even if Peng Ga In-hu didn’t mind, it would be difficult to secure victory against the Nine Great Sects, led by Northern Sage Namzon.

And then—

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A thin gust of wind pierced Bai Xiang's ears.

Before she knew it, the one-eyed master swordsman standing behind Jeong Yeon-shin had made his move.

It was none other than the second-in-command of Ma Gwang-ik’s faction—Cheongmyeong, the Azure Mist Sword.

With his hands clasped behind his head and a scarf tied over his forehead, he whistled.

A skillful manipulation of wind—one of the secret techniques of the illustrious Mo Yong Clan.

The whisper of his whistle reached Bai Xiang’s ears.

—"I’ll interpret for the Grandmaster. He means to say: sharpen the propulsion force like a needle and fix it at your ankle. Let it burst in a straight line from your Yongchun Point. And for balance? Don’t lift your foot clumsily off the ground—plant it firmly."

A transmission of an entirely different caliber.

It was barely perceptible, carrying not even a trace of energy disturbance. A technique worthy of an exalted clan.

For a mere Han Chinese martial artist to mimic this, they would have to reach the pinnacle of Wisdom Hidden in Light.

"When you lift your foot, ensure the energy between the Xuehai and Yanggu Points flows seamlessly. When you plant it, release all remaining energy through the Weizhong Point behind your knee..."

"During exchanges of attack and defense, the timing of your step forward is crucial. That moment should be sensed instinctively, in the blink of an eye. When I say instinctively... I’m underestimating you, aren’t I?"

Whiik—!

—"Draw a rough triangle around your knees, and when the moment feels right, let it explode backward."

Cheongmyeong's whistle followed smoothly, blending perfectly into the conversation without interrupting Jeong Yeon-shin's lesson.

It was effective.

The proof lay in the faint mix of satisfaction and embarrassment on Jeong Yeon-shin's face.

As rumors had suggested, he seemed particularly gentle toward those who had once been seniors to Ma Gwang-ik’s generation.

"What’s the big deal..."

Jeong Yeon-shin muttered under his breath.

Bai Xiang and a few other senior warriors of Ipwang Fortress found their lips twitching subtly.

Sunlight shimmered over the training grounds like a translucent curtain, teasing their lips as if tickling them.

***

The Next Day

The dawn of the Fire Mountain Pact’s Duel of Life and Death arrived.

Farmers and beggars leaned against the walls of the Jade Pavilion of the Green Sword, straining their ears.

Tavern workers and merchants ceased their shouting.

Prestigious merchants and the heads of security escort agencies seated themselves respectfully nearby, each accompanied by highly skilled warriors trained in the Thousand League Eavesdropping Technique.

The conversations were all the same.

The topic was singular.

In the current world—

Which martial lineage is the most supreme?

At that moment, the invisible energy filling the Jade Pavilion of the Green Sword was so dense that it felt as if heaven and earth themselves were about to split apart.

Martial artists who lacked the qualifications to enter lowered their gazes, settling at various vantage points throughout Dengfeng County.

The righteous sects of Jianghu had gathered at the Jade Pavilion of the Green Sword.