Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 433: Grandmaster (7)
The Violet-Rank of Ipwang Fortress had forced a righteous elder to his knees.
It was inevitable—Azure Sword Lord Namgung Mu-hak had sought to pressure Namgung Hwa-shin under the guise of familial bonds.
Even the cadence of his words had been far from ordinary, subtly laced with hostility. It was clear that the young man who had intervened had been watching from afar.
Yet, no one dared to call attention to his speech.
The young man who had descended upon this place, following the reverberation of the elder’s mighty voice, was Yeonhwa Nata Seomye. His authority, martial prowess, and his lineage from the ancient Ma Clan had made such defiance possible.
At this point, there was no one in Dengfeng Pass who was unaware of Jeong Yeon-shin’s origins. The standards for judgment had changed.
“How enviable.”
From the doorway, Peng Ya murmured ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) to herself.
No one turned to look at her. The sheer pressure that accompanied the howling wind bore down on the surroundings, suppressing all attention.
It was undoubtedly a form of sword wind that enhanced the force of one's strikes, yet it exerted a tangible and oppressive power over the vicinity.
Much like the Imperial Sword Form of Namgung’s direct lineage.
“......”
The silence was suffocating. The dozen swordsmen who had accompanied Namgung Mu-hak trembled violently, their faces filled with shock.
Each of them struggled to rise, but the most they could manage was to brace one knee against the ground, forcing their energy through the Yongcheon Acupoint in their soles.
Only the coarse scraping of soil against their leather shoes filled the space.
Yet, this was a technique fundamentally different from the Imperial Sword Form.
Its essence was not in restricting an opponent’s movements.
It was merely the sword wind that should have naturally preceded a drawn blade—except that its force alone was equivalent to the Imperial Sword Form.
As though Cheonggirin’s hand itself had wrapped around Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword aura, guiding it.
“Hm...”
A few swordsmen who had previously witnessed the life-and-death struggle between Ipwang Fortress and the Namgung Clan suppressed sighs through clenched teeth.
There was no greater disgrace in the martial world.
To the extent that having one's dantian shattered might have been preferable.
For a sword art dedicated to honoring a fallen heir to be turned against them, and for them to kneel before it.
For those of noble birth, honor was synonymous with life.
None of them could afford for this to be known in the martial world.
The new Violet-Rank shifted his gaze slightly.
The exceptional talent that so many had sought through arranged marriages, alliances, and blood ties stood before him.
After watching the confrontation with a slightly complicated expression, Namgung Hwa-shin inclined his head toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
“...I have caused you concern.”
“Did you see it?”
“...Pardon?”
“Never mind.”
Jeong Yeon-shin’s sharp gaze lowered for an instant as he maintained his poised stance, his sword aura still in his grasp.
He then turned back toward Namgung Mu-hak, pressing him for an answer.
“Elder.”
The sword wind that had been flowing from Thunder Sheath slowly dissipated. The sound of scattered pebbles tumbling down filled the space with an eerie stillness.
With Peng Family’s warriors now fully freed from Namgung Mu-hak’s pressure, they cast reverent glances at Jeong Yeon-shin.
Yet, Namgung Mu-hak remained on his knees.
“This is a family matter. I ask that you step aside.”
His aged voice was slow and deliberate.
Though the overwhelming Heart’s Ultimate Qilin Sword Wind had vanished, he made no attempt to rise.
“...However, I must also offer my apologies. I have overstepped my bounds and acted discourteously. Your swordsmanship has humbled me.”
A man who had bowed his head could not be struck down. This was an attempt to bend his pride for the sake of practicality.
A Great Elder of the Eight Great Clans.
In terms of experience, Jeong Yeon-shin could not compare to him.
At this moment, deep shame had risen to Namgung Mu-hak’s very crown, flushing his wrinkled face red, but he was grateful that he was not facing one of Ipwang Fortress’s true elders.
“...I never imagined that the boy who once faced Se-jin would grow into this...”
Perhaps, this was the better outcome.
If he had been faced with an aged warlord, he would not have kneeled. But in the upper echelons of the martial world, it was impossible to maintain one’s pride at all times.
There was no telling where another Yeonhwa Nata Seomye might emerge.
“...Additionally, I make a humble request. Will you not return the Righteous Heaven Sword to our clan? The blade you reclaimed is an heirloom of the Namgung lineage. It was stolen by an outcast from Muryonghui, a rogue who severed ties with his family.”
Every syllable emphasized blood ties.
At this moment, Jade Sword Arena was a microcosm of the righteous martial world. Most of the warriors present valued duty and propriety.
If Namgung Hwa-shin personally rejected the request, that was one thing—but for his superior to intervene and decide on his behalf, the optics would be poor.
Justification and righteousness— these were Namgung Mu-hak’s lifelines.
The gazes of the noble warriors turned toward Jeong Yeon-shin.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
The new Violet-Rank finally spoke.
“What a foolish thing to say.”
“...?”
“Do the grudges of the martial world hold so little weight?”
“What are you—”
“If you survived on borrowed time, then you should have remained in seclusion, repenting for your past.”
Every person present had a keen sense for undercurrents.
They immediately recognized that Jeong Yeon-shin was referencing past enmity.
The life-and-death duel between Ipwang Fortress and the Namgung Clan.
Namgung Mu-hak, who should have been the one to accept the Divine Sword Lord’s challenge, had avoided the duel under the pretext of adjusting the numbers after an elder of Ipwang Fortress mysteriously disappeared before the battle.
At the time, Ipwang Fortress had been unable to object.
But Jeong Yeon-shin had been the catalyst for that very duel.
With his subordinate Namgung Hwa-shin now being pressured, it was only natural for him to express his discontent toward the Namgung Clan.
“I doubt you have the means to oppose me with force. Since you dared to mention the Righteous Heaven Sword, I will tell you my terms.”
“......”
Namgung Mu-hak’s body trembled imperceptibly.
The Namgung aristocracy was practically the royal family of Southern Zhili.
Such humiliation could not be endured except through suicide—but neither could he afford to take his own life, for the sake of preserving the clan’s bloodline.
“...Speak... your terms...”
“I will leave the decision to Namgung Hwa-shin.”
“...What?”
“He is both a direct descendant of Namgung and a Black-Rank warrior of Ipwang Fortress. If he wishes to claim the Righteous Heaven Sword, I will grant it to him. If he refuses, it will be returned to its original owner, the Namgung Clan. Unlike you, the main fortress understands propriety.”
The moment Jeong Yeon-shin’s words fell, Namgung Mu-hak lifted his head.
His gaze shot directly toward Namgung Hwa-shin.
“Ah-shin, you may claim the Righteous Heaven Sword. It is the purest of all blades...! A treasure suited for one who has bloomed like a lotus from the marsh!”
With a desperate tone, he gestured toward the swordsman behind him.
The sealed scroll was finally unwrapped.
With a click, the lid of the wooden case opened, releasing the faint scent of aged wood.
Inside, four characters were revealed:
Imperial Sword Form.
Namgung Hwa-shin’s eyes widened behind Jeong Yeon-shin’s shoulder.
“This is what you have long sought. The very technique that forced you into Ipwang Fortress.”
His voice rose.
“Ah-shin! Take this sword and lead the Namgung Clan!”
A moment of silence.
Then—
“...Take your time. The main fortress respects the will of its Black-Ranks.”
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin walked past Namgung Mu-hak.
After a brief, weighty glance at the elder, Namgung Hwa-shin followed in silence.
***
Namgung Hwa-shin was a warrior without flaws in any respect.
Since his induction into Ipwang Fortress, he had been described as tenfold perfect.
He had silently walked the righteous path and had ceaselessly strengthened himself as a swordsman. In terms of swordsmanship alone, he had already surpassed the Post-Peak Realm by the time he was still Blue-Rank.
As a child, he had been nearly conditioned to become Namgung Clan’s shadow sword, his body saturated with the effects of countless elixirs.
Although he could not match the natural-born talent of Hwangbo Clan’s heir, who possessed the Solar Divine Veins, he had forged an inner reservoir vast enough to challenge the threshold of Black-Rank warriors.
And to that, he had added his inborn potential and serene, mirror-like discipline.
It was the unity of essence, energy, and spirit.
Even when the moon was out, he swung his sword. Each day had stretched into an eternity.
People hailed Namgung Hwa-shin as an unblemished prodigy, yet in truth, he had never been able to choose anything for himself.
He had never been given the Imperial Sword Form due to his illegitimate birth.
He had not been able to change the fate of his mother, who had been condemned as a shadow sword.
He had been unable to prevent the life-or-death duel he was meant to fight against his sister.
He had not been able to witness the final moments of his elder brother, Namgung Se-jin, nor those of Suncheon Ik-ju Ha Do-un.
He had been powerless to decide. He had never been able to face or even witness these things.
His upright demeanor was nothing more than a learned shell.
Inside, Namgung Hwa-shin was empty.
Even now, as he walked the training grounds beside Jeong Yeon-shin, his heart was sinking into despair.
He simply did not reveal it.
But now—at long last—he was standing in a place where he could truly make a choice.
“How is the Martial Lord?”
“He is a man of rough temperament. His strikes carry too much weight. It will take him a long time to recover the energy he has exhausted.”
“...I apologize.”
“A temporary Suncheon Ik-ju has no reason to be apologizing.”
Jeong Yeon-shin answered calmly.
The Namgung bastards had placed Heart’s Ultimate Qilin Sword and Imperial Sword Form on a scale, but for him, the Seomye martial arts already being passed down were more than sufficient—even if they were nothing more than a monkey’s flailing hands to others.
“I have something to ask.”
“Speak.”
“What happened to Gui Myeong Pae-wang and Golden Dawn Lord?”
Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated for a brief moment.
He had not expected Namgung Hwa-shin to ask about the beasts that had driven Suncheon Ik-ju Ha Do-un to his death before anything else.
He had assumed that he would mention Cheonggirin first.
Was it to avoid burdening him?
Until now, Namgung Hwa-shin had never once asked Jeong Yeon-shin about the moment Hwan-gang had been completed.
“...They died by the sword. It was a bit unsightly.”
Jeong Yeon-shin recounted it as he had perceived it.
His companion was a fellow Black-Rank who had fought alongside him during the battle of Ipwang City. This much was fine.
After all, aside from Cheonggirin and Unmatched Fist of the First Family, none of the others had been memorable foes.
After a brief silence, Namgung Hwa-shin finally spoke.
“There are many debts I must repay.”
“Debts?”
“My sister, my elder brother, Gui Myeong Pae-wang, Golden Dawn Lord... They were all people I should have confronted.
And yet you bore the weight of all of them in my stead.”
“They were my grievances as well.”
“Then this time, grant me the opportunity.”
Namgung Hwa-shin suddenly stopped walking.
The flawless clarity he usually maintained now allowed a glimpse of something else.
Beneath it, emotions began to surface.
There was anger and longing, detachment and emptiness—but also gratitude growing amidst them.
Conflicted emotions flickered in his pitch-black eyes.
Rustle.
The stiff fabric of his robe crumpled.
“Sincerely.”
As though rewinding twenty-three years, Namgung Hwa-shin slowly knelt.
“If you pass down your supreme martial arts, I will devote myself to refining them to perfection.”
Elsewhere...
“I report to Shadow Sword.”
“What is it?”
“The young master is currently at Jade Sword Arena.”
“Ma Jin, that wretched bastard?”
“Yes. Thanks to him, the fortress is advancing without setbacks. They have now reached Zhangchang Sect without suffering a single defeat...”
“...Troubling.”
“Yes, the Nine Great Sects at last... What concerns me most is the rumor that the current Sword Queen has pierced the sun itself with her blade techniques.
If that is true, has she not reached the pinnacle of Sun-Slaying Sword Techniques?
Not to mention the Moon-Piercing Divine Sword of Zhangchang Sect—if he ends up facing them in battle, it could be a problem.
They say that after consuming the inner core of the monster from Yunnan Mountains, his energy reserves now rival those of Shaolin’s Four Diamond Guardians.
It is the true depth of the Nine Great Sects.”
“Forget that. Speak of the fortress’s reputation instead.”
“With such refined internal energy cultivation and an exceptional sword aura, even the junior commander of the So Yeon Corps once struggled against him... Wait, what...?”
“It is inevitable that Yeon-shin takes after his mother. But to think even my grandson would be scorned as Naraksal in the martial world...”
“......”
“It is the Grand Marshal’s failure.
To let those two be together?
Had I been by their side, perhaps it would be different—but with those so-called immortals of the Nine Great Sects meddling, I can only imagine what they must be thinking among themselves.”
“Shadow Sword, you have never been one to concern yourself with public perception.”
“My grandson’s honor is at stake.
Even you, as Grand Blade Commander, have been itching to see Thunderous Abyss Sword Style in action, haven’t you?
It is an affair where even the most worldly perspectives would not suffice.”
“I have yet to meet the new Violet-Rank myself...
In any case, which route shall we take?
For now, there are no open roads.
The secret arts of noble clans no longer veil our presence from others.
And if we take to just any mountain path, this inner core of mine will attract all sorts of spiritual beasts...”
“Follow me.
It will not take long.”
“...Pardon?”
“Where I walk—is the road itself.”
