Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 448: Den of Demons (1)

Prince of Gungmyeong casually wiped his forehead with the azure sleeve of his robe. The faint sheen of sweat on his skin disappeared without a trace.

“So bloodthirsty...”

Flutter.

He flicked his robe with exaggerated motion.

“I’d rather be standing on the northern walls, looking down at the Yao tribes. That’s a nightmare in itself, but...”

Using the Scaly Dragon Robe of the King of Burning Flames to wipe away sweat, Prince of Gungmyeong murmured under his breath. His nature was as bristly as that of the Dragon Lord himself.

The Main Gate of Ipwang Fortress’s Inner Keep.

The warriors of the main fortress, who had seen Jeong Yeon-shin off, were now dispersing back to their posts. The sound of their boots echoed over the long shadows cast by the fortress walls.

Some, however, stood still, staring blankly at the air where Jeong Yeon-shin had ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) disappeared. Among them was Ma Gwang-ik.

Prince of Gungmyeong cast a sidelong glance at the Grand Commander of Ipwang Fortress and the Elder Council Chief.

“Didn’t you say he was taught by the Lord of the Fortress? It seems even the Sword Lord of Oblivion couldn’t suppress the bloodline of the Ma clan.”

“I am deeply honored.”

Im Jin-myeong bowed his head slightly.

On the other hand, Elder Council Chief Shin Byeok stood frozen, still overwhelmed by what he had just witnessed.

He had realized, with staggering clarity, that there was no one in the main fortress he could truly rely on.

“Master Shin, why do you stand there in such a daze?”

Prince of Gungmyeong threw the question offhandedly. The deep lines on Shin Byeok’s lips stiffened.

“...It is nothing.”

He was being teased.

Prince of Gungmyeong was a child born late to founder of the Zhu Imperial Clan. Though born in the twilight years of his father’s reign, he was far from old enough for Shin Byeok to call him ‘elder.’

And yet, Shin Byeok could not point that out.

The Zhu Imperial Clan.

With countless deaths on the northern front and a lineage interwoven with long-lived martial families, their blood was thick with strength.

Their unparalleled martial prowess made large-scale internecine wars difficult, and none hesitated to step onto the northern frontlines to defend the empire and the world itself.

Naturally, emperors had risen from every branch of the family. The line of succession wove back and forth—descendants of the founding emperor’s grandsons, great-granddaughters, and even later-born sons often climbed the throne.

Each and every one of them had a legitimate claim to power.

And now, as the current emperor was barely restrained from personally facing the War God of the North in battle, should anything untimely befall the Crown Prince or the Imperial Grandson...

Prince of Gungmyeong might very well ascend to the throne.

For Shin Byeok, safeguarding the future of Ipwang Fortress demanded careful maneuvering.

Swish.

Turning his toe slightly, he made a subtle gesture—he wished to take his leave.

Prince of Gungmyeong smirked as though amused.

“Oh, but it seems ‘nothing’ is something, doesn’t it? Now that I think about it, weren’t you the one who strongly urged the removal of the Dragon Lord, leaving the officials of Northern Capital utterly stunned?”

“It was the necessary course of action.”

“Then, one day, I must also ask the Acting Lord of the Divine Sword Sect a question—between the common people and Ipwang Fortress, which is more important to him?

Today, both Jeong Yeon-shin and I were right. But in the distant future, there will come a day when he must make a choice.”

“...Your Highness.”

“The recent gathering of the Sword Lords of Wonpyeong was a harrowing incident. The imperial court needs reassurance regarding these figures.

And should we fail to find a satisfactory answer... well.”

“......”

“I may have to recommend a great union of virtue—through marriage, of course.”

The wrinkles in Shin Byeok’s eyes deepened. This was an entirely separate matter from changing one’s perspective on Jeong Yeon-shin.

The future ruler of Ipwang Fortress must not be entangled in imperial court intrigue.

That world was filthy—not in body, but in honor.

“I shall pretend I did not hear that.”

For the first time, the old man’s voice was firm.

Prince of Gungmyeong, never having experienced old age himself, simply shrugged. As was typical of the Zhu imperial bloodline, his very demeanor exuded youth.

“As it happens, one of my distant cousins has been making quite a name for herself in the North. His Majesty seems fond of her—she may be adopted and titled as a princess.

Master Shin, you must have heard of her as well. Her title is...”

He trailed off mid-sentence.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Then, with a slow turn, he shifted his gaze toward the main gate of the inner keep.

“...A most powerful corpse’s presence approaches.

A man who has etched his sword-wielding spirit upon the world.

Even unconscious, the sheer force of it remains...

Grand Commander, you feel it too, don’t you?”

Between the two elders, Im Jin-myeong, who had been stroking his beard, momentarily hesitated before nodding.

“Yes, it seems to be the party from the Murim Alliance that Lord Jeong mentioned.”

“Is it truly Sword Saint Hyeon So-baek...? I must thoroughly examine the Lord of Taemosan Fortress’s methods and relay the details to the new lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Tell me, Grand Commander, do we have any capable warriors available to serve as messengers?”

Prince of Gungmyeong’s expression grew heavy.

“With the Purple Rank absent, we cannot afford to dispatch any from the Black Rank...

However, among the Black Rank, there are four in the Divine Sword Sect under Ma Gwang-ik who could take on the role at any time.”

“I know the general details about them.

One must be excluded—White Plum Sword Baek Mi-ryeo.

That leaves the Green Gaze Sword, the Sunfire Dragon...

And who is the last one?”

“He is one who will represent the main fortress one day. His title, in fact, is The Grand Hero of Ipwang. He is imbued with a profound sense of righteousness, and his martial arts are rather unique...”

“The Great Snow Sword?”

“......”

“I take a greater interest in Ipwang Fortress than you realize.

In any case, the new lord is quite fortunate—such men are surely capable of delivering a message safely.”

Prince of Gungmyeong gave a slight nod.

Then, as the last rays of sunset cast their pale glow over the fortress walls, his form seemed to be swallowed by them in an instant.

His movement was so swift, it only appeared that way.

Meanwhile, before even having the chance to rest, Zhuge Cheong-ah, Gongsun Min, and the rest of the Murim Alliance party were faced with an unexpected guest—

The King of Burning Flames.

***

The wide-open main road was bustling with people.

For someone unfamiliar with the area, the road stretched so far that it was impossible to guess where it led.

At its farthest end stood a grand city, unrivaled in the empire of Ming for its indulgence and pleasure.

Hangzhou.

Famous for the saying: "Above, there is Heaven; below, there is Suzhou and Hangzhou."

A land so prosperous it was likened to paradise itself. The dwelling place of great merchants, poets, scholars, and reclusive masters. A utopia for noble men and women, as well as the elusive hermits of the martial world.

During times of famine, people naturally migrated toward lands of plenty. But for Hangzhou, this phenomenon was even more pronounced.

Not only was food abundant, but the city remained renowned for its endless feasts of rare and exotic delicacies.

Regardless of what fate awaited them after arrival, for now, those on the verge of stepping into paradise wore bright expressions.

Among them, a young storyteller waved a book in the air, his voice booming.

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! The Register of Jianghu Experts South of the Great Wall! It ranks the strongest martial artists in the land! There is no better topic to kill time while waiting for inspections! Only a single coin per entry!”

Fortunately, a response came immediately.

A man squatting under the shade of a tree raised his hand.

“Before I pay, I’d like to know how convincing your list is. Who’s in the first position?”

As soon as the storyteller turned toward him, he flinched. The man’s appearance was unsettling—he was seated, clutching a sword in his arms.

Of all the luck...

His clothes were nothing but a tattered, deep-blue rag draped over his body.

But it wasn’t just the outfit that was the problem.

His eyes, half-lowered, were covered in a cloudy white haze. Unfocused. Completely blind.

A wide-brimmed hat lay beside him, likely used to conceal his condition.

This was an era steeped in superstition.

The storyteller thought, If he weren’t holding a sword, I’d spit on the ground and walk away.

But in these chaotic times, even a blind man wielding a blade was not to be taken lightly.

The storyteller had no choice but to answer.

“The first position, of course, belongs to His Majesty the Emperor.”

“Do you take travelers on these rough roads for fools? No one pays money just to hear flattery. Who’s second?”

“...Naturally, the Supreme Lord of Ipwang Fortress stands there.”

“Just now, you said the Emperor was first.”

“......”

“From my limited perspective, neither of them has ever crossed swords with the War God of the North. Surviving is their greatest skill, no?”

The blind man spoke blasphemously without a care.

The storyteller anxiously glanced around and took a step back.

“You said this was a register of warriors south of the Great Wall. The War God is from the North.”

“Then who’s third?”

“The Abbot of North Song Shaolin and the Grandmaster of Southern Wu-Tang, side by side...”

“What nonsense! It should obviously be Divine Sword Sect Leader Yong Hui-myeong! If not him, then the Lord of the Martial Dragon Society, who recently perfected the ultimate martial art! Or perhaps The Master of the Tyrant Blade Sect, whose power is growing at a terrifying rate! I hear no one has been able to withstand even a single strike from him recently.”

“Hah. You sound like a storyteller yourself. Aren’t you being a bit unfair, interfering like this?”

“A storyteller? I’m just a traveling merchant hoping to strike it rich in Hangzhou.”

“Don’t play dumb. How could a mere peddler know about men like the Lord of the Martial Dragon Society and The Master of the Tyrant Blade Sect? Besides, you’ve got nothing on you except a sword and that hat... Your entire look and knowledge reek of someone who’s lived by the blade. What, hoping to make a living in Hangzhou by spinning battlefield tales? People will eat that up. Not as polished as the Register of Jianghu Experts written by well-known historians and strategists, but still.”

At those words, the blind man smirked.

“Anyone selling something like that is bound to die a dog’s death.”

“...What?”

“That Register of Jianghu Experts of yours. You’d best burn it.”

“And why’s that?”

“Martial artists have egos as high as the heavens. None of them will tolerate seeing their name ranked below another. That’s why ranking books like yours are forbidden.”

Who is stronger?

A debate often heard among martial arts enthusiasts.

But at this moment, the only two discussing it were the blind man and the storyteller.

The rest of the travelers had turned their heads, looking down the road.

The shimmering haze that had been rising under the late summer sun was slowly settling.

“...An interesting conversation you’re having.”

A gentle yet commanding voice carried through the air.

“Tell me, where does my Grandmaster rank in your book?”

The atmosphere subtly shifted. A light, clear presence spread outward.

Several men in azure robes strode forward, their garments fluttering like clouds.

Each of them exuded an air reminiscent of a quiet mountainside, their presence instantly transforming the once-noisy road into something akin to a tranquil Taoist temple.

“Jinmu, that is an impudent question.”

“Master, are you not curious? I’d like to know how the gossips of Hangzhou perceive the martial world.”

“Your words are still far from befitting a Taoist. All that closed-door meditation, and yet you remain unchanged.”

“Master, you are quite right. Thanks to you, I have been confined to the mountains for so long that I have not even seen the face of this ‘Jeong Yeon-shin.’ But if my peers claim he defeated the Zhangmen of Mount Song Sect, then I wonder...

Can he also surpass our Grandmaster?”

“You insolent brat! You may have mastered both Blue Cloud and Red Lotus, but do you still not recognize the order of heaven and earth?!

You fool, do you not see the Grandmaster standing before you?!”

Three figures were approaching.

At the front was a young man in white Taoist robes, sharp-featured as a blade.

Behind him followed a gaunt, eighteen-year-old Taoist disciple and a middle-aged master in blue robes.

Each carried an old sword at their waist. Despite the bickering among the elders and disciples, there was an undeniable air of refinement in their exchange.

At least, that was how the travelers watching them saw it.

“...The Taoist Masters of the Ming Sect?”

“...The Twin Wall Swordsmen?”

The storyteller, who had been enthusiastically promoting his book moments ago, now stammered.

It was because of the unmistakable robes of the three approaching figures.

At the edges of their sleeves, a small Taiji symbol—a swirl of blue and red—was embroidered.

A pattern symbolizing blue clouds and red sunsets.

There was only one sect in the entire world that could walk into a metropolis like Hangzhou wearing such attire without hesitation.

"Cheongseong... It's the Cheongseong Sect!"

"The Twin Wall Swordsmen?! Then the Sect Leader of Cheongseong himself...?!"

The crowd stirred.

Some among them quickly stood, eager to offer blessings to the living immortals.

At that moment—

"From afar, I heard a conversation."

The leader of the Cheongseong Sect, Twin Wall Swordmaster Cheongsu Jin-in, spoke.

"The words of that man were filled with lies. But there was one truth in them."

Born from a noble lineage, he had risen to become the head of one of the Nine Great Sects. His eyes, capable of piercing through deception, gleamed faintly with a blue light.

Then, a troubled expression crossed his face.

— Cheongeun, take Jinmu and go ahead. Do not turn back. Head straight to Hangzhou and begin dismantling the Dragon Summoning Formation of Lord Taemosan, starting from the outer layers. With Jinmu’s swordsmanship, wielding both Blue Cloud and Red Lotus, even sorcery can be severed. ƒreewebɳovel.com

— Sect Leader...?

— We should have met Yulha Nangnang first, but things have already gone astray. I don’t know where she is, but you must join Mount Hua Sect. No, Shaolin or Wu-Tang will do as well. Take care of yourselves.

His voice carried a weight like a final will.

The middle-aged Taoist, Cheongeun, widened his eyes in shock.

At the same time—

The blind swordsman, who had been crouching beneath a tree, slowly rose to his feet.

In one hand, he adjusted his grip on his sword.

With the other, he picked up his broad-brimmed hat and placed it atop his head.

Swoosh.

The wide brim concealed the clouded, white-filmed eyes beneath it.

"I spoke the truth?"

His voice was indifferent.

"Pardon me, but I have recently been obsessed with Shifting Blades and Illusory Swords—there's no way that was the case..."

"You said those who possess the Register of Jianghu Experts will die as vagabonds."

"Ah."

The blind swordsman let out a quiet exclamation.

"It seems my training is lacking. Thank you for enlightening me."

"Shifting Blades and Illusory Swords... Are you practicing the art of deception with your sword? Have your words become as deceitful as your techniques?"

"When I was training in Dominating Blades, I even acted like the Tyrant Hero Ma Yeon-jeok for a while."

He chuckled.

"Because of that, I lost what few friends I had and was even marked as one of the Thirteen Heavens. But in exchange, I achieved what I sought."

"...Heaven’s Bane."

Cheongsu Jin-in let out a deep sigh.

Then—

"Hey!"

A gaunt Taoist boy, Jinmu, was being dragged away by his elder master—yet in the midst of it, he blurted out a question.

"Where do Boundless Sunset and this man rank on the list?!"

Even as he was being pulled away, he refused to leave before satisfying his curiosity.

That single-minded obsession—it was a sign of impending deviation due to excessive training.

Silence fell.

‘Boundless’ signifies immeasurable vastness.

‘*Sunset’ means that even the brilliance of the sun is ultimately rendered useless.’

Boundless Sunset.

A title crafted from both skill and nature, belonging to the one who once hosted the grandest martial tournament in Mount Hua.

It was a name so ominous, few dared to speak it aloud in the presence of its owner.

The blind swordsman smiled faintly.

"That boy is a true madman."

Despite the unsettling reaction of those around him, Jinmu still waited for the storyteller’s answer.

The crowd held their breath.

If this mysterious blind swordsman was truly the Master of Heaven’s Bane, the Strongest of the Unorthodox Path...

And if Jeong Yeon-shin of Ipwang Fortress was also among those ranked...

Then there was only one certainty.

Several keen-eyed travelers took a quiet step backward, their faces pale with terror—yet they silently erased their presence, unwilling to attract notice.