Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 455: Den of Demons (8)

The river breeze carried a briny scent, lingering even under the oppressive sunlight blanketing the vast expanse of water like a tyrant. Yet, despite the sun’s dominion, the essence of the river—the scent of the vast waterways that shaped the martial world—remained untouched.

Only the pristine clouds gazed down leisurely upon the river’s surface.

And high above, bearing the weight of the sky itself, stood the Grandmaster of Mount Hua.

“......”

Yulha Nangnang was locked in a standoff with Amcheonje Cho Ryeol. Holding her sword, tinged with a crimson glow, in a poised yet resolute grip, she stood her ground.

Her white silk shoes tread a hundred feet above the very heart of the Zhejiang River. She stood in the air—an impossible feat for most. Below her, fierce winds roared and swirled violently.

It was an absolute mastery of aerial maneuvering—gracefully floating using Mastery of the Void and stepping through the air with the profound movement technique Heavenly Stride.

She remained completely still in midair. A sign that, even amidst battle, her breathing had reached a refined, meditative state.

Hwaaak—

Her raven-black hair and flowing pink robe fluttered wildly in the storm-like winds. Yet, her breathing remained as tranquil as a spring breeze.

A faint red energy flickered between her lips and nostrils as she inhaled and exhaled. It was the signature technique of Mount Hua’s Grandmaster, Purple Haze Divine Qi.

She briefly cast her gaze downward.

Far from the dock where a child splashed playfully in the water, two warriors clashed.

Zzzzzzzzznnng—!

Jeong Yeon-shin’s piercing sword technique, which she had witnessed before in the Mount Hua Martial Summit, was forcefully deflected downward by the Heavenly Extreme Lord’s counterattack.

Even as his sword strike momentarily shattered the formless protective energy surrounding the Heavenly Extreme Lord, Jeong Yeon-shin’s movement was halted for just an instant. And in that fleeting moment, the Heavenly Extreme Lord struck down with a devastating blow.

Unlike other warriors who could do nothing but endure Jeong Yeon-shin’s spear-like thrusts—

This man countered directly, despite taking the brunt of such a technique.

And once more, he carved a canyon of water into the river.

Each time he swung his left hand, directing his sword techniques solely at his opponent, the aftershock reverberated across the entire Zhejiang River. His swordplay was, in every sense, heretical—something far removed from the traditional paths.

From that point on, Jeong Yeon-shin was forced into a defensive stance.

That much was clear in Yulha Nangnang’s eyes. The young warrior in his violet robe was beginning to be pushed back across the river.

The clash of their swords sent explosive waves surging behind him. Hundreds of silver arcs clashed, intertwining and bursting apart with each impact, ringing out like the deep chimes of a temple bell.

And then—blood spurted into the air.

Most of it was Jeong Yeon-shin’s.

Despite his extraordinary perception and complete control over his own body, his wounds refused to stop bleeding. His once-radiant violet robe was gradually reduced to mere tattered rags.

A predictable sight.

Among all of the Thirteen Celestial Lords, hailed as the absolute masters of the martial world, only a handful dared to challenge the Divine Blade Commander.

And among those who wielded a sword, even fewer still.

One had to be a legendary swordsman—someone who had slain great warriors of past generations or defeated monstrous beings to earn their place in history.

The Heavenly Extreme Lord was such a figure.

Whenever scholars debated the World’s Greatest Sword, his name was always among those spoken.

Thus, it was Jeong Yeon-shin’s prowess that was truly astonishing.

How many in the world could match blades against The Foremost Blade of the Heretical Path?

Observing them with her heightened senses, Yulha Nangnang felt as though she needed to rub her eyes in disbelief.

'But there’s something that bothers me...'

As she tilted her slender neck slightly to the side—

[You’re quite composed.]

Cho Ryeol spoke with an indifferent expression.

“And what of you, venerable one?”

Yulha Nangnang straightened her posture with a faint smile.

At first glance, she appeared relaxed. But in truth, she was anything but. The slight stretch of her back was her way of dispersing the shock accumulating in her spine.

The sorcery-infused martial arts of Amcheonje were closer to natural disasters than mere techniques.

To block them with a single sword was already a miracle. Even if the Purple Haze Sword had reached a realm beyond mortal comprehension, there was no way she could afford to be truly at ease.

Feigning composure, she stalled for time.

“What exactly do you intend to do by summoning a dragon upon this land? No matter how skilled you are, you cannot possibly control such a being.”

[The Dragon-Summoning Ritual will suffice.]

“What...?”

[What truly interests me is this—why does the Grandmaster of Mount Hua, blessed with countless disciples from various sects, choose to trust the young Commander of Ipwang Fortress? Have you spent more time together than is publicly known?]

Despite witnessing his own son, the Young Lord, being split in half, Cho Ryeol remained unnervingly calm.

An unshakable heart.

He appeared to feel nothing—not even the faintest flicker of grief.

“Acquaintance? We haven’t known each other for that long.”

Yulha Nangnang responded as if the question were unimportant.

“If anything, I’m more curious. I’ve never heard of any significant interactions between the Heavenly Extreme Fortress and Mount Taemo.”

[That child.]

Cho Ryeol muttered as if merely stating an observation.

[His martial skills are absurdly advanced for his age. His Color has not yet been defined.]

“Color?”

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

[Do you truly believe that the uniform of Ipwang Fortress suits him?]

“That’s not something you should say about the nation’s sword.”

Yulha Nangnang lightly shook the arm holding her blade. The motion, which resembled the beginning of a dance, was actually her way of dispersing the lingering energy from their previous clash.

She had no particular interest in continuing this conversation.

But as expected of a sorcerer attuned to the flow of all things, Cho Ryeol seemed to find a peculiar interest in this topic.

[What if that boy were clad in the Grand Dark Robe of the Myriad Sect? Or in the Pureblood Flame Mantle hidden away by the Bloodflame Cult Leader...]

A faint smile played at the corners of Cho Ryeol’s lips.

[What would become of this decaying nation?]

“Is daydreaming your hobby?”

[Can you feel the killing intent radiating from him? Even before he sought the Divine Blade, his presence was thick and overwhelming. And now? He is no different from an Asura. He is questioning the very ideals of chivalry—of righteousness—of the people he was meant to protect... Yes, I hear his turmoil, even now.]

That was the end of it.

Cho Ryeol said nothing more.

He simply stared at Yulha Nangnang for a brief moment before shaking his head slowly.

And then, he began to unleash his full power. His pristine white robe, the symbol of the Foremost Sorcerer of the World, billowed violently.

A smirk twisted across Yulha Nangnang’s lips, her battle fervor rising.

“How many spells do you have left?”

[More than you can count.]

“A meaningless number, considering you only use them for self-preservation.”

[Self-preservation?]

A faint mockery gleamed in Cho Ryeol’s icy-blue eyes.

[And are you any different? The Divine Blade was a rarity even among the Orthodox Sects. Throughout history, few have ever placed the ideals of chivalry above their own lives.]

He had lived longer than even the founder of the Wudang Sect.

He had seen the truth.

Righteousness was not the goal—it was merely a banner for honor.

Nothing more.

His words were wasted breath.

[Polar Radiance.]

The ancient grandmaster lifted his refined chin slightly, his silhouette more distinct than the horizon behind him.

[Pillar of Ice.]

Incantations flowed seamlessly from his lips, overlapping with the Six Harmonious Resonance, enhancing the amplification of his sorcery.

Kwaaaaaah—!

From below, enormous columns of water erupted into the sky—dozens of them.

Like dragons ascending toward the heavens, they coiled and roared, shaking the very air itself.

The speed at which the massive columns of water expanded was terrifying. The surface of the river darkened, shrouded in the looming shadows of the surging torrents.

Yet, Yulha Nangnang was no less extraordinary.

As Cho Ryeol chanted his incantations, she rotated the Purple Haze Divine Qi within her body dozens of times.

Beyond the vast realm of Grand Circulation, she had reached the transcendental stage of Total Circulation. The moment she took a step forward in the air, her form shimmered like the glow of twilight, leaving behind a fading trail as she slashed her sword toward Cho Ryeol’s front.

With Silent Fragrance Step, the secret movement technique of Mount Hua, she shattered the space between them with Heavenly Stride.

Kwaaaaaaang—!

In an instant, the towering columns of water separating them froze solid and shattered into pieces.

Yulha Nangnang felt as if she had just struck through dozens of layers of Ten-Thousand-Year Cold Iron.

The sheer weight of it was overwhelming. This ice was imbued with a force beyond comprehension.

Yet, before the shards could even scatter, they melted back into water, twisting around Cho Ryeol once more. The cycle of freezing and thawing was entirely at his command.

There were only a handful of sorcerers in the world, insignificant in number when compared to the vast martial world. But Cho Ryeol's sorcerous martial arts had completely transcended the natural order.

Beyond that—

A flicker of surprise crossed Cho Ryeol’s eyes.

[Your swordsmanship is impressive. So there was another in the Orthodox Sect beyond the North Sage and the South Lord.]

North of the Yangtze River stood the towering presence of Songshan’s Shaolin, while in the south, Wudang reigned supreme. And then, there was Mount Hua.

Kwaaaaaaaah—!

Yulha Nangnang ignored his words.

The water columns that had begun to chase her down were a more immediate concern.

Roaring like waterfalls, they surged forward, their swelling bodies resembling great water dragons. Every single column left afterimages in the air, shifting unpredictably, their movements perfectly tracking Yulha Nangnang as she flashed across the battlefield. novelbuddy.cσ๓

Each of them was nearly on par with the sword force of the Headmaster of Dianchang Sect.

Given the terrifying depth of Cho Ryeol’s cultivated energy, it was entirely possible.

This was a man who had lived through the age of Sambong True Man.

[Unification Extinction.]

Cho Ryeol’s voice rang out from within the writhing swarm of water dragons, his azure eyes gleaming with an unnatural light.

He stood calmly with his hands clasped behind his back—his very presence radiating an overwhelming transcendence.

Zzzzzzznnng—!

Yulha Nangnang’s sword flashes carved through the air, leaving behind dozens of afterimages.

Each strike sent deafening explosions through the sky, splitting apart frozen barriers, scattering pristine frost over the river.

Without hesitation, she swung her sword in a relentless flurry, moving purely by instinct, lost in the flow of battle.

By the time dusk crept over the horizon, the river was cloaked in deepening darkness.

Yulha Nangnang’s flowing black hair scattered violet fragments in the air, her blade carving graceful arcs as she moved. The thousand-year heritage of the Orthodox Sect, the teachings that had been refined through generations, sank her mind into a tranquil abyss.

She had reached a state of absolute clarity.

Her understanding now penetrated the core of Daoist martial arts—whether from Mount Hua, Wudang, or any of the great schools.

A mind like still water.

She stood alone, untouched by the need to win or lose.

She only sought to sharpen herself into the finest blade.

But somewhere deep inside, a thought surfaced—No. This won’t do. I have to win.

[You, too, could become a monster among legends.]

A sudden voice shattered her thoughts.

When she came back to her senses, she realized that she had not allowed even a single strike to land on her.

She had single-handedly held back Cho Ryeol’s sorcerous martial arts, severing each manifestation of his power with a single blade. Even the briny scent of the river had been overwhelmed by the faint fragrance of plum blossoms.

For an impossible span of time, she had held back the Heavenly Demon.

And now, she was being forced downward—toward the very dock where the young boy had been idly kicking at the water.

Two scenes filled her vision.

To her left, a razor-sharp sword flash closing in. To her right, the vacant expression of the child staring at her in confusion.

The Demonic Blade of the Outer Path, and the common folk.

Kwaaaaaa—!

And at the center of it all, Jeong Yeonshin tore through the waves, surging toward them.

He was a wreck.

His upper body was nearly bare, with only the sleeve of his robe, embroidered with the character for Huang, left untouched.

Blood-matted hair clung to his face, covering one of his eyes. The exposed eye was wild, gleaming with a murderous {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} intensity that was impossible to ignore.

This situation...!

Yulha Nangnang instantly grasped what was happening.

The Demonic Blade was targeting her. As an Outsider, he would seize this golden opportunity to cut down the Headmaster of Mount Hua in a single strike.

And above, Cho Ryeol’s water dragons, now wreathed in azure lightning, were about to crash down upon them.

But Jeong Yeonshin, his bloodlust ignited, closed the distance in an instant.

Vwuuuuung!

The very air warped from the force of his movement.

He was impossibly fast. Even by the standards of supreme masters, his acceleration was beyond reason.

His already straightforward movement had become utterly devoid of waste. The subtle inefficiencies that should naturally exist in a human’s steps had been erased completely.

The wave at his heels collapsed beneath him, the space behind him rippling faintly. His path was aimed straight at the Demonic Blade.

Yulha Nangnang’s mind, sharpened to its limits, instantly foresaw the outcome.

The Demonic Blade will suffer a fatal wound...!

And in the same moment, the Demonic Blade’s counterattack would pierce her waist. She was in the middle of shattering two of Cho Ryeol’s water dragons with her sword.

And the child at the dock—his small body would be obliterated, leaving not even a trace behind.

And then—

Through some strange chance, some twist of fate, Jeong Yeonshin’s eyes fell upon the child.

And in turn, the child’s wide, innocent eyes fell upon the embroidered sleeve of the Imperial Purple.

It was unintentional.

But Jeong Yeonshin shifted.

A single step.

A massive, circular ripple spread across the water as he planted his foot—and his palm struck upward into Yulha Nangnang’s abdomen.

His other hand, moving with the gentleness of Harmonious Energy Technique, lifted the child into the air.

Explosive power erupted as he unleashed the force within him, even as he enveloped them both in a subtle flow of refined energy. A single thread of Qi touched upon Yulha Nangnang’s acupoint, temporarily disrupting her flow of energy.

“.....!”

For the first time, Yulha Nangnang’s face betrayed shock.

And then, both she and the child were flung skyward by Jeong Yeonshin’s overwhelming force.

Zzzzzzzzzzznnnnng—!

In an instant, they vanished into the sky.

For a supreme master, a pressure-point strike would mean little. But for a brief moment, her movements would be restricted.

Enough time to ensure the child's survival.

And then—Jeong Yeonshin, bound by the inevitable recoil of his movement, landed upon the very water where Yulha Nangnang had been.

Fwup—

It was over in an instant.

A blade pierced deep into his waist.

The force behind the strike sent his sword, Divine Thunder, flying like a bolt of lightning across the water.

The Demonic Blade’s strike.

The price had to be paid. The speed of the Demonic Blade’s thrust was as swift as Jeong Yeonshin’s own step.

Even after countless battles of life and death, after growing stronger with every exchange—Jeong Yeonshin still stood beneath the Demonic Blade.

“...Damn. Just my luck.”

The blind swordsman clicked his tongue, withdrawing his blade before stepping back.

Then, as if the matter was already settled, he reached up and pressed his hat firmly back down over his face.

Kwaaaaaaaaah—!

Above, the water dragons, now fused together into a singular monstrous entity, came crashing down.

It looked as though the Jade Emperor himself had sculpted a mountain of ice from the heavens and hurled it to the mortal realm.

“......”

Resistance was no longer an option.

It felt as though he were trapped beneath the combined might of Yong Hee-myeong, the Swordmaster of the Divine Hall, and Jegal Gaju, the man born of a monkey’s cunning.

The golden hue of the sky faded to pure darkness.

A colossal glacier loomed above, shrouded in mist, painting the water below in shades of white.

Boom!

An earth-shattering impact.

The entire mass of ice came crashing down, submerging Jeong Yeonshin deep beneath the river’s surface.

And as the weight of the glacier bore down, his ears caught the last whisper of a voice.

[The world must know of the new Imperial Purple’s demise.]

The voice of the Lord of Taemo Mountain.

***

[Young Brother Yeonshin, do you know how many days have passed?]

A refined whisper tickled his mind.

It was precisely at the moment he regained consciousness, his body sprawled upon a stone floor. Even before he could lift his eyelids, her ghost-like intuition had already taken effect.

The Invincible Mistress of the Ming Cult—So Cheonmujeok.

She didn’t seem like the Greatest Genius Under Heaven.

She was just as insufferably glib as ever.

[Watching you recover, I can’t help but think—your body might be more monstrous than even the Demonic Blade’s swordplay. I’ve said this before in passing, but your meridians, your muscle structure... your internal energy pathways—what kind of will did you use to weave them together? Even Ming Phoenix Divine Form, the finest art in our sect, can’t compare to that. If I had my way, I’d strip you down to—]

Jeong Yeonshin shook his head.

A searing pain immediately shot up from the two-plate neck muscle at the base of his skull.

That particular muscle controlled the rotation of the neck—no doubt he had strained it while tracking the Demonic Blade’s swordplay.

His throat felt dry and raw. Swallowing was difficult.

And...

His grip felt empty.

Ah.

His mind immediately turned to Divine Thunder, his sword, which had been flung far into the city of Hangzhou.

At the speed and trajectory it had flown, it had likely reached the urban district. There was a high chance it had been picked up by someone who had nothing to do with the Tang siblings.

“...How much time has passed? And why haven’t you used Ethereal Void Skill to claim my head?”

[Hmm?]

So Cheonmujeok curled one corner of her lips upward.

Standing over him with her hands clasped behind her back, she looked down with the air of a high-ranking official.

Her long, ink-black hair, dark as the midnight sky due to the sheer density of her Demonic Energy, swayed slightly—almost as if mocking him.

[If you answered my questions properly, perhaps I would have. But right now, I don’t feel like being generous. We should respect each other, after all.]

“I heard you were about three years older than me.”

[And?]

“They call you So Cheon—one who laughs at the heavens. But it seems you’ve wasted your years.”

[Who do you think shaped the person you’ve become?]

“You and I are not equals. Stop talking to me.”

[You little—]

Jeong Yeonshin ignored whatever else she had to say.

His surroundings were finally coming into focus.

Everything was shrouded in darkness—stone walls, damp air, the faint scent of flowing water. It seemed as though a cave had been carved into the riverbed itself.