Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 456: Den of Demons (9)

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly lifted his upper body. A chilling sensation rose from the hand pressed against the floor. The texture was strikingly clear.

"......."

There were many questions.

Why was he still alive?

The attack he had faced from the Dark Heaven Emperor at that moment had been nothing short of overwhelming. Given his precarious state at the time, a direct hit should have been fatal—even if he had been at full strength, the sheer force of it would have left him critically wounded.

The Dark Heaven Emperor, who had claimed the land of Hangzhou as his domain, was the absolute master of sorcery-infused martial arts.

If so—

Had it truly been an almost miraculous stroke of luck that he was dragged into a cave after being crushed under the ice mountain? Or had So Cheonmujuk, for some unknown reason, concealed him using a technique like Formless Void?

‘Would there even be a reason for that?’

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes narrowed.

Why had his body recovered, even if only slightly? The Heaven's Extremity Sect Master’s sword strikes had suppressed even the Jeong Family’s martial arts.

And most of all—

Why had the Heaven's Extremity Sect Master left the finishing blow to the Dark Heaven Emperor?

At the time, an enormous ice mountain composed of pure sorcery-infused martial power had already been descending from above. Even so, the blade of the Supreme Outsider Sword had undeniably been superior to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Even if the internal injuries accumulated from defeating both the Ancient Sword and Jeong Yeon-shin had been severe, the situation remained the same.

No matter what, in that fleeting moment, it shouldn’t have been impossible for him to take Jeong Yeon-shin’s head.

Or had he truly lacked the confidence to cut through Jeong Yeon-shin’s protective energy in the split second before the ice mountain fell? Had the weight of his injuries become too severe?

—"Unlucky bastard."

The Supreme Outsider Sword’s gruff muttering still rang in his ears.

A difficult man to grasp. Why was that? It wasn’t simply because their one-on-one battle to the death had not ended as expected. The man was, in every sense, an outsider.

His thoughts were beginning to grow muddled when—

[Yeon-shin, do you know what the Demonic Path truly is?]

A voice full of empty years echoed in his mind.

[It is defiance. Defiance against fate.]

It was So Cheonmujuk.

At some point, she had taken up a liquor cup in one hand and was absentmindedly running her index finger along its surface.

There was an air of complete leisure around her, as if she were lost in thought, entirely disconnected from Jeong Yeon-shin. Even with her translucent body, such a demeanor was evident.

At some point, she had donned a white robe.

Had she changed clothes using sorcery?

The garment draped over her rounded shoulders, splitting just below the elbow to reveal her toned forearm. Each time she moved her index finger, the veins beneath her skin pulsed faintly.

A body that was inherently built for close combat. A physique that had already reached completion—both in martial prowess and in sorcery.

‘Hangzhou, alcohol, a bed, a space where nonsense is blocked, a place where she can savor liquor without worry, a time that appears to be night...’

There were many clues.

Jeong Yeon-shin committed the sight of her to memory.

[I want to do this and that, but the damned heavens won’t let me do anything. That’s what the Demonic Path is.]

Her voice was lighthearted.

Without a word, Jeong Yeon-shin adjusted his seated posture and crossed his legs. Before long, So Cheonmujuk’s voice lowered to a whisper, tickling his mind.

[For example.......]

A sudden mischievous undertone.

[Wouldn’t you like to live until you’re old?]

"......."

[According to the so-called righteous sects, even that would be defying the heavens and following the Demonic Path. Why? Because the means matter.]

In that instant, an image of /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the fruit of the Celestial Tree flashed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind. Along with the fact that one could only claim it after gaining recognition from every noble lineage under the heavens.

It was, in essence, an impossible feat—so much so that even considering it was absurd.

Only a handful of individuals, including the Zhongnan Sword Immortal who had already crossed the River of Three Paths, had taken his childish longing seriously.

It had been something to be grateful for.

He slowly opened his mouth.

"So your goal was to defy the heavens. Among the arts of sorcery-infused martial arts, there are methods that allow the dead to remain anchored to this world."

[That’s just a rumor. It’s none of your business.]

"I’ve also heard of something called the Soul Transfer Method."

Still seated, Jeong Yeon-shin gazed up at So Cheonmujuk.

"A technique that allows a soul to settle into another person’s body wouldn’t be all that surprising."

The first Heavenly Demon, the founder of the Ming Cult, had been a man infinitely close to godhood. It was said that he had mastered every form of sorcery and demonic martial arts, making the impossible possible.

After the arrival of noble clans and the Iron Clan, his teachings had merged with their martial arts, warping the natural order itself under the name of the Demonic Path.

This was how sorcery-infused martial arts had evolved. Many nobles had pledged themselves to the Ming Cult during the founding era.

[So you know about the Soul Transfer Method?]

So Cheonmujuk's twisted smile held a flicker of interest.

During his time in Beijing—

Jeong Yeon-shin had managed to broaden his once-limited view of the martial world.

It had been thanks to the time he had spent with Yong Hui-myeong, the leader of the Divine Sword Sect.

As a testament to his status as the Divine Sword Sect Master of his time, Yong Hui-myeong’s signature violet robes exuded an air of scholarly refinement. He reveled in stories, poetry, and song.

A kind of elegance.

Yong Hui-myeong’s knowledge was vast—so vast that he had endlessly shared stories even with Jeong Yeon-shin.

—"If I had to guess, the fledgling of the Ming Cult must have been born with a destiny similar to yours. No matter how much of a prodigy he was, it’s an entirely different matter to unify the once-scattered demonic sects of Xinjiang in such a short time. He must have possessed something truly special—a quality that could compel all demonic martial artists to bow before him as the Grand Patriarch of the Demonic Path."

Jeong Yeon-shin had once had his constitution seen through by Yong Hui-myeong back in his youth.

It had been during his deathmatch with the Namgung family.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Because of that, Yong Hui-myeong had given him plenty of advice in Beijing. Among those, stories about the Ming Cult and So Cheonmujuk had been included.

[.......]

She did not answer. Her fingers never ceased rolling the liquor cup between them. The Ming Cult Master displayed her ease through silence.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice remained steady.

"What exactly are you planning to do to Senior Baek?"

[Well, I was thinking of telling her about your death and watching her reaction for fun. That way, she’d be compelled to train in my martial arts for the sake of revenge. And the more she does, the closer Baek Mi-ryeo’s body will become to the Heavenly Demon’s Form.]

"Don’t try anything."

[Brat, do you even understand what you’re saying? The one standing before you is the Ming Cult Master. I am the pinnacle of the Supreme Outsider's Way—a being who wished for the world to end alongside my death.]

A soft laugh rang in So Cheonmujuk’s voice. She was twisted to the core.

Jeong Yeon-shin didn’t care.

"If I lead my faction’s full force."

His voice rumbled like a growl between his teeth.

"I could raze the Demonic Path of Xinjiang to the ground."

[Crazy bastard.......]

The Ming Cult Master and Ipwang Fortress’s violet-robed warrior faced each other.

So Cheonmujuk, staring down at him, slowly shook her head.

[You know? Even the Defiant Swordsman couldn’t accomplish that. Though, if you were willing to sacrifice everything, I suppose you might manage it.]

Jeong Yeon-shin said nothing more. He merely sat still, resting both hands on his knees, and closed his eyes to examine his body.

And then he realized—

The circulation of his energy had stopped.

‘What...?’

His senses had dulled so much that he hadn’t noticed sooner.

The brilliant ring that had once spun ceaselessly in his heart had come to a halt. The energy that should have spread from it was utterly still.

His entire body, including the Twelve Main Meridians and the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, was completely empty.

It was an injury he had never experienced before.

Was it the result of the Heaven’s Extremity Sect Master’s sword strikes?

There was no way he could break through the cave like this.

And he had no idea how long it would take to recover.

"......."

Jeong Yeon-shin furrowed his brows and glanced around. No matter how closely he examined his surroundings, he couldn’t spot an exit. It was a truly strange situation.

“...Was it you who brought me here?”

[Who knows.]

So Cheonmujuk raised one corner of her lips.

It was a cryptic smile.

[Even if there were an artifact somewhere capable of folding and unfolding space, it wouldn’t be all that surprising. The world is vast, and even I have only experienced a fraction of it. Of course, I’m sure you realized that for yourself this time as well...]

Naturally, Jeong Yeon-shin had already come to understand just how boundless the world was after his encounter with the Heaven’s Extremity Sect Master.

But what So Cheonmujuk was implying was something entirely different. He couldn’t begin to grasp what her real intentions were.

Had her schemes overlapped with mere coincidence?

‘I should stop thinking about it.’

The current Ming Cult Master was chaos itself. The more one spoke with her, the more questions arose.

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly rose to his feet and began walking.

If he had even a sliver of internal energy left, it would be one thing, but with his meridians completely empty, it was better to stimulate his body using movement.

After all, the Jeong Family’s martial arts revolved around maintaining constant motion, circulating energy, and revitalizing the body.

[What a peculiar place. How can the walls be this smooth?]

So Cheonmujuk floated into the air with her hands clasped behind her back, surveying the cave. She genuinely seemed to be seeing it for the first time.

Jeong Yeon-shin ignored her and kept walking in silence. The sensation of the ground beneath his leather shoes was strangely smooth.

The damp cave had no branching paths. Only the dense darkness swallowed his footsteps.

Step, step.

A cavern like a mass of condensed night.

Yet even without activating any techniques, he could see the path.

That was because his eyes, having undergone transformation, now carried spiritual perception. He could perceive not just light, but the very outlines of objects through their presence. His body was already a divine blade.

[Now I see why the Lord of Taemosan Fortress chose Hangzhou as the center of his Tiger Dragon Formation. Come to think of it, the Dark Heaven Emperor always harbored an inferiority complex toward Sambong Zhenren. This... this is quite the discovery. If my guess is right, this is no ordinary stroke of fortune.]

‘A stroke of fortune?’

As Jeong Yeon-shin endured his swirling anger, unease, and creeping exhaustion, he silently repeated So Cheonmujuk’s words. Had he spoken them aloud, there might have been a hint of derision in his voice.

To him, fortune had always meant the invaluable bonds he had forged with people. It had nothing to do with the fantastical occurrences found in oral legends and storybooks.

The kind of fortune that martial artists in Jianghu longed for simply did not exist in reality. He had never expected it to.

He had been walking for nearly two hours when—

Thunk.

A small stone crumbled beneath his foot. A gust of ice-cold air swept over his skin.

The ground had vanished. Only the abyss stretched downward.

The path he had been following had led him to an underground hall of colossal proportions. The space before him was a vast, gaping expanse.

Slowly.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.

An unimaginably long and massive skeleton lay curled into itself. Its length stretched nearly a hundred meters, and if flesh and scales still clung to its surface, it would have resembled an Imoogi. Even the way its elongated snout rested against the ground suggested as much.

"......."

Its sheer presence alone crushed the spirit.

Even in death, it radiated an oppressive force.

The silence in the cavern carried an unbearable weight.

Filling the vast space was the corpse of an entity beyond human comprehension.

It was the second such creature he had encountered, following the human-faced centipede in Beijing.

This time, it was a dragon.

And yet, something about its form was... odd.

It formed the shape of a Taiji.

Its body lay curved across the center in a perfect spiral. Almost as if it had been forcibly bound into that position by some unknown force.

‘And...’

A rusted iron sword was lodged deep into the Imoogi’s skull.

A pine tree emblem was carved into the hilt.

A Songwood Ancient Sword from the Wudang Sect.

However, it was slightly different from the ones Jeong Yeon-shin had seen before.

The blade was far narrower, and the hilt was shorter. It was barely long enough to be wielded effortlessly with a single hand.

It was a relic from an age when raw sword strength was not yet the focus.

No such Songwood Ancient Sword existed in the current Wudang Sect.

It didn’t belong to the Ancient Sword Master, either. At least, not according to the knowledge Jeong Yeon-shin had acquired as a violet-robed warrior.

Boom!

Without realizing it, he had taken a step forward and plummeted into the underground hall.

Agonizing pain surged through his entire body, but he forced himself upright and took another step forward.

His body, forged like a divine blade, withstood the impact despite his internal injuries.

[I suppose I’ll have to see for myself. Would you mind stripping off your clothes?]

So Cheonmujuk’s murmured remark of admiration was the last thing on his mind.

The eerie sense of familiarity he had always instinctively felt toward her extended to the sight before him.

No matter how much she pretended otherwise, So Cheonmujuk must have felt the same.

The only reason she focused on Jeong Yeon-shin was that there was no inner elixir or medicinal essence left in the Imoogi’s remains.

Crackle—

A lightning bolt flashed through his mind. Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision went blank.

***

The sun and moon rose and fell, time passing in cycles.

Amid the depths of a vast river, a swordmaster of the Mount Hua Sect, his long hair billowing, slashed ceaselessly at the riverbed with bloodshot eyes.

Meanwhile, a single rumor spread.

At first, its rapid spread suggested a great force had deliberately fanned its flames, but it needed no assistance to grow wings of its own.

The weight of the name involved ensured that.

—The violet-robed warrior of Ipwang Fortress has fallen!

A brief statement that sent an entire nation into turmoil.

Words carried faster than even the swiftest horses.

If the news was of such magnitude that it concerned the livelihood of all under heaven, it would spread all the more.

This was a world where messenger falcons crossed the skies, carrying whispers of all kinds.

It was inevitable.

Time blurred together.

Messenger swallows, symbols of the Divine Sword Sect, shot toward Ipwang Fortress’s main stronghold from all directions.

A woman in a crimson robe, stained with blood, came to an abrupt halt along a desolate mountain road.

The hammering sound echoing from the towering walls of the Southern Heavenly Poison Sect ceased.

On a rugged mountain path, three blue-robed warriors who had been carrying a coffin alongside Ma Gwang-ik abandoned it and took off in a mad sprint.

Within the palace-like residence of Baek Mi-ryeo, the chosen heir of the Ming Cult, black sword light filled the halls.

"......."

And on a battlefield strewn with the shattered remains of monstrous beings—

The severed arm of a being thirty feet tall, its body covered in golden diamond scales, lay among the wreckage of Imoogis as large as hills.

A falcon, its feathers a striking shade of blue, sliced through the distorted space and gently descended onto the elbow of the strongest being under heaven.

The divine bird snapped its sharp beak once, as if to deliver a message.

Shaa—

Then, a gust of pale wind swept in, sending long green hair rippling.

That was all. freёwebnoѵel.com

She did not move.

She simply stood there, motionless, in a space where reality itself bent around her.