Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 457: Heavenly Motion (1)

The land of Hangzhou was vast beyond measure.

There were even three relay stations within the city itself.

It had not always ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ been this way.

Before the founding of the Ming dynasty, there had been two cities, Jiaxing and Shaoxing, above and below Hangzhou. However, during the founding era, a monstrous, unruly warlord and the imperial concubine of the Ming’s first emperor, Zhu Yuanzhang, clashed in a battle that left both cities in ruins.

Thus, they were absorbed into Hangzhou.

Even more, during that time, the ground itself had risen from the sea between the three cities, transforming Hangzhou into the overwhelmingly vast metropolis that now dominated Zhejiang province.

The imperial family did not divide the land into separate districts. The people's sentiment had to be considered.

Hangzhou had long been known as a wealthy land, and distinguishing it from the ruins of neighboring regions would have been unwise.

Emperor Zhu Yuanzhang, in the aftermath of war, did not divide the city into separate provinces but instead shaped it into a place where people from all walks of life could coexist and thrive.

That was why the Lord of Annihilation still existed today.

Despite being pursued by warriors from Celestial Extremity Gate and Taemosan Fortress, he continued to roam Hangzhou. The sheer vastness of the land made it possible.

Step.

A wet footprint was left behind.

This was the dockside, known to be the site of a battle among Jeong Yeon-shin and other absolute masters of the martial world. Crowds had gathered like a cloud.

Swordsmen scanning the surroundings, hoping to find traces of the legendary swordplay. Poets and scholars, drawn here by tales of the highest-ranking martial artists. Idlers, accompanied by armed escorts, wandering in search of rare spectacles. Merchants, clutching their coin pouches tightly, selling flatbreads and sweets among the throng.

The murmuring of voices was a deafening cacophony, and the merchants, wary of thieves, called out with restrained caution. The gentle sound of rippling water mingled with the noise.

There were few unremarkable people here.

Unless one was truly desperate with hunger, common folk tended to keep their distance.

"Did the divine warriors truly cross blades here?"

"Can’t you see the dock is cut clean? It must have been the Celestial Extremity Gate Master’s technique. You know the story, don’t you? That he deflected the Divine Sword of Yeonhwa Nata all the way into the heart of the city..."

"So that’s what happened!"

"Sweets, sweets for sale! The finest sweets you’ll find...!"

Amidst the crowd, the Silent War Monarch, Shin Hwang, stood quietly.

A travel pack slung over one shoulder, clad in a plain yellow robe.

His long, lanky limbs were exposed beneath the coarse fabric. The body of a martial artist with an unusually long reach.

His face was concealed beneath a broad-brimmed hat, casting a shadow over his features.

Shin Hwang had no qualms about disguising himself. The success of the mission always came first.

The Lord of Annihilation of the Divine Sword Sect was famous throughout the martial world as a symbol of Ipwang Fortress’s prestige, yet he had never particularly cared for maintaining appearances in his travels.

Indifference would be a fair way to describe it.

He thought of Seomye.

A boy he had known since his earliest days as a White Rank warrior.

Even back then, the Grandmasters had competed over Jeong Yeon-shin, who was said to possess unfathomable talent, and Namgung Hwashin, who had already earned the title of White Qilin.

It had been a match that was both a wager and a test.

In the end, the late Suncheon Lord Ha Do-un defeated the Celestial Master by the slimmest margin, taking Namgung Hwashin under his wing.

Meanwhile, Naraksal Ma Jin, with a composed demeanor befitting a warrior of Ipwang Fortress, shook the composure of Yullyeong Division Lord Yun So-yu with his taunts, securing victory.

Thus, Jeong Yeon-shin ended up with Ma Gwang-ik.

Shin Hwang had not participated in the contest. He had been content with his existing subordinates. The Lord of Annihilation’s division had the highest survival rate among all martial forces of the Divine Sword Sect.

Naraksal Ma Jin was a master of chaotic battle, but he had never properly taught his subordinates how to carry out their missions unscathed.

"I should have taken him that day."

Seomye, Jeong Yeon-shin.

From the first time he saw him, Shin Hwang had found him strange. The child’s face—white as snow—bore features that seemed oddly familiar.

It was only much later that he learned the identity of Jeong Yeon-shin’s mother.

Ma Yeon-sang.

A woman whose marriage had once been discussed in connection with him, years ago.

The Ma, Shin, Hahoe, and Yun households—along with several other prestigious clans under Ipwang Fortress—had maintained intermarriages across generations.

It was a means to easily preserve martial talent. A duty of those born into noble martial lineages.

The marriage between Shin Hwang and Ma Yeon-sang had been all but set in stone.

"Go to hell. I won’t do it."

"You oppose marrying me?"

"I just hate arranged marriages. I want to see the world first, and if I happen to find someone along the way, I’ll make him my partner. You, Shin, will always be just a brother to me."

Her spirit belonged in the north.

Like a great general commanding imperial troops, Ma Yeon-sang had even raised her voice against her own father.

She had dared to argue with the legendary Warlord Ma Yeon-jeok. Ipwang Fortress had been eerily silent that day.

Through it all, Shin Hwang had done nothing.

Either way, it made no difference to him.

Before he had earned the title of the Silent War Monarch, he had already married himself to the art of war.

Yet, that did not mean he was devoid of feelings.

A sense of responsibility lingered.

Whenever his missions took him near Hanyang, he would pass by Shin Yae-hyeon from a distance. Unlike Ma Jin, who was bound by blood ties, Shin Hwang had the freedom to do so.

Once in a long while, he would glimpse Ma Yeon-sang.

She had looked happy, beside a man whose face was as dazzling as the Sword Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

That had been enough.

After Ma Yeon-sang’s death, Shin Hwang never passed through Shin Yae-hyeon again.

He had no expectations of Jeong’s martial potential.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Above all, the only one he had ever cared for was Ma Yeon-sang.

This remained true even after Jeong Yeon-shin’s identity was revealed.

When he was Blue Rank, he was a promising subordinate.

As White Rank, he was a talented colleague.

As Black Rank, an exceptional fighter.

And as Purple Rank, the next Lord of the Divine Sword Sect.

Shin Hwang had been indifferent.

Until he witnessed the death of the Pure Yang Swordmaster of the Wudang Sect.

"That child... reminds me of Grandmaster Sambong."

He had spoken those words while struggling to keep civilians away from the spellcasters of Taemosan Fortress.

"The Divine Sword Sect must live for that boy’s sake. I may have given him the title of the Annihilator of the Wasteland, but more than anything, he must never stray from his path. Ah, and do keep this title a secret—take it to your grave."

The Pure Yang Swordmaster had said it.

That while he and Won Yeong-shin were two, the new Purple Rank would one day become four.

"This presence... the Celestial Extremity Gate Master is coming. He will be here within the quarter-hour."

"If we fight together, we can win. Set aside your pride."

"Pride? Then what of the people here? I apologize, but unlike me, your martial arts lack restraint..."

He had not been wrong.

However, Shin Hwang was the Lord of Annihilation. In other words, he was the sword of the nation. He understood that the life of a single Black Rank warrior could be weighed against the lives of thousands of commoners.

For someone like the Pure Yang Swordmaster, that number might exceed ten thousand. The sheer power and numbers of the monstrous warlords that the Nine Great Sects fought off each year were overwhelming.

The Nine Great Sects lived in seclusion among the mountains, but they were never truly free. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"You know as well as I do that Wudang is deeply tied to the imperial family. I also know what kind of conversation the emperor had with the new Purple Rank when he ascended as the Annihilator of the Wasteland. Yes, His Majesty asked the boy a question—what will you stand for as the sword of the nation? I heard the response wasn’t long. But it aligns perfectly with what I want to tell you now."

Back then, the Pure Yang Swordmaster had laughed more cheerfully than ever before.

He was Wudang’s unparalleled swordsman, yet beneath the youthful features granted by his mastery of rejuvenation techniques, the weight of a war-torn world could be seen.

"Do not compromise."

“......”

The Pure Yang Swordmaster had added one more thing.

"Ten lives are no different from ten thousand. That is the value of human life."

It was a reminder to always focus on what lay immediately before one’s eyes.

Wudang’s old master was a Taoist in the truest sense, but he was also, in every way, a martial artist.

"Now, go."

With those final words from the Pure Yang Swordmaster, Shin Hwang awakened from his thoughts.

Only then did the voices of the crowd sink into his ears.

"Is the Lotus Pavilion still bustling?"

"Of course it is. The Divine Healer himself has been in Hangzhou for days—people are desperate for a chance, no matter how slim."

"But I heard that unless you pass his test, he won’t even check your pulse? What kind of physician does that?"

"Hey, watch your mouth! Even the Thirteen Heavens don’t dare touch that man—how can you speak so carelessly about him?"

Shin Hwang turned silently.

He did not believe Jeong Yeon-shin was truly dead.

Both the Pure Yang Swordmaster’s will and Shin Hwang’s own convictions pointed toward the survival of the Annihilator of the Wasteland.

However, even if he had survived, his body would hardly be intact.

Perhaps an arm was missing. Or maybe he was barely conscious.

"I will act on the premise that he is alive."

Step.

He moved slowly, making his way toward the Lotus Pavilion, where the greatest healer in the world resided.

Hoping that he was not wrong.

***

Taemosan Fortress spread the news of Jeong Yeon-shin’s death on a grand scale.

For those who had mastered sorcery, spreading information was nothing.

With a single piece of enchanted paper, they could shout all day without ever tiring or conjure illusions of themselves.

They could even craft messenger birds from talismans.

When it came to mysterious and intricate techniques, no sect could compare to them.

On the other hand, the Celestial Extremity Gate remained silent.

Those who had learned the sword under the Supreme Blade of the Unorthodox never spoke carelessly in public.

They merely roamed the streets with an air of detachment, identifying righteous martial artists among the crowd.

In contrast, the sorcerers of Taemosan Fortress moved freely through Hangzhou, their heads adorned with loosely tied Taoist headbands, revealing their foreheads.

"Do not approach any closer."

The marketplace in Kaiyang County, Hangzhou.

A vast open space was filled with a cloud-like mass of people, yet in the very center, a gap had been carved out.

Around twenty sorcerers of Taemosan Fortress stood in a circle, keeping the crowd at bay.

Ordinarily, no one would dare approach the warriors of the Thirteen Heavens.

But this time, Taemosan Fortress had deliberately used their sorcery to create a lighthearted atmosphere, displaying wondrous spectacles before blocking off the area.

They had conjured bursts of flame, sketched cranes and deer in the air with glowing light, drawing in a fascinated audience.

At the center of the gathering, a single sword was embedded in the ground.

From its hilt to its blade, it gleamed with an awe-inspiring silver radiance. Even those unfamiliar with weapons could tell it was no ordinary sword.

Sunlight glimmered along the rippling pattern on the blade, making it appear all the more divine.

Even the two characters engraved into the metal exuded an aura of solemnity.

Carved with a strong and precise hand, the script was immaculate.

"Demon Sword—Thundercry."

Seated upon an ornate palanquin carried by sorcerer-warriors, a boy with elongated ears and a sharp chin surveyed the crowd.

He was Cho Il-seo, heir to the Taemosan Sorcery Sect and newly appointed Young Lord, having ascended to the position after the death of his father, the Dark Black Divine Hand, Cho Pae-gwang.

He was of the same generation as the late Yeonhwa Nata.

"This is proof that even the Annihilator of the Wasteland could not overcome his true nature."

Those well-versed in worldly affairs exchanged wary glances.

Even if Cho Il-seo was known for wielding thunderous martial arts, there was no comparison.

No matter how highly the Dark Heaven Emperor valued his grandson, in the end, he was nothing compared to Ipwang Fortress’s Purple Rank.

Even as warriors of Ipwang Fortress fell in various places, Black and Purple Rank warriors were a different matter altogether.

And this time, the news was grim.

A Purple Rank was regarded as more noble than many members of the imperial family.

The martial world revered them, and the common people perceived them as legendary figures.

Even the imperial family, whether openly or not, would have protected him.

Careless words could lead to one’s downfall.

In the vast city of Hangzhou, travelers who had come from far and wide whispered cautiously among themselves.

"Should we leave now...?"

"Are we certain the soldiers here are siding with the Thirteen Heavens? This is making me uneasy. And that sword—wasn’t it kept hidden until today?"

"I think I’d rather wash out my ears and sleep than listen to any more of this..."

"It certainly looks impressive, but is it really the sword Yeonhwa Nata once wielded? What if we brag about seeing it and end up making fools of ourselves?"

The relaxed atmosphere allowed for such remarks.

Even though they had lowered their voices, it meant nothing to the ears of high-level martial artists.

As he scanned the crowd, Cho Il-seo’s eyebrow twitched slightly.

"Worthless fools."

He was carrying out his grandfather’s orders.

Block ignorant rabble from entering Hangzhou while luring in as many true martial artists as possible.

Even if he did not understand the reasoning behind it, Cho Il-seo accepted it.

As long as he could insult the murderer of his father, that was enough.

It was also an opportunity to establish himself as the new Young Lord.

"You there."

He pointed at a young man among the crowd, seemingly of the same age as himself.

A tall figure with a youthful face.

"Try pulling it out."

"......?"

"The spirit of the dead Annihilator of the Wasteland lingers in this sword. You could even call it a twisted, malevolent will. Because of it, the sword has fused to the earth in an unnatural manner. You will never be able to pull it free. And that is precisely why this sword is proof of being Thundercry. I’ve heard from some Iron Clan warriors that it was forged with the lingering resentment of the Twin Venoms of Sichuan Poison Sect."

Cho Il-seo fastened the smooth black sleeves of his robe. By the time he finished speaking, he didn’t even bother looking at his chosen target.

After all, he questioned whether he needed to be involved in such matters in the first place. There were far more important things to do.

"The air in Hangzhou is shifting..."

The proclamation of Annihilator of the Wasteland, Jeong Yeon-shin’s death.

It was an order given by the Dark Heaven Emperor, entirely unrelated to Cho Il-seo himself—a deliberate provocation.

Taemosan Fortress wanted powerful internal energy masters to flood into Hangzhou.

A major backlash could come at any moment.

Reports had already surfaced from nearby regions—banners symbolizing the Seventeen Blades of the Divine Sword Sect had been sighted.

Unfamiliar martial artists were entering Hangzhou. Among them, there were even individuals whose appearances bore no connection to Ipwang Fortress.

"I need to finish this quickly... Wasn’t it enough to have the mere scavengers here?"

Cho Il-seo tilted his chin slightly.

"Do you lack the courage to draw the sword because it is a relic of the dead? If so, then perhaps someone el—"

"A relic...?"

The one he had pointed at cut him off.

And as the figure slowly stepped forward—

Not a single sound was heard when their leather shoes touched the ground.

Likewise, there was no presence.

Whoosh—

Only a gust of dust scraped across the earth.