Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

The Great Lord of the Heavenly Gate was concerned about the former leader of the Divine Sword Division’s old age.

A surprising sight.

Yet, Jeong Yeon-shin detected no real sincerity in it. It was merely a formal inquiry, the kind that required no depth of feeling. His upper dantian sensed as much.

He remembered the moment when Ma Yeon-jeok’s surprise attack had left Hahoe Wi-jin unconscious.

It had happened at the One-Pyeong Sword Arena, during a heated argument over mission assignments. It had been a humiliating experience.

"And yet, he remains a great man."

The young martial artist felt admiration.

If he wished to don the Violet Robe one day, he would have to model himself after such a figure.

His senior, seated at the head of the table, had shown the demeanor of a true gentleman.

It was only proper to return the courtesy.

“My grandfather recently regained his youth. It hasn’t been long since his rejuvenation, so of course, he remains in good health. Just a short while ago, he even drove back the leader of Simmu-ryeon.”

“...What?”

“If you assumed that much time had passed due to my appearance, you needn’t ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) worry. It’s merely a function of my transformation.”

“...Ah.”

“Isn’t that a relief? I, too, had concerns upon discovering such a mystical land. I worried that time might flow differently outside this formation.”

Hahoe Wi-jin remained silent.

Jeong Yeon-shin had spoken at length—an unusual occurrence for him.

But he was in good spirits. He had learned something yet again from his black-clad senior.

Unlike the countless apes that roamed the martial world, the seniors of Ipwang Fortress enlightened him beyond mere combat.

Many times, such insights had led him to create new techniques. Even now, the manner in which he had compressed his energy to deceive the Gate Master of the Golden Western Gate had stemmed from the principles of Extreme Blood Demonic Energy.

That profound, paradoxical technique—a blend of emptiness and weight—was influencing his development of a new Guardian Qi Barrier.

“But I heard you departed with the Heavenly Gate Division. I don’t sense the presence of any Ipwang warriors here. I’m also curious about the safety of the other two seniors.”

Jeong Yeon-shin inquired.

“Hmm.”

Having seemingly found relief in the well-being of the previous leader of the Divine Sword Division, Hahoe Wi-jin fell into a moment of deep thought before answering in his thick voice.

“My subordinates have long since gone on reconnaissance. That was my order. As for Lord Seonmok, she has been wandering outside, searching for a way to return. She hasn’t come back to the village in months. And as for the Suncheon Lord... I do not know. I haven’t found him.”

“...By reconnaissance, do you mean there are enemies?”

“Of course.”

Hahoe Wi-jin’s heavy lips curled downward slightly, his gaze growing cold.

“The Three Lords. The Twin Kings. The ones who came before us.”

His brief words carried weight.

He continued, his explanation laced with wariness.

The Three Lords—men who claimed that any land they stepped upon was theirs.

The Twin Kings—former heads of the Eight Great Families, who had secured the largest domain within the formation.

And beyond them—martial artists of an earlier era, armed with nothing but their weapons, wandering the battlefield of decades past.

“They are all supreme masters. I thought they had all entered seclusion, yet they are here. Rumors suggest they made some kind of deal with Taemo Fortress. I don’t know the details, but those damn sorcerers have long since unleashed living ghosts upon this land.”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s brow twitched.

The Thirteen Heavens Taemo Fortress.

The sect that had plundered the Demonic Heaven Tomb from Heon Won-chang’s family, alongside the Mo Yong Clan.

Originally an offshoot of the ancient Mo Mountain Sect, it had now grown even more powerful than its parent sect.

Its members were all formidable sorcerers, specializing in spell-infused martial arts.

Why had they gathered all these warriors here under the pretext of seeking the Flood Dragon’s core?

There had to be a scheme behind it.

But that wasn’t Jeong Yeon-shin’s concern.

His priority was to regroup with his seniors and the warriors of Ipwang Fortress before leaving this place.

“This is still the martial world.”

“That’s right. A dying formation, collapsing under its own weight. They say the lands farthest from here have already vanished into strange mists. No one who wandered into them has ever returned. We don’t know if they left the formation or simply ceased to exist.”

“Then some of the former grandmasters trapped here must be desperate to find an escape.”

“That’s right. I could hardly believe my ears when I heard the so-called Gate Masters of the Golden Western Gate and Tenfold Gate rambling about the ‘Flood Dragon’s Hidden Realm’...”

Hahoe Wi-jin trailed off, his gaze lingering on Jeong Yeon-shin.

Suddenly, he recalled a day of bitter despair—the day he had been surrounded by two of the Thirteen Heavens, trapped within an elaborate spell formation.

The land he had fought upon had not been the sacred ground of a divine beast.

It had been the grave of forgotten warriors.

Neither he nor Cheon So-so had been worthy of treading upon this land, where so much mystery had gathered.

They had barely managed to safeguard a handful of ordinary people.

The hierarchy had already been decided by those who had arrived first.

"Even now, we are hopelessly outmatched."

But was Seomye any different?

The black-robed warriors of the world often turned the tide of battle in faction wars, but only when the true leaders of the great sects had yet to intervene.

Among the Twin Kings and Three Lords—three were the heads of major sects, one stood at their very threshold, and another had long since become the devoted servant of a former Peng Clan leader.

As for the unaffiliated former grandmasters—only the arrival of a Violet-tier master could shift the balance against them.

"And that man... represents the last hope of the fading original order."

Seomye Jeong Yeon-shin.

The heavens’ accidental arrangement.

The strongest prodigy of his generation.

The one all but assured to become the next leader of the Divine Sword Division.

He could not be lost.

Hahoe Wi-jin resolved himself.

He had no intention of sending Jeong Yeon-shin to the front lines.

Regardless of how equally all black-robed warriors were regarded, as a senior, he would offer guidance.

He would tell him to avoid getting caught up in the turmoil.

To wait until the Dragon Lord or the former leader arrived, even if that meant waiting decades.

The Violet Tier always comes.

That much was certain.

That was the nature of those who ascended.

“If it wasn’t through Taemo Fortress, then you must have come through the Golden Western Gate. Regardless of how you got here, you must be exhausted. Rest, and wait for Lord Seonmok.”

Hahoe Wi-jin advised.

But Jeong Yeon-shin showed no intention of staying put.

“Do you truly believe the Suncheon Lord is safe? If Lord Seonmok hasn’t returned for months, shouldn’t we consider the possibility of something having gone wrong?”

“...The White Thunder Light Sword technique of the Suncheon Lord is among the greatest in the martial world. That young prodigy... what was his name? Baek Girin Namgung Hwa-shin? He didn’t join him without reason. He’ll be fine. And you needn’t worry about Lord Seonmok either. You’ve experienced her Rigid Serpent Hand yourself.”

For once, Hahoe Wi-jin spoke in a measured tone, as if trying to persuade his junior.

Seomye’s refinements of the Guardian Nerve Technique had already saved lives on numerous occasions.

And he was well aware that his junior’s reputation was growing heavier across the martial world.

For Hahoe Wi-jin, protecting Seomye’s safety was a matter of utmost importance to Ipwang Fortress.

“I can see that you’ve become significantly stronger. Perhaps we should seek out Ha Do-un together. Just wait a little longer.”

“There’s no exhaustion to recover from. Since you are guarding this village, I can go alone—”

At that moment—

“Chieftain! Chieftain!”

The side door burst open.

Jeong Yeon-shin looked down and saw an elderly man—a short but powerfully built figure with thick, white facial hair.

A pure-blooded member of the Iron Clan.

He held a letter in one hand.

“Ah, you must be Seomye. I used to sit in that chair before this bear-like man took over as chieftain.”

The Iron Clan elder pointed at the golden throne.

Then, without further ado, he strode up and unfurled the letter before the two Great Lords.

“Read this. Both of you.”

Jeong Yeon-shin barely had time to introduce himself before his attention was drawn to the contents.

**[Frost Soul Cheon So-so shall become the bride of Peng Yeo-ran on this year’s Awakening of Insects. Your village is to send an envoy to celebrate and present offerings.

—Ghost Howl Tyrant King]**

“What the hell is this nonsense?!”

“What nonsense are you talking, when you haven’t even run?”

Hahoe Wi-jin’s enormous fist shattered the table. The reverberation of the energy wave felt the distinct, instantaneous nature of the Three-Elemental Purification.

Jeong Yeon-shin instinctively realized it. Peng Yeol-ran, the leader of the northern Peng family, had captured Seonmok Ryeong, the head of the Seonmok clan.

“They seem to be targeting the sapling of the world’s tree. Among all the pure-blooded noble families, there is no one else like Seonmok Ryeong, who possesses such power. She alone can wield the full potential of the sapling.”

The former village chief spoke with a grave tone.

“Why provoke them like this? It could have been dealt with quietly, without anyone knowing.”

Jeong Yeon-shin asked.

“...I heard that there are no ordinary masters among the experts of the Society of Sacred Swords.”

The elderly man, who had turned his gaze toward him, was startled and spoke. The once-perfectly seated youth, who had been reading the letter, had somehow gotten to his feet.

It was a sign of how naturally his movements had become. Even the elderly man, who had deeply mastered the night-hidden martial arts, failed to notice any presence and cautiously continued speaking.

“Well, anyway, among the twin kings, the one known as the Queen of the Black Seal is incredibly secular. Before becoming the head of the Peng family, she indulged in every form of luxury, yet she triumphed in the competition for succession and eliminated all direct competitors. She is known for her skills in elegance, mentality, and martial arts, to the point where she is called the Three Excellents of Divine Martial Arts.”

“So?”

“Her intentions may be difficult for us to grasp, or it could be nothing more than a display of pride. The Queen of the Black Seal is famously known for enjoying lavish feasts, unlike a typical supreme master. She surrounds herself with followers on all sides.”

“Does she have many followers here in this land?”

“She subdued the former masters who accompanied her to build her own faction.”

“Faction?”

“She named it the Secret Region Peng family. It might even be stronger than the true Peng family from the outside. There are plenty of old scoundrels who should’ve already been dealt with.”

The old man finished speaking.

At that moment, Hahoe Wi-jin, without a word, clenched his fist.

He seemed to be deep in thought. As a warrior from Yihuang City, he was always torn between prioritizing the safety of the common people here or accepting the invitation from the Queen of the Black Seal.

Jeong Yeon-shin wasn’t concerned. He had finally arrived at the moment of his mission.

“Hahoe senior.”

“Hmm?”

“The black robe of the master. Do you have a spare?”

What did he sense from his junior’s brief words? For a moment, there was a glint in Hahoe Wi-jin’s eyes.

The giant noble warrior threw a question with his gaze. Was this the one I’ve been waiting for...?

“It’s here.”

Thud.

On the shattered remnants of the table.

A pile of clothing, exceeding a thumb’s width, was stacked in layers. It looked like there were more than ten sets.

All of them were the black robes of Yihuang City, with a large "Huang" embroidered in white on the shoulder.

“Be careful if you tear them.”

Hahoe Wi-jin said, almost as if in an excuse.

Jeong Yeon-shin smiled faintly and lifted one set.

Thud.

He detached the armrest of Hahoe Wi-jin's chair, placing it on his index finger and activating the Three-Meditative Transformation. The soft golden shell melted with the intense heat.

The young man then touched the shoulder area of the robe, following the "Huang" embroidery, and began writing.

Chi-iiing—

It was the color that signified the identity of the direct disciple of the Lord of Yihuang City. The neat brushstrokes that spread from the tip of his finger were outlined in golden ink.

“Even the former masters should recognize this, right?”

“They’ll recognize it better than anyone. The Lord of Yihuang City reached his peak when he wielded his sword.”

The old man, who had been a former village chief, answered instead. His eyes watched Jeong Yeon-shin, who was now donning the large robe.

The old man’s gaze also swept over the comet sword that Ma Gwang-ik had strapped to his waist.

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“The state is indeed unstable. The young ones from their family are quite remarkable in their hidden arts, but they keep claiming they want to forge the sword of hidden energy.”

“I’ll go. Senior, please stay here and guard this place.”

Thud.

Jeong Yeon-shin raised his energy and turned away from the two.

Hahoe Wi-jin didn’t try to stop him.

He just silently watched his junior’s retreating figure, prioritizing the safety of the common people as always, just as his duty dictated.

‘Twin kings, the purple power of the rivers and lakes...’

As Jeong Yeon-shin exited the building, his body moved with ease across rooftops, crossing between one house’s roof and another.

With alternating casts of the refined arts of the great martial families — the steps of Huanyibo, Fuxin, and the Twelve-Mile Bright Paths — no one could truly perceive him.

Even the twin siblings of the Dang family, happily darting about with innocent faces, were none the wiser.

Earlier, Jeong Yeon-shin had used his Divination Art to measure their lifespans.

It was abysmally short.

Their meridians and veins were so weak that their physical bodies, unable to handle the spiritual energy of their dantian, were crumbling from within.

It was the exact opposite of the Three-Element Purification, the collapse of their vital energy.

How could they ask for a sword to be forged? There were countless people here willing to hammer the iron for them.

‘Not even stealing would help them.’

Jeong Yeon-shin passed by the weapon racks carelessly, no longer moved by the sight of swords.

Those things no longer troubled him.

Such was his current level.

Only the fate of the Dang siblings, the twin kings of the rivers and lakes, Ha Do-un, Cheon So-so, and the martial arts of the next level lingered in his mind, trailing behind him as he exited the smithy village under the bright sunlight.