Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Dawn had broken.

It was the day of the wedding.

A procession of over a hundred figures stretched along the ochre-colored path leading to the mountain summit.

The wide trail was flanked by dense foliage, glistening with morning dew under the transparent light of the rising sun.

The spacing between the figures was long and drawn-out.

At the highest point of the path, Wind Lord Lee Si-myeong stood with his hands behind his back, his blue robes billowing.

Far below, at /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ the lowest end, Jeong Yeon-shin stood in silence, his eyelids slightly lowered.

This arrangement was intentional.

Between them, the line was filled with ancient warriors of past generations.

Dust swirled beneath the feet of the figures clad in Daoist robes, long flowing garments, and ornate silk coats, yet the invisible waves of their internal energy were unmistakably intense.

Tall, sharp-eared Myeong Clansmen stood among them, as did aged warriors with long, flowing beards.

To ascend, Jeong Yeon-shin would have to pass through all of Biyeok Peng Clan’s monstrous elders.

This was no ordinary ceremony.

The first act of this grand wedding was for the bride to travel by boat to the place of her betrothed.

But Biyeok Peng Clan had replaced the water route with their own formation—

A display of power and dominance.

It was a message to those watching from the cliffs and slopes.

"The Phantom Tyrant claims the Verdant Lord."

The news had spread, and now over a hundred had gathered to witness it.

Among them were veteran warriors of various martial clans, gazing in silent awe at the procession that occupied the three-hundred-jang mountain path.

"Look at those faces. Wind Lord Lee Si-myeong, Phantom Blade Peng Mo-ran... A hundred old monsters who refuse to die."

"They’ve gathered their full strength."

"If the Verdant Lord truly harnesses the power of the Mysterious Sapling, she could shape this entire land as she pleases. She could solidify the stability of the formation, or cast out those who oppose her."

"The balance of power is shifting."

"Isn’t that terrifying? Everything here will be dictated by the Phantom Tyrant’s will now."

"She not only claims Ice Jade Cheon So-so today, but also wields the power to protect her. She is now an absolute ruler."

"I wonder how the others among the Twin Kings and Three Lords will react. Surely, at least one of them will make an appearance... If someone tries to take Cheon So-so away, I wouldn’t be surprised."

"It’s best to lay low today."

These were warriors of the previous era.

Though they still existed, their realm was utterly detached from the world.

They had come to this land through dealings with Taemo Mountain Fortress, but after witnessing the Flood Dragon firsthand, they had forsaken the outside world for a life of cultivation and survival.

For decades, they had observed, but never acted.

And now, no one could tear their eyes away from this wedding procession.

They had to see.

To survive in this land of abundant natural energy, one had to fully grasp the balance of power among the Twin Kings and Three Lords.

"Hm? Look at that golden thread... An envoy of Ipwang Fortress?"

"That’s not the bald Celestial Lord. He’s a stranger."

"So the rumors are true, then."

"Has the Golden Seal Lord truly opened the grand formation?"

Murmurs spread among the crowd as eyes turned to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Yet the old masters were not shocked to see a lone figure clad in black.

Instead, they furrowed their brows at the possibility that his presence signaled the Golden Seal Lord’s arrival.

"Even the Golden Seal? This land is about to be thrown into chaos."

"Yet that child from Ipwang Fortress seems to have accepted his place here... He came to save the Verdant Lord, but..."

"After witnessing the Phantom Tyrant’s forces firsthand, who wouldn’t resign themselves to fate?"

"Ipwang Fortress has fallen far. Even their Celestial Lord is just guarding some village."

"Well, aren’t the warriors of the lower world just that? No matter how much they struggle, they’ll never match the foresight of the senior masters."

Not a single veteran warrior wanted to oppose Biyeok Peng Clan.

They merely watched.

Despite their great interest, they did not intervene.

They were detached—floating observers of the grand unfolding of events.

"Ipwang Fortress... They were once feared in the secular world."

"Under the imperial rule, yes. You kill one of their men, and another comes seeking revenge."

"But how can seventeen black swords reach here? That boy probably clung to the Golden Seal Lord’s coattails just to make it this far."

To them, this land was a paradise.

A sanctuary of immortals, untouched by mortal concerns.

Even those who lamented Ipwang Fortress’ loss of the Verdant Lord did not seem overly disturbed.

Some among the Heretical Path even sneered openly.

"Look at the golden embroidery. That’s an inner disciple of the Fortress Lord."

"Clearly not a noble. What whim brought that peerless beauty here...?"

"His looks alone explain why he was chosen."

Though they sensed no internal energy from Jeong Yeon-shin, and recognized the formidable air about him, they deliberately taunted him.

Their words, tone, and expressions carried the martial world’s deep-seated animosity toward Ipwang Fortress.

Read 𝓁at𝙚st chapters at ƒrēenovelkiss.com Only.

They had reached the sanctuary of natural energy—and yet, they remained warriors of the martial world.

And the more Jeong Yeon-shin remained silent, the further their mockery escalated.

Saaaah...

A gentle wind swept through, scattering fine white filaments into the air.

The seeds of golden dandelions.

Not a single one would escape beyond these lands.

Just like the old masters, who had turned the Flood Dragon’s sacred land into their own personal haven.

"You speak too much."

Jeong Yeon-shin finally spoke, his voice low and measured.

"Senile old men who will die soon."

His voice rang clearly across the mountain path.

A chilling presence seeped through his words, beyond mere martial power—perhaps something akin to divine resonance.

A brief silence fell over the crowd.

Jeong Yeon-shin had taken this position, ready to unleash his full strength without restraint.

A warrior of Ipwang Fortress.

Once, he had brooded over the passing of fallen comrades.

Lately, he had begun to dread the thought of watching a fellow disciple abandon her path.

Even if that disciple was Verdant Lord Cheon So-so.

Even if they had never shared a deep bond, she felt closer than his second brother, Jeong Jung-san.

That was sect loyalty.

As the old masters questioned their hearing, Jeong Yeon-shin turned his gaze to Wind Lord Lee Si-myeong.

His lips parted once more.

"Where are they?"

The young-faced Myeong elder chuckled.

"They’re already there."

"The Phantom Tyrant and the Verdant Lord are at the end of this path, already conducting the wedding."

"What?"

"We have nothing to gain by keeping her exposed. Once the ceremony is over, they will descend together."

A glint of true awareness entered Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

He had no time to waste.

The white filaments of golden dandelions spiraled in the air, forming a rotating circle at his feet.

Resonant Wheels of the Martial Law.

The old masters tensed.

And then—

Bwoosh!—

An elder, standing with his hands behind his back, burst apart—flesh scattering like dust.

The moment Jeong Yeon-shin extended his right hand—

The delayed shockwave followed, shaking the mountain as a massive cloud of dust and debris erupted.

Instant death.

The veteran who had spoken of the Fortress Lord—

Left no corpse.

“.......”

The shattered fragments of bone and clusters of torn muscle brushed past Jeong Yeon-shin’s fingers. The dull sound of viscera dropping to the ground filled the silence.

He gazed forward, expressionless.

As one opponent was removed from his sight, another elder stepped into his way. Wrinkled hands gripping the hilt of a sword, eyes wide with tension. A slender yet seasoned swordsman.

Ma Gwang-ik, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, took another step forward.

Ten-League Radiance.

The eyes of the veteran warriors gathered at the mountainside caught the sight.

Step.

It was a slow, deliberate movement, as if taking a casual stroll. Was it an illusion? Faint starlight seemed to glimmer at the tips of his toes. A lingering afterimage trailed in its wake.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s form distorted, shifting like a mirage. At the same time, the surrounding foliage, which had been leaning toward him, suddenly bent in the opposite direction.

Boom!

The earth caved in, forming a wide crater.

Jeong Yeon-shin shot forward in a straight line, and with a deafening roar, the elderly swordsman blocking his path was obliterated.

Even before the elder could unsheath his sword, the spiraling force of Resonant Strength had already driven through his abdomen.

His body, unable to withstand the impact, was crushed along with his sword, scattering into all directions.

Kwaaaaaang—!

A deep, resonating tremor. A spiral of shockwaves bursting outward. A black-cloaked youth soaring along the mountain path. A fountain of blood surging high into the air behind him.

The scene burned into the eyes of the spectators like a dream.

Two strikes had unfolded in the blink of an eye. A sight difficult to believe, even after witnessing it.

Huaaaak—!

Jeong Yeon-shin tore through the wind with his entire body. The billowing sleeves of his black robes brushed against his skin as he moved.

In an instant, he had leapt over a hundred heads. Dozens of veteran warriors caught in his gaze, their faces frozen in shock.

Landing at the rear of the formation, Jeong Yeon-shin reached toward his waist.

Sreung.

The Meteor Sword of the Mo Yong Clan was drawn, emanating a brilliant radiance.

As the old monsters in front of him, their expressions sharpening with focus, each unsheathed their weapons, unleashing a torrent of murderous aura, Jeong Yeon-shin intensified the luminous ring of his heart.

Sword Thunder—Ridge Cleaving Strike. Extreme Qilin.

Chwaaaaaak—!

A frigid silver arc carved diagonally through the air. Gripping the Meteor Sword, Jeong Yeon-shin cleaved through the bodies of the incoming warriors.

The trajectory was not simple.

In a fleeting moment, he adjusted his grip, suppressing the air resistance with perfect control. From the Tianzong Acupoint in his scapula to his elbow, an explosive burst of force erupted like a tidal wave. The very atmosphere rippled transparently due to the shockwave of his full-body step.

“Huuuuh!”

“What an extraordinary—”

Those who felt the sheer velocity of his strike through their bodies wore expressions of awe as they collapsed. And in that very state, they perished.

This was only the beginning.

Jeong Yeon-shin charged forward once more.

Puek—! Puwak!

His right hand held the Meteor Sword, its blade extended. His left hand was wreathed in the spiraling currents of Resonant Strength. The white shimmer of Ten-League Radiance crumbled beneath his feet like an illusion.

A supreme, refined display of martial devastation.

The human wall before him crumbled in successive explosions. Some were split clean in half.

Blood erupted like a crimson geyser. The once solid ground, reinforced by mystical energies, constantly shattered and splintered, sending debris flying in every direction.

Boom! Chwaaaaaak—!

“Evade! Left flank!”

“Haaack!”

A savage breakthrough.

Veteran warriors were crushed and severed. The once-perfect defensive line meant to guard the ceremony was utterly obliterated.

The high-ranking elders chasing from behind trampled over the remains of their fallen comrades, but none could seize Jeong Yeon-shin’s back.

He had already reached the very end of the long formation. Now, only Li Shi-myeong, the Wind Lord stood before him.

Behind him, the shattered remnants of weapons and flesh rained down. But Jeong Yeon-shin only fixed his gaze ahead—upon the two women standing at the cliff’s edge.

One woman wore a crimson ceremonial robe embroidered with cranes, her hair pinned high with a black coronet.

The other wore layered black silk and deep red fabric, her wide sleeves flowing over a Grand Scarlet Court Robe, crowned with a phoenix coronet, a faint crimson veil draped over her face.

The Ghostly Tyrant King had assumed the groom’s role. Adorned in red ceremonial robes and a coronet, she exuded an enthralling presence that seemed to ensnare the surroundings.

The veiled woman before her was Seonmok Lord Cheon So-so.

The moment their eyes met, Cheon So-so widened hers in surprise. At the same time, the Ghostly Tyrant King flashed a sly grin, extending a hand toward Cheon So-so’s veil.

Sarak.

She intended to unveil her.

The final act of the grand ceremony.

"Strong, yet easily distracted."

Li Shi-myeong’s voice rang out. The technique transmitted through Nine Whispering Steps.

Huaaaak—!

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened.

His vision was suddenly filled with the sight of brown leather boots.

Wind Blossom Four-Wheel Kick.

A burst of force erupted from one of Li Shi-myeong’s legs, spreading out like a vortex, resembling Jeong Yeon-shin’s own full-body step technique.

‘If I fail to counter this—’

A direct hit would mean instant death. Even if he survived, the injuries would be fatal.

At that moment, the Meteor Sword trembled in his grasp. The blade had reached its limit.

It had already endured countless strikes against the Mo Yong Clan Lord’s relentless attacks. And today, it had withstood the devastating techniques of countless veteran warriors.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Countless possibilities flashed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind like streaks of light.

‘If I use Sword Control—’

He could reach the Ghostly Tyrant King’s hand.

But in doing so, he would have to endure the combined assaults of both the elder warriors behind him and the Wind Lord’s footwork.

Testing his incomplete Body-Forging Art in this situation would be suicidal.

In the distance, the Ghostly Tyrant King turned slightly toward her intended spouse, while Cheon So-so, failing to recognize Jeong Yeon-shin, instinctively flinched.

In that fleeting eternity, the oppressive presence of countless grandmasters flooded in from all sides.

—Die here.

Li Shi-myeong’s will, infused with his vast inner strength, echoed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s ears.

His extended foot was about to crush Jeong Yeon-shin’s throat.

The Meteor Sword vibrated.

A hum—almost like a song.

From its blade, a translucent wave of energy rippled outward.