Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 263: Ascending (13)

The revolving wheel formation persisted.

Dozens of martial artists circled Jeong Yeon-shin, forming a large, unbroken ring around him, constantly in motion.

Their goal was to block the Ma Gwang-ik Lord’s Mancheon Hwawu and restrict his freedom of movement.

By dividing into front and rear lines, only eight fighters at a time closed in, attacking him from all directions. It was a true eightfold assault.

The Suwang Sect Lord’s Fist Palm Art, designed for overwhelming force, played a key role in these powerful attacks.

Although some external factions aligned with the righteous sects appeared to contribute to the assault, they were ultimately insignificant in affecting the battle's outcome.

Boom! Crash!

Every time Hwan-gang in Jeong’s left hand swept through the air, an explosion of white snow erupted like a storm.

With each blow, two or three warriors were reduced to shreds, their weapons shattered alongside their bodies. The snow beneath turned red, steaming with the heat of fresh blood.

Despite the constant rotation of the formation, only Mancheon Hwawu was being suppressed.

Nearby boulders exploded into rubble, and ancient trees with thick trunks were splintered into fragments, breaking apart like severed limbs.

The elite masters of the Thirteen Heavens, who exuded an inhuman killing intent, began to show signs of hesitation and dread.

Hwan-gang’s relentless strikes had proven far beyond their expectations.

They seemed relieved that it wasn’t a technique that could be unleashed without pause, as the counterforce after each strike created a brief gap between attacks.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s upper body, wrapped in bandages beneath his long robe, bled freely.

The revolving wheel formation had been designed from the start to deal with someone of Jeong’s caliber. The Thirteen Heavens had united three of their top sects, pooling dozens of warriors.

Even the Suwang Sect Lord, the strongest among the subordinate factions, was present. If Jeong Yeon-shin could handle this without faltering, it would only confirm his status as the Ipwang Divine Spear and the Sword Corps Captain.

This was a far cry from the realm of one-on-one life-and-death battles.

Crash! Slash!

As Hwan-gang unleashed another blast, a spear strike grazed Jeong’s back from behind.

A sharp pain flared.

Even so, he twisted his body to avoid a fatal blow.

While retaliating against the enemy's Bright Sword Strikes, blood and bone fragments scattered from the wake of Hwan-gang’s blasts, and a fresh wave of attackers charged through the mess.

They trampled over the corpses—nearly thirty bodies now—to unleash a torrent of sword and blade strikes.

Jeong Yeon-shin responded with a sweeping motion of the Northern Bright Sword.

Clang!

The piercing sound of kinetic force rang out like a deafening windstorm.

It was a technique from the Sword Thunder Resonance Form—Nine Jade Rivers Converge—unleashing accumulated kinetic force in an instant. Yet the attackers swiftly rotated their ranks, minimizing the damage from any single strike.

They retreated even before crossing swords. Their ploys were shallow and opportunistic.

"This is endless."

The chaotic trajectories of blades weaving through the air, the swirling gusts of force, the sprays of blood and flesh amidst the violent exchange...

It was a spectacle that forced even the observers to hold their breath in silence.

At that moment, Ma Gwang-ik moved like the incarnation of martial power itself.

The bandages wrapped around his upper torso, stained red through the open collar of his robe, didn’t stop him from continuously demonstrating earth-shattering destruction.

Despite the unrelenting replenishment of the wheel formation surrounding him, no decisive blow managed to land.

His movements were so precise and profound that they appeared almost beautiful.

“A grandmaster specializing in short, decisive engagements...” murmured the Soryeong Lord, tapping her armrest with long fingers.

“His attacks are becoming increasingly forceful. Those who gathered intelligence on the frontlines need to be severely reprimanded.”

“A martial artist of such caliber, at least on par with Ipwang Fortress's Black Rank, would naturally have one or two extraordinary abilities,” said a woman in black guarding the palanquin. “His stamina is visibly waning, and the wounds on his body are evident. At this rate, he’ll only achieve mutual destruction with the wheel formation.”

The Soryeong Lord shook her head.

“So Ho-beop, step forward. I’ve told you before, haven’t I? Be wary of that monstrous ‘Ascension.’ His studies may differ, but he’s akin to the Bright Sect’s young master. Someone of our level cannot fully comprehend him. Such a budding talent must be cut down promptly.”

“If I fall, who will protect you, my lord?”

So Woon-ryeo, the guardian, asked bluntly. A faint, seductive smile curved across the Soryeong Lord’s lips.

“That’s why you must return unharmed. Only you can ensure my safety. And besides, there’s no way you’ll lose here.”

“...I’ll be back. Stay vigilant.”

In an instant, a sword appeared in So Woon-ryeo’s hand, seemingly out of nowhere. Her draw was as swift as a flash of light.

Simultaneously, her figure vanished.

Whoosh—!

A fierce wind belatedly swept through the battlefield, scattering the accumulated snow and etching concentric patterns into the ground. The sheer force of her martial step left a tangible mark.

Before anyone could react, So Woon-ryeo had crossed the distance of thirty jang, bringing her sword down toward Ma Gwang-ik in a single stroke.

A series of bright blue aftershocks trailed behind her, exploding as they tore through the air.

The Soryeong Lord cast a glance at Seomye, smiling faintly.

“You’ve heard of the story with the Blue Qilin, haven’t you? He can pay the ferryman for the River of the Three Crossings with all that Hwan-gang he’s squandered.”

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin sidestepped half a step, swinging the Northern Bright Sword in a wide arc to force back his enemies.

Perhaps sensing an imminent conclusion, the wheel formation's masters and the Suwang Sect Lord hesitated to advance. Even Wei Se-hyuk allowed a faint smile.

“Truly remarkable. You could leave Ipwang Fortress and establish your own school right now. It’s astonishing how far you’ve developed your unique martial techniques... What a shame your life ends here.”

“Suwang Sect Lord, the order to end this has already been given.”

The voice came from So Woon-ryeo, who had descended at one edge of the formation.

Thud.

A large pulse erupted from Jeong Yeon-shin’s body.

At that moment, a vibration no one else could perceive burned white within his Sangdanjeon.

His thoughts accelerated to the speed of lightning, endlessly faster, until even the fragments of kinetic force brushing past his ears appeared slow.

“This is definitely a crisis,” Jeong thought, suppressing the sharp pain coursing through him.

The martial world was a forest of monsters.

It was like a serpent that allowed no single tree to dominate. It would quietly coil around a sapling showing sudden growth, only to strangle it the moment it grew large enough to be prey.

Like when the First Demon of Shaanxi killed the Young Lord of Ipwang Fortress in the distant past.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s crisis was inevitable. Perhaps all Black Ranks faced such trials.

That was why he needed Three Flowers Converging at the Crown. By swiftly refining his energy, he could escape even this suffocating wheel formation.

The true value of a grandmaster, known as invincible among thousands, shone in their ability to evade with precision.

“But...”

The Sangdanjeon, which refused to grant Jeong a long life, remained a shackle even for Three Flowers Converging at the Crown.

Through closed-door training, he had pondered deeply.

“If merging body, mind, and soul is impossible due to my fate...”

—Then I will ascend to an even greater path.

Voom.

As he repeated his resolve, the Radiant Wheel Qi filling his energy points responded.

The energy flowing through his body split into opposing forces.

Benevolent and malevolent energies clashed violently within him.

His innate perception unraveled the formula of the spell array and infused it into his entire being, harmonizing martial principles he had mastered to perfection.

The radiant wheel in his heart spun violently.

Thud. A drumming sound resonated as immeasurable power surged from the Twelve Standard Meridians and the body's three main energy channels. It felt as though his body would tear apart at any moment.

But it didn’t matter. His mother was embracing him. The resilience forged through the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong withstood the recoil.

All of this happened in a fleeting instant, thanks to the preparation he had made in the midst of battle.

He delicately manipulated the energy like weaving fabric.

Mapping his internal energy onto his nerves, he burned the pattern into his mind. When his intention acted as the wick, the fire was ready to ignite.

He tested it, and it worked. When it came to martial arts, Jeong Yeon-shin had no blind spots.

“Now, I’ll activate it.”

The Radiant Wheel Qi vanished, its luminous glow fading into transparency.

The refined energy of Hwan-gang surged through hundreds of energy points, coursing silently through his body. His skin emitted an overwhelming vibration.

In an instant, Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind focused with clarity. He reaffirmed the intention he needed to fuse into the flow of energy.

A single vivid image dominated his thoughts. The River of the Three Crossings, the unreturnable path to the afterlife.

Suddenly, the snow-covered landscape beneath him dimmed, losing its light.

Vooooom—!

It was an utterly surreal sight.

The outline of energy stretched out like transparent leaves, visible beyond his body.

Alone, it crackled relentlessly, as if a lifeless bolt of lightning was venting its unresolved fury.

Thunderous roars emanated from the colorless radiance of the lightning surrounding Jeong Yeon-shin, his entire body cloaked in a storm of brilliance.

Within the enormous blossom of this lightning stood Ma Gwang-ik Lord.

A singular flower.

It was a technique that replaced Three Flowers Converging at the Crown, a lotus adrift in the waters of the River of the Three Crossings, and lightning that flared incessantly in the face of death.

And it was Jeong Yeon-shin himself.

Hwan-gang: Ultimate Thunderbolt.

“......”

He adjusted his grip on his sword ever so slightly.

Boom!

With a dull resonance, the ground beneath him collapsed as if struck by lightning.

The snowdrift vanished entirely, leaving nothing behind—not even a trace. The impact revealed dry yellow earth, devoid of any moisture.

At the same time, a searing pain engulfed his entire right arm.

It felt as though it was being torn apart. His body could barely endure the immense power of the sword strike he had unleashed.

It was far from ready for frequent use.

“I need a proper Qi Defense. At the very least, it has to be a divine-grade technique.”

Turning his gaze, Jeong Yeon-shin locked eyes on the Suwang Sect Lord and the intruding swordswoman.

The Suwang Sect Lord stared at him with a mix of disbelief and shock, as though witnessing something unearthly, beyond explanation.

The black-clad swordswoman, in contrast, remained composed, her expression betraying nothing. It seemed to reflect her innate disposition.

“I must keep the exchanges short.”

There wasn’t much time left. This was entirely different from the persistent activation of Hwan-gang. The foundation of the technique bore the traits of its creator—a transient existence.

Even his mother’s protective embrace, the core of the Jeong Family Dynamic Gong, had its limits. The longer the technique remained active, the harsher the recoil would be.

Instinctively, he understood. He was granted only a single exhalation’s worth of time.

Beyond that, lingering too long would render him unable to withstand the backlash.

Half a breath.

His consciousness plunged into a bottomless abyss, entering a state of profound focus. Jeong Yeon-shin adjusted the flow of his thoughts as if conducting a symphony.

“Three strikes. That’s all it takes.”

He didn’t bother to speak.

He simply gripped his sword and took a single step forward. The crunching sound of the snow beneath his feet lasted but a moment.

The surroundings blurred as his vision filled with the coarse features of the Suwang Sect Lord’s face. The roar of a fierce wind surged behind him.

Unconcerned with the astonishment on his opponent’s face, Jeong raised his sword in a swift upward arc. The Suwang Sect Lord, caught off guard by the sudden acceleration, failed to adapt in time.

His feeble attempt at defense—raising both hands—was sluggish and futile. Among Black Ranks, he was the weakest of the strong.

Was this how Senior Jin had seen him during his ascension?

The martial artists surrounding the wheel formation were even worse—mere crawling insects, incapable of even rolling.

They could no longer enter Jeong Yeon-shin’s domain. Banished from the realm of one-on-one combat.

“First strike.”

A peculiar sensation coursed through him. His body aligned seamlessly with the rapid speed of his thoughts.

The glowing flower within his Sangdanjeon and the transparent lightning enveloping his body felt as though they had fused into one.

Before the Suwang Sect Lord’s hands could fully manifest their defensive kinetic force, the Northern Bright Sword grazed upward along his right shoulder, slicing cleanly.

The air seemed to be drawn into a fan-shaped arc, and then came a deafening explosion akin to a thunderbolt detonating.

With his sword thrust upward, Jeong turned away. He didn’t need to see the aftermath—the Suwang Sect Lord’s shoulder being obliterated by the aftershock of the strike.

The thunderous roar had barely completed when Jeong sprang toward his next target.

The black-clad swordswoman, who had surged forward, was a formidable opponent.

Her muscular build, honed through years of training with heavy swords, swung a massive blade downward, unleashing a storm of kinetic energy that whipped up snow from the ground.

The two swordsmen rapidly closed the distance.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

One strike to decide it.

Jeong Yeon-shin shifted his footing mid-leap.

In an instant, his entire body spun alongside his sword. His black robes flared violently, creating a vortex of energy as his blade spiraled upward. The clash of their weapons shattered the silence.

There was no contest of strength. The silvery whirl of his sword crushed her heavy blade entirely. The sheer force of his strike, the quality of his energy, was on a completely different level.

For the first time, the black swordswoman’s eyes widened.

In the world of supreme martial artists, everything was decided in the blink of an eye. Even the shards of her shattered blade were crushed under the pressure of the Northern Bright Sword, bending and scattering.

She shouldn’t have faced him head-on, but a single misjudgment had sealed her fate. The spiraling sword strike swept through her and her broken blade.

Rumble—

The ground trembled violently.

The fearsome wave of sword energy rippled across the snowy plain. Blood carved patterns in the sky as the snowstorm was consumed by the enormous lightning flower, leaving no trace behind.

The domain of Ascension. It had forcibly broken into the world of true Black Rank masters. This was Ultimate Thunderbolt, the full potential of Hwan-gang.

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Thud.

Exhaling two-thirds of his breath, Jeong Yeon-shin’s steps never faltered.

Without hesitation, he advanced toward the stunned Soryeong Lord, who hadn’t yet grasped the situation.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was silent lightning, crackling with overwhelming power.