Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 338: Tyranny (3)

At that moment—

A faint rustle swept through the air, the sound of fabric fluttering as someone descended in a straight line. The unique rhythm of energy waves generated by light-footed movement rippled outward. From the opposite hill, it took just a single breath for them to reach the clearing where Jeong Yeon-shin stood.

Tap.

A light footfall touched the ground.

Shin So-bin.

The long braid at the end of her hair lifted slightly in the backwind of her movement before settling back down. As she glanced around, her fingers toyed with her hair, as if killing time while scanning the surroundings.

"Master, I think it's safe now."

"Thank you."

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a faint smile.

Despite his assurance that there was no need for extra vigilance, his first disciple had insisted on standing guard from the hill. She had been this way for years—seemingly mischievous but sharpening her instincts through keen wit.

Even when he ventured into enemy formations, she had secured the retreat path from the outskirts on her own.

He had only taught her martial arts, yet Shin So-bin had honed herself as if proving her noble lineage, growing independently. She had long reached the level where she could be entrusted with scouting missions.

Swoosh.

Shin So-bin crouched, resting her weight on her knees as she leaned slightly forward. A mischievous glint flickered in her gaze as she looked up at him.

"You really mean that, right? You’re not thinking I was being extra, are you?"

"......."

"Master, you never get stuck like this when reciting martial formulas."

"If there's no inspiration, even a formula can become blocked."

Jeong Yeon-shin had long since recognized a trait within himself from dealing with those who sought to slander his character.

The ability to brush off accusations and offer plain explanations without overreacting.

However, this skill never quite worked on martial masters like Ma Gwang-ik, who knew him too well.

Shin So-bin straightened up.

"I heard that the Ma Clan and the Shin Clan have been bound by a marriage pact for a century but never got along. Now I think I get why."

She casually flipped her hair over her shoulder and smiled. Then, with exaggerated grandeur, she clasped her hands behind her back and began surveying the surroundings like some high-ranking official.

"I did live in Yangyang for quite a while, after all. One day, when you become the Master of the Divine Sword Corps, you’ll have to learn to use empty words. Maybe when you finally defeat that old man and have to visit the imperial court regarding your new title, or when you need to rally your subordinates before the Great Martial Conference against the Nine Great Schools..."

She counted each scenario on her fingers, playfully imitating a fortune teller predicting his future—until she froze mid-motion.

The Seventh Apostle was awake.

At some point, she had turned onto her side, facing them.

Her crimson eyes, tinted deeper under the glow of the setting sun, stood out sharply.

One side of her face was slightly pressed against the ground, while the other, exposed to the twilight, was hauntingly pale.

Like white porcelain—

Her unusually smooth skin alone testified to her bloodline and noble status.

A blood fiend...!

A shiver ran down Shin So-bin’s spine. Even with her master beside her, she couldn’t help it.

The youngest of the Apostles.

A descendant of pure blood, closest to inheriting the Bloodflame Cult’s leadership.

Even the most arrogant warlords of the martial world had risked significant losses just to try and claim the Seventh Apostle for themselves.

Rumors about blood fiends were never pleasant, and as someone who had grown up among the upper echelons of the martial world, Shin So-bin had all the more reason to fear them.

But Ma Gwang-ik’s heir showed no sign of alarm.

"I expected you to be awake."

"...Master."

The Seventh Apostle pushed herself upright.

Her jet-black hair cascaded down her shoulders, flowing like liquid obsidian.

Patches of dried blood across her body began to smolder into faint wisps of smoke, vanishing into the air. The fabric of her crimson robes, soaked and stiff from battle, gradually regained its smooth, silken texture.

It was an incredibly refined application of Tranquil Bloodfire, a technique derived from the Blood Arts.

Jeong Yeon-shin glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze aside.

"You used an unusual martial formula—"

"Who told you my formula was strange? What flea dared to say that?"

Her lips parted slightly, her voice laced with genuine irritation.

She sounded just as bewitching as when they first met, and her entire body emitted a chaotic, fluctuating energy, distorting the dirt beneath her.

"No one."

Jeong Yeon-shin cut the conversation short.

That was enough. The corner of the Seventh Apostle’s lips curled slightly.

"Of course. Who wouldn’t see that this technique was made perfectly for me? Even though a few verses of the formula are still incomplete, it’s already so intoxicating. You know my meridians too well..."

"I held your pulse before."

He turned his eyes back to her. Something about the way she moved felt odd.

She looked at him directly, then quickly averted her gaze—then glanced back again. Her erratic, almost delirious behavior was unsettling.

"Where is that brat from the Namgung Clan? Weren't you traveling to the duel together? Namgung and Ipwang Fortress, right?"

"...He’ll need some time."

She hadn’t fully recovered from Deviation Madness.

Jeong Yeon-shin murmured to himself.

When internal energy ran wild and surged to the brain, it could cloud one’s judgment.

Before meeting Namgung Se-jin, Jeong Yeon-shin had exchanged techniques with the Seventh Apostle, testing their martial compatibility. It seemed that at this moment, her mind was still stuck in that moment.

Only his Demonic Blood Meridian Art could stabilize her condition.

Jeong Yeon-shin watched her for a long moment before speaking, his voice slow and deliberate.

"You have a relic, don’t you? A sacred artifact that alters perception by obscuring sight—"

At that instant, her crimson pupils dilated fully.

"How did you know? Even I thought it was strange that I still had the Blood-Silk Veil with me. This is a sacred heirloom of the cult."

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"Use it. We’re going to our true selves now."

"With you? Me...?"

There was no sign of refusal.

The Seventh Apostle simply blinked, as if caught in a dream, as her ruby-colored irises filled with Jeong Yeon-shin’s reflection.

For a brief moment, she simply gazed at him in silence—

Then suddenly, the young man tilted his head slightly.

"If this is before my duel with Namgung, shouldn’t I look strange to you—"

And then—

Before Jeong Yeon-shin could finish his sentence, a thunderous roar shook the air.

From the distant sky, concentric shockwaves rippled outward.

A streak of light—pale white, tinged with red—descended like a lightning strike toward their location.

Step.

A man, clad in a flowing pink long robe, landed in the center of the clearing.

The force of his movement sent a powerful counter-wind billowing upward.

He had reached a level where even the aftershocks of his steps resonated into the void, defying gravity itself.

Alongside him, three wild boars—felled in a single stroke—tumbled to the ground.

The Tyrant, Ma Yeon-jeok, smiled at his grandson.

"I held back only because it seemed you had your hands full."

"Grandfather."

"It looks like you’ll be fine now."

His gaze flickered briefly toward the Seventh Apostle before he spoke again.

For a moment, her lips trembled as if about to utter, Grandfather.

At the same time, Ma Yeon-jeok’s brow twitched, though he quickly turned his attention back to Jeong Yeon-shin.

His time was short.

"I don’t have long, so today, I’ll act like a proper grandfather to you—whether you like it or not."

***

The grandfather and grandson moved to a different spot.

Side by side, they perched on a rock bathed in faint moonlight, gazing at the dark ridgeline stretching before them.

"Your martial arts have become immensely powerful."

Ma Yeon-jeok spoke.

"I want to tell you in advance about the things you will come to know soon. Since the Lord has likely left his post for these matters, I should at least give you some guidance for my own peace of mind."

"And what are these things I am to learn?"

"In the domain of Violet, there are many challenges you will face and resolve. The world always lacks capable hands. The Lord's departure is closely tied to this."

"I don't understand."

"Do you know the First Verse, Fourth Stanza of the Great Ming Canon?"

Jeong Yeon-shin briefly studied his grandfather's profile, then recited without further questioning. He had heard these words before, back when the sects of Zhongnan and the Blade Sect visited the Jeong family manor.

"From the Celestial Gate returned those of long ears and short stature,

They vanquished the wicked Yuan and established the Great Ming with the Founding Emperor."

"And the First Verse, Eighth Stanza?"

"A great demon pursued them,

But the gate was shut in time, and it was annihilated."

"Remember these words well. The Violet martial world you will enter is akin to a Den of Demons. You may even see the Horned Dragon with your own eyes."

A Den of Demons—a cavern where demons hide.

It did not sound like mere exaggeration.

His grandfather was revealing, in fragments, where he had been and what he had been doing all this time.

A glimpse into the ceaseless movements of his grandfather in the martial world beyond this realm.

"It still feels like grasping at clouds. Can you explain more—"

"You will hear the details in our homeland. ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) For now, I want to emphasize why you must continue refining your martial arts. Though your current prowess is already beyond belief."

"Are you giving me instruction?"

"If there is something you are curious about, ask. At your level, questions must arise like wildfire."

Ma Yeon-jeok spoke with a gentle voice.

Without hesitation, Jeong Yeon-shin asked,

"The Three Flowers Converging to Purity feels nearly within my grasp now. So, I wonder—what exactly is the realm of Five Qi Converging into One? My uncle once said it was an absolute state. The ten greatest undefeated masters in the world must have cultivated it to profound depths, correct?"

"Five Qi Converging into One, you say?"

Ma Yeon-jeok let out a hearty laugh.

"No such state exists."

"What?"

"It is merely—"

For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin forgot decorum and found himself looking up at the sky.

It was not an illusion—

For an instant, the entire night seemed to brighten.

The distant stars, those scattered specks of light, began to swell, one by one.

Even the luminous celestial bodies that the moonlight could not fully obscure now appeared to be descending toward them, drawn by his grandfather’s gesture.

His eyes could hardly believe it.

Slowly.

Threads of faintly glowing light bent and converged upon them.

The spectacle was dazzling.

Hundreds of comets trailed through the heavens, pouring down like a dream.

Brilliant streaks of light engraved mandala-like patterns in the sky, painting a vision akin to the birth of a new world.

"Can you manifest your entire life's martial prowess through a single technique?"

His grandfather continued in a calm tone.

"That is the measure of one who has reached the ultimate realm. It is there that the paths of Violet and Black diverge."

"......."

"The Three Flowers Converging to Purity is merely a state that enables you to translate all the martial arts within your mind into your body."

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly realized—

The grand spectacle unfolding above was nothing more than an illusion.

It was like a perfected Illusory Sword technique splitting into dozens of blades—

Not sorcery, but a harmony shaped by his grandfather’s martial mastery.

The very air, imbued with light, had been forcefully twisted by overwhelming force.

It was a principle of martial arts so supreme it defied reality itself.

Perhaps the rumors that the Master of Heaven’s Extreme Gate could sever fate itself were not exaggerated.

This is not a martial formula.

He thought.

This is the embodiment of enlightenment, manifested beyond the body.

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled the ultimate technique of the Mount Hua Sect’s leader—

A sword form that made the setting sun across the horizon seem like the blade itself.

Among all the supreme masters he had witnessed, that had been the most mesmerizing and mysterious display of martial prowess.

And yet, his grandfather’s effortless gesture surpassed even that.

"That bastard from the Murong Clan had it too."

Ma Yeon-jeok muttered, as if disgusted by the mention of a lowly being.

Something immediately surfaced in Jeong Yeon-shin’s mind.

The Stroke That Defies Gods and Demons.

A single thrust that rode along the Murong Clan Lord’s Fist and Sword Harmony.

At the time, Jeong Yeon-shin had been unable to react.

His stomach had been left defenseless.

"Nine Lives Ultimate Stroke..."

The words escaped his lips unconsciously.

Ma Yeon-jeok chuckled.

"Straight to the point. Indeed, if the Nine Lives Ultimate Stroke reaches its absolute state, it earns the title of an ultimate technique. That disgraceful traitor from the Zhuge Clan substituted formations, artifacts, and spells to compensate for it. Meanwhile, the Murong Clan’s brat could wield it alone."

"The Three Flowers Converging to Purity is merely a foundation, then."

"When the union of Essence, Qi, and Spirit is achieved, your consciousness will begin to fuse with your martial art. Eventually, all the techniques you have honed will be condensed into a single stroke.

Those who reach the Violet level call it Five Qi Converging into One, or Martial Transcendence."

"Martial Transcendence..."

Jeong Yeon-shin murmured.

A state where all martial techniques surpassed their limits.

Suddenly, Ma Yeon-jeok's brow furrowed slightly.

"Because of you, I was able to reverse my aging, and my enlightenment has shifted in a new direction. Your absurd name itself has become my ultimate realization."

Yeon-shin.

The smoke rising from what remains after the fire has burned out.

Jeong Yeon-shin did not ask for its meaning.

He simply felt it would be unnecessary.

Then, Ma Yeon-jeok’s expression shifted into one of deep satisfaction.

"You, without relying on such things, have already slain both the Murong Clan Lord and the Zhuge Clan Lord. You make a mockery of the path I walked at thirty, the Path of Tyranny."

With that, he removed his long robe and handed it to his grandson.

The very symbol of the Tyrant of Ipwang Fortress was being passed on.

The entire martial world would be shaken by this.

"I wish for you to wear this. Once, it was a robe that sent tremors through Jianghu."

"...I am uncertain if I can walk the same path as you, Grandfather. My nature is not so unyielding."

Jeong Yeon-shin gazed quietly at the radiant pink robe.

Then, without a word, he returned it to his grandfather.

In Ma Yeon-jeok’s eyes—

This was the mark of a true tyrant.