Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 380: The World (4)

It was an utterly surreal sight.

A person emerging from the shadows—such things were spoken of in myths, but witnessing it firsthand was rare, even in an era where all manner of mystical beings, martial arts, and sorcery ran rampant.

The one most taken aback was the Lord of Sunmaren.

‘Return...!’

The old man directed his will toward the weasel.

Mayu. A spirit beast devoid of physical form or true intellect.

Its body was composed of pure spiritual energy, allowing it to appear and disappear at will.

It was akin to a blade of the mind—easily wielded with little effort. This was especially true against a master deep in internal circulation.

As Sunmaren’s own yokai and sacred beast, it should have returned to its master immediately. And yet, the old man's grasp remained empty, the chilling wind scraping against his skin in its place.

A soft gulping sound echoed.

The woman who had suddenly appeared tilted her slender, pale throat, swallowing.

Haa—

A sigh, heavy with satisfaction, brushed against the air. A faint crimson gleam flickered in her single red eye. She looked pleased.

To the Lord of Sunmaren, it was nothing short of a waking nightmare. The wrinkles at the corners of the old man’s eyes deepened as his face twisted in fury.

"You wretched creature, how dare you...!"

"Wretched...?"

The Seventh Apostle's voice was soft, teasing. "Not exactly the kind of thing I'd expect to hear from an old Sunmaren fossil. I was born a rightful heir of Ilmak’s bloodline, while you, well..."

She let her words trail off in amusement, clearly mocking Sunmaren, once a branch of the old Ming Cult.

Her words were not false, but few would dare to say them outright in the presence of a demonic sovereign.

Rumble—

Once more, the sky darkened.

The shadows stretching across the land came not from clouds but from tendrils of spreading demonic energy. The sheer magnitude of the force blocked out the sunlight.

And then, something even more grotesque occurred—the whites of the Lord of Sunmaren’s eyes turned pitch black.

At that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin was gazing at the long, trailing hair of the Seventh Apostle.

Slowly, he parted his lips.

"You."

The Seventh Apostle, who had been eyeing the Lord of Sunmaren with disdain, shivered slightly.

She did not turn around.

The reason was difficult to discern.

Perhaps it was because she could guess at the emotions Jeong Yeon-shin harbored after witnessing the deaths of the Tang siblings. Perhaps it was the sheer weight of the Lord of Sunmaren’s presence bearing down on her. Or perhaps it was the fact that both the leaders of Mount Qingcheng and Mount Emei, standing on either side of Jeong Yeon-shin, were now looking straight at her.

“Amitabha.”

A low chant of Buddhist prayer broke the silence.

“Venerable One, it seems that this bloodfiend of the Bloodflame Cult has set her sights on Ma Gwang-ik. I will take care of the Lord of Sunmaren, so please, you should deal with that monster...”

Wooong—!

From the bodies of Baek Yak Sage and Cheongsu Jin-in, a vast wave of pure energy erupted.

The dust on the ground was caught in the swirling currents, forming a massive circular pattern before it was sent flying outward. A storm of earth and stone rose around them.

Cheongsu Jin-in’s response was precisely what one would expect from a righteous sect master.

Unlike Baek Yak Sage, who had already suspected the Apostle’s presence, Cheongsu Jin-in acted on immediate instinct.

His Demon Slayer's Intent surged outward in a razor-sharp burst of martial force. It was directed at the Lord of Sunmaren—but if necessary, he seemed just as willing to strike down the Seventh Apostle as well.

"Bloodfiend, do not act rashly."

It was the cold warning of the head of Mount Qingcheng Sect. He did not even look at her, his focus solely on the Lord of Sunmaren.

With countless eyes watching, the Seventh Apostle suddenly let out a smooth, silken laugh.

"What a shame. I almost managed to sink my teeth into Ma Gwang-ik's throat."

She had chosen to play the role of an enemy.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s brows furrowed, while Baek Yak Sage’s eyes flashed.

Cheongsu Jin-in, unfazed, merely flicked his sword once before stepping toward the Lord of Sunmaren.

And then—

Boom!

A dull shockwave tore through the earth, distorting the space where the Lord of Sunmaren had been standing.

Simultaneously, the Seventh Apostle pushed off the ground, propelling herself high into the air.

Fwaaah—!

[From the very start, I was after you!]

It came from above.

A violent gust of wind sent the Lord of Sunmaren’s robes flaring wildly as a palm—her palm—hurtled toward him, radiating overwhelming force.

Sunmaren’s Myungcheon Demon God Stance (冥天摩神勢).

It was said to embody the concept of spiritual refinement.

The old man’s palm strike was unbelievably fast. It tore through space without so much as stirring the wind.

For a fraction of a second, the Lord of Sunmaren’s eyes widened.

Amid the pure blackness of his sclera, the indifferent face of Ma Gwang-ik was reflected.

A pulse of energy surged from the extended hand, distorting the air in translucent ripples. Even before impact, the consecutive shockwaves thundered through the sky.

Hwan-gang.

[......!]

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The Lord of Sunmaren hastily withdrew his hand. At the same time, he detonated ten layers of compressed energy before him, forming a dark, spherical barrier.

A burst of force compressed the very air itself, swirling chaotically inside the sphere.

A response worthy of an absolute grandmaster.

It was not demonic energy, but pure internal force.

"Petty tricks."

The moment Jeong Yeon-shin muttered under his breath and extended his hand, a pulse erupted from the center of the clash, engulfing an entire mountain ridge.

Kwaaaaang—!

The very space at the point of impact warped.

The mingling of white and black waves caused the atmosphere to contract and expand in violent bursts.

Then, with a simple grip, Jeong Yeon-shin crushed the sphere, sending waves of translucent force cascading outward.

Rumble—!!

The entire mountain peak trembled.

Two figures were flung in opposite directions, their bodies shooting across the sky at terrifying speeds, as though the very shockwave had been converted into propulsion.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The Lord of Sunmaren and the Seventh Apostle.

Among the stunned spectators below, some pointed in shock.

“He’s fleeing... The Lord of Sunmaren is running away!”

“What in the world...!”

"Unbelievable! Ma Gwang-ik wins again!"

***

Ho-gwang Yang-yang. The Main Fortress of Ipwang.

Rows of antique wooden desks stretched across the room in perfect alignment. The deep, reddish-brown luster unique to sandalwood gleamed under the soft light.

This was the Grand Administration Hall.

Originally, this space was meant to be occupied by dozens of scribes, their brushes moving tirelessly across parchment. But it had been a long time since the entire staff had relocated to the central training grounds.

Even the thick scent of ink, which once hung heavily in the air, had faded into something faint and distant.

Sssk.

Grand Administrator Im Jin-myeong absentmindedly stroked his beard before lowering his hand, a habit from his early days as a junior scribe resurfacing.

Back then, he would smooth his beard to gather his focus before speaking. Ever since he had risen to the highest seat of the Administration Hall, however, such gestures had all but disappeared.

There was only one reason for their sudden return now.

An old man sat in the head seat, the position meant for Im Jin-myeong himself.

The Elder Councilor of Ipwang Fortress.

"Shall I have them bring out some Longjing tea...?"

"No need."

The elder cut him off before he could finish.

Despite his aged frame, his presence alone was overwhelming. Though his body had grown old, his stature remained imposing, his purple robes draped over his broad shoulders. His wrinkled face, usually marked by a kind and serene expression, was instead clouded with an unusual chill.

The Elder Councilor was a man of great reputation, known for his wisdom and composed demeanor.

But ever since the catastrophic events involving the Master of the Severing Sword Sect, the Bloodflame Cult Leader, and the Grand Patriarch of the Tang Clan, he had been anything but his usual self.

Grand Administrator Im Jin-myeong carefully opened his mouth.

"It has been some time since I last visited you, Elder. How have you been faring?"

"I've been training in external martial arts. It suits my body quite well."

"I'm glad to hear that your health has improved."

"Hmm. I must admit, I'm somewhat envious of that internal technique passed down to the Ma Clan by Ma Gwang-ik. I hear the young ones have lost themselves in deep meditation trying to master it... The mnemonic formulas alone were difficult to resist. By the way, has Ma Gwang-ik’s marriage been arranged yet?"

"I'm not aware of any such arrangements."

"Then there is no one else to ask about it for the time being, is there? At least not now."

"......."

"The fortress feels empty. Far too empty."

The conversation had arrived at its true purpose. The Grand Administrator slowly nodded.

"Yes, this is a first for me as well."

"The Elder Council is in turmoil."

"...That much, I had already anticipated."

"This is a disgrace that will reduce our fortress’s status to that of mere brigands. That boy, Yongga... He has always had moments of reckless decisiveness, occasionally surpassing even the temper of that old fool Ma. But this? This was not the place to act so brashly. I never thought he would abandon the people."

His voice was dry, yet every word carried a suppressed fury.

The Elder Councilor was a warrior of the same generation as The Tyrant Hero Ma Yeon-jeok—the previous era’s Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords.

He was one of the few who could refer to both the previous and current leaders of the Society of Sacred Swords by name without hesitation. Even after losing his martial prowess, his influence over Ipwang Fortress’s affairs remained immense.

‘There are few left under the heavens as noble as this man,’ thought Im Jin-myeong.

The Grand Summoning of the Society of Sacred Swords.

The Seventeenth Commanders had gathered.

Even the Elder Councilor, a man who once greeted the White-Robed Swordsmen with a smile, now exuded the coldness of thin ice.

The Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords’ decree was not just an order—it was a monumental event. And opinions on it within the fortress were fiercely divided.

"To secure stability? This is an act that shakes the very foundations of our fortress. It is not only the Elder Council that is outraged. Even I am barely holding back my fury. Those dark-hearted ones—who bolted at the first opportunity—if I had my way, I would personally hunt them down and put an end to them...!"

The Elder Councilor straightened his back but abruptly stopped.

A dull cracking sound echoed from his lower spine near his waist. His brows furrowed slightly in pain.

"There are some old men who, despite their age, are soaring like phoenixes, basking in undeserved fortune..."

"If you are referring to Ma Gwang-ik, he is a fortune to Ipwang Fortress."

"I won’t deny that."

The elder responded calmly.

"There is no need to reiterate the value of Ma Gwang-ik at this point. That is not why I came here today."

"Then...?"

"The next Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords."

The elder’s words were brief, but they carried enormous weight. The Grand Administrator let out a quiet sigh.

"I ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ have considered it, but the matter is too grave..."

"Of course. Gathering the Seventeenth Commanders in one place is no trivial affair."

"......."

"Yongga has no choice but to step down. The Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords is not just a title. He ranks above even the Emperor’s highest officials and has the authority to execute any warrior of the martial world on sight. But he cannot prioritize his own men over the common people. Yongga has shaken the very essence of what it means to be the Society of Sacred Swords."

"Has this been decided by the Elder Council?"

"Not just the Elder Council. Yullyeong Grand Master Yun So-yu has already carried away the dismissal decree. There was no objection. I assume you feel the same?"

The Grand Administrator did not reply.

Of course, Yullyeong Grand Master would have acted immediately. She was not one to overlook a superior’s mistakes.

And the Elder Councilor’s reasoning was not flawed. The current Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords had given an order that went too far.

The combined strength of the Seventeenth Commanders was an unknown force, even to the Grand Administrator. If this continued, the Emperor himself might begin to view Ipwang Fortress as an independent military state.

Someone would have to take responsibility before the Imperial Throne.

The Lord of Ipwang Fortress could not be that person. She and Ma Yeon-jeok had long since departed.

The one who issued the command—the Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords— would have to remove his robes.

That left one question.

Who would inherit the Divine Sword of the Society?

"That is why I have come. Recommend a candidate."

The elder’s voice carried the weight of finality.

The Grand Administration Hall, the Society of Sacred Swords, and the Elder Council formed the core of Ipwang Fortress.

With the Society of Sacred Swords absent, the administration and the elders needed to decide the future.

"I have considered three individuals. Based on their merits and experience, they are the only true options."

The Elder Councilor handed over a small slip of paper. Three names were inscribed upon it.

[Deputy of the Society of Sacred Swords, Ipwang’s Divine Spear, Ak Su-rim.

Commander of the Annihilation Division, the Silent Morning Lord, Shin Hwang.

Master of Yeouicheon, the Dragon Fist, Bukgung Ah.]

A subtle fragrance of mulberry paper lingered in the air.

The Grand Administrator quietly ran his fingers over the names before speaking.

"I expected as much."

He picked up his brush and, beneath the Elder Councilor’s list, he wrote a fourth name.

[Seomye, the Dark King of the Blossoming Lotus, Yeonhwa Nata.

Ma Gwang-ik, Jeong Yeon-shin.]