Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 420: Exhausted (1)

Those carrying swords could not mix with the Shaolin monks. They were required to stay in the Green Jade Sword Manor.

This practice, which had become the norm since the founding of the kingdom, continued unabated, even as martial artists of great renown gathered in Hanam-seong.

"Did they come again today?"

The training hall of the Green Jade Sword Manor, its polished floors reflecting the bustle of martial artists in groups of three or five, was filled with murmurs. A common topic seemed to unite them.

"Indeed. The bloodline is impressive, but it is their will and appearance that sets them apart. Even after facing defeat, they refuse to give up."

"The White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, is a sacred figure from Ipwang Fortress. At his age, even wearing black robes, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» he exudes an air of authority. I've heard that Ma Gwang-ik of the past personally supervised his martial progression. When it comes to power, there are few in Hanam-seong who could face him."

"Even so, there is no one who could stand against the Four Great Vajra of Shaolin."

"Well, you see, the initial distribution was..."

"Isn’t it laughable that the royal family is demanding things from Shaolin? They ask the monks to spread their divine arts beyond the mountains, while it isn’t just them who need Shaolin’s service."

"I understand. The high-ranking officials of the royal family are preoccupied with the northern border, aren't they? They entrusted the 'safety of the realm' to the remote Ipwang Fortress."

"That’s not quite true. Haven’t you heard? Sichuan has been devastated. The martial world is in turmoil."

"But that’s far off. Here, we’re struggling. With all the eminent figures from righteous sects gathering, how could the younger fighters like Baek Gi-rin or Seomye Exhausted have any power?"

Their voices lowered, becoming a scattered buzz.

Discussions about the competition between Shaolin and Ipwang Fortress were unfolding.

At the forefront were Baek Gi-rin Namgung Hwa-shin, the Blue Rank warrior Ma Se-in, and the White Rank warrior Ma Woong, who had made requests of Shaolin.

They asked for the divine arts of Shaolin to be extended to Huagang, Seomseong, and Namjikri, promising to allow Shaolin's disciples to infiltrate the Yangyang area in return.

It was originally something the royal family was supposed to handle in collaboration with Shaolin.

Had Bingbaek Cheon So-so and others not gone missing in Sichuan, that would have been the case. The void left was vast.

Shaolin expressed its reluctance.

The offer was not bad, but it was a time when marauding bandits and reclusive hermits were stocking up on food supplies and wandering the martial world.

Sending the disciples of the monastery across the lands would require cautious maneuvering and constant concern over possible betrayal and infiltration.

Even though Shaolin was the first among the White Path sects, not all of its disciples were high-ranking martial artists.

Thus, Shaolin’s abbot responded with a question.

"How could a monk of little virtue sit idly when the world is in such turmoil? Even if I am alone in seeking Nirvana, is it not our duty to rise to the occasion? And can you truly demonstrate the strength of Ipwang Fortress in these times?"

Thus began the competition.

It was, in essence, a wager. If the martial artists of Ipwang Fortress could match Shaolin’s disciples, Namgung Hwa-shin’s proposal would be accepted.

Some called it a precursor to the great struggle for martial dominance.

During this time of shifting allegiances, where various factions were in turmoil, the martial world was poised to change. Even the strongest of powers could not predict what would come.

From the great victories of Ma Gwang-ik to the downfall of Sichuan, everything was being rearranged.

For the many in the martial world, this change signaled a new era.

Shaolin and Ipwang Fortress clashed at Deungbong-hyeon.

The final result was stark.

The White Rank warrior Ma Woong, a young man who had trained at Ipwang Fortress, was defeated by a Shaolin monk, his martial prowess seemingly incomparable to the Shaolin combatants.

Ma Se-in, the Blue Rank warrior from Ipwang Fortress, could not stand against the lesser-known monk of Shaolin, who had mastered the Pure Sound of Avalokiteshvara technique.

At the same time, Baek Gi-rin Namgung Hwa-shin demonstrated the limits of his technique against Shaolin's Four Great Vajra.

It was a series of defeats. But the martial world accepted the outcome as inevitable, praising both Ma Se-in and Namgung Hwa-shin for their efforts.

More and more warriors arrived at Deungbong-hyeon, the heart of the competition. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation.

Among them were masters, some who had even deceived the moon itself as they arrived at the peak of Sung Mountain.

The abbot’s voice echoed in the temple.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"Now, the young master of the Ma Clan has grown fond of the little monk? The forces of Ipwang Fortress are as strong as a tempest. It was inevitable that they would make such demands of Sung Mountain."

An elderly woman spoke first.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of energy rippled through the air, emanating from her words.

The male response followed, gently shaking the green leaves of a cypress tree.

“Let it be, as the current unfolds. Why force things to a head when they will resolve themselves?”

"The forces of Ipwang Fortress would not think the same. They too have their duties. They desire unwavering trust as though they alone are the guardians of the martial world. Even the purpose behind activating this grand competition seems dubious."

"This grand competition... Well, the priest who initiated it must know all about it."

"Yes, the grandson of the Knight-Errant family. I’ve heard he is from the mysterious land of Sin-yah-hyeon."

"Amitabha. This is truly troubling."

“It’s not the time for light-hearted laughter. We must prepare ourselves.”

"Younger warriors of great skill, despite the years passing, have not lost their sharpness. They are referred to as 'the sword masters of the world.'"

"Now we need time to refine the sword’s edge. Give me access to Shaolin's temple of repentance for a while. I must go into seclusion for a time."

“Worldly distractions arise from attachment. Victory or defeat, it matters little..."

"If losing in this competition is so troubling, surely you once had great respect for the grandmaster of the Knight-Errant sect in your younger days?”

"That is why I cannot afford to lose."

At that moment, the voice of Geomhu Geum Seon-seon, the Sect Leader of Mount Heaven Sect, grew sharp and powerful, as if her youth had been fully restored for a brief instant.

"I do not know how the Abbot sees things, but I am a warrior who hones the sword, not the Way (Dao). I cannot simply challenge an old and withered Knight-Errant to a duel, can I?"

"Amitabha..."

"We must designate the Divine Sword Sect Leader as the candidate for the violet rank and assemble our lineup accordingly. I have no intention of yielding this duel to Gogeom or Yulha, but it would be wise to let the one with the highest chance of victory take on the role.

As for Ma Gwang-ik—his mother’s memorial service shall be conducted by our sect."

It was a declaration, not a request.

Instead of a response, a faint Buddhist chant resonated through the air.

***

Southern Third Division of the Forbidden City.

It was the residence of the Crown Prince. After being granted imperial silk by the Emperor, Jeong Yeon-shin sat across from Yong Hui-myeong to determine his next course of action.

"You encountered the Night of the Peng Family?"

"Yes."

"What was it like?"

"It was brief."

Jeong Yeon-shin, seated in a proper posture, rested his arms on his knees as he replied. Even without stretching, his limbs were naturally long.

Yong Hui-myeong’s lips curled slightly.

"Small? I assume you didn’t get to exchange moves."

"I was referring to the gap in movement."

"Exactly my point. Ever since the former Peng Family Lord, the Ghostly Tyrant King, left the clan, the Peng Family has made great strides. About twenty years ago, they took in a wandering Lama monk from the Western Regions as a guest. In return, that monk taught them Bone Shrinking Art."

A Lama monk—a term referring to foreign Buddhist monks. Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened slightly.

"The Bone Shrinking Art of the Lama monks...?"

"Yes, the Yoga Divine Art. That’s why the Night of the Peng Family was assessing your body."

Peng Family’s Marking Seal and the Grand Severance Saber.

The Peng father and daughter were known as the Demigods of Hebei. Rumors claimed they had surpassed their natural martial limits through supreme techniques.

"They adjust their bodies at will according to their opponent. If Peng Family’s Marking Seal or Grand Severance Saber were to fight you, they’d both have to adopt tall, slender forms. That would be the only way to match your reach and speed. A single direct exchange wouldn’t be enough to withstand your Hwan-gang or Lightning Thunder Ridge Slash."

Yong Hui-myeong idly rolled his teacup between his fingers as he spoke.

Jeong Yeon-shin, feeling slightly awkward, gave a small nod.

"That is useful advice. I'll be facing them both in succession."

His voice remained calm.

Yong Hui-myeong was soon to depart on an imperial mission.

Like Ma Yeon-jeok, whose whereabouts remained unknown, Yong Hui-myeong would undertake a classified operation as the Dark Sword.

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Thus, Jeong Yeon-shin was the designated violet-ranked master for the Mount Hua Oath.

Although he had yet to carve the "Huang" (荒) character onto his shoulders due to the absence of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress' approval, he had been granted the highest-ranking title within Ipwang Fortress under the Emperor’s sanction.

In other words, in the martial world, there was no issue with him acting as a violet-ranked warrior.

"You’ll be facing them both in succession?"

Yong Hui-myeong tilted his head slightly.

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a slow nod, exuding the composure of a great general preparing for an inevitable battle. He thought of the ashen-clad Blood Demon True Falcon, Jin Myeong-jo.

The Lord of Blood Requiem had never failed a mission.

It was said that every one of the 170 tasks he had taken on had ended in success.

In contrast, Jeong Yeon-shin had once failed to capture the Seventh Apostle.

It had been a blunder that his uncle, Ma Jin, should have prevented. A failure they had both shared on that mission.

There were few in this world whom Jeong Yeon-shin could trust. Among them was the man in black robes—himself.

"Peng Family’s Marking Seal will not be a match for Ma Gwang-ik."

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke plainly.

He slung a heavy bundle over one shoulder.

Inside were the Heavenly Harmonization Bow of the Lord of the Amya Battlefront, the Heavenly Saber of the Namgung Clan’s Greatest Sword, and a neatly folded violet robe.

It was arguably the most valuable travel pack in the martial world.

The Violet Seomye had completed his preparations to depart.

With Ten Ri Light Step, he could reach Hanam from Beijing in a single breath.

Yong Hui-myeong’s expression turned inscrutable.