Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 422: Exhausted (3)

He slowly turned his head.

The scene around him felt unfamiliar.

At this moment, the people kneeling on the slope below the burial site, looking more like half-formed stones than men, were nothing.

Even the words they had thrown at the White Qilin, Namgung Hwa-shin, were no better than a monkey’s breath.

But the real issue was the brick wall encircling his mother’s grave like an imperial mausoleum.

The sweltering wind blew listlessly against the stone wall before brushing past Jeong Yeon-shin, carrying with it an eerie energy from the surface of the bricks.

Bloodflame Cult... Bloodshadow Rakshasa Hand.

The smooth, clean-cut edges were familiar.

A trace left by an incredibly sharp palm technique. There was no need to wonder who had done this—there was only one possibility.

It must have been one of the Seven Blood Demons of the Bloodflame Cult.

There is no trace of their aura now, but what were they doing here?

Jeong Yeon-shin, having long since reached adulthood, had the Jeong Family’s Profound Art as his foundation.

And at the heart of that martial art was his mother. Whatever happened in this burial ground, he would feel it keenly.

Even now, the fine hairs on his nape stood on end.

What am I supposed to do with you...

As he silently pondered the grudges of the martial world,

—"So you are the sword prodigy of the Jeong family."

A low, aged voice pierced through his ears like an invisible blade carving through his mind.

Though the voice was subdued, it felt as if unseen knives were twisting inside his skull.

Jeong Yeon-shin finally lifted his head.

An old woman stood before him, her sword planted into the earth, serving as her cane. Beside her stood the Celestial Pinnacle Sect’s Young Sword Empress.

Chui So-ok, the Young Sword Empress, was staring at him with wide eyes.

It was different from when she had met him in the past, during his return to the Main Sect, escorting his injured grandfather and the Elder Council Lord.

Back then, her incessant prodding for information had been an annoyance.

Now, she seemed more focused on scrutinizing his appearance.

—"Who are you?"

Jeong Yeon-shin asked.

Some disciples of the Celestial Pinnacle Sect bristled at his tone, their expressions darkening with displeasure.

Yet, none dared to speak recklessly.

Because the head of their sect had stepped forward. That was the way of a righteous martial sect.

—"My name is Geum Seon-seon."

The old woman looked at him calmly as she spoke.

That was enough.

Even without further introduction, the name alone carried weight.

If the listener was from an orthodox sect, they would wear an expression of awe.

If they were from the demonic path, they would immediately check to see if their head was still attached to their shoulders.

For the Sword Empress Geum Seon-seon had carved a legendary path through the martial world.

A few years ago, she had single-handedly split the Yangtze River’s mouth in two while fending off the combined assault of the Three Immortal Elders of Grandmother Mountain Fortress.

At the time, all of the lands south of the Yangtze were abuzz with the tale.

Even Jeong Yeon-shin, training in his family’s profound art in the remote corners of Shin Ya County, Henan Province, had heard of it.

Slowly, he clasped his hands in greeting.

—"I am Jeong Yeon-shin."

Rustle.

His violet sleeves cascaded down with a faint shimmer.

The old woman, watching him in silence, slowly opened her mouth.

—"So, the Main Sect of the Imperial Abyss... has gained a new Violet Cloak."

—"I am still lacking."

—"I do not know whether to call this a fortunate event, or whether to be concerned that the rivers of blood in the martial world will only thicken. The Imperial Abyss does not hold back against the Nine Great Sects, does it?"

—"I have never doubted the virtue of the orthodox sects. So long as the well-being of the people takes precedence over the prosperity of the sects, the Imperial Abyss will treat them as the celestial beings they are."

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke evenly.

Was it because he had completely donned a new set of robes?

Each word carried the weight of someone who represented the Imperial Abyss.

Perhaps it was because the Sword Division Leader, Yong Hee-myeong, had once called him a Dignified One.

For the first time, he felt a sense of responsibility he had never known before.

Even the Sword Empress herself, though speaking down to him, had been observing him with keen interest from the moment they met.

She was, after all, a swordswoman who had carried an unrivaled reputation in the martial world for decades.

—"I heard you came to pay respects to my mother."

—"I will not claim that I came without selfish intent. However, my intent was to pay my deepest respects."

At the Sword Empress’s words, Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head.

He looked toward Ma Se-in, standing behind him—the distant relative of the Ma family.

As soon as their eyes met, he asked.

—"What happened?"

—"The better question is—what happened to you? I heard you were in Beijing with the Division Leader, but those robes... don’t tell me...?"

—"You’re wearing blue now. It suits you well."

—"And why would—wait... no, I mean... as you were."

Ma Se-in slightly bowed his head toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

It seemed that he had belatedly realized the presence of others around them. When Jeong Yeon-shin asked about what had transpired, he readily provided an answer.

The renowned warriors of Jeomchang had come here to honor Ma Gwang-ik's achievements in Sichuan, while the forces of Iphwang Fortress could not simply stand idle. Additionally, the noble families of Namjikrye had accompanied them due to their business with Baek Kirin Namgung Hwa-shin.

During this time, Namgung Hwa-shin simply stood there in silence.

Without any visible reaction of surprise, he merely offered Jeong Yeon-shin a single bow and then wordlessly gazed down at the Uicheon Sword. Jeong Yeon-shin gave him a brief glance before turning back to Ma Se-in and speaking.

"A memorial service is a good thing. Why not just focus on honing your martial arts?"

"How could we possibly remain idle? Jeomchang's Little Sword Marquis is someone whose intentions are difficult to discern, and it wouldn't be right to leave only members of another sect to honor the grave of your mother."

Even though Ma Se-in spoke in a respectful tone, he made sure to say everything he wanted.

If the situation had been different, he might have even crossed his arms. Jeong Yeon-shin was now certain that he held a slight advantage in the contest for the title of Ma family's nobleman.

"You came to Henan for a mission, didn't you?"

"We requested that Shaolin extend their renowned Meridian Techniques to Ho-gwang. They haven't been easy to persuade, so we're engaging in martial contests with them. Unfortunately, we've suffered consecutive defeats. The martial artists of Deungbong County seem to view this as a prelude to the upcoming Huashan Assembly... It is quite shameful."

"Consecutive defeats?"

Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze sharpened.

Without hesitation, he turned to the Sword Master once more and clasped his hands in a formal bow.

"I will pay my respects to my mother alone. I will simply accept your presence here with gratitude."

"The words of a direct blood relative must be respected. Very well."

Even as the elderly woman slowly turned to leave, Jeong Yeon-shin did not relax his tensed muscles.

The pressure emanating from her frail body was immense.

It felt as though he were being struck by countless needle-thin blades.

Even though her energy was fully restrained, it felt as though countless sword strikes were being launched in all directions. His innate senses allowed him to perceive the depth of the years carved into her body.

‘The state where body and sword technique become one...’

As Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze sank into contemplation, the departing Sword Master suddenly came to a halt.

"It is rather uncomfortable standing with my back to you. It feels as though the sword at your waist might pierce my rusted old spine at any moment."

Crack—

In an instant, the Sword Master straightened her back.

It was an unbelievable sight.

Her previously withered hair regained a lustrous black sheen in the blink of an eye, and the wrinkled skin on the back of her hands smoothed out beneath her flowing sleeves.

The only thing unchanged was the thick calluses embedded into her palms, as hard as iron.

"I look forward to the Huashan Pharmacopoeia."

Even her voice now carried the tone of a young woman. If she were to turn around at this very moment, she would no longer appear as an old woman.

This was different from mere rejuvenation.

It was not something that could be achieved through martial prowess alone.

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It was said that when enlightenment, opportunity, and martial techniques perfectly aligned with one's fate, the body’s time could be reversed. A phenomenon dictated by fortune itself.

‘But...’

The Sword Master seemed to have reversed time through martial arts alone. Which meant it was only temporary.

And that was terrifying.

It meant that her martial arts had reached a stage beyond mere mastery, beginning to overflow beyond the limits of the human vessel.

It was proof that this world of violet-ranked warriors was one where the extraordinary and supernatural ran rampant.

"Take care on your way."

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke with feigned calmness.

There was no longer any chance for him to compete in the black-ranked trials. As one seated among the violet ranks, he could not afford to let himself be awed by others.

"This will not be easy. Not easy at all..."

The Sword Master shook her head as she descended the hill. The Little Sword Marquis and the disciples of Jeomchang followed her in silence.

Even then, the noble families of Namjikrye, still kneeling under the pressure of Jeong Yeon-shin’s Simgeuk Kirin, twitched as if seeking acknowledgment.

None of them dared to speak.

They had caused a commotion at the grave of a mother belonging to the violet ranks of Iphwang Fortress. If they were to spout any more nonsense in front of ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) the very person they had offended, they could very well lose their heads.

All they could do was plead with their eyes for mercy.

Jeong Yeon-shin did not look at them.

Instead, after bowing before his mother’s grave alongside Ma Se-in, he locked eyes with Namgung Hwa-shin, who stood firm like an unmoving bear.

“Would you like to learn?”

He asked, much like the boy who once looked up at Iphwang City from a lower vantage point than Baek Kirin. If it was Namgung Hwa-shin, he must have gleaned some trace of his older brother, Cheong Kirin, from the sword technique of Simgeuk Kirin.

Namgung Hwa-shin stared at him for a moment before shaking his head.

“I don’t know... if I am worthy.”

“This isn’t the place to decide that.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke naturally, treating him as an inferior, before turning and leading the Iphwang Fortress entourage down the mountain.

And when they arrived at the old estate of the Jeong family, they encountered unexpected strangers.

Mountains of baggage were stacked high, and over a hundred people were busily moving about, shouting instructions as they transported goods. The old annex of the Jeong family estate was being used as nothing more than a warehouse.

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And then, Jeong Yeon-shin heard something that struck him like a bolt of lightning.

“Who are we? As you can see, this is the main base of the Onha Trading Company...”

“Trading company?”

“Ah, I’ve heard that people with debts to the former Jeong family used to come here from time to time. But this land now belongs to our trading company’s leader. From what I understand, it was sold by the second son of the family...”

***

A terrifying rumor had been circulating in the bustling streets of Dengfeng County, Henan Province, for some time now.

What had begun as whispers among the local gentry had gradually spread until it became an open secret.

The story claimed that atop the vast, cloud-shrouded Mount Song, in a certain temple belonging to Shaolin, the sect leaders of the Nine Great Clans had gathered.

This was not merely a rumor that excited martial artists.

In truth, it was information that those involved in the trade and commerce world should pay closer attention to. At least, that was what the head of the Onha Trading Company, Ha Geum-seong, believed.

"The immovable giants of the martial world...!"

The absolute authorities of the Nine Great Clans holding a secret meeting? This was an event with consequences on par with—if not greater than—the gathering of the Seventeen Grandmasters of Iphwang Fortress.

It was the kind of event where it wouldn’t be surprising if the Imperial Guards, eunuchs of the Eastern Bureau, or even expert martial artists from the Zhou family had already blended into the thick crowds of Dengfeng County.

Where power and danger converged, profit naturally followed. That was an undeniable truth.

Even just securing permission to conduct business in Dengfeng, which was now teeming with martial artists from all over the world, or obtaining protection for the lands occupied by other Nine Great Clans, would double the company’s profits.

Fortunately, Ha Geum-seong was an excellent merchant in his own right.

Despite hoarding an enormous supply of grain, he was not stingy about unlocking his storage. The villages of Henan, including Shin Ya County, had benefited from this generosity.

As the number of starving people dwindled, rumors spread—Onha Trading Company was distributing food.

Naturally, this attracted not only lowly black-market thugs but also formidable martial artists from the dark sects, and as a result, Shaolin ended up offering protection to his company.

The process of Onha Trading Company establishing itself under Shaolin’s wing had been as smooth as flowing water.

His invisible social status had risen, and substantial connections in the martial world had been formed. At this moment, he had even gained enough standing to loiter near the site of the Nine Great Clans' gathering.

The problem was that this was his limit.

"Sigh..."

The middle-aged merchant, Ha Geum-seong, almost kicked a stray rock in frustration but stopped himself.

He was well aware of how sharp the senses of those supreme martial artists were—he wouldn’t dare risk drawing their attention.

He had to secure a deal. At the very least, he needed to protect the company’s main base, which had been established on the old site of the Jeong family estate.

How much effort had he put into acquiring that land after it had been left in ruins by the Lord of the Fallen Sword? When the Zhongnan Sect fell, he had worked tirelessly to convince the second son of the Jeong family to sell the land.

"If you want to rescue your kidnapped nephew, wouldn’t you need to hire mercenaries? What can a penniless former Zhongnan disciple possibly do?"

"...Offer me more."

"And now, the youngest son of that family is making a name for himself in Iphwang Fortress..."

Ha Geum-seong was a native of Shin Ya County. The tenant farmers he employed had worked on the lands belonging to the Jeong family patriarch. Naturally, he had seen the young Jeong Yeon-shin on multiple occasions.

He had dismissed him as nothing more than a feeble child, staring blankly at kites on the Seventh Night Festival or swings during the Dragon Boat Festival.

"That boy was so frail..."

He muttered absentmindedly.

"He's coming."

A voice he vaguely recognized.

It came from the annex he had been watching from afar. The voice belonged to the High Sword of Wudang.

A man who, when they had crossed paths in the Shaolin Temple, had glanced at Ha Geum-seong as if he were a mere pebble. A true immortal who had no dealings with profit-seeking merchants.

"His aura has grown even more refined."

"That’s because Ma Gwang-ik is still young."

A gaunt elderly nun and a distinguished Daoist master stepped out of the annex.

Despite the absence of wind, their orange monk’s robe and blue Daoist robes billowed gently.

They were none other than the Sect Leader of Emei, the Thunderous Avalokiteshvara, and the Twin Jade Sword Lord of Qingcheng.

Once again, individuals so exalted that Ha Geum-seong had never dared to speak to them.

"I heard he has changed his appearance. As if reborn."

The voice came from the rooftop of the annex.

A woman stood there, her long white sleeves fluttering in the air.

With her back turned, only her long, flowing hair was visible, but Ha Geum-seong could already tell she was the Sect Leader of Mount Hua.

The plum blossom embroidery in deep purple on her white sleeves confirmed it. It wasn’t much different from the attire of the young Daoist disciple who had once treated him coldly.

"Who could be coming for even these figures to gather...!"

Ha Geum-seong instinctively craned his neck forward, unable to take another step.

Fortunately, another disciple of Mount Hua—one of the Plum Blossom Swordmasters—ran down the narrow path toward the annex, resolving his curiosity.

"Jeong Yeon-shin! Do you know how long we’ve been waiting for you?!"

A bright, clear voice, befitting a disciple of one of the Great Clans.

And beyond the boundary of the narrow path, a figure with long black hair and robes bathed in the hues of the setting sun appeared.

Ha Geum-seong’s eyes widened in shock.

And the young Daoist disciple’s voice carried sheer astonishment.

"Hey, that outfit... what the hell...!"

Ha Geum-seong stopped listening.

He turned and left for the guest hall where he had originally been staying.

There, he unrolled his writing tools and, with swift, unhesitating strokes, penned a document transferring ownership of the land to Jeong Yeon-shin of the Jeong family of Henan.

It did not take long.