Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

The two sat on a roughly woven straw mat.

A tall, youthful boy and a stocky middle-aged man. The corner of the brown hemp mat repeatedly lifted and fell with the wind, making a dull, rhythmic sound as it slapped against the ground.

“…Why won’t it budge?”

Mount Hua’s Hidden Dragon, Yu Hyeon, murmured as he pulled one knee toward his chest.

At his waist hung a sword adorned with a plum blossom engraving, adding an enigmatic air to him.

Though still a boy, he exuded a sharp presence, as if he were a sheer cliff cut with a blade. He was the embodiment of Mount Hua’s thousand-year swordsmanship.

Yet even Mount Hua’s Hidden Dragon could not draw Yeorae.

Despite having fully absorbed most of the Jaso Pellet, which had greatly lengthened his limbs, and despite making significant strides in Mount Hua’s secret internal cultivation techniques, it was all in vain.

The sword remained utterly immovable. That was the reason for Yu Hyeon’s deep sense of frustration. Yeorae was like the embodiment of its former master’s unyielding will.

“A divine sword that finds the right master often becomes a sacred treasure. Sometimes, it even manifests miracles,” said a man with a neatly groomed beard.

He was a middle-aged man who wore a smooth, green long robe that suited him perfectly.

Poison Commander, Tang Unhwang.

The moment he arrived, he became the talk of the nearby marketplace.

From Sichuan to Hangzhou—an unimaginable distance for ordinary folk, even for most warriors of the martial world. Yet, the head of the Sichuan Tang Clan had personally made the journey.

Many took a keen interest in him and the young boy beside him.

The battle had ended long ago.

The crowd around them continued to grow. Most were warriors carrying weapons, while some were nosy onlookers, their faces twitching with barely restrained gossip.

Among them were poets and scholars, lovers of scenic riverbanks and the beauty of swordplay. Many wore elegant scholarly robes.

This was Hangzhou.

“The head of the Tang Clan truly is of noble Iron Clan descent, just as the rumors claim.”

“Did you see that hammer move on its own? I never thought I’d witness the legendary Ten Thousand Flowers in the Rain.”

“With a single gesture, flowers bloom, and rain falls from the hammer… Remarkable. I heard that the late Violet Lord of Ipwang Fortress entrusted the Tang Clan with that secret technique. Their bond must have been deep.”

“Speaking of the Violet Lord, are those two really just sitting there because they can’t draw that sword?”

“Watch your mouth! They can hear you…!”

The murmuring voices.

Yu Hyeon paid them no mind. Compared to the reverence he received in Shaanxi, where he was hailed as a Celestial Child or Young Immortal, this was nothing. What mattered was the challenge before him.

“Should we dig up the ground and move it along with the soil?”

He spoke while gazing at Yeorae with a complicated expression.