Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Jeong Yeon-shin had stepped out to greet the uninvited guests.

In the meantime, only a few remained in Mok Manor. The commoners had already left the estate earlier.

Now, the only ones holding their ground were the grandmasters of the Nine Great Sects, the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, the Divine Doctor, and, belatedly, the Drunken Beggar King, who had quietly returned to the manor.

Not a single ordinary person among them.

—We should first show our respects to the imperial envoy.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s calm voice carried through the air.

The absolute masters listened from where they sat. Some had left their doors open while they sat cross-legged in the great hall, others stood idly on the rooftops of the inner quarters.

“…So.”

Perched on a tree branch, the Drunken Beggar King finally spoke.

“Are you saying that kid is the future of Ipwang Fortress?”

He muttered to himself, though no one responded immediately.

Only Yulha Nangnang slightly lifted her eyelids and parted her lips.

“…Not the future. He is the present. He’s the unrivaled swordsman who claimed the right hand of the Lord of Heaven’s Extremity Sect. The only one among the Violet Rank actively moving in the martial world.”

“…Truly a grim reality…”

The Drunken Beggar King trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

His gaze flickered toward the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, who had been standing silently the entire time. Then, with a huff, he turned to the Divine Doctor, who lay sprawled on the dirt floor as if it were a bed, and barked out.

“Enough already! Even I have been running around for the world’s sake! Are you just going to leave me here to die?”

Grumbling, he absentmindedly rubbed his stomach. His ragged, tattered clothing bore a faint diagonal bloodstain—a scar left by the sword of the Lord of Heaven’s Extremity Sect near Hangzhou.

The Divine Doctor didn’t so much as lift a finger. He remained in the same state of exhaustion.

“Die? What nonsense. You old beggar, how long were you basking in the Small Conqueror’s power? Your body is practically overflowing with renewed energy.”

“No wonder it was itchy.”

The Drunken Beggar King replied nonchalantly.

He already knew. A supreme master of body-strengthening techniques, capable of surpassing Wild Annihilation, would never fail to notice the state of his own body.

He had only changed the subject because of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

The Beggars' Sect owed him a great debt.

Someday, in some way, the Drunken Beggar King intended to repay Jeong Yeon-shin. At the very least, he could be of more help than some fallen wandering warrior.

A boy who spent his entire life in Hanyang without ever seeing the faces of the imperial relatives…

Tapping the bottom of the gourd tied to his waist, he slowly glanced around. The people surrounding him were nothing short of monstrous.

“There’ll be a great backlash.”

He muttered to himself.

The amount of time these figures—who should have been stabilizing the vast martial world—had spent in Hangzhou was immense.

The absolute masters, those who ensured that abominations like the Flood Dragon or the Human-Faced Spider Lord did not roam freely in broad daylight.

Because their disciples were holding the gates in their stead, the sect masters of the Nine Great Sects would be absent from the martial world for the foreseeable future.

They would all have to seclude themselves in their respective sects.

The same was true for the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.