Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

The shadow hanging beneath the walls of Mok Manor stretched long, casting an eerie stillness over the courtyard.

At last, the Red Phoenix King was freed from Jeong Yeon-shin’s grasp.

It was all thanks to his keen insight into the content of the public notice issued by Desolation Across the Wastes. Monarchs of his standing were perceptive enough to grasp intent even from the strokes of a brush.

In the end, the Red Phoenix King pledged unconditional support to Ipwang Fortress. At that moment, Azure Tranquil Sword Cheongmyeong smiled slightly and spoke.

"Lord Jeong’s brushwork surpasses that of the scholars in the Hanlin Academy or the grand scribes of the Trade Bureau. I wonder how much you’ve earned in a single sitting."

A remark made with impeccable timing.

“…Unnecessary.”

It was precisely that remark that ensured Desolation Across the Wastes would accept the Red Phoenix King’s apology.

Cheongmyeong had watched over Jeong Yeon-shin, whether he was clad in white or blue, and even remained close during his black-clad days.

He had long since learned to gauge the temperament of his young superior.

"The General Bureau must be in complete turmoil right now. I can already picture it. That iron-clad Grand Marshal crumbling over a few sheets of parchment."

"Grand Marshal Im?"

Jeong Yeon-shin’s question.

A soft rustle.

The hand of Desolation Across the Wastes, which had remained slightly lifted, now lowered completely.

He had always shown immense respect for scholars. The influence he wielded in appointing the Lord of Divine Sword Division was second only to that of Grand Marshal Im Jin-myeong, a figure he revered more than his own maternal grandfather.

Since the day he entered Ipwang Fortress, that had never changed. As a result, the General Bureau had always spoken of Jeong Yeon-shin in the most favorable light.

"Soon enough, the Bloody Penance will show its true efficacy."

"……."

Desolation Across the Wastes spoke softly, his gaze fixed on the footprint still imprinted on the Red Phoenix King’s chest.

Ha…

On one side, Shin So-bin, who had been watching the entire exchange, finally exhaled, shoulders sinking in relief.

Had the Red Phoenix King’s head truly been severed, it would have cast an ominous shadow over relations with the Northern Imperial Court. While Jeong Yeon-shin himself would have remained unharmed, securing their cooperation in the future would have become nearly impossible.

In the end, Jeong Yeon-shin had not gained the infamy of being the one who killed a royal of the Zhu lineage. Instead, he had merely engraved into the world’s consciousness that imperial dignity meant nothing to him.

And so, the incident came to a close.

"I… failed to uphold the virtues of a guest. I offer you my deepest apologies."

The Red Phoenix King straightened his crumpled royal robes with a pulse of inner energy and turned to leave.

Even his mighty warriors had not been able to raise their weapons against Jeong Yeon-shin. The Red Phoenix King had repeatedly restrained them through voice transmission.

Even as he walked away, he considered it a wise decision.

And then—

"Please take care of yourself…"

"Ipwang Fortress is endlessly grateful for your support."

"For your grace in protecting Zhejiang… I shall repay it with integrity and virtue."

“…We will handle the Eastern Jianghu ourselves. There is no need to dispatch the Divine Sword Division’s elite warriors."

One by one, the officials departed—the Deputy Commander of the Five Armies, the Superintendent of Shangfang Bureau, the Governor of Zhejiang Province, and the elders of the Martial Alliance.

Each had arrived with their own proposals, yet all had left pledging unconditional support to Ipwang Fortress. The scale of these offerings was nothing short of wartime requisition.

Not a single dignitary wished to prolong their conversation with Desolation Across the Wastes. Every one of them hastened their retreat.

It was of no concern.

To the warriors of Ipwang Fortress, it was a matter already settled. They had just eliminated an unforeseen financial crisis of uncertain magnitude.

Thud!

"It’s done."

Behind Jeong Yeon-shin.

Ak Su-rim’s silver spear struck the ground, casting a straight reflection in the sunlight.

During grand ceremonies within the fortress, her long spear served as the Banner of Entry into the Wastes. Now, its silver radiance stood apart, untouched by the creeping dusk that darkened the surroundings.

"Seomye."

"Yes, Senior."

Jeong Yeon-shin turned at the sound of her voice.

Ak Su-rim smiled at him warmly. Then, with a quiet voice, she offered words of gratitude, letting them fade into the crimson hues of the setting sun.

***

Hangzhou.

There were many tangled affairs.

The number of gathered ties was immense. Jeong Yeon-shin had no choice but to face the inevitability of parting. A farewell he would never quite grow accustomed to.

"Lord Tang."

"Benefactor."

Tang Ga-ju, Dokgun Tang Unhwang, smiled gently. Though his short stature forced him to look up at Jeong Yeon-shin, he was still the towering leader of his clan who had traversed from Sichuan to Hangzhou.

He was also the man who had once shielded Yulei from the Five Heavenly Swordsmen of Heavenly Extremity Sect, warriors renowned for their supernatural swordplay.

"Do not grieve. The Lone Sword Plum Blossom will be safe."

It was the reassurance of a man who had known loss as the father of the Tang siblings. Regardless of his own feelings, Jeong Yeon-shin nodded.

“…Travel safely.”

"May I, just once, cross hands with you?"

Tang Unhwang’s question came abruptly. Jeong Yeon-shin nodded silently, stretching out his arm much like the time he had passed down the principles of Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain.

A soft rustle.

The palm of the short-statured clan head met the hand of the young martial prodigy.

Tang Unhwang’s hand was firmer than before. A faint breeze-like wave of energy rippled between their palms.

Of the three key energy points centered in their palms, Shao Fu and Lao Gong pulsated—one drawing in force, the other dispersing it—scattering dry leaves around them.

A sharp whoosh!

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes widened ever so slightly. The minuscule stimuli seeping into his hand were different from before.

Just as he had once passed down a hidden principle, now Tang Ga-ju was returning something in kind.

It was an experience rarely found in the martial world.

"Benefactor, this is my Moonless Sky Dance."

Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, Tang Unhwang smiled as he spoke words as startling as a thunderclap.

"My body no longer allows me to execute it fully with one hand… but in the end, I am still a martial artist. The Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain you passed down has melded into my clan’s secret hidden weapon arts."

Even as he circulated his energy, he continued speaking—proving himself worthy of his reputation as a grandmaster.

To pass down one's Moonless Sky Dance to another.

Impossible.

Life is singular. No one can live two lives.

Even now, that truth remained.

Jeong Yeon-shin could not fully absorb the techniques infused with Tang Ga-ju’s lifelong experiences. However, because the foundation was Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain, the influx of knowledge was far greater than with any other martial skill.

'This is…!'

A memory surfaced—words spoken by Blunt Root, the dim-witted head of Jinshi Sect who had died in Sichuan.

—"Ten Thousand Blossoms in the Rain is a technique where a Tang master unleashes a lifetime’s worth of poison arts and hidden weapons all at once, like a river of stars. It’s a martial art shaped by time. Geniuses who grasp things too easily won’t be able to understand it."

At the time, Jeong Yeon-shin had managed to counteract much of its weakness thanks to witnessing the Moonless Sky Dance of the former Peng clan head.

But this time, he stood hand-in-hand with the true pinnacle of the Tang lineage, the living embodiment of what Blunt Root had described.

Tang Unhwang spoke with unwavering certainty.

"The heavens and earth remain still, yet their energy never ceases.

Though night and day may shift in ceaseless turmoil,

The flower petals remain unchanged for eternity."

A verse from the Tending the Roots of Wisdom, written by the Daoist master Return to the Origin.

It was a verse Jeong Yeon-shin had once used as a guiding principle.

It was also Tang Unhwang’s farewell.

Then, with nothing but a single hammer in his grasp, he departed.

At his back walked Hyeon Won-chang.

—"I believe I can be of some help. The current Tang Clan leader is, after all, the father of the master artisans who created Yulei. As it happens, I have excellent materials at hand. Let us meet again when I have made something even greater. Consider this a personal mission."

The Silent Blade of Ipwang Fortress had declared his intention the night before—to forge his own weapon.

True to his words, he left without hesitation, flashing only a brief wink as he set out.

He bore a striking resemblance to Slaughter Chief, the heir of the infamous Assassination Sect, whom Jeong Yeon-shin had once seen at his ancestral home.

Allowing him to undertake this solitary mission, Jeong Yeon-shin turned to bid farewell to others.

Among those gathered in Hangzhou, two stood out above the rest.

Yulha Nangnang and Grandmaster Beomheo.

"If I had the slightest lack of restraint, I would have embraced you here and now."

The current leader of Mount Hua was of Han descent and famed for her swordsmanship. Her limbs were exceptionally long.

Perched on the threshold of Mok Manor's gate, she locked eyes with Jeong Yeon-shin—a rare alignment in height.

It was why she bore the title Sword Deity.

"I shall embrace you instead."

That was the extent of the familiarity Jeong Yeon-shin felt toward her.

A soft rustle.

He stepped forward without formality, but she lifted her index and middle fingers to lightly push against his chest.

Her Sword Seal Fingers had regained their usual sharpness.

"Mind your position. Does this not look improper?"

Yulha Nangnang's ambiguous smile carried a dual nature—like the pure mountain air and the harsh cliffs of Mount Hua.

She remained a supreme martial artist who towered over the world.

"Seeing the way you wield your sword, you’ll likely suffer another grave wound soon. If, at any point, you find yourself atop the highest Falling Goose Peak at Mount Hua, you may bathe in the medicinal waters I spoke of. I shall personally provide you with the rarest ingredients from Purple Lotus Pill Pavilion."

"There’s no need to say more. I must visit Zhongnan Sect to check on my nephew, so we shall meet again in Shaanxi before long."

"Very well. That will suffice."

And with that, Yulha Nangnang’s figure scattered like drifting petals—a fully unleashed Hidden Fragrance Step.

The time she had spent away from Mount Hua had robbed her of ease.

It was said that the sect leaders had already exchanged farewells.

"Young Master Jeong."

Beyond the now-empty threshold.

The serene eyes of Grandmaster Beomheo rested upon Jeong Yeon-shin.

"The martial world, formed by men, is no lighter than a realm of supernatural forces. If anything, it is an endless battlefield of chaos and transformation. As a monk who strikes others, I have merely invited you into this battlefield."

“…His Majesty once spoke to me about Shaolin’s Diamond Indestructibility.

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly parted his lips.

"Looking back, I don’t believe it is anything special. If one can protect both their body and mind amidst life’s trials, isn’t that the true indestructibility of a martial artist?

That is what I seek."

"Ah, I had forgotten—you possess Buddhist insight.

Indeed… judging from your words alone, you could be likened to a Buddha’s Alms Bowl."

A faint tilt of the head.

A soft clap.

He leaned against the staff he had lifted into the air with Void Manipulation and turned away.

A venerable monk, now devoid of all but a sliver of vital energy and an overwhelming divine presence, yet as he set off on his path, the tattered hem of his faded orange monk's robe flapped fiercely at his heels—

Like the robes of Indra, the war god among the Buddhist deities.

Jeong Yeon-shin did not bother to decipher why he had left his words unfinished. Instead, he simply raised one hand in silent farewell.

There were others as well—the masters of Mount Qingcheng and Joo Gwang-shin.

Particularly, the young Daoist Jinmu hesitated as he approached Jeong Yeon-shin, only to be pulled away by his elder.

"Master Jeong! This Malco fellow has been utterly amazed by your character! By the looks of it, regardless of the late emperor's will, you’ll eventually march north someday. If so, I, Jinmu, shall head there first and perfect our sect’s Azure Cloud Drizzle Sword! Please, remember me!"

With that distant cry, Clearwater Zhenren exchanged a brief glance with Jeong Yeon-shin.

The grandmaster of Mount Qingcheng did not seem particularly eager to associate with him.

For a brief moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt an inkling of the loneliness his grandfather must have experienced in the martial world.

Then, alarmed by his own thoughts, he quickly shook his head.

'It's different.'

His grandfather never had friends like Yulha Nangnang and Tang Unhwang.

"Oi, boy."

"Yes, Leader of the Beggar’s Sect?"

Turning his gaze, he saw an old beggar staring straight at him.

It was Joo Gwang-shin, the leader of the Beggar’s Sect.

"Send my regards to Maga. Of course… there's no need to mention that I, an old man with rusting legs, still move faster than his grandson. That would be far too cruel a thing to say, wouldn’t it? Especially when he's surely been battered by time thanks to his Hegemonic Martial Arts."

"……?"

"Take care of yourself. We'll meet again someday."

Fwoosh!

Joo Gwang-shin vanished into thin air.

There was no disruptive gust of wind—his movement was so transcendent that it seemed as though he had simply blended into the air itself.

He was truly one of the few martial artists in the world who could lay claim to being the fastest under heaven.

Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly turned around.

Shin-ui and Ipwang Fortress Lord were watching him in silence.

Of the two, only Shin-ui spoke.

"Is it over now? How unusual for someone of your nature to have so many people around you. How do you plan on dealing with all of them?"

"Would they even allow themselves to be 'dealt with'?"

At Jeong Yeon-shin's retort, Shin-ui simply shrugged, scanning the spot where the grandmasters had just departed, as if relieved by their absence.

"By the way… are we really heading to World Tree? Just the three of us…?"

Jeong Yeon-shin trailed off.

He couldn't believe it.

World Tree.

The tree of noble bloodlines.

It was said that during the founding of the empire, it had driven out all the malevolent demons that had plagued the world—just by taking root in fertile soil.

And the fruit that grew on its branches was rumored to be the most divine of all.

A lifelong goal.

Jeong Yeon-shin's salvation lay there.

"Don’t get your hopes up."

Shin-ui waved a dismissive hand.

"That place is an entirely different world. The so-called noble clans gather there like swarms of bees. They have ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) no interest in the martial world or the imperial courts.

They simply shut themselves away in burrows or the gaps between enormous tree trunks, devoting themselves to martial cultivation like ghosts in their own Shangri-La.

As you know, ordinary people can’t even set foot there, which is why scholars and storytellers treat it as another realm altogether.

If you foolishly go in expecting some celestial paradise and end up disappointed, who will take responsibility for your misery?

And if you happen to cross paths with one of those lunatics and get into a fight—"

Jeong Yeon-shin cut him off as if it were nothing.

He clenched and released the hand that had met Tang Unhwang’s moments earlier.

"Master, what is the reason for this journey? I have yet to accomplish any feat that would earn me recognition from all the noble clans of the world."

"You."

The Ipwang Fortress Lord, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke.

His lips moved slowly.

"I want to see… if you can merge with me."

It was an incomprehensible statement.

But at that moment, Jeong Yeon-shin felt a radiant pulse thunder through his heart.

***

Fifteen days later.

The three of them stood before an endless stretch of bark—

A tree so vast, its surface extended endlessly in all directions, like a fortress wall.

It was World Tree.