Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

A hearty laugh spread across the face of the young master. His gaze toward Jung Yeonshin softened into a gentle arc.

"Truly magnanimous. I admit my loss."

"You've shown the momentum of the King-Style Sword Arts. I have learned something from it as well."

Jung Yeonshin replied calmly, implying that it was not a matter of winning or losing in terms of spirit.

The King-Style Sword Arts—an unfamiliar type of martial art he had never encountered before. Had they faced off directly in a formal match, he would have had to concede a step.

"You've learned something? I'm curious how you'll interpret it."

The young master's laughter deepened.

Jung Yeonshin read competitiveness in his expression—a demeanor fitting for someone who walked the path of martial arts.

Just like the practitioners of the Nine Great Sects, he seemed to have many faces.

"But back to the Profound Martial Alliance…"

Namgoong Hwashin approached Jung Yeonshin and spoke.

"Despite the name, I've heard their organizational structure isn't much different from the military. They've grown close to a private militia under the protection of the Prince of Henan Province—a large sect with many members."

"Similar to the military…"

Jung Yeonshin murmured, and Namgoong Hwashin nodded.

"Even their commanders, though prominent, aren't necessarily unmatched in skill. There are likely even stronger martial artists within the Profound Martial Alliance. The ones who fell here should be seen as scouts. Stronger masters are bound to target you in the future…"

He trailed off, concern shadowing his elegant face.

It was not for his own safety but out of genuine worry for Jung Yeonshin.

"I know a little about the Profound Martial Alliance's eldest son."

The young master of Namgoong clan moved closer, still holding his sword. Blood dripped from the blade that had yet to be sheathed.

"He's the type to carefully devise strategies, resembling a general. If he becomes your enemy, it'll be a headache."

"You mean his martial skills aren't what matter most."

"Exactly. He's someone who makes good use of human wave tactics. My family has clashed with him a few times before. You'd best stay on guard. If a village where you plan to stay for the night feels suspicious, leave immediately—if you can, that is."

"…I'll keep that in mind."

Jung Yeonshin gave a brief response and fell silent, unsettled by the young master's demeanor.

Despite being adversaries who might have to fight to the death, the man offered advice in a tone as soft as if addressing a younger brother.

It resembled the relationship between seniors and juniors in the martial world—so natural that it felt even more unusual.

'Azure Qilin Namgoong Se-jin… He's a peculiar man.'

Jung Yeonshin decided to remain vigilant, even though their shared journey had been brief. Bonds formed with White Qilin might extend to those sworn as enemies.

He forced himself to clear his thoughts. Picking up the fallen Desolate Sword, he turned away.

Perhaps it was the thunderous noise from earlier techniques that had scared the birds away. The forest path was quieter than before.

"Burying the bodies will be a chore. We should leave now."

At Jung Yeonshin's words, Namgoong Hwashin approached. He had been silently observing the conversations between his companions and half-brother.

"Are you uninjured?"

His question was blunt, perhaps due to being lost in thought. When Jung Yeonshin replied affirmatively, Namgoong Hwashin simply nodded.

Behind them, Namgoong Mi pressed her lips together, silently staring at Jung Yeonshin.

"Let's go." 

The boy said.

The group, each sheathing their swords, began moving again.

The Profound Martial Alliance's ambush was no small matter, yet it wasn't something worth delaying their steps over. Such was the nature of martial artists—people who tread upon corpses to achieve fame.

'Ah.'

As he walked, Jung Yeonshin suddenly realized how desensitized he had become to killing. He felt nothing at all.

He had slain his enemies—nothing more. When he had killed the martial artists of the Tyrant Sword Tribe back at the Jung Family estate, it hadn't been like this. He had to force himself to look away then.

Was it the urgency of being chased by time? Or the sheer will to survive, even if it meant stepping over corpses?

Tap, tap.

Raindrops, signaling the arrival of summer, began to fall one by one.

They descended in dense intervals, as if shedding tears for the bodies left behind by the Profound Martial Alliance.

Since the one who killed felt indifferent, perhaps it wasn't so bad for the heavens to weep. Jung Yeonshin himself could end up like them at any moment.

The sound of rain hitting leaves was clear. Only Namgoong Mi's irritated sighs felt like noise.

Jung Yeonshin walked silently, letting the summer rain soak him.

He reaffirmed his identity as a martial artist. The raindrops striking his shoulders felt cold.

* * *

Swoooosh—

"What a miserable downpour."

Namgoong Mi, spoke with boredom laced in her voice. But the pouring rain quickly swallowed up even that sound.

Rain seemed to be falling heavily across the entire area, drenching the group completely.

They had just entered the outskirts of Southern Zhili. It was where the Namgoong family's main house was located—Huizhou.

"The streets are unusually empty. Even considering the rain, it feels unnervingly quiet."

Namgoong Hwashin, walking beside Jung Yeonshin, commented. Though surrounded by family, he stayed near the boy.

His posture made his position clear. Namgoong Mi shot him a disapproving glare.

The young master, who had been walking ahead with a bamboo hat shielding him from the rain, responded.

"Even heavy rains don't help much with farming here."

"Because of poor harvests?"

"You're right, Hwashin. It's becoming a serious issue lately. Even when commoners manage to grow food, it gets stolen by strong men. It's not uncommon for martial artists to act the same way. Everyone needs to eat—peasants and martial artists alike."

"Poor harvests even in South Zhili…"

"Vagrants and rogue factions don't care about the people's struggles. It's not unusual to see them causing havoc. If you plan to continue traveling the martial world, make sure to carry plenty of dried food."

Jung Yeonshin silently observed the young master conversing with Namgoong Hwashin.

He had been sizing him up the entire journey.

The man occasionally revealed his aura and possessed an immensely refined breathing technique. Even his footsteps suggested he practiced martial forms in daily life.

He was already a complete martial artist. Jung Yeonshin couldn't see a path to victory.

'If an impeccable dragon existed, it would be someone like him.'

Jung Yeonshin thought. A genius who had trained diligently rather than becoming complacent. He was strong—rightfully so. Could Jung Yeonshin cut him down?

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

Sensing the gaze, the man turned. Jung Yeonshin shook his head.

At that moment, Namgoong Mi approached with a frosty look.

"We're nearing the main house. I wonder if you enjoyed your final tour of the martial world."

"Is petty conversation a hobby of yours? What a shallow amusement."

Jung Yeonshin's calm retort drew a scoff from her.

Namgoong Mi had learned the Namgoong clan's secret techniques and possessed sharp insight into martial flaws.

Even the Palm Arts of the Desolate Castle had their flaws—its preparation and direction lacked precision. In the world of experts, such imperfections were critical weaknesses.

It was unfinished. Only its power was impressive.

'He's bound to die soon, yet something about him feels off.'

She had felt it from their first meeting—his tone had an unsettling quality.

It was an unlikely occurrence. It wasn't a feeling that should come from someone she had never seen before.

Among her peers throughout the world, the only one Namgoong Mi acknowledged was her brother, Namgoong Se-jin.

The Lazy Flame Dragon of the Hwangbo family was a libertine, and Namgoong Hwashin, who inherited the blood of an assassin, was ignoble. It was rare to find someone outstanding in martial arts, temperament, and lineage even in all of the martial world.

Nine young female martial artists were called the Phoenixes of the martial world.

Among the Nine Phoenixes, Namgoong Mi prided herself on being unparalleled.

No successor from the younger generation had ever caught her eye. No one had ever left a deep impression on her.

There was no one worth remembering. Only the name of Wei-Ji Myohwa from the Zhongnan Sect, who had earned the title of Sword Dragon, lingered in her mind—perhaps because she had never seen her.

The direct lineage of the Namgoong family was the greatest noble clan in South Zhili.

Namgoong Mi had never faced issues tied to survival.

For her, the worldview of wanderers or martial artists from small sects was no more than luxury. She liked the phrase 'supreme and self-centered'.

'Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin.'

She had reviewed the information gathered by her family. She saw him as a moderately skilled young talent who had become an obstacle.

The boy was merely the pretext for Desolate Fortress' attack on Namgoong. Nothing more. He was not yet a vessel worthy of discussing the martial world. His age made that clear.

Then why? Why did he feel so familiar?

Her honed senses as a high-level internal energy master refused to let go of the question.

She had pondered it all the way to Huizhou. Suddenly, a ridiculous thought occurred to her—so absurd that she hadn't considered it earlier.

There was only one time Namgoong Mi had involuntarily looked up to someone.

It was an intense memory—one that still occupied a corner of her mind.

A mask shaped like a wicked dragon's open mouth, calloused hands that had gripped her neck, indifferent eyes, a blood-red robe fitting the sinister and destructive energy, and a cold demeanor.

"You."

Namgoong Mi parted her lips.

"Would you mind showing me your hands?"

* * *

The Desolate Fortress' Celestial Gold Armory .

It was a fortress with walls of pure white stone. A library as grand as the inner citadel of the main fortress.

The marble walls were beautiful, said to have been imported from the Imperial family of the destroyed Dali Kingdom by the Lord of the Desolate Castle.

The sentries guarding it stood with imposing discipline, as it housed the martial art manuals of the Desolate Fortress.

Basic techniques from the Imperial family, martial arts manuals devised and compiled by the fortress's martial artists, a complete compendium of martial arts—all gathered here.

"Was it around here…?"

The scent of old books filled the expansive room.

A white-robed warrior of Radiant Demon Squad stood in front of a towering bookshelf.

A girl in white robes followed Lightning Genius Jung Yeonshin, the youngest in line.

Shin So-bin, now called the White Cat of Radiant Demon Squad.

Her nickname was vague even as an alias, but she resembled a white cat with her large eyes as she scanned the library.

"What are you looking for?"

"Ah."

Startled by the deep voice beside her, Shin So-bin turned her head.

She had been so focused that she hadn't noticed another martial artist approaching until they were right next to her.

"Crimson Noon Sword, senior."

He was a martial artist who had survived countless battles in the military. His aura was rugged and strong.

A middle-aged man with scars on his face and neck nodded solemnly.

"That's right. We met during the Blue Rank trial. I'm surprised the cherished daughter of such a prestigious family remembers my nickname. Your direct senior defeated me without much trouble."

"It was an impressive match. Lightning Genius senior is… well, hard for anyone to keep up with."

"Should I call you the Radiant Demon Squad's White Cat?"

Shin So-bin frowned. She didn't like the nickname.

Crimson Noon Sword chuckled awkwardly, then changed the subject.

"There aren't many of the fortress' martial artists loitering around here. I considered giving advice whenever I saw one, but I recognized your face and decided to approach."

"There are many here?"

"Isn't it obvious? These are the martial arts of the youngest Blue Rank master. Everyone's bound to be curious—they must be brimming with brilliance. Most of the manuals are gone, borrowed by others. They can't take them outside the armory, so they're probably practicing in the training ground behind the library."

"Practicing with just the manuals? That won't be easy."

"That's how desperate they are. When Lightning Genius returns, Radiant Demon Squad's pavilion will be bustling. No one expected him to pour out all his techniques right before leaving for the Namgoong clan's match. By now, countless people must be hoping for his victory."

"Ah… I'm late again."

Shin So-bin let her twin braids droop.

"I even saw some Black Rank leaders."

Crimson Noon Sword tried to console her.

"Limit Releasing Technique, Splendid Wings Step, Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm, Infinite Blossom Fist Strike, and Radiance Sword Style… Techniques worthy of leading the martial world. He generously shared them all."

"There was much talk in the Radiant Demon Squad about that. People felt it was too much to give away."

"I was curious myself. Widespread techniques inevitably develop counters. Even excluding Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm, which no one has mastered yet, the techniques he contributed were his primary skills. Even if he was desperate for merit, it's hard to justify."

"That was Lightning Genius senior's wish."

Shin So-bin raised her head and grinned.

"He once said he wanted to counter the counters—thinking it would advance his skills. Even if I mastered all three forms of Infinite Blossom Fist Strike and faced him, he'd calmly pull out the fourth. Then again, keeping up with the creator's mastery is nearly impossible."

"Countering the counters…"

Crimson Noon Sword fell silent for a moment.

"By the way."

This time, Shin So-bin spoke first.

"I didn't expect to have so many competitors. If all the fortress' martial artists are learning Lightning Genius senior's techniques, won't he end up being revered without even founding a sect? Like the progenitor of a new sect?"

"Though not a sect master, a lineage of Lightning Genius has already formed in the fortress…"

Crimson Noon Sword of the Annihilation Squad spoke slowly.

"You could call him a Grandmaster."