Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 357: Charge (6)

The technique of suppressing qi flow derived from Demonic Blood Extreme Arts.

It was not used merely to conceal one's presence. It was also invaluable in high-level duels between masters.

Deceiving an opponent’s qi perception was, in itself, akin to executing a feint.

It was the reason why elite martial artists could evade surprise attacks from behind. The martial energy ingrained in their bodies constantly extended beyond their five senses, allowing them to perceive the outside world.

It was the same now.

The two old masters standing guard at the manor’s entrance.

They could not fully perceive the rotation of Jeong Yeon-shin’s Radiant Wheel Qi.

Their only reaction was to lift their white eyebrows slightly, as if he had executed a technique known for its excessive spectacle rather than its true lethality.

At this moment, the spiraling qi flow swirling in Jeong Yeon-shin’s palms appeared to them as nothing more than hollow theatrics.

Perhaps it was because these elderly masters were skilled enough to replicate such displays themselves.

Fwoosh—

The swirling force made the robes of the two old men, standing with their hands behind their backs, flutter violently. Their appearances were as serene as celestial beings.

They looked the part of those who had come to capture a dragon.

The two old men spoke to each other leisurely while keeping their eyes on Jeong Yeon-shin.

“That old coot... he hasn’t tempered his temper.”

“He seems more like a child of the outer world rather than one of the Three Kings and Three Armies.”

“With that temper and that storm-like presence... he must have studied Tyrannical Martial Arts. How many young attendants must have served him?”

“But who is he?”

“Since arriving here, how many have hidden their identities? Mount Tae-Mo Fortress only opened its doors to us, but it never bound us together.”

They assumed Jeong Yeon-shin was one of the old masters who had arrived alongside them, possessing the secret techniques of Mount Tae-Mo Fortress, rather than a member of Golden Seal Gate.

Such was the complacency characteristic of elderly martial masters who had trained for decades.

The old men before him did not seem to perceive the harsh Huang character embroidered on his shoulder.

“I’ll give you some advice out of caution, young man. If you do not wish to end up like the servants below—”

The elder on the left cut himself off as he referred to the village’s iron artisans as slaves.

The composed demeanor of an old master, one who did not envy Reversal Rejuvenation, briefly wavered as his gaze met Jeong Yeon-shin’s indifferent eyes.

"They speak like noble families of the Eight Great Houses, yet they practice Daoist martial arts."

Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward silently, observing them.

In the Ming Dynasty, no citizen was permitted to own slaves. The strict Labor Hire System dictated that wages had to be paid for services.

The Ming royal family had always strictly forbidden the ownership of slaves, indentured servants, or concubines.

In the Yuan Dynasty’s legal code, there was a clause stating, "Slaves are akin to property," which the Ming Dynasty had aggressively rejected.

At the beginning of its reign, the Ming government had gone as far as exterminating a martial sect near Nanjing that had enslaved Ming men and women, making an example of them.

Thus, when the Hwangbo Clan was annihilated for illegally forcing commoners into labor, the only ones who criticized Ipwang Fortress for excessive force were the warriors of the martial world.

The imperial court had ruled the nation that way.

It used the Great Ming Code to set an example, punishing rebels who defied the law and refused to pay proper wages to laborers.

The manor of the Ghostly Tyrant King, visible behind the old men.

It was magnificent.

The elegant, sweeping rooftops were not merely structural elements but appeared sculpted, a clear testament to the craftsmanship of the Iron Clan artisans.

“Did you pay the artisans for their work?” Jeong Yeon-shin asked.

The old man on the right slowly raised his arms in a symbolic gesture and responded with a question of his own.

“What nonsense is this?”

“To live secluded in the mountains, reverse the flow of time, and now you think the world lies beneath your feet. How arrogant,” Jeong Yeon-shin muttered.

The left old man chimed in.

The arrogance of those who forced others into submission through martial prowess.

Jeong Yeon-shin had encountered such attitudes countless times in his duties as a warrior of Ipwang Fortress.

The embers of rage had already ignited within him after seeing the fate of the Tang Twins. He had asked his question out of restraint, worried that he might end up harming the innocent.

But now, that effort felt meaningless.

He extended both hands forward.

The two elders reacted swiftly.

Without moving from their positions, they each extended their hands, pushing against Jeong Yeon-shin’s right and left hands respectively.

It was a dual-hand palm technique.

A vast, intangible energy rippled from their bodies.

Reversal ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) Rejuvenation was not something achieved through mere martial prowess. It required enlightenment, fortune, and the mastery of an extraordinary martial art.

Thus, even though they had reversed the aging of their bodies, they did not consider themselves invincible.

The semi-transparent palm force they projected, blocking each of Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands, was proof of their seasoned confidence.

Their hands met.

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The ground trembled violently, and the manor gates behind the two elders were obliterated.

An overwhelming shockwave erupted.

The signboard bearing the inscription Scattered Pagoda of the Peng Clan was shattered into pieces and hurled into the air.

The two elders’ bodies were launched in opposite directions, piercing through the cloud of dust that had exploded around them.

Simultaneously, blood surged from their mouths, mingling with the dirt and debris.

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s pitch-black robe brushed through the thick, lingering dust.

He had no interest in the old masters who had been flung into the walls, leaving massive cracks in the manor’s perimeter.

The brief flicker of shock in their eyes as they were blown away did not even register in his mind.

And then—

“It seems the Zhang family’s children have mishandled their welcome for our esteemed guest. I offer my sincerest apologies.”

A crisp voice cut through the dust, accompanied by a breeze that settled the swirling debris.

A voice carrying a subtle yet undeniable pressure.

It was an unspoken testament to the speaker’s profound martial prowess.

Jeong Yeon-shin lifted his gaze.

A man with sharp, leaf-like ears was floating in midair, hands clasped behind his back, looking down at him.

His aerial stance was effortless.

His flowing, light-green robes rippled in the wind, blending harmoniously with his presence.

He carried the gentle, wind-like qi characteristic of Ming Martial Artists, yet his aura was entirely unreadable.

His face appeared to belong to someone just past thirty.

His features were strikingly human for a Ming Noble.

But that only made it harder to estimate his true age.

“I am Li Shi-myeong.”

The man smiled faintly and offered a polite salute.

A flicker of recognition passed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes.

It was a name he had heard from Hahoe Wi-jin.

One of the First Arrivals, known for his exceptional prowess.

A warrior who had sworn allegiance to Peng Yeol-ran out of admiration.

Li Shi-myeong, the Wind Lord.

One of the Three Kings and Three Armies.

The last surviving successor of the now-extinct Wind Pavilion Sect.

Among the Three Armies, the other two members hailed from Kunlun Sect and the Beggars' Sect.

Despite the lower prestige of his sect, he was not someone to be taken lightly.

“If the Guardian Sword of Ipwang Fortress has come all this way, that must mean Golden Seal Gate has succeeded in their second grand ritual.”

He smiled, continuing smoothly.

“The freedom in your stance... I can faintly sense the essence of Bright Wing Arts within your movements. It seems the next generation is growing stronger.”

Three Kings and Three Armies. Wind Lord Li Shi-myeong.

An old master, they called him.

How deeply did the Ming Bloodline run in his veins?

His pale blue eyes studied Jeong Yeon-shin intently, their gaze eerie.

He spoke once more.

“You must have come for a reason.”

“I see that you are not here to hunt a dragon like the others in this land. You must have come to retrieve the partner of our clan’s leader, no?”

“Watch your tongue. That is Seonmok Lord of Ipwang Fortress.”

Jeong Yeon-shin offered a polite piece of advice to the elderly master, who was likely far older than himself.

In the outer world, his name carried weight beyond measure. There was no need for him to adhere to the martial world’s customs of seniority.

“Ah.”

Li Shi-myeong let out a small chuckle.

“It seems there’s a misunderstanding. Do you perhaps believe that Ghostly Tyrant King has forcibly taken Icy White Cheon So-so as his bride?”

“You’re trying to bait me into a useless argument.”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s robe fluttered as Radiant Wheel Qi surged from his heart.

“I only speak because the truth is different.”

Li Shi-myeong continued slowly.

“How could one force a high-level master of the black path, someone with such upright integrity and an indomitable will? Even if one could subdue her martial prowess, the heart is another matter.”

“Keep talking.”

“Cheon So-so willingly chose to become the consort of the Ghostly Tyrant King. If you doubt it, you are welcome to confirm it yourself.”

“...”

The storm of qi raging around Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly stilled.

In an instant, a heavy silence descended.

The energy he had gathered to confront a rare master in the world was reined in within the blink of an eye.

A state where internal energy and the mind became completely one.

The condition of Three Flowers Converging to Purity—which had naturally drawn closer since his transformation—had finally settled within him.

Li Shi-myeong’s gaze flickered with both intrigue and caution.

"He is not someone to be dealt with hastily."

He thought to himself.

The wedding of Peng Yeol-ran was imminent. It would be foolish to provoke an unnecessary confrontation with a lone warrior and stain an auspicious day with an ill omen.

“Follow me.”

Li Shi-myeong turned in the air.

Jeong Yeon-shin, who had been silently gazing up at him, finally stepped forward—slowly.

As he moved, he took in the sight of numerous elderly warriors, once scattered across the collapsed walls, now descending toward the scene.

This place was a den of vipers.

There was not a single weak person here.

***

"Do not cause any disturbances. Even if you hold the Purple Rank of Ipwang Fortress, that means nothing here. Stay quiet, speak only when necessary, and leave once the discussion is over. After the wedding."

"You talk nonsense."

"Our lord’s ultimate technique is the Dragon Emerges, Thunder Shakes the Heavens Cannon. It was devised specifically to kill Golden Seal Lord. No human body can withstand it."

This was the conversation Jeong Yeon-shin had with Li Shi-myeong while being escorted to the guest hall.

But neither Peng Yeol-ran nor Cheon So-so was present in the manor.

Even after fully unleashing his Radiant Wheel Qi to scan underground, he could not sense the distinct cold energy signature of Seonmok Lord.

Only the faint traces of numerous wary, high-level old masters were detected.

The martial artists of Scattered Pagoda of the Peng Clan were all relics of the past.

They abhorred bad omens.

Every person here, from the clan lord to the guests, adhered to superstition, divination, and feng shui.

Seonmok Lord, who could draw mystical powers from the Heavenly Wood Saplings.

The Ghostly Tyrant King, one of the Twin Kings.

Icy White Cheon So-so held immense symbolic significance.

Whether summoning a Flood Dragon or escaping beyond formation barriers, all major rituals relied on the power of the Heavenly Wood Saplings.

At least, that was what the martial artists here believed.

The Tyrant King was fated to take her.

The upcoming wedding was meant to publicly declare Peng Yeol-ran’s dominion over Cheon So-so. To make it known to all.

To the various Iron Clan villages that still harbored resentment, to the vagabonds, to the other Twin King who controlled Tiger Lake, and to the Hidden Lord Gong Huh Jin of Kunlun Sect and the Ghost Lord Man Ho Gae of Beggars' Sect.

Yet, Icy White Cheon So-so and the Ghostly Tyrant King had vanished.

Whether they were together or apart, no one knew.

They would not reveal themselves until the wedding ceremony and were only expected to appear at the designated ritual hall on the appointed day.

After learning all of this, Jeong Yeon-shin remained secluded in the guest quarters, refusing to leave.

Old masters who had heard of the defeat of their gatekeepers loitered near his room, but Wind Lord Li Shi-myeong kept them at bay, summoning them separately to prevent any reckless action.

And so, five days passed.

The vast manor of the Scattered Pagoda of the Peng Clan regained its revelry.

The scent of roasting meat and liquor wafted through the air, while faint moonlit clouds drifted slowly under the dark sky.

It was the eve of the wedding.

Aged martial masters and certain Ming Nobles sat around the manor's courtyards and banquet halls, drinking wine and playing Go.

Most did not bother to suppress their auras, so the intangible waves of their powerful martial energy rippled through the air, stronger than even the scent of alcohol.

It was as if an unseen mist had thickened upon the earth.

"Tomorrow, then."

"Our lord is quite the peculiar one... insisting on holding this wedding."

"This isn’t even the outer martial world. What does it matter what happens here?"

"Do you think they’ll just sit idly by? There might have been no point in choosing an auspicious day."

"The Hidden Lord is indifferent to worldly matters. He will not come."

"The problem is the Radiant King and the Ghost Lord."

"We only need to hold out until our lord lifts Seonmok Lord’s veil. No matter how strong they are, surely we can at least manage that..."

"I am also curious about the new guest. Do you think Wind Lord is overestimating himself?"

"His display of force was indeed formidable. Perhaps it would be better to cut him down now."

"A wise suggestion. You said Golden Seal Gate has arrived?"

And then—

Step.

From the corner of the courtyard where the banquet was held.

A figure clad in a strikingly ornate white robe stepped forward.

They were covered head to toe, with only the bridge of their nose visible beneath a silver mask.

“Hmm? You are...”

The gaze of an elderly martial master meeting the silver-masked figure’s eyes suddenly turned hazy.

It was a quiet, seamless occurrence—without a single disturbance in the air.

The masked figure’s lips moved beneath the silver mask.

“I am looking for the young guest.”

A whisper, yet it carried the weight of a command.

A smirk played at the figure’s lips, their noble bearing tinged with mockery as they regarded the old man before them.

The bearded elder’s expression softened, as if he were beholding the most beautiful being in the world.

As if entranced, he slowly raised a hand and pointed toward a side chamber where the lanterns had been extinguished.

It appeared to be the room of a sleeping occupant.

“There.”

The masked figure’s lips curled into a faint smile.

They had not expected him to be sleeping.

And then—

Woom—

Suddenly, all conversation ceased.

Those old masters who had, until now, ignored the masked figure’s presence due to some hidden stealth technique, all turned their gazes in unison.

A dark, unlit chamber.

Beyond the rice paper doors, the silhouette of a seated figure in meditation was visible.

A faint glow, neither bright nor dim, wavered around them, forming the shape of a person.

As if cloaked in moonlight.

Flash—!

The Moonlight Figure reflected on the rice paper intensified.

At the same moment, the lanterns hanging around the banquet hall were pushed away, their flames flickering in the opposite direction.