Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 403: Transcendent Realm (3)
Jeong Yeon-shin's hair billowed in long strands.
He was facing a coordinated assault from two Transcendent Masters—a situation where waiting for their techniques to reach completion was not an option.
Saaa—
Above him.
The Formless Sword, which had been solidifying into a vague yet elongated shape, shattered into countless fragments—an incomplete vortex of blade energy, now nothing more than scattered ashen-white remnants of disrupted Qi.
Transparent sunlight refracted in all directions, breaking apart in delicate, shifting beams.
The milky-white Qi that had wrapped around his limbs dissipated into mist before vanishing entirely.
The Celestial Emperor Sword Form, wielded by Namgung Mu-jin, had been unraveled.
A flicker of intrigue passed through Jeong Yeon-shin’s gaze.
He was still locked in a direct clash with him.
From his grip on Yeoroe to his elbow, the weight pressing down on his arm was tremendous.
A Formless Sword of such caliber should have left behind an immense recoil, yet Namgung Mu-jin had not been pushed back even a fraction.
It was the foundation of martial refinement—though he had joined Wulong Assembly, his meridians and Eight Extraordinary Channels were still upheld by orthodox martial arts.
The level of internal energy surpasses that of the former Namgung Patriarch... and his swordsmanship is at a Transcendent level...
Jeong Yeon-shin activated the Encircling Descent Formula through the Yongcheon Acupoint in his sole.
The ground tore apart beneath him—a vast spiral imprint instantly engraving itself onto the terrain.
A surge of forceful propulsion.
[That bastard...!]
Namgung Mu-jin’s expression momentarily froze, his pale eyes flashing.
In that instant—
A whip-like kick shot upward and slammed into his abdomen.
The impact was deep and heavy.
Crackle—!
Colorless lightning sparked in the air. His Qi Barrier reacted violently—the Thunder Armor of the Namgung Clan.
That was the only reason he remained unscathed.
But the impact had landed cleanly.
His slightly parted lips were proof of that.
Jeong Yeon-shin frowned slightly.
His intent had been to rupture the man’s stomach in a single strike, but—as expected, the lifelines of Transcendent Masters were notoriously stubborn.
Just like that damned lizard from the Ten Sects, who had faked his death countless times before finally perishing.
And then.
A strange sensation crawled up his back.
Like dozens of needles plunging into his flesh at once—a piercing force, as if something had already reached point-blank range.
The Sun Phoenix Driving Radiance Bow Art.
An arrow was right behind him, surging forward with an invisible wave of force.
The pressure was immense—the very air itself wavered, as if distorted by sheer force.
Jeong Yeon-shin dug the tip of his foot deeper into Namgung Mu-jin’s abdomen.
A full-body surge of internal energy.
Through the Taichong Acupoint beneath his big toe, he unleashed the Radiant Wheel Energy in a controlled explosion.
Zzzzzang!
His somersault was graceful.
As his body soared, his purple robes flared around him, sweeping through the air.
Namgung Mu-jin, who had suddenly become nothing more than a stepping stone, was forced back a step.
And at that precise moment—
Thunk!
The arrow crashed into the ground where he had just stood.
The earth split apart with a deep, resonant crack.
A web of spidering fractures raced outward in every direction, shaking the terrain as clouds of white dust surged up.
The sheer aftershock of the Warlord Archer's shot.
And amidst the chaos—
Step.
Jeong Yeon-shin landed elegantly, his sword poised downward, the gleaming white blade of Yeoroe reflecting the fading sunlight beneath his purple robes.
A deep silence descended.
A sight so absurd that any martial artist would have rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
The Lord of Ma Gwang-ik, Seomye.
He had stood alone against two of the most powerful Transcendent Masters—Namgung’s First Sword and a Lord of the Thirteen Heavens—and emerged unscathed.
He had calculated the precise interval between Celestial Emperor Sword Form and Sun Phoenix Driving Radiance Bow Art, disrupting their synergy.
His movements were direct yet profound, his perception so fast that he occupied the very fraction of time itself.
“...Should we move a little closer? Maybe we’re too far back?”
Behind him.
Yeon So-ha leaned forward, whispering toward Shingeom Squad Leader Yong Hui-myeong.
"Wouldn't it be better to stay closer to Lord Jeong?"
"...Lord Jeong?"
"With that level of skill, wouldn't it be safer for us to keep a reasonable distance? If we get caught off guard, we’d only be a burden. Besides, dodging the Warlord Archer’s shots is just as much our problem as it is for you, Squad Leader... at least for now."
"Squad Leader? Are you talking about me?"
"They say clinging to old, frayed ropes keeps you from achieving greatness. It’s a famous proverb in the Far East, I hear."
"Who told you that?"
Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.
"A fortune teller I met in Liaodong. He was wearing a scholar’s hat, definitely a man from the eastern lands."
"...I’ve never met a fortune teller who was actually worth anything."
"Then I must be the first. I just got chills."
Their lighthearted conversation cut to the heart of the matter.
A space where Shingeom Yeoroe could deflect even the blows of a Transcendent Master.
At that moment, Yong Hui-myeong and Yeon So-ha took steady steps forward.
They halted exactly twenty paces away—behind Jeong Yeon-shin.
‘The Squad Leader read the situation well.’
Jeong Yeon-shin recalled Ten Li Light Steps’s origins.
The tale of Cheongmyeong’s fallen brother, who had died to a Ten Li One Shot—and the insights it had given Yong Hui-myeong.
For a Shingeom Squad Leader who had contributed to the creation of new martial arts, gauging sword range was second nature.
He had clearly seen Jeong Yeon-shin’s blade reach in their brief exchange.
"Twenty steps. I see."
Namgung Mu-jin murmured.
A flicker of cold light flashed across his eyes as he glanced at Yong Hui-myeong and Yeon So-ha.
"More like thirty paces. The fact that you can extend your swordplay so far, even while facing both me and the Warlord Archer, means you are truly a rare master in this world."
His left hand idly brushed against his stomach.
The fabric of his robes, where Jeong Yeon-shin’s kick had sunk into his flesh, had smoothed back into place.
"But no swordsman should lecture me on the Celestial Emperor Sword Form to my face."
His voice carried a slight edge, mingling irritation with camaraderie.
Perhaps a trait of Wulong Assembly—he respected a man after crossing blades with him.
After all, he was considered one of the few swordsmen who might one day challenge the Celestial Pole Sect Master.
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.
"If you hadn’t focused the form’s force on my limbs, your Formless Sword would have fully materialized."
"It wouldn’t have been something you could shatter."
Namgung Mu-jin stroked his beard, smirking.
"The Celestial Emperor Sword Form is too well-known. Even my young nephew failed against you in his early days. But the first martial art you ever revealed to the world—yes, that Encircling Descent Formula—caught your opponents fatally off guard."
Jeong Yeon-shin's voice was calm.
"You lost. You lost your sword."
Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.
"Congratulations on your achievement."
He suddenly recalled the moment when he first learned how to imbue his sword with internal energy.
Back then, during the Ipwang City's martial tournament, his opponent had been Baek Girin, Namgung Hwa-shin, who had stood guard over him. Unlike the Jeong Household members, who struggled to find authority in third-rate martial arts, Namgung Hwa-shin had been different.
That day, for the first time in his life, Jeong Yeon-shin received a congratulatory remark on his martial progress.
This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.
It was the moment he felt xia (俠)—the chivalry he had never encountered in the narrow world of the Jeong Household. And from then on, he experienced it even more.
Namgung Se-jin, the Cheonggirin, had once bowed to Jeong Yeon-shin in apology for his sister's transgressions. Despite being the So-ga-ju and over nine years his senior.
Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.
"How many of my people have you cut down so far?"
"Probably not even five. We haven’t been outright hostile toward Ipwang Fortress."
Namgung Mu-jin answered smoothly. ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) The shoulders of the middle-aged swordsman, seemingly jesting with a casual shrug, emitted an imperceptible ripple of power.
He appeared to be stabilizing the internal injury he had suffered from Hwan-gang’s kick.
The Heavenly Thunder Emperor Divine Art of the Namgung Clan was an ancient and profound martial art. It was famous for greatly amplifying pure Yang energy, allowing its practitioners to avoid deviation into madness.
Jeong Yeon-shin was indifferent.
"And now, after all this time, why have you let yourself be swayed by Yeoryeongju’s schemes?"
"For a greater cause."
The First Sword of Namgung within the Wurong Society genuinely seemed to acknowledge Ma Gwang-ik. There was a deep resonance in his low voice. For a moment, sincerity could be felt.
"A greater cause?"
"The famine has grown severe, yet you have done nothing but tighten your grip on the martial world. You prohibit blind plundering and force those with swords to make a choice. Either pass the martial examinations, fight in Ipwang City’s tournament, or till the fields and sustain themselves... All in the name of maintaining order."
"...Is there a problem with that?"
Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly.
"There are those who may one day reach the pinnacle of martial arts—those who might transcend the very limits of human existence. Such individuals, guided by destiny, will inevitably take up weapons in some form. These are the ones who elevate the dignity of mankind. Like you, like So Cheonmujuk of the Ming Cult. Further ahead, perhaps like the Lord of Heaven’s Summit or the War God of the Northern Lands."
"......"
"But such people aren’t necessarily born into martial sects, are they? Should those with martial talent be made to plow fields instead? Time already runs short for them to attain true strength."
Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t tell if this was genuine belief or mere rhetoric.
The signature blue robes of the Namgung Clan fluttered. Was this the peculiar madness of the Thirteen Heavens’ peerless martial masters? Blood vessels pulsed across Namgung Mu-jin’s reddening eyes.
"A transcendent being is needed—one unshackled by mere rain and soil. The world is changing. In this wretched famine, commoners resort to eating their own children, while a woman who stole a silver coin from her hidden noble lover was hunted down and slain by his guards... How hollow, how pitiful. How much lower must we sink?"
The tale of the woman hiding her noble lover’s identity—it felt as if Namgung Mu-jin were speaking about himself.
It was just a feeling. The most powerful family in Southern Zhili—a military power in all but name—could never truly mix with commoners.
Crack—
Suddenly, a dry, splitting sound echoed, like parched earth tearing apart. Namgung Mu-jin’s voice steadily rose.
"We, the warriors of the martial world, have surpassed the limits of the flesh through martial arts! Should we not then prove human dignity through martial prowess? We are not mere vermin to be swept away by a poor harvest! The ground is not all that exists—the sky is ours to claim! The arrival of the Martial God will engrave the boundless potential of mankind upon the heavens!"
"......"
Jeong Yeon-shin suddenly recalled the Bloodflame Cultists drinking blood as if it were water.
Wurong Society was no different.
Demonic heresy.
Completely insane. If this was martial arts, then this was its ultimate deviation. The Thirteen Heavens’ grandmasters had truly incomprehensible views.
"Martial arts, too, are a product of human wisdom! What is so wrong about gathering like-minded individuals to refine the ultimate essence? It pains me! I grieve for the martial talents who perished without ever blossoming, constrained by the likes of you...!"
"You seem to have lost your xia as well."
That was Jeong Yeon-shin’s final remark.
Namgung Mu-jin’s face twisted in rage, his sword trembling as a heartbeat-like reverberation spread.
Thump—
[The Sword Paints the Night with Moonlight.]
The overwhelming spiritual resonance of a peerless grandmaster erupted.
Namgung Mu-jin’s eyes turned completely white—pure incandescence.
The mark of a grandmaster.
A martial art that transcended the human realm.
Moonlight Saber Dance.
A massive shadow loomed over Jeong Yeon-shin.
Above his head, a colossal, ten-jang-long formless sword took shape. The speed of its manifestation was incomparable to that of creating a shapeless blade.
The intent was clear.
He had no intention of leaving Jeong Yeon-shin in any state to challenge the Commander of the Divine Sword Squad.
At the same time.
In the void, a streak of light flickered and stretched, connecting a distant point directly to Jeong Yeon-shin.
It was as if moonlight was unraveling like a silken thread. Along the line, a soft, shimmering radiance pulsed.
[The Path to Shoot the Moon.]
Was it because he had honed this technique for countless years? The spiritual resonance overflowed uncontrollably, sweeping across the dirt like an echo. It was the Moonlight Saber Dance of the Dark Night’s Master.
"......"
The ground was veiled in a shadow as dark as the night sky.
A young man stood with a trail of light stretching behind him, while an older man loomed beneath an enormous sword.
Whoooosh—
The sound of a great gale, as if a storm was thrashing within a cavern, filled the air.
Jeong Yeon-shin gripped Yeorae tightly, speaking slowly as he reflected on Namgung Mu-jin’s absurd logic. A fierce determination began to creep into his expression.
"Have you ever witnessed an eclipse?"
His voice rumbled like a lion’s growl.
Somewhere in the depths of his mind, his grandfather’s voice rippled like a distant tide.
—Look to the Commander of the Divine Sword Squad.
