Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 277: Wu Wei (5)

Step.

As he walked, Jeong Yeon-shin cast a glance at the Singeom Danju.

He had mentioned standards—but surely, he hadn't meant the hunched gaze of a monkey.

The Singeom Danju of Ipwang Fortress. There was no one Jeong Yeon-shin respected more among his direct superiors.

The formless blade of light he had drawn when he executed the Namgung Clan Leader was still an enigma. Even now, it was difficult to comprehend how it had been unsheathed.

“You don’t have to go easy on me.”

“Pointless worry, you cheeky brat. You won’t be disappointed.”

The Singeom Danju grinned sharply.

And then—

“This is the place.”

A clear voice rang from above. The guide from the noble family spoke, though there was little need to listen.

The answer was already visible in the radiant glow before them.

The forest opened up, revealing—

A lake.

Bathed in moonlight.

Not even a single ripple disturbed its surface.

At some point, the winter air had dissipated.

The scent of spring drifted in. The vast expanse of moonlight spread over the water like a layer of blue lacquer.

A windless zone.

The faint breeze that had stirred the trees moments ago now unraveled behind Jeong Yeon-shin, as if bowing in reverence.

“Go in first. This lord will be lying down, asleep. The water qi here is remarkably divine—I should refine my jingqi while I’m at it. Besides, I have no interest in watching a grown man strip.”

Without hesitation, the Singeom Danju sprawled out on the spot. He didn’t even open his eyes to see whether the guide left or not.

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded silently and removed his uncle’s long robe and martial attire.

Rustle.

The bandages wrapped around his torso were exposed. Bloodstains still lingered in places.

The wounds left by transcendent swordsmen did not heal easily. The jingqi embedded in them was simply too potent.

As he reached for his bandages, preparing to unwind them, his hand suddenly froze.

Eyes.

Not just one or two.

He could feel the gazes locked onto him from all directions, accompanied by an intricate, condensed wave of qi.

The Night War Division?

No.

It was closer to orthodox martial arts than demonic arts.

Cheonjuji Gate’s internal energy.

The flow of their gongli was familiar.

Perhaps because their sect was so rural, they made no effort to conceal the character of their jingqi. His sangdanjeon keenly picked up on their unfiltered curiosity.

They wanted to see how his body was structured.

Did the nobles of secluded sects have a different sense of propriety than the outside world?

How vulgar.

Frowning slightly, Jeong Yeon-shin stepped into the lake.

Only then did the presences of the noble warriors begin to fade, one by one.

Splash.

Water lapped at his ankles, then rose to his thighs.

As the gentle current embraced his lower body—

Suddenly.

Thump—

The radiant wheel of his heart pulsed.

The Lord’s...?

Jeong Yeon-shin’s lips parted slightly.

Beneath the moon-drenched lake, a faint ripple of light began to spread.

***

The tree trunks stretched in wild, unrestrained lines throughout the assembly hall.

“The children were quite taken with them,” one of the elders remarked.

“As they should be. How long has it been since we last welcomed an outsider?” another elder responded.

The walls were steeped in deep shades of brown.

Surrounding them, vines and leaves shimmered in gentle hues, their colors contrasting against the five figures seated in a loose circle around the broad, gnarled roots of an ancient tree.

Two elderly figures with deeply lined faces.

Cheong Bohwa, the sect leader.

A man and woman, both bearing youthful appearances.

The elderly man and woman conversed, their discussion occasionally punctuated by comments from the younger pair seated beneath them.

“That child, Shin So-bin, displayed impeccable martial technique. To generate such force with a frame like that... I found myself itching to ask about the secret behind her fajing. It was truly refined movement.”

“She must be of the Ipwang Shen lineage. Did you not see how a single burst of movement shattered Nan-song’s resolve? They say that warriors from Ipwang Fortress are like sharpened blades honed through countless battles, but who would have thought one so young could dominate so decisively? The way the qi waves shifted within the linear strikes... She controlled the wind with her fajing.”

Murmuring voices trickled through the air like a passing breeze.

“The scapula—perhaps from Tianzong Acupoint—she must have expelled qi waves in a direct, concentrated burst. While only Ma Gwang-ik and Ma Gwang-ik would know the exact technique, an ordinary body wouldn’t be able to withstand such jingqi output. It was an overwhelming strike.”

“The concept itself is simple enough. But to take mere intention and manifest it so fully into martial technique... That is what makes it a true absolute skill.”

“Yet we must address the disgrace of a swift defeat. Nan-song will polish Yeondo Cheonsang-geom before they depart, and before that, he should reclaim his honor—”

“Elder Gwon, you speak like a Han scholar. I had assumed you had long forgotten the bonds we formed during the Grand Ming Sect Tournament, yet it seems these outsiders have stirred your martial spirit.”

“My wife...”

This was a Lun Jian—a discussion of the sword.

No one here was foolish enough to argue with mere technique. Instead, they analyzed the essence of the martial arts they had witnessed that morning.

For once, their indifferent expressions melted, revealing rare sparks of genuine interest.

“They called it Guangye-gyeol, did they not? That was far more astonishing. Gyeol is a term reserved for martial disciplines of grand structure, and this technique certainly warranted it. Expanding force through qi wave collisions... Even with meticulous jingqi manipulation, one would struggle to even dream of such a feat. In terms of internal circulation alone, it rivals the most refined orthodox arts of the Nine Great Sects. Its intricacy is... beyond comprehension.”

“Well said. That technique possesses a level of refinement that ordinary intuition could never conceive. The qi waves accumulated and surged in a manner I’ve never seen before. It incorporated elements from countless other techniques.”

“My wife, if that is so, then there is another matter to discuss. In the current Ma Gwang-ik, I saw movements reminiscent of our own clan. He was not born with black hair, was he? Cheongmyeong must have taught him. If so, we cannot simply treat him as an outsider. Perhaps we could entrust him with the sect’s great aspiration...”

“Elder Gwon, that is unacceptable. Even if Ma Gwang-ik’s features are rare and well-defined for the secular world, his ears bear the distinct arc of an outsider. He lacks the qualification. Our sect’s secrets are not to be given away so freely. Moreover, Cheongmyeong is an excommunicated disciple.”

“...I understand for now. Regardless, I am curious about Cheongmyeong’s whereabouts. His qi cannot be sensed from his residence.”

“He is at Cheong-su’s grave. No doubt mourning his younger brother.”

It was the young man with dark hair who answered.

At that moment, Cheong Bohwa spoke.

“Do not speak the name of an excommunicated disciple so lightly. As for Ipwang Fortress, that matter is settled. Feel free to discuss martial arts, but I will not have anyone conversing with one who has abandoned the sect’s doctrine. We do not even have the luxury of defending against the Night War Division right now. Recent movements have been... unsettling.”

“The natural qi of the land is shifting oddly. It is massive—perhaps we must prepare for Ten Mile Death...”

“...Then it seems certain. A great death is coming once again. They have sensed that we are sheltering honored guests. We must not view Singeom Danju and Ma Gwang-ik as expendable forces.”

“I understand, Sect Leader.”

The young man bowed his head.

“How long do you plan to keep the lake open?”

It was the young woman who asked—Ji Geom-hyang.

She had lost to Tae Yeom-ryong, yet she still attended the gathering. Her hand remained pressed lightly against the bruised center of her chest.

“Until the two of them can move freely.”

Ji Geom-hyang’s eyes widened.

“You mean until they are fully recovered? I must object.”

“I was moved by Ma Gwang-ik’s humility. Such character is exceedingly rare, even in the secular world.”

“Ah...”

“Every word he spoke was sincere. His praise for Nan-song and Geom-hyang was genuine. Not a single syllable of flattery.”

A faint, wry smile curved on Cheong Bohwa’s aged lips.

She swept her gaze across the gathered warriors.

Foll𝑜w current novels on fɾēewebnσveℓ.com.

“You all sensed the same, did you not?”

The warriors of the assembly nodded. Murmurs of agreement followed, even from the elder woman who had earlier questioned his worth.

“Hm. If that is the case, then Ma Gwang-ik deserves to be treated with the same courtesy he has shown us.”

And just as she finished speaking—

Suddenly, the dense undergrowth of the hall rustled violently.

A frantic voice called out from beyond.

“Ha Hyeon and Mae-hyang’s birds are dead! Arrows! Arrows imbued with qi waves! You must come at once!”

***

Noble clans raise spirit beasts.

They were far more intelligent than carrier pigeons. Beasts raised through sacred arts possessed intelligence comparable to that of humans.

They were connected to the high-ranking members of the noble clans through their spirits. If the master who had raised them since birth perished, they would die alongside them.

One of them lost its connection. The next day, another warrior failed to return.

It continued. All of them had been warriors assigned to patrol the mountains. They were either found pierced by arrows or passed away peacefully in the village.

The disappearances increased drastically after the arrival of the Sword Master and Ma Gwang-ik.

There was no room for speculation. Cheonju Gate had an archenemy.

A force that could not be called by the character for brightness—those of the dark clans, the Amya Warband.

The noble clans entered battle formation.

“It’s not unusual for a few of them to slip in from time to time... but it does feel like there are more than usual.”

“Dusk is setting. Be careful.”

“In one quarter of an hour, their sense for detecting us will surpass ours by several levels.”

Each of them unsheathed their swords and prepared their bows, keeping their inner power circulating at all times. No one was particularly concerned about the group from Ipwang Fortress anymore.

The once gentle breeze turned as cold as a midwinter gale. It reached all the way to the stone house where Ma Gwang-ik was staying.

The dwelling, built like a fortress with stones cut by supreme swordsmen, loomed in the darkness.

“It’s unsettling.”

Sitting on the stone wall, tapping his heel against it, Hyeon Won-chang muttered.

The fluttering end of his heroic scarf, usually lively, had lost its usual energy since his defeat at the hands of Gi Geomhyang of Cheonju Gate.

Rustle.

A cascade of black hair flowed beside him. Shin Sobin had leapt onto the wall. She spoke right away.

“If they’re archenemies, then this must’ve been going on for a long time, right? Cheonju Gate doesn’t seem like they’d be easily troubled by it. The real issue here is your expression. The Blue Poppy Master says it’s irritating to look at how gloomy you are.”

“It’s Hyeon Won.”

“Relax your face a little. Losing once isn’t the end of the world.”

“Losing once? Our leader has never lost. Meanwhile, I lost using Gwangyeol Art. I’ve stained Ma Gwang-ik’s name.”

“The only thing we expect from the Great Snow Sword is to talk big, you know?”

“You talk too much for someone at your level.”

A faint smile tugged at Hyeon Won-chang’s lips.

A clan. A sect.

Ties of martial arts secrets and bonds of loyalty brought people together. Ma Gwang-ik was becoming closer to something akin to a sect unified under the lineage of refined arts.

Led by their master, Jeong Yeon-shin, they were bound like senior and junior disciples. In the treacherous world of martial arts, such ties could become stronger than blood.

“Has the leader not told you anything? He practically lives by the lakeshore. Feels like it’s been ages since I last saw him. Shouldn’t he at least show his face?”

“So that’s what you were aiming for.”

“I can’t go check myself, can I? What if I run into our leader naked?”

“You’re acting like it’d be a problem, but you actually want to go.”

Shin Sobin didn’t respond, only smiling brightly. Shaking his head, Hyeon Won-chang spoke again.

“Don’t let your guard down too much. This place isn’t like Bloodflame Cult or any other mindlessly violent sect. Their defenses aren’t built like an impenetrable fortress. It’s more like a camouflage that disrupts perception.”

“I did think it was strange. If this place had a defensive formation, why are they always so on edge?”

“Apparently, a few of them slip in regularly. The grudges between the past generations of these clans run deep. There’s a madness woven into this conflict. I can feel it—the killing intent here is overwhelming.”

“Cheongmyeong’s younger brother got caught up in that, right? Come to think of it, even Magum hasn’t been around lately... Anyway, what exactly is the leader doing?”

“The Sword Master and the leader have been talking without pause, all while recovering. It doesn’t seem like they’re exchanging mere idle words.”

“Huh...? Could it be that the leader is receiving special teachings from the Sword Master? That’s never happened before, has it?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

Hyeon Won-chang nodded without hesitation.

***

The Amya Warband’s Immeasurable Squad, Son Sang-myeong, had an expansive field of vision.

He was born into a noble lineage. His perspective was fundamentally different from that of his Han Chinese counterparts.

Even if their inner power was at the same level and their martial skills were identical, he could take on two or three of them at once. If he had the right distance, he could handle ten.

Woosh.

The Dark Sky Bow Demon, Son Sang-myeong, ran. Even at full speed, the only sound was the gentle rustling of grass beneath his feet.

His immense field of view constantly narrowed in. It was a realm of speed permitted only to his clan. Even his visual processing was superior.

He smiled as he ran.

Finally, he had been chosen.

He had infiltrated a village built by traitors to his clan. It was time to discipline these disgraceful wretches.

‘Check the lake first.’

He had to mark the target for the Absolute Secret Art Ten-Li Kill and tag them with Pursuit Incense. What happened afterward wasn’t his concern.

They said that even reaching him through normal means was nearly impossible. The moment the incense was applied, he might die.

It didn’t matter. His mission was to bring death to such an opponent. Once the sacred incense was placed, the vast range of the bow formation would ensure the kill.

The Ten-Li Kill, the technique that had elevated the Amya Warband to the ranks of the Thirteen Heavens.

It had taken down even a few of the black-clad warriors of Ipwang Fortress. The Warband’s reputation as an unmatched assassin sect had been built upon it.

‘A grand finale awaits.’

Rustle.

The next moment, his vision opened up.

The silence carried the scent of water mixed with moonlight. A vast lakeshore stretched before him. A woman stood in front, her back to him.

Golden hair cascaded down her back, reaching her waist. She seemed to be gazing at something in the distance.

There was no reason to avoid her. He didn’t want to. There was no need for efficiency.

Swish.

‘A lowly clan.’

Son Sang-myeong lunged to kill her. The inner power in the yongcheon acupoint at the soles of his feet stealthily spread across the ground, while the breeze brushing against his face felt faint.

He pulled a dagger from his robe, gripping it in reverse. A soundless, refined maneuver.

In an instant, he closed the distance. The woman’s back loomed larger in his sight.

Whoosh.

Just before striking, his body froze.

Suddenly, the moonlight deepened. Something grabbed his attention.

A presence surged vividly. Not far ahead, a quiet energy rippled. Slowly, he lifted his gaze.

Bathed in the soft glow of the moon, in the middle of the lake—

Step. Step.

With each step, transparent ripples spread in widening circles. A figure was walking across the surface of the lake, stepping on the bluish reflection of the moon.

Long, black hair swayed as if reaching down to his shoulder blades, accompanied by an overwhelming, chilling aura.

A youthful face with an eerie sense of divinity. Power so dense it seemed to claim the heavens.

Son Sang-myeong’s vision widened both above and below. His eyes had opened unconsciously.

‘Stepping on Water...!’

The boy was walking across the full moon.