Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 334: Grandfather and Grandson (7)

How long had it been since he entered the martial world?

Two years...?

Jeong Yeon-shin couldn’t recall exactly.

After all, thinking about time was also a reminder of how much remained—an awareness he instinctively tried to suppress.

It would bring to mind the things he once wished to do at twenty, the shape of the house he had imagined building for his future family, the encounters with the Seventh Apostle, or how his body naturally reacted when watching over Shin So-bin’s martial progress.

Even the strange temperament that occasionally surfaced past his natural humility—all of it only served to either intensify his fear of death or force him to acknowledge it anew.

Once, a comrade from the Azure Sky Corps had told him:

"The Acting Leader’s path is like a light step across the vast plains—always fleeting, never stopping."

He also remembered the praise from the Scribes of the Grand Bureau.

"One of the Black Steel Triad will be the next leader of the Divine Sword Corps, and after that, the one to follow will be none other than the Ma Gwang-ik Lord."

"Your footprints carve the shape of a sacred sword."

"You run like a man who sees only forward, as if even the future is not enough."

But Jeong Yeon-shin did not think so.

He simply feared looking back.

He hesitated to confirm how much time had passed and how he had walked that path.

Because he wondered if another path—a better path—might have been possible.

The martial world was far too harsh and too difficult a place.

A life-and-death battle against the Holy Radiance Sword General, fought alone.

It had been terrifying.

Even if he fought again, he couldn’t be certain he would win.

Perhaps only the people of Liaodong would name Mo Yong Jung-rak among the Ten Great Masters—but there was no doubt.

The Holy Radiance Sword General had been a peerless martial artist whose name shook the world.

A man capable of replacing an entire army.

The fact that their battle ended in near-mutual destruction was a stroke of fortune.

The Meteor Sword embedded in his abdomen had carried a terrifying sword force.

A true master’s swordplay always transcended theories of victory and defeat.

The wave of sword energy extending from a single stab had long since sunk into his body.

The countless mysteries contained in that single strike—

Among them was a terrifying weight manipulation technique.

Jeongga’s Movement Art had done little more than preserve the corpse in presentable condition.

Death.

The last thing he remembered was the powerlessness of his body sinking, his vision fading into darkness.

Collapsed beside Mo Yong Jung-rak, his consciousness had been dragged into an abyss.

Was this how it felt to exhaust one's lifespan at the Crown Acupoint?

Many faces surfaced in his mind.

His niece, his second brother, his beloved Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

The comrades who had exchanged their lives with him in brotherhood, the connections he had made in the martial world.

And the Seventh Apostle, whose actions had saved him, and in doing so, had spared his uncle and dozens of his comrades in Ipwang Fortress...

As Jeong Yeon-shin sank into the void, he thought:

I should have repaid them.

In this moment, the only things he could hold onto like fragile straws were his feelings and memories of them.

Even as death painted his mind in black, Jeong Yeon-shin felt gratitude.

This fear, at least, was not an empty, meaningless terror.

"In the end... even you, too, have filled my journey in this world..."

The divine spirit lingering in the Brilliant Wheel of his heart began to fade into the distance.

The wheel, wrought from Bodhidharma’s incarnation, slowly lost its light.

Suddenly, a pair of frenzied red eyes flashed through his mind.

Together with the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, those eyes had been the greatest influence upon him.

The gaze that had always remained fixed on him alone surfaced once more—only to blur as his consciousness dimmed.

Jeong Yeon-shin understood unreciprocated goodwill.

She, too, might come to accept resignation with indifference.

She likely wouldn't be pleased about it.

"Namgung Hero."

In the end, he spoke to Cheonggirin Namgung Se-jin.

I wanted to be like you.

But ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ my limbs are still too short for that.

Forcing himself to ignore his impending death, Jeong Yeon-shin laughed.

Slowly—

His consciousness was embraced by a soundless gray void.

In the end, he felt nothing.

Exactly as he had always imagined his final moments.

And then, suddenly—

Thump—

Even as the wick of his energy heart was pierced by true energy, he could not escape the abyss.

Even as warm energy filled his Twelve Major Meridians and 365 Acupoints, even as it sank into his very bones, he remained deeply asleep.

Only Jeongga’s Movement Art stirred on its own, reacting to the miraculous transformation occurring within his body.

—Mother?

In his unconscious dream, he spoke.

Forgetting everything about the present moment.

—No... it's the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

Updat𝒆d fr𝑜m freewebnøvel.com.

The sensation of someone nurturing his body with martial energy.

It was gentle and warm.

So much so that it reminded him of the soft, guiding touch of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress.

His wandering mind briefly considered that it might be his maternal grandfather—but quickly dismissed the thought.

That would have been far too embarrassing.

Thump— Thump—

His Heart Beat Like a War Drum.

The blood vessels and muscles within his body surged, boiling over as if writhing in a frenzy.

The circulating flow of qi, behaving as though it intended to remold his body into something unrecognizable, felt almost insolent in its audacity.

It sought to reshape him entirely—a transformation that bordered on the miraculous.

It was a dream.

Yet, the sensation that it was remaking not only his muscles and meridians but even his very bones was all too real.

Even though his body had already been forged to its utmost limits, Jeongga's Movement Art burned within him, striving to surpass even the pinnacle of mastery.

To go any further, he would have to create something from nothing—and yet, his upper elixir field burned incandescently as if that, too, were possible.

"—It’s possible? Lord Ipwang... truly...?"

The qi first began altering the major meridians along his upper body, where the Great Circulatory Path divided his torso.

Was it trying to find its own optimal path?

Even as the flow of transformation moved beyond his control, tightening the ligaments along his spine, he instinctively spoke.

"—Apologies. But I don’t think that’s the right way."

And just like that, the change halted.

It had been a simple thing.

The ligaments stopped shifting.

With inborn talent transcending even the legendary art of Bone and Marrow Refinement, he had contained the transformation within his will.

Neither qi nor his physical body could disobey him.

They never had.

"—Lightning-Slicing Ridge Stroke and Formless Wukong Fist are both aggressive and swift martial arts. Their linear attacks make for quick victories, but they lack adaptability. If the muscles along the Supporting Root tendons are woven thicker and more elastic, it’ll be easier to introduce variation. The radius bone in my wrist also needs to be reinforced."

It moved exactly as he commanded.

It molded itself to his specifications.

Even in his dreamlike state, he felt the certainty of it.

Jeong Yeon-shin felt amused.

It was as if he were playing a child's game—one he could never have imagined in Jeongga Manor.

Alongside him, in his mind, stood the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, the incarnation of martial perfection.

In this illusory realm, the act of reshaping his own body felt as effortless as sculpting sandcastles.

He had always been good at playing alone.

"—The Yongcheon Acupoint should be as wide as possible. The Ten-League Void Step is a movement art of my own design, but it’s quite the masterpiece, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps it’ll be pleasing to your eyes, my lord. If you find it enjoyable, then... No? The force of the energy projection is too strong? There’s no need to worry. A person who can’t control their own body—can they even be called human?"

"—The length of the limbs determines one's reach. My height should be maximized. I want my gaze to be the highest in all the world—as if I were Pangu, the giant of Shan Hai Jing... Hmm? Why not...?"

In dreams, the unconscious hides nothing.

Reverence blurred into familiarity.

"—Cartilage. Right. Cartilage is crucial... It should be as unyielding as diamond, constantly sustained by qi, never wearing down. That’s not difficult. The tendons must be woven like divine silkworm threads, binding my joints together like... this..."

"—For counter techniques, the greater the elasticity of my bones and muscles, the better. I’ll shape them following the Jueyin meridians inside the body. Not difficult. The challenge is strengthening and extending the bones at the same time. But in this state... does it even matter how much energy it takes?"

"—...This is a body I can command as I please. If my physique truly reaches this level of refinement, even Three Flowers Gathering at the Peak will be child's play."

His upper and lower body had been fully reforged to his design.

Within this dreamlike trance, Jeongga’s Movement Art reached its pinnacle.

A body crafted to perfectly wield his unique martial arts had taken shape.

Regardless of his depth of knowledge, in terms of physicality alone, he felt confident that he would not lose to even the greatest masters.

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated before speaking.

"—But raising this transformation to the head... that’s impossible, isn’t it?"

The human skull, after all, was said to be a microcosm of all creation.

Since ancient times, it had been called a place where divinity dwelled—for its depths remained unknowable.

The Hundred Meetings Acupoint, located at the crown of the head, was the gateway between the upper elixir field and the heavens.

It was directly connected to the brain.

It could not be altered by force.

The expansion and contraction of its meridians could only occur naturally—even Jeongga’s Movement Art could not fine-tune the brain as if it were any other organ.

That was a sure way to invite death.

Thus, it was ordained by heaven.

One’s lifespan, decreed by fate.

Even bone and marrow refinement was no exception.

Had he allowed this transformation to unfold without restraint, his upper elixir field would have expanded unchecked, just as his middle and lower elixir fields had grown.

There would have been no way to avoid harming his Hundred Meetings Acupoint.

"It’s fine."

Jeong Yeon-shin reassured himself.

And then, suddenly—

awareness came rushing back.

His mind snapped into focus with startling clarity.

So much so that he felt as if he could invite the Lord of Ipwang Fortress into his meditative state—though, of course, he could never replicate her divine presence.

"I'm alive."

His heartbeat pounded louder than ever.

The Brilliant Wheel of his heart, long dulled, had already regained its radiant light.

Hoo—

Then, he caught the faint scent of earth.

Accompanied by excruciating pain that ripped through his entire body.

It was as if his flesh had been torn open and left exposed.

His senses had become hyper-attuned—clearer than they had ever been.

The air of late winter was shockingly crisp.

The strange, incomprehensible unity he now felt with his own body was utterly unfamiliar.

He could not open his eyes.

He could not move his hands.

Only the thunderous presence of figures moving around him reached his ears.

For a moment, Jeong Yeon-shin kept his eyes shut.

He endured the aftershocks of his transformation.

It would take at least dozens of breaths before he could move again.

***

Mo Yong Jung-rak's body lay upon the treeless hills.

The soil, which should have been a dull ochre, had long since been stained dark with blood.

From beneath the corpse of the Radiant Saber Warlord, blood continued to seep—slow, unending.

It was a scene that defied reality.

That was why those clinging to the cliffs or hiding behind rocks had remained in stunned silence for so long.

Among them were mercenaries disguised as scholars, wealthy merchants, third-rate swordsmen, and even famed martial artists—all staring with expressions they could not suppress.

The Radiant Saber Warlord, Mo Yong Jung-rak, had perished in a one-on-one duel to the death.

A clear, undeniable defeat.

The proof lay in the boy lying right beside him, breathing calmly and evenly.

To the assassins present, that sound must have rung like thunder in their ears.

"The Grand Heir of the Celestial Martial Alliance appears to have acted separately from the Alliance Lord. The martial forces under his command are advancing here directly..."

One of the elders, having only now received word, reacted in shock, but quickly fell silent once more.

They had already witnessed too many absurdities today.

The eternal grudge of their order had been avenged in an instant—

Not by their own hands, but by the sword of Ipwang Fortress.

"......."

An uncanny sense of catharsis lingered within the silence.

The supreme overlord who had annihilated the Celestial Demon Tombs and seized the legacy of the Celestial Demon himself was growing colder by the moment.

Every martial artist present, each capable of sensing aura as naturally as touch, could feel it.

They could sense the very heat leaving the corpse of the greatest swordsman of the northeastern plains, the Radiant Saber Warlord.

And so they remained silent.

The fall of an unmatched master—

It was a sight one might never witness in a lifetime.

All the more so when that master had been their sworn enemy.

Had it not been for the four warriors of Ipwang Fortress standing vigil over the boy’s bedside, the assassins among them would already have begun lighting incense in reverence.

"Rebirth... How could this be...?"

The Shadow Blood Sovereign, glancing at his younger brother Hyeon Won-chang, muttered beneath his wide-brimmed black hat.

Even as he watched, he found it difficult to believe.

Something utterly unthinkable had just occurred beside the corpse of a legendary warrior.

Every person present had witnessed the transformation—

A phenomenon so wondrous and terrible, it seemed as if it was consuming the very soul of the heavens themselves.

Time crawled forward along the distant ridgeline, painted in the hues of the setting sun.

Yet, no one moved.

Not until the boy who had slain a legendary warrior—

Opened his eyes.

Revealing the form of a long-limbed young man in his place.