Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 248: Punishment and Fate (5)

The leader of an unorthodox sect had issued an order to apprehend a government official of the Third Rank.

What is this?

It was unimaginable—so much so that even facing it head-on, it was difficult to believe what had just been said.

For a moment, the pitch-black brows of Wang Weixiu, the Zhifu Daein, knitted together. Did this wretched brat just say what I think he did?

The Chugan reacted first. She carefully observed the cold, piercing gaze of Jeong Yeon-shin, seated before her.

"Run!" she shouted.

The crimson silk thread tied to the guard of her sword snapped upward in a sharp arc. With her left hand gripping the hilt, she unleashed a powerful wave of qi.

It was the Golden Collar Autumn Flower Sword Style, a sword technique renowned even in Beijing’s elite circles. When drawn, its strikes swept the surroundings with petal-shaped qi waves.

It was a sword art cherished among the upper echelons of Beijing’s aristocracy, practiced by high-ranking officials.

The Guangye Leader is terrifyingly powerful, the Chugan thought. But his internal and external injuries are severe! I’ll have to deal with their leader first!

Just as she hastily swung her right hand to direct the flow of qi—

From the ceiling to the floor below, a sudden streak of white light flickered and disappeared.

Swish.

The light grazed the Chugan’s shoulder, descending without a sound. There was no warning—just a chilling, sinister aura that seemed to manifest into a razor-sharp trajectory.

Amid the pale mist that lingered, Hyeon Won-chang’s headband fluttered behind him as he crouched low, one foot bent, his posture calm and calculated.

His expression was indifferent. The tip of his blade, unstained by blood, rested lightly against the ground.

Beside him, the Chugan’s severed right arm fell to the floor.

Splurt!

“Aaaahhh—!”

Blood gushed from her shoulder, and the delayed scream erupted. The aftermath of Hyeon Won-chang’s perfectly honed killing strike was horrifyingly precise.

Hyeon Won-chang had seamlessly integrated his swordsmanship into the Guangye Resolve. He had incapacitated the Chugan, a key figure governing the ancient city of Xi’an, with a single, hidden strike.

He was, beyond dispute, one of Ma Gwang-ik’s finest swordsmen—unrivaled in his ability to conceal his presence and strike with absolute precision.

He stood as a true Blue Rank warrior of Ipwang Fortress, and the entire faction followed their leader’s example without hesitation.

"Stop this!" Wang Weixiu rose clumsily, shouting in a booming voice.

But his command was not directed at the Guangye Leader. Instead, he raised a hand to halt his mounted warriors, who were attempting to storm into the inn.

“The man who slayed Gui Baek-shin has spoken of executions. You lackeys would do well to fulfill your duty and lower your weapons. Do you mean to harm me?”

“Some officials are surprisingly quick-witted,” Cheongmyeong said, appearing suddenly with a sly grin. His descent was swift and graceful, his movements precise and forceful, akin to an assassin’s refined agility.

The white glow of his blade gleamed as it lightly touched Wang Weixiu’s neck.

"......."

The inn, already quiet, fell into an even deeper silence. Through the window’s wooden frame, faint sunlight streamed in, highlighting the swirling dust particles.

The Zhifu Daein’s warriors, who had pushed forward to the inn’s entrance, froze in place, their expressions filled with shock and disbelief.

Wang Weixiu remained silent, his thoughts churning.

“Your audacity knows no bounds,” he said finally, his voice laced with tension. “You’re no ordinary unorthodox group. Who are you?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Jeong Yeon-shin replied calmly, still seated.

Wang Weixiu let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh.

As someone who understood the immense value of martial prowess, he recognized what stood before him—a man who commanded elite fighters with a mere flick of his finger, yet had not lifted a single one himself. His authority rivaled even the leaders of the Nine Great Sects or the Thirteen Heavens.

This realization only became clearer the longer he observed. The Chugan, who had looked down on the disciples of the Seven Great Clans, now lay writhing on the ground after a single strike.

And so, Wang Weixiu straightened his posture with renewed boldness.

In a world of survival of the fittest, one’s aura was a reflection of their value. If he wanted to leave this place alive, he needed to elevate his authority, wrapping himself in the guise of unshakable power.

He was nothing like the late Zhifu Daein of Unyang Prefecture, who had perished silently and meekly.

His upbringing, station, and the prestige of the city he governed were all vastly superior.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done, or where you’ve done it?” he began, his tone lofty. “I was born and raised in the esteemed Wang family of Beijing, a house of ministers. I have witnessed the imperial sword dances performed by His Majesty himself. His Majesty personally conferred my rank upon me and promised to remember my face. No matter how skilled you are or how elite your subordinates may be, in broad daylight, you dare to—”

At that moment, the woman standing beside the Guangye Leader opened her mouth. Like him, her aura was cold and imposing, her voice cutting through the air like a northern winter wind.

“You, on the other hand, seem utterly unaware of what you’ve said or done,” she said. “It may be difficult for every official across the land to update their portraits of a certain seventeen-year-old, but your delusions are laughable.”

“Seventeen?” Wang Weixiu scoffed. “A mere bodyguard spouting nonsense—”

He abruptly fell silent.

A brief pause followed.

The martial prowess that had matched Gui Baek-shin, the enigmatic behavior, the disregard for a Zhifu’s status, the strikingly young appearance, the mention of seventeen...

He was no fool. Panic erupted in his mind, transforming into a wave of fear that surged down his spine.

“There seems to have been... some misunderstanding,” Wang Weixiu stammered, quickly adjusting his tone.

He had no other choice.

He had walked willingly into the tiger’s den.

The situation was as laughable as it was absurd. To think he had come here, confessing his crimes to the newly appointed leader of Ipwang Fortress—someone who had crushed his opponents in the Murim Alliance tournament and gained immense renown.

Swish.

Wang Weixiu clasped his hands together and raised them in a formal gesture of apology.

Though he should not have needed to bow his head, he lowered it deeply.

The arrogance of a high-ranking official and a man from an illustrious family had vanished. He prostrated himself as if he were addressing the late Empress Dowager.

“This vast and boundless Shaanxi has become a paradise for demons and unorthodox sects. The destruction of Zhongnan was devastating. As an official, survival demands...”

Slice!

A dark aura slashed across Wang Weixiu’s ear. It was the materialized form of unparalleled qi, sharp as a thread drawn from the abyss.

“Do not sully the ears of the one before you,” Baek Mi-ryeo said, her pale fingers stretching and curling gracefully. “The next will feel the same.”

Wang Weixiu’s feeble attempts at justification turned into screams as blood streamed from the severed ear. He writhed in agony alongside the moaning Chugan, but his guards did not dare approach. They had witnessed the extreme deference he had displayed moments earlier.

“What is...?” murmured the leader of the guards standing at the inn’s entrance, his words tinged with despair.

What had he expected? To see wine cups exchanged? Instead, blood had been spilled.

Amidst the blinding sunlight pouring into the inn, they had no choice but to line up and surrender, one by one.

***

The bloody incident accelerated events that were already inevitable.

The Zhifu Daein and the Chugan were imprisoned in the basement storage of the inn. It was effectively a makeshift prison. There, they were made to confront the armless Gui Baek-shin.

Meanwhile, Shin Sobin and Kang Chang-moo returned with various documents. These scrolls, detailing the actions of Xi'an’s officials, had been stolen from government offices by utilizing their extraordinary stealth techniques.

Upon reviewing the full scope of the situation, the faces of the Zhifu Daein and the Chugan turned pale. Their behavior in front of the Ipwang Fortress Lord had been nothing short of catastrophic.

There was no room for excuses. Any attempt to weave lies might result in their immediate beheading, a fear that kept their expressions rigid and their words frozen.

“They’re all tied up in this together, not just one or two of them. Executing them might even be more trouble than it’s worth,” Cheongmyeong said nonchalantly, squatting on the damp basement floor. “Besides, I hear whispers that even Dongchang is in disarray. Eunuch Myeong-yeo has already been stripped of his position.”

“Please, just kill me! If you release my pressure points, I’ll take my own life!” Wang Weixiu pleaded.

Using his rank, bestowed by the Emperor, Wang Weixiu had exploited others for personal gain and spread lies to deceive the public. The crimes of Xi’an’s officials warranted more than simple execution. According to the Da Ming Lü, the harsh laws of the Ming Dynasty, such crimes demanded the eradication of their entire families. Should this matter reach Beijing, their relatives could face punishment as well.

Wang Weixiu, desperate to end things with his own death, begged for his life to be spared so he could resolve the matter on his own terms.

But his timing was poor.

The officials had already been dismissed from the Guangye Leader’s interest.

“What should we do? This is beyond my jurisdiction,” Cheongmyeong said with a grin.

Above their heads, on the first floor of the inn, Baek Mi-ryeo, her fingers still dripping with blood, reported to Jeong Yeon-shin after concluding the interrogation of Gui Baek-shin.

“It won’t be easy. Jongnam’s disciple, Jeong Hye...”

The young Guangye Leader felt an overwhelming fatigue. His entire body seemed to be giving out. Though he masked it from his companions, the aftereffects were severe. The flaws of his burst-style martial arts, designed for short-term decisive battles, were now painfully clear.

Adding to the strain was the urgent message delivered through Jin Myeong-jo, the head of the Blood Restoration Division, and the covert network of Ipwang Fortress:

Shaanxi, Imzhou Prefecture: The Pak Gumjong Sect Master has left their headquarters and is heading south alone, at a speed unmatched by their subordinates.Shaanxi, Hanzhong Prefecture: The First Apostle of the Blood Flame Sect has been spotted heading north with terrifying agility.Shaanxi, Bongshang Prefecture: The First Sword of Yeoryeong Province has emerged. The notorious Wei Geuk-sang, known as Shaanxi’s Greatest Demon, destroyed Mount Hua Sect’s Plum Blossom Sword Formation and fled.Mount Hua Sect: Their leader, the Sacred Sword Saint Yulha Nara, has descended the mountain wielding the legendary Purple Mist Divine Sword.I need to prepare—whether to recover or create the fourth Sword Technique.

Though the toll was high for facing martial artists of the highest caliber, Jeong Yeon-shin knew he had to push beyond those limits. It was his destiny to break through the natural boundaries of strength.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Shaanxi was a battlefield of sects, a constant clash between giants. Another encounter with one of the strongest martial artists could occur at any moment.

I need to conceptualize the next phase of the Lightning Sword’s techniques—something that won’t strain my body.

Ideas began to surface.

At this point, Jeong Yeon-shin had an abundance of inspiration to draw upon—rumors about the orthodox martial arts of Shaolin and Wudang, insights into various disciplines overheard from the elders and mentors of Ipwang Fortress, and even the fleeting sensations of wind brushing against his skin.

The glowing white light in his upper dantian whispered to him, assuring him of his boundless potential.

You’ll say that, won’t you? You, at least, will believe in me.

As he organized these thoughts and his gaze settled on Baek Mi-ryeo’s lips, a sudden shock hit him like lightning at his crown.

“Hmm...?”

A tingling sensation surged through his Baihui acupuncture point at the top of his head. His vision tilted sideways. At the same time, his surroundings blurred, and Baek Mi-ryeo’s distorted voice echoed faintly in his ears.

“Seom-ye!”

***

Nine Days Ago, Ipwang Fortress

The lady Ye Sojeo from the Murim Alliance had grown quite close to the unnamed disciples of Ipwang Fortress. Her approachable nature, combined with her warm smile as she watched them practicing the Guangye Resolve, played a significant role.

Ipwang Fortress was inherently a martial faction steeped in aggression. Conflicts were often resolved through combat in the training arena, Muwolram.

It was a group of martial artists who hunted and killed other martial artists.

Even so, the children of the sect readily accepted Lady Ye, who occasionally faced their senior disciples in sparring.

Naturally, they often spoke about their leader.

In the training arena, gathered around the radiant and skillful guest, the young disciples eagerly shared stories.

Since their fortress lord had personally welcomed her into the sect, there was no reason to doubt her intentions toward their leader.

“Our lord doesn’t carry on the Ma family name because... well, he doesn’t really need to. He’s got everything—his looks, his youth, his skills, and even the fortress master’s favor. Why would he bother?”

“Besides, the Ma family already has a successor. His name’s Ma Se-in. People call him the Shield Hero nowadays.”

“They’re pretty close.”

“He’s a good guy! It’s his mother who’s the problem.”

The children nodded in agreement. After revealing their lord’s whereabouts in vague terms, they continued chatting.

“His mother?”

“She’s awful. She even bullied our lord once. There was a huge commotion about it. She’s confined somewhere in the Ma family now. I think her name is Zhu Yeon-jeong.”

“Zhu Yeon-jeong...?”

Later that afternoon.

Lady Ye approached a quiet pavilion, where a noblewoman, Zhu Yeon-jeong, sat. In a single fluid motion, Ye severed Zhu’s arm. The noblewoman’s scream echoed against the crimson sunset of Ipwang Fortress.

Before Ye could finish the job and take her head, the Ma family’s current leader descended like a bolt of light. Wearing a black prosthetic arm, he deflected Ye’s hand blade with incredible speed.

Her second strike was thwarted, but Lady Ye showed no signs of regret. She glanced at his face, then strolled away casually, her sleeve slightly torn.

The Ma family head chose not to pursue her.

“She’s clearly acting on the fortress master’s orders. As the Great Military Commander of the Murim Alliance, her intentions are impossible to gauge,” the Ma leader said.

“Foolish. I’m probably the simplest person under the heavens.”

That was the last thing she said before disappearing from Ipwang Fortress.