Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 283: Lotus (2)

And then—

With a dull thud, dust billowed into the air.

The four headless corpses collapsed in disarray, strewn haphazardly across the battlefield.

A dry wind, sporadically sweeping through the wasteland, mingled with the ochre storm rising from their remains.

The swirling currents, twisting upon themselves in dozens of directions, shimmered like the bared fangs of a phantom beast.

The vast wilderness fell into silence.

Until Ma Gwang-ik withdrew his hand.

Clang.

Four swords clattered onto the dirt.

Stripped of their lethal purpose, they lay uselessly in the dust, as though they had never been instruments of war to begin with.

The scholar, standing alone, instinctively snatched up his sword. His grip was tight, his expression one of disbelief as he turned to Ma Gwang-ik.

“......”

The Damgeuk Trading Guild stood frozen.

Completely paralyzed.

No one dared to raise their voice, as if even a loud breath might provoke divine retribution. Instead, the guards murmured among themselves, their whispers trembling.

—Was that sword mastery?

—No... Didn’t he just say something more terrifying?

—The Divine Sword Corps? That Ma Gwang-ik...?

—Madness. Absolute madness...!

Even the merchant, who had been speaking with the lilting rhythm of a song, had fallen utterly silent.

His sharp, calculating eyes darted in every direction, taking in the intruders.

Then, comprehension set in.

Followed swiftly by despair.

“What... the hell are you?”

Suddenly, a girl in black robes stepped forward from the dust.

She came to stand beside Ma Gwang-ik, staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Her short, jet-black hair swayed slightly with each exaggerated breath she took.

There was something playful about her.

The mischief in her eyes was plain to see.

“I get that you picked up the Myeongryu Corps brat’s presence, but why the hell are you so fast all of a sudden? That wasn’t ordinary movement. I nearly broke a sweat chasing after you.”

“Your breath isn’t steady.”

“I was too busy staring at your footwork. It was beautiful, you know?”

Her gaze curled with amusement.

Even her speech, fluctuating in exaggerated pitches, carried an air of theatrics.

Ma Gwang-ik—no, Jeong Yeon-shin—deliberately avoided looking at her.

It felt as if he were a child again, performing for a grandmother he had never met in his lifetime.

A senior prone to endless antics.

She’d spoken of rivalry before, hadn’t she?

‘I’m just relieved Senior Jin is here.’

There were three Black-Rank warriors from Ipwang Fortress present. A force so overwhelming that, under normal circumstances, one might dare to call them invincible.

And yet, traveling together like this, it still didn’t feel real.

Especially when one of them was the infamous Divine Spear of Ipwang, known as much for her eccentricity as for her skill.

A stabilizing presence was needed.

Fortunately, they had Jin Myeong-jo, the Crimson Blood Grandmaster.

Among all the Black-Rank warriors he had encountered, Senior Jin was the most dependable.

A consummate martial artist—flawless as a garment without a single seam.

Even now, his presence alone was enough to confirm it.

“Mou Jun-pyeong, of the Damgeuk Trading Guild, greets the venerable elders of Ipwang Fortress.”

The merchant lifted both hands in a respectful bow.

Swish.

The golden-yellow sleeves of his robe cascaded gracefully down his arms.

Every movement exuded refinement.

His voice, which had once carried the giddy thrill of toying with the warriors of Ipwang Fortress, had now been carefully composed.

Gone was the arrogance with which he had sought to present the Myeongryu Corps operative to the Zhuge Clan Leader.

“I acknowledge the gravity of my situation,” he continued. “Thus, I propose a deal.”

The merchants of this era were masters of survival.

To amass wealth during times of famine, to command warriors as personal guards—one needed to be ruthless, cunning, and daring.

Mou Jun-pyeong had been personally chosen by the Zhuge Clan Leader in Shanxi.

There was no way he would surrender his life so easily.

He spoke again, this time looking directly at Jeong Yeon-shin, almost pleading.

“You must have already deduced the situation in Shanxi. If you use me as bait, you could lure out the Zhuge Clan Leader himself. The authorities in Shanxi are steadily losing their power. This is no longer a land that favors the imperial administration.”

His voice was smooth, polished—almost musical.

But the more Jeong Yeon-shin and Ak Su-rim gazed at him, the more beads of sweat gathered on his immaculately groomed forehead.

His lips, curved into a practiced smile, betrayed the creeping terror that gripped him.

A fear unlike any he had known before.

“However, if I lend my support to you—before the Zhuge Clan Leader can emerge—”

A man who had once brokered deals with the most powerful figures in the world trailed off.

A man who, in this very moment, realized he had already placed one foot in the underworld.

The melody in his voice wavered, as if he were sprinting from death itself.

It happened in an instant.

He never even registered the shadow that had passed over him.

Neither the servants standing beneath the canopy nor the guards surrounding them noticed, either.

Crack.

Five ghostly pale fingers clamped around the merchant’s skull.

His veins stood out in a sickly blue, making the whiteness of his skin appear all the more ghostly.

The air above his knuckles remained eerily still.

Then, without warning, the hand clenched.

No one had time to react.

Mou Jun-pyeong’s eyes went wide in sheer horror as his throat convulsed.

His head was ripped from his body.

Crunch— SPLURCH!

The flesh tore violently apart.

Scarlet blood erupted in thick torrents, spilling across the air with a grotesque weight.

It was as though the merchant’s desperate words had been drowned out by the sound of a torrential downpour.

The blood rained down in every direction, momentarily drowning the wasteland in silence.

Then—

With all the carelessness of someone discarding a piece of trash—

The severed head was tossed aside.

Swish.

The man who had done it flicked his arm once, then tucked his hand back into his robe.

His sheer dominance was beyond question.

The precision in his movements, the lack of hesitation—he was a martial artist of absolute refinement.

He was tall, his frame slender yet draped in black robes that concealed his presence like a bat folding its wings.

He exuded an eerie, otherworldly grace.

Then, in a voice smooth and icy, Jin Myeong-jo spoke:

“Ipwang Fortress does not negotiate with enemies.”

***

Even the bodyguards of the Damgeuk Trading Guild were slaughtered.

The Crimson Blood Grandmaster showed no mercy. He left only the merchant’s closest confidant alive—everyone else was ruthlessly executed.

His every movement was precise, methodical. Even as he absentmindedly pressed the death acupoint on the necks of those who had surrendered, there was no hesitation.

He was like a blade forged in frost.

A general whose command distinguished friend from foe with unwavering clarity.

Jeong Yeon-shin recognized it as such.

“It seems Senior Jin alone dirtied his hands. I should have assisted you.”

He spoke lightly.

The Crimson Blood Grandmaster gave a small shake of his head. Without a single speck of blood on his hands, he wiped them carefully with a cloth, as if ridding himself of something impure.

“It was unnecessary. No Black-Rank warrior of Ipwang Fortress would assign such a task to the youngest of Wonpyeong’s Lone Sword Pavilion.”

His voice carried no inflection.

Jeong Yeon-shin was impressed.

“I’ve learned from you, Senior. When the time comes, I will show the same example to those who follow.”

“...Good.”

Even his silence carried a dignified weight.

He had completely mastered the ability to conceal his energy flow.

The Crimson Blood Grandmaster embodied Fanpu Guizhen—the art of returning to the fundamental state.

His martial power, honed to the extreme, was completely hidden. Even standing beside him, Jeong Yeon-shin could not detect the faintest trace of his presence. It was impossible to gauge his limits.

The white-clad scholar beside them regarded Jeong Yeon-shin with a peculiar expression.

It was a gaze he was used to receiving within the fortress—whenever he revealed his martial prowess in ranking tests, this was the reaction.

The scholar finally spoke.

“My name is Han Jin. In the Gongya Household, I am known as Go Jin. I owe you all my life.”

His bow was deeply respectful. Even the sound of his robe folding was crisp and refined.

His disguise as a scholar suited him so well that it was no wonder he had been accepted as the Great Princess’s tutor.

Jeong Yeon-shin shook his head.

“You sent the carrier pigeons promptly and regularly. You saved yourself.”

“I will inform the local magistrate who verified my identity. How should I explain this?”

“The General Bureau has already taken care of it.”

Behind them, Ak Su-rim crossed her arms with a wry smile.

Even amidst the lingering stench of blood, she gave a casual shrug.

“We need to keep the presence of Three Black-Rank Warriors hidden until Zhuge Clan Leader is dead. Our existence alone is an overwhelming force. We also need to monitor the First Fist of the Yun Clan and any potential ties they may have to the Thirteen Heavens.”

Everything had already been decided. She continued speaking.

“For now, Seomye is the Young Master of Hyeoncheon Sect, known as Geom Un-bi. He’s a martial prodigy who once helped Teacher Go deal with Green Forest bandits during his journey for the imperial examination. They stayed in contact ever since.”

“I understand. Greetings to Master Geom.”

Han Jin—Go Jin bowed once more.

His refined demeanor made even his playful mannerisms seem polished.

A peculiar man.

While Jeong Yeon-shin was still processing it, Ak Su-rim spoke again.

“Seomye will stay hidden at the Gongya Household. Don’t show yourself unless necessary—just focus on ensuring the Great Princess wins the tournament. Blood and I will move around widely to assess the situation. The youngest in a mission deserves a comfortable bed, after all.”

“Will the Gongya Household accept someone like Geom Un-bi?”

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated.

In response, Ak Su-rim reached out and playfully ran her fingers through the ends of his hair.

Her fingertips twirled a strand of his jet-black locks, making a soft, teasing sound.

Jeong Yeon-shin recoiled in distaste, stepping away.

A sly curve formed at her lips.

“You’re a Black-Rank warrior worthy of recognition from anyone. Move as you please during the mission.”

“You’re telling me to do as I please?”

“Yep! Even the other Black-Rank warriors change their assignments on a whim—turning protection missions into extermination missions whenever they see fit. If someone isn’t worth protecting, why bother? Of course, they get disciplined for it... but it’s mostly for show. That’s just how Black-Rank operates.”

“I intend to follow Senior Jin’s example. That will not happen.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke with unwavering seriousness.

Ak Su-rim’s lips twitched with faint amusement.

“Sure, sure. Anyway, the Zhuge Clan Leader won’t appear in public. It wouldn’t be beneficial for him to draw attention when he possesses a secret martial inheritance. The Alliance is reorganizing, after all.”

“The Martial Alliance?”

“Yes. At this point, they’re not so foolish as to hesitate just because one of the Eight Clan Leaders was disgraced by an Ipwang Grandmaster. The Anti-Ipwang faction has already been weakened. The ones who would have protected Zhuge Clan Leader left long ago.”

“He must be lying low, then.”

“Most likely. He’ll send word to the winner of the Tournament—summoning them somewhere. Founding a new sect is never easy.”

“Was there a specific reason the General Bureau chose the Great Princess of the Gongya Household?”

“First, because it’s the only noble martial family in Shanxi where a White-Rank warrior from the fortress has already infiltrated. Second, because she’s a strong contender for the tournament’s victory.”

“Then she must be highly skilled.”

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled a monkey perched on an imperial magistrate’s chair.

“Probably? Though she has a formidable rival. The problem is, no one knows where he is.”

“Who is he?”

“The Young Master of the Five Moon Killing Sect. A peerless scholar-warrior, they say. Like all assassins, he vanishes for long periods. His epithet is Slayer Knight — only targets martial artists who oppress commoners.”

“So our mission forces us to eliminate someone like that.”

Jeong Yeon-shin had already accepted their mission as a certainty.

Anyone who had witnessed the Light-Chasing Execution—the Black-Rank warriors’ overwhelming speed—would have no doubts.

Confidence came naturally.

“Then... I will go in alone first. I’ll use the Borong Orb as a signal—it’ll release a powerful energy pulse.”

“Alright! Good luck, Un-bi!”

“Good hunting.”

The senior warriors split apart.

They would regroup when the decisive moment arrived.

Against a peerless martial master, a proper distraction was necessary.

Ak Su-rim and Jin Myeong-jo each sent him off in their own way.

The Crimson Blood Grandmaster’s speed was exceptional.

Even to Jeong Yeon-shin’s Ten Mile Light Step, Jin’s movements seemed divine.

His Blood-Ghost Arts rivaled the legendary Seven Slaughter Paths.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes, Master Geom.”

Jeong Yeon-shin stepped toward Pingyang Prefecture of Shanxi.

Disguised as the Sect Leader of Hyeoncheon Sect, alongside his subordinate posing as the Great Princess’s tutor.

For now, he was Geom Un-bi.

Until they drew out the Zhuge Clan Leader.

Step, step.

Behind them, the ground was stained black.

Under the wasteland’s glaring sun, corpses smoldered faintly.

The blood that had once run red inside their bodies darkened upon mixing with the dirt.

Like the ambitions they had harbored in this brutal world of the strong.

***

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Half a day later.

Jeong Yeon-shin arrived at the Gongya estate in Shanxi.

The grand, antique-style pavilions stood in harmony with the transparent sunlight, exuding both majesty and a refreshing sense of clarity.

Was it the quality of the land? Or perhaps the exceptional energy of the household's members?

"Who goes there?"

A man and a woman stood guard at the grand entrance, dressed in striking red martial robes that absorbed the sunlight with brilliance.

The man on the left wielded a massive silver spear, while the woman on the right rested an enormous greatsword against the ground.

Their posture displayed a refined balance, the seamless lines of their shoulders and arms revealing muscles honed to perfection.

A powerful aura radiated from both of them, their long black hair swaying slightly as if stirred by their sheer presence.

It seemed like a strict household. Both internal and external martial cultivation had not been neglected.

If even the gatekeepers were this formidable...

It was an astonishing sight. The prestige of the Gongya family was clear.

‘I underestimated Hye-a’s words. I really should be more humble.’

Jeong Yeon-shin raised an eyebrow as he walked toward the gates.

He had been lowering his expectations about the world outside of Yiphuang Fortress, but it seemed he had been completely wrong.

If the young mistress of the family was superior to even these guards, then she was quite a martial artist indeed.

That was promising. A rather encouraging realization.

"Oh!"

The man walking beside him, Go Jin, waved enthusiastically.

It appeared he was acquainted with the guards, meaning there was no need for unnecessary tension.

With the repeated famines, noble households had become increasingly wary of outsiders. It was a good start.

"Lady Gongya! Young Master Yi! What brings you both outside?"

He called out to the gatekeepers.