Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 331: Grandfather and Grandson (4)

The energy waves of the Heavenly Demon Divine Armor subsided in an instant. It was because Mo Yong Clan Leader immediately withdrew upon sensing something unusual about Jo Son.

It seemed he found Jeong Yeon-shin’s transparent gaze unsettling.

“......”

Many eyes were fixed on the clearing atop the wasteland-like plateau.

Among them were dozens of members of Salmun, who had been posing as the powers of Taiyuan, the elites of Ma Gwang-ik, and the former leader of the Divine Sword Corps.

Each of them watched Ma Gwang-ik and Mo Yong Clan Leader with different expressions.

Unease, shock, doubt—various emotions flowed into Jeong Yeon-shin’s upper dantian. The crowd harbored all sorts of thoughts.

Some clung to the cliffs flanking the clearing, others distanced themselves far to the corner, and some remained in the middle of the sloped path.

‘This is the moment I have to break through.’

Jeong Yeon-shin paid no mind to Mo Yong Clan Leader’s presence.

A faint heat emanated from the Northern Dark Sword in his right hand. At the same time, the radiant wheel of his heart slowly began to turn.

The words that the head of a prestigious sect had spoken to Ipwang Great Hero gnawed at him. That man had coldly stated that Hуeon Won-chang’s meridians should have been entirely severed.

“How disgraceful.”

Ma Gwang-ik finally spoke in the presence of the Eight Great Clan Leader.

“At that age, and still so unaware of his own disgrace.”

The words came out unintentionally.

From the sloped path in the distance, a fluttering pink hem trembled slightly. Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin’s piercing blue gaze locked onto Mo Yong Clan Leader.

Faint, translucent, colorless petals flickered in and out of sight.

It was because he was controlling the activation of Final Thunder—intending to sustain it for as long as possible.

At the same time, he measured the sword authority of the Holy Radiance Sword Legion.

The intangible energy waves grazing his skin, the continuous tremors in the air’s flow, the poised balance of Mo Yong Clan Leader, who stood firm with solid footing, and the grip technique of the hand holding his sword—all these elements wove together an invisible domain.

To Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes, the space before him was filled with countless sword trajectories.

Centered around Mo Yong Jung-rak, they had already expanded to a radius of over thirty yards, as if he were declaring himself the pinnacle of swordsmanship.

There was no one in the martial world who did not recognize the name Mo Yong Clan Leader.

Jeong Yeon-shin reflected on the martial skills he had cultivated.

‘How much will work against him?’

The battle had already begun.

A duel against one of the Eight Great Clan Leaders.

“Your footwork is quite exceptional.”

Mo Yong Jung-rak calmly accepted Jeong Yeon-shin’s azure gaze.

With the deceptive smile befitting a Great Noble Clan, he adjusted his grip on his sword aura repeatedly, and with every slight movement of his fingers, the sword energy’s shape changed subtly.

The air current flowing through the space between his thumb and index finger shifted between lightning-fast and unbearably heavy, moving with complete fluidity.

It was as if he were testing Jeong Yeon-shin’s discernment, gauging how many layers of sword mastery he had comprehended.

“The Liaodong region is a treacherous land.”

Mo Yong Jung-rak spoke.

“It is nothing like the comfortable lands of Hoguang. It is a merciless territory. The swordsmen of the Dao Mountain Sword Forest are steeped in the temperament of the North—fierce and unrelenting. Those who have never lost their nation cannot comprehend the weight of this land.”

It was as if he were exchanging letters through spoken words. The statement was clearly directed at Jeong Yeon-shin.

A veiled implication—that the swordsmanship of the flowery land of Hoguang could never match the battle-hardened techniques born in the harsh terrain of Liaodong.

But his true attention was focused on Ma Yeon-jeok. While keeping an eye on the greater powers, he had merely taken the opportunity to provoke Jeong Yeon-shin.

The Mo Yong Clan.

A martial family established east of the Liao River. They descended from the Mo Yong Xianbei lineage—direct heirs of the fallen Yan Dynasty, a kingdom that had perished before even the Ming Dynasty emerged.

Their Falling Star Sword was infamous as the most unrefined among the Eight Great Clans' sword techniques, infused with generations of pent-up resentment.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s head tilted ever so slightly.

“An ancient fallen kingdom, isn’t it?”

“...Those without lineage always say such things. Even if you are of Ipwang Fortress’s Ma family bloodline, you are no different.”

Mo Yong Jung-rak raised his sword. The hem of his white long robe lifted slightly.

A violent wind surged.

A chill grazed Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.

This was different from the battle against Zhuge Chenshang.

Unlike that chaotic clash, this was a one-on-one duel to the death against a leader of the Eight Great Clans—a true confrontation of swordsmanship and authority.

At this moment, the radiant energy from the Northern Dark Sword surged into his right palm, far more than usual.

‘Sword Thunder, Buried Ridge Style.’

Jeong Yeon-shin awakened the energy points throughout his body.

His muscles repeatedly contracted and relaxed. It was a full-body explosive technique, yet invisible on the surface.

But Mo Yong Jung-rak seemed to have sensed it. His gaze, fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin, suddenly sharpened.

The treasured sword of the Mo Yong Clan gleamed with a razor-sharp brilliance.

He was about to strike—Jeong Yeon-shin felt it in his bones.

Reacting first, he pushed off the ground with his right foot. A powerful gust erupted at his feet. Wind God’s Movement—his figure was swallowed by the transparent wind blowing toward the peak.

In the instant he blinked, Mo Yong Jung-rak’s upper body had already filled his vision. He had closed a nine-yard gap in a flash, right as Final Thunder fully activated.

Ssssssshhh—!

The Northern Dark Sword, slashing upward, became enshrouded in a raging gale. The formula of the Deep Ultimate Qilin turned even a reckless slash into a blindingly fast blade.

A single stroke carried a tyrannical force, honed to precise elegance, resembling the Azure Qilin itself.

CLANG!

The hilt of Mo Yong Jung-rak’s sword smashed downward against the Northern Dark Sword.

An exquisitely refined defensive move—it was like hammering steel with a sword aura.

For a fleeting moment, a dull reverberation pulsed outward in all directions. Jeong Yeon-shin’s brow lifted as a long shadow was cast over his face.

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A deep, weighted voice followed.

“Black Star Veiled Advance.”

The words were spat out rapidly in an ancient recitation.

Mo Yong Jung-rak had spoken the name of his technique aloud. Despite everyone present already knowing his identity, it could only be seen as mockery.

Even as he faced Ma Gwang-ik, who was far inferior in seniority and reputation, he made a display of his own prestige.

The descending force of his sword aura was devastating. Jeong Yeon-shin’s hair became entirely disheveled.

This was a single form—a downward stroke combined with sword aura. Yet Mo Yong Jung-rak generated a monumental explosive force with the smallest movement of his arm.

Jeong Yeon-shin activated the second form of Sword Thunder, Buried Ridge Style, slashing upward while shifting his body backward.

His thumb, which firmly supported his sword stance, surged with the counterattack technique—Nine Jade Rivers.

Jjeoooong!

A tremendous impact surged through his palm. The force of the opponent’s sword aura tore through the flesh beneath his thumb, spreading all the way to his stance. His leap stopped instantly.

With a harsh grinding noise, the earth beneath his leather boots caved in. As Jeong Yeon-shin’s height dropped, the translucent lotus of Final Thunder trembled once more.

Amidst that moment of fluctuation, Mo Yong Jung-rak’s voice rang out.

“You endured that? It’s like facing Yeoui Celestial Lord.”

The source of the voice was above Jeong Yeon-shin’s head. The next words followed in quick succession.

“How about Grand Constellation Sword Rain?”

Before the words even finished, Mo Yong Jung-rak’s second technique was unleashed.

For a brief instant, the sky rippled. The vastly spread sword aura distorted the air itself, making the sky appear translucent.

Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, who wielded his entire body as a sword, Mo Yong Jung-rak treated a mere blade as an ultimate medium of internal mastery.

Falling Star Swordsmanship: Grand Constellation Sword Rain.

Shhhhhhh—

The air hummed like scraping paper.

An overwhelming killing intent permeated the atmosphere.

Invisible swords rained down from the sky.

There were dozens of them.

As they descended toward the earth, the sword aura magnified exponentially—to the point where the sunlight fractured in all directions in an instant.

The intent behind the technique was unmistakable.

‘Your movement is quite decent—so dodge this as well.’

It did not come as a martial technique—but as a force beyond human effort. The boundary between swordsmanship and sorcery blurred.

This was unquestionably a realm of absolute mastery.

Swish.

Jeong Yeon-shin raised the blade of the Northern Dark Sword to rest against his left shoulder—covering it with the sword’s flat edge.

“Hm?”

Mo Yong Jung-rak, still poised to strike, let out a puzzled sound.

Beneath Jeong Yeon-shin’s feet, a faint tremor spread.

The next moment—his form blurred, leaving behind a luminous streak of light in a perfect straight line through the air.

Mo Yong Jung-rak’s eyes widened.

This was not conventional movement arts.

Suddenly, Ma Gwang-ik appeared right in front of his face, his shoulder colliding with Mo Yong Jung-rak’s sword-wielding arm.

It was a singular, comet-like burst of movement—both graceful and violent.

Kwaaaaang!

Mo Yong ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) Jung-rak’s body was sent hurtling from the cliff.

A colossal shockwave erupted in a circular blast from where he had stood.

The mountaintop’s surface crumbled.

The sound of stone fragments being violently crushed followed the two figures.

The battlefield shifted into midair.

Twisting in the sky, Mo Yong Jung-rak stepped onto the air itself—displaying mastery over the technique Air Treading Steps.

“That bastard.”

His eyes narrowed.

Ma Gwang-ik, who had just delivered a ferocious strike, was now dashing up the cliffside, continuously kicking off the rock face.

At the tips of his feet, a faintly shimmering halo spread, painting the wall with a pale glow. It was an auspicious sight, as if he were tracing constellations along the vast ridgeline.

Behind him—

Rumble—

The peak's edge, where both had once stood, shattered into countless fragments upon colliding with Grand Constellation Sword Rain. The dry soil could not withstand the torrent of formless swords as they rained down like a storm.

As boulders crumbled and plummeted into the abyss below, Mo Yong Jung-rak thought to himself.

‘I wasn’t seeing things.’

There was something wrong about the technique Ma Gwang-ik had just unleashed.

It resembled the ancient Martial Radiance Sect’s sacred technique—a supreme art that the Lord of Simmu-ryeon had spent his entire life refining.

It was a dual-purpose form, blending attack and defense into one seamless motion.

Had Ma Gwang-ik been enveloped in aura-forged body armor, he could have parried the sword yet still sustained an internal injury. Simply being knocked back would not have been the worst outcome.

"I admit I underestimated you."

At his age, to command the Dragon Fist of the North, to be compared to Yeoui Celestial Lord Bukgung Ah in martial prowess... He might even stand equal to the Young Invincible of the Bright Sect.

A peerless warrior, destined to stand at the right hand of Ipwang Fortress’s lord—and in mere years, not decades.

A seed that needed to be cut down.

There was no room for hesitation in executing a martial artist of such caliber. Mo Yong Jung-rak was on the verge of perfecting the ultimate path to restoring Yan’s former glory.

To kill this young, brilliant sword prodigy—and to cross swords with the one who maimed the Lord of Simmu-ryeon—would solidify everything he had built and understood over a lifetime.

His jet-black brows furrowed into a straight line.

Falling Star Sword—Calamity Flash Thunder.

The moment he stepped upon the void, his figure distorted and vanished.

The gaze that had been tracking Ma Gwang-ik, the gleam of his sword aura, elongated into a streak of deep blue light—and then it came to a sudden halt, directly before Ma Gwang-ik’s face.

At that instant, Jeong Yeon-shin, sprinting up the cliff wall, executed True Stride.

His reaction speed was instantaneous. The cliffside ruptured beneath his step, sending his long hair whipping backward.

The sheer force of Mo Yong Jung-rak’s approach, the shockwave of his propulsion, was overwhelming.

The sword trajectory he unleashed moved far faster than Jeong Yeon-shin’s hands.

BOOM!

A blinding white flash engulfed his vision.

It was as if lightning had struck—leaving nothing visible.

Even with Sight-Heaven Technique activated, Mo Yong Jung-rak’s view must have been no different.

Yet the searing pain tearing through his palm was something only Jeong Yeon-shin could feel.

For a fleeting moment—

—The Northern Dark Sword snapped in two.

The dull, hollow sensation of his weapon shattering echoed through his grip.