Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 370: A Supreme Martial Master (5)

The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect and the Lord of the Ten Gates—

Two beings likened to natural disasters were being held at bay by a single man.

A black-robed swordsman bearing the character for 'Wilderness' on his shoulders.

A youth dragging along a mere cart, yet speaking audacious words before the supreme masters of Sichuan—

And yet, the two grandmasters remained unmoved.

Their expressions were as calm as still water, as if upholding the detachment of sages.

An unrefined strike would never work on peerless masters.

A heart that wavers—even for an instant—would spell defeat.

That was why both the Lord of the Pure Devil Sect and the Lord of the Ten Gates simply stood there, gazing at Jeong Yeon-shin.

They were measuring him.

Searching for openings.

A cold silence blanketed the battlefield.

The dry wind slithered across the ground, sending pebbles rolling aimlessly.

This was a battleground entangling every major faction of Sichuan.

Not just a struggle for power—but one that would impact the martial world and the people of Sichuan for generations.

All of high society and the great sects would be watching this outcome with bated breath.

Neither side could afford to back down.

The hundreds of warriors surrounding them no longer radiated killing intent.

Instead, they had distanced themselves, silently observing the confrontation between the three.

Only the Tang Clan warriors continued to whisper among themselves, their fingers lightly curling, ever prepared to hurl concealed weapons.

“Is it truly the same benefactor...? But he’s far too—”

“They say he has undergone Bone Reformation. Even the Lord of the Ten Gates said so.”

“A true prodigy.”

The Tang Clan—

Sichuan’s greatest noble family—

Relieved a breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding.

Their warriors were bold, even relaxed. Some joked about sending spies to Ipwang Fortress, while one of the women even casually suggested offering herself instead of Dokbong.

“Not allowed?”

“Nonsense. If it’s not the young lady herself, it would be beneath him.”

“One must be worthy of being called Sichuan’s finest.”

“But where are the other two? Why is only the benefactor here—?”

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“We’ll ask later. It’s not over yet.”

The Tang Clan masters spread their Qi, keeping watch on all sides—

Yet their eyes never strayed from Jeong Yeon-shin.

A man standing before a cart, with a floating sword behind him, shielding both the Tang Clan’s inner sanctuary and the siblings within.

The aura of a warrior who could stand alone against a thousand.

The sunlight glistened upon his features, making him appear almost ethereal.

His long, black hair rippled gently in the breeze.

His black robes, burnt in places, made it seem as if he had walked through flames—yet they did not diminish him.

Today, at this very moment—

The world of warriors was witnessing the rise of a new peerless master.

None could tear their eyes away.

Not even the veteran warriors of the Ten Gates, nor the twisted demons of the Pure Devil Sect.

After a long silence—

The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect finally moved his aged lips.

“Zhang Gaya.”

“Speak.”

The Lord of the Ten Gates responded—

His eyes still locked on Jeong Yeon-shin.

The Pure Devil Sect’s lord was no different.

“Before that brat manifested 'Sword Projection,' I saw you swinging at empty air.”

“......”

“Why?”

The Lord of the Ten Gates responded evenly.

“A feint.”

“...A feint?”

“It was different from mere deception. My senses definitely registered an attack.”

“So you moved instinctively?”

“I did.”

A brief silence, then—

The Lord of the Ten Gates let out a faint chuckle.

A rare smile.

But beneath it—

Tension.

The subtle depth that only a true grandmaster could possess.

"It wasn’t a lie."

Jeong Yeon-shin concluded.

His Upper Dantian, still searing from the Seonryong Converging Blade, whispered the same.

The Lord of the Ten Gates.

A man known by another name—

"The Emperor of a Thousand Weapons."

Far from the imperial courts, there were places where he was called "The Emperor of Armaments."

A warrior capable of wielding all weapons to their peak potential.

And like a true master, he had already begun formulating countermeasures against the technique that had just struck him.

A true Lord of the Thirteen Heavens.

Jeong Yeon-shin analyzed their formation.

"This won't be easy."

The Lord of the Ten Gates stood slightly ahead.

Not side by side.

The Pure Devil Sect’s lord had failed to block his Sword Projection earlier—

And he had no intention of engaging Jeong Yeon-shin head-on again.

He would lurk behind, waiting for an opening, utilizing the Ming Sect’s twisted arts.

The pressure was immense.

Their combined martial prowess—not of an ordinary faction, but of two colossal forces—

The martial techniques woven together by men who ruled not families, but entire sects...

Jeong Yeon-shin was keenly aware of the cart behind him.

A battle here would annihilate it.

They had finally returned home—

And yet—

The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect suddenly exhaled through his nose.

His wrinkled brow furrowed.

“That brat... he’s forging the Sword of the Mind.”

A pause.

The Lord of the Ten Gates, adjusting his armored sleeve, froze slightly.

“The Sword of the Mind?”

“Not just that. I sense... 'spirit' in some of his techniques.”

"This will do more harm than good."

The elder’s murmur was low, ominous.

And then—

The corners of the Lord of the Ten Gates’ lips curved upward.

“Then we should leave.”

“...Are you serious?”

“Does his robe still seem black to you? I see something else.”

A hum.

“We aren’t at full strength, are we?”

“How many of the Tang Clan’s formations did we destroy just to get here? And to top it off, there’s a thorn lodged in my Huiyin Acupoint. It’s irritating.”

His voice carried an odd amusement.

A veteran warrior’s pragmatism—one who had seen far too many battlefields.

And then, a final nail in the coffin—

“I have no intention of throwing my life away.”

The Lord of the Pure Devil Sect scoffed.

“And you call yourself a Sect Lord? How disgraceful.”

“It is because I am a Sect Lord that I make this decision.”

“If the pillars of a sect crumble, what becomes of its master?”

The elder turned, flicking his golden-embroidered robes.

“We return.”

The moment his words fell, his subordinates leapt into the air.

A single command—and the entire Pure Devil Sect vanished.

Their obedience was absolute.

And as the Lord of the Pure Devil Sect departed—

He left a final remark.

“Your luck is good, boy.”

“Had your enemies been less concerned with their reputation, this would not have ended so easily.”

And then, with a glance at the cart—

“That carriage would not have remained standing.”

The Lord of the Ten Gates chuckled.

“Martial skill, background, and luck. You possess all three. A true 'Three Absolutes'.”

And then, he looked at Jeong Yeon-shin.

“...Your swordsmanship was flawless.”

Silence.

The Lord of the Ten Gates was a man who understood humility.

At Jeong Yeon-shin’s words, he fell silent, then turned and walked away.

The steel-clad warriors of the Ten Gates, dressed more like soldiers than martial artists, followed with the rattling of their armor.

A sect, nearly facing annihilation, now spared by the intervention of one man.

Who would have believed it?

A low gasp escaped someone’s lips.

A sound filled with rage, regret, and disbelief—

And soon, that same breath spread among the Tang Clan nobles, one by one.

Their courage in the face of death was unwavering.

But as members of a great household, their first duty was to preserve their lineage.

They had to send their enemies away.

If another battle was to take place, it had to be outside their domain.

“Benefactor!”

“The debt we owe you is immeasurable!”

“Quickly, come inside—!”

Even as their eyes lingered on the bodies of their fallen kin,

They immediately turned to Jeong Yeon-shin.

Not a single one spared a glance at the cart.

Because if it was his, then it was sacred.

But Jeong Yeon-shin did not meet their eyes.

Instead, he simply lowered his gaze slightly.

Shiiiing—

The sword that had been floating behind him slid back into its sheath.

Tang Clan’s Manor – Lord’s Chambers

A mild fragrance filled the air.

The scent of medicinal decoctions wafted from a steaming bowl.

The chamber, surrounded by mechanized formations, was built entirely of darkened steel—yet it felt warm.

“They say a true genius bends not the sword, but time itself.”

The head of the Tang Clan chuckled at his own words.

A burly middle-aged man, his thick beard unruly, yet his laughter remained hearty.

Just as he had laughed years ago, when he and Jeong Yeon-shin crossed hands and exchanged the principles of the Ten Thousand Blossoms Rain Art.

Jeong Yeon-shin sat beside the bed.

Looking down at the Tang Clan’s patriarch.

"His internal wounds are severe."

The Gold Dawn Sect’s leader had inflicted a mortal wound.

His pale complexion spoke volumes.

His ashen lips and the glazed look in his eyes reminded Jeong Yeon-shin of the Bloodflame Cult’s nobles—men at death’s door.

“I was watching from behind the «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» screens, like a common thief, peering through a hole in the paper walls.”

The Tang Lord, also known as Dokgun Tang Unhwang, spoke in a weak voice.

“I was preparing to step in at any moment... But just as I was reaching my limit—”

His lips curled into a faint smirk.

“That was when you stepped across the threshold.”

“Even at my age, I felt a shiver run through me.”

Jeong Yeon-shin had heard what the Lord of the Ten Gates had said earlier—about the role of a sect leader.

A sect master could not afford to die carelessly.

And neither could a head of a great household.

The Tang Lord had barely been able to move, let alone intervene.

“The Tang Clan is indebted to you once again.”

The Tang Lord tried to sit up, but Jeong Yeon-shin stopped him.

Instead, the old warrior cupped his hands in a salute.

Despite his weakened state, his bearing remained that of a patriarch.

Jeong Yeon-shin returned the gesture with a quiet nod.

For a long time, neither man spoke.

The sharp scent of herbal medicine gradually faded.

And finally, the Tang Lord spoke again.

“Thank you.”

Perhaps it was out of consideration, as a senior in the martial world.

His tone carried no particular emotion.

Unlike before—when he spoke of the clan’s debt—

This time, his words followed the moment when he had seen his slain children’s bodies.

It was gratitude for safeguarding their remains.

Even in front of Jeong Yeon-shin, the Tang Lord did not show his grief.

“...Thank you.”

He repeated—his voice just as steady.

Three Days Later – Mount Misan

Jeong Yeon-shin stood alongside the Tang Lord.

Far from the Tang Clan’s estate.

This was where the Twin Venom Dragons had once secretly met their father away from the watchful eyes of the Grand Elder.

For three days, Jeong Yeon-shin remained by the Tang Lord’s side, as the siblings' funeral was held.

Because he, too, owed them a debt.

As they descended the mist-covered mountain path, the Tang Lord suddenly spoke.

“Your protective aura was dazzling.”

The warriors of the Tang Clan, still heavy with grief, surrounded them as they walked.

But the Tang Lord was different.

He was the leader of a great noble house.

A man who could not afford to grieve like an ordinary father.

Because if he did, he could not lead.

So he buried his sorrow—

And changed the subject.

Jeong Yeon-shin, recognizing his intent, responded simply.

“I took inspiration from them.”

The Tang Lord chuckled.

“Those two were always obsessed with martial arts. They would have been pleased.”

A pause.

“What do you call it?”

“...I considered calling it True Radiance of the Eternal Star.”

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke with some reluctance.

It meant ‘a treasured night sky full of stars.’

But the name had already been sullied—

By that filthy bastard, the 'Bright Meteor' of the Ten Gates'.

The Tang Lord smiled faintly.

“Do you know what the last step of a master craftsman’s work is?”

“...?”

“Naming it.”

“A name is what anchors the spirit of a weapon, making it truly whole.”

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slowly.

“...That makes sense.”

“Which is why it’s a shame.”

“A technique that already possesses spirit—should have an even greater name.”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyebrow twitched.

No one had criticized his naming before.

But the Tang Lord was a man who had just buried his children.

Jeong Yeon-shin, in his habitual humility, responded.

“Perhaps something is still missing.”

The Tang Lord nodded.

“You likened my children to the stars... and their inspiration shaped your martial art...”

He smiled.

“...Then what about ‘Morning Star’?”

Jeong Yeon-shin hesitated.

It was not a bad name.

But it meant ‘Bright Dawn.’

Not Night.

Dawn.

“...It does not feel quite right.”

He answered briefly.

The Tang Lord merely chuckled.

And continued speaking nonsense, which Jeong Yeon-shin half-listened to.

As they walked—

Jeong Yeon-shin’s shadow flickered along the mountain path.

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it almost seemed as though his shadow rumbled, ever so faintly.

And for a brief moment, he wondered—

"If I placed a piece of dried meat on my shadow, what would happen?"

And then—

"Ma Gwang-ik! I make this request, knowing I have no right!"

A shout echoed from below, where the mist gathered at the base of the mountain.

Jeong Yeon-shin sensed three familiar martial presences.

Cheongseong Sect’s Red Cloud Dragon.

Amitabha Sect’s Golden Adorned Priestess.

And an old rival—So Geomhwi of Jeomchang Sect.

Three of Sichuan’s greatest martial prodigies.

And then—

Red Cloud Dragon called out again.

"By the will of the Grandmaster of the Amitabha Sect—"

"We humbly request a martial challenge!"