Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 365: Tenfold Perfection (6)

A brief silence spread.

There was no sound of impact.

The air distorted into colorless waves as flames roared and twisted in every direction.

An immense pressure bore down, deafening the ears, while the luminous silk of internal energy flowed around Jeong Yeon-shin’s body, endlessly absorbing the inferno.

Protective Inner Qi—Radiant Starlight Heavens.

WOOOOOOOM—!

The Flood Dragon’s breath, the embodiment of its shadow, could not spread beyond him.

The raging inferno, writhing as if alive, was forcibly drawn into the spiraling starlight barrier, unleashing shockwaves in its desperate struggle.

‘Faster...!’

Jeong Yeon-shin's gaze sharpened.

His mind burned.

The heat of his upper energy center.

In this very moment, the profound mysteries of his newly created martial techniques and his subconscious thoughts wove together, interlocking in a relentless torrent.

The temporary disintegration of his Radiant Ring, full-body emission of energy, the absorption principles of Myriad Blossoms in the Rain, the time-worn experience of the Ghostly Tyrant King, and the siblings who had stood beneath the misty night.

KWA-AAAAAH!

The firestorm was shredded by the spiraling light.

A defensive form of his Protective Inner Qi that absorbed large-scale techniques.

Not a single ember touched the siblings standing behind him.

The ground trembled violently. The very earth groaned as it slowly began to sink.

Hundreds of people standing in Jeong Yeon-shin’s wake hesitated.

“T-That...?!”

“Ma Gwang-ik...!”

The veteran warriors caught in the invisible Gate of Life formation, the short-statured blacksmith clans, the commoners who had been paralyzed with fear—

Many of them had, even if only briefly, witnessed Jeong Yeon-shin’s Protective Inner Qi.

A legendary scene, as if a tale from the Classic of Mountains and Seas had come to life.

Even after seeing it with their own eyes, they could scarcely believe it.

A debt of life.

Some, despite their shock, instinctively tried to express their gratitude.

Many raised their hands in a formal martial bow, mouths opening in silent words—only to vanish in the very next instant.

Among them, only the Divine Beast King let out a quiet chuckle and left behind a final remark.

“I shall repay this favor when we meet again outside.”

He executed a dazzlingly swift Nine-Revolutions Escape Art before vanishing like the others.

Securely absorbed into the formation’s exit.

"You...?"

At that moment, the very architect of this unparalleled spell formation wavered.

His body flickered, half-transparent like a ghost, yet he remained.

The Young Lord of the Ming Cult.

His Peerless Garment of Small Heaven and white spiritual scarf fluttered wildly under the aftershocks of the firestorm.

‘Heavenly Demon’s True Armor...?’

Beneath his silver mask, the Young Lord raised an eyebrow.

As the rightful heir of the Ming Cult, he had refined his own supreme martial arts to their peak—yet the aura Jeong Yeon-shin exuded felt strangely similar.

The form of his energy manipulation held traces of resemblance.

The seemingly loose yet flawlessly interwoven weave of his energy barrier,

The vibrations of his Protective Inner Qi—only possible with absolute mastery of internal energy control,

The way his martial mysteries breathed within the current of his own energy, as if they had always been one...

Their essence should have been different.

Even its outward appearance differed,

Even the solitude that permeated through it was far removed from the Heavenly Demon’s True Armor.

Only the overwhelming presence unique to supreme martial arts bore any similarity.

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The silver-masked eyes curved like crescent moons.

The Young Lord muttered to himself.

His body seemed weak. He could not afford to let him die immediately upon leaving.

WOOOONG—

Tracing a strange sigil with his long fingers, the Young Lord turned away.

In the next moment, he vanished—along with the flowing white hem of his scarf.

“Seomye, that martial technique...!”

“Are you alright?”

By then, the figures of Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so had appeared on either side of Jeong Yeon-shin.

Yet their forms, too, had begun to fade.

The commoners lined up behind them had already disappeared.

The Young Lord of the Ming Cult had completed his work.

The Flood Dragon’s formation had been completely unraveled.

KWA-AAAAAH!

Its scorching breath still slithered menacingly through the air.

Without even glancing back, Jeong Yeon-shin spoke.

“It’s time to go.”

A weighty nod echoed in response.

Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so.

With their overwhelming reservoirs of internal energy, they had been forcibly suppressing the spell formation’s pull.

His seniors were always steadfast.

“Alright. See you outside.”

"If we get separated, we'll meet at the Tang Clan."

With those words, the presence of both men vanished.

The immense energy waves they had been exuding disappeared in an instant.

A thick gust of wind swept through the space they had left behind, filling the void. Another mystery of the martial world—one Jeong Yeon-shin had grown familiar with.

Slowly, he turned and bowed.

Swish.

He placed a hand on each of the Tang siblings' shoulders, who remained standing with their eyes closed.

The sensation beneath his fingertips was cold.

The breath of the Flood Dragon’s Primordial Infant Spirit surged at his back, strong enough to push him forward, but he could still endure it.

The heat, now beginning to sear his skin, was only slightly more intense than before.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly parted his lips.

I’ll take you home.

At that moment—

"Stop following me, you damned cur! Where is the Lord of Sunmok Ridge?! Give me the saplings and be gone!"

A shrill, aged voice rang out.

Jeong Yeon-shin lifted his gaze slightly, spotting an old beggar streaking toward him, using Lightfoot Techniques at full speed.

Initially a mere speck in the distance, he rapidly closed in.

Their eyes met.

Among the Twin Kings and Three Lords, he was known as Gui Lord Man Hu Gae.

A rogue infamous for stealing the Dog Beating Staff Technique and Eight Drunken Immortals Steps, techniques only passed down to the Beggar Clan’s Lord and Vice Lord.

His appearance was as ragged as ever, his face contorted into a grotesque grimace.

"Until I crack Golden Serpent True Dragon Art, I’m not leaving this place! Give me the saplings—oh?"

Racing forward, Hu Gae’s wrinkled mouth curved into a sudden grin.

His eyes locked onto a particular sight.

The untouched corpses of the Tang siblings.

"Well, well!"

His grin widened as he accelerated.

His gaze flickered back and forth between Jeong Yeon-shin, who was holding back the firestorm alone, and the siblings.

His laughter deepened.

"Seems like the Lord of Sunmok Ridge values you quite a bit, brat! If I take you alive, you’ll be worth more than the saplings!"

A raw, twisted emotion flickered in his eyes.

The madness of a man cornered. The stubbornness forged by time. The deep-seated fear of the Beggar Clan’s Lord and the Golden Serpent Sect’s Leader.

With the formation on the verge of collapse, he had lost all restraint.

Earlier, after witnessing Jeong Yeon-shin’s overwhelming strength, he had hesitated—fearing mutual destruction.

But now?

Surrounded.

To let the Spell Formation carry him away, he would have to suppress his Radiant Ring Energy.

Yet if he diminished his power in front of a warrior like the Ghost King, he wouldn’t come out unscathed.

"I can kill him."

Jeong Yeon-shin thought.

But no matter how the fight played out, the Tang siblings’ bodies would inevitably be damaged.

Hu Gae’s frenzied expression showed no concern for collateral damage.

He intended to corner Jeong Yeon-shin by any means necessary.

A man who had completely abandoned reason.

Boom!

Hu Gae kicked off the ground, launching himself forward with a staff in hand.

Transparent waves of True Energy rippled chaotically around him.

He truly intended to fight.

Why?

What kind of desperation had driven him to this point?

"To die."

Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes turned razor-sharp.

— "Daoist friend, you may go."

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An archaic tone.

Suddenly, the billowing hem of a Daoist robe obstructed Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision.

It moved fluidly, like a fish gliding through water—an effortless execution of Cloud Dragon’s Eight Forms.

The Void True Man of the Dark Army.

— "I came to observe the Flood Dragon’s movements. My duty remains unchanged, no matter the fate of this formation. Even if this place vanishes."

The elderly Daoist’s voice carried an ethereal reverence.

His very words held spiritual resonance, without the slightest trace of corruption.

Jeong Yeon-shin furrowed his brow.

"One strike, and I can end this. Come with me."

— "A spirit beast that fails to ascend carries innate cruelty. One day, it may escape into the world and bring great calamity. I must witness it and forewarn others."

— "That was the decree given to me the day I left the gates of the Kunlun Sect, hand in hand with my master."

An Immortal of the Nine Great Orthodox Sects.

Jeong Yeon-shin recalled a similar presence—the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan Sect.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Perhaps, the elders of the Nine Great Clans had always maintained order in the world this way.

Since the Heavenly Gates first opened in the founding era of Ming.

CRACK—!

A tremendous shockwave surged past the old Daoist’s shoulder.

Hu Gae had engaged him.

The old beggar spat out incomprehensible curses.

— "Ma Gwang-ik, soon you will contend with the world."

Even amidst battle, the Void True Man’s voice remained lofty.

— "Supreme warrior of Ipwang Fortress, I have one request."

"What is it?"

— **"One day, you may have to cut down the roots of the World Tree.

Or perhaps, you won’t."**

"......?"

— "Go now. It has been a pleasure."

FWOOOOOSH!

As if pleased by witnessing the martial prowess of the younger generation, the Daoist’s voice faded into the distance.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s vision went black.

He had unconsciously loosened the Radiant Ring’s power upon hearing mention of the World Tree.

BANG!

Hu Gae screamed as his staff was intercepted by the Daoist’s palm.

"Brat! Stop! I’ll give you the Eight Drunken Immortals Steps—just bring me the Lord of Sunmok Ridge! Do you hear me? You damned wretch—!"

"Fortunate, old man."

Jeong Yeon-shin spoke calmly.

"What?"

"If you die there, at least your corpse will remain."

Had he reached Jeong Yeon-shin, it would have been impossible to keep his body intact.

Suddenly, Hu Gae’s Qi flow was severed. A violent coughing fit followed.

Was it because the words were so matter-of-fact?

The presence of a man reflecting upon his actions, even if briefly, was the mark of an old master.

‘A few words are all it takes to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.’

Unintentionally, Jeong Yeon-shin had grasped the path of a gentleman.

Thanks to the Tang siblings.

There was much to be gained from the Flood Dragon’s formation.

Even in the heat of urgency, he had maintained the composure befitting a high-ranking figure of Ipwang Fortress.

Finally, he surrendered himself entirely to the formation’s spell.

BOOM!

A deafening roar erupted inside his mind.

A pressure weighed down upon him, yet it could not reach his Radiant Starlight Heavens.

It merely buzzed, an echo in the background.

He was passing through the Gate of Life.

Jeong Yeon-shin held the Tang siblings' shoulders tightly.

He could not let go.

‘This is different from entering.’

It was rough—his entire body bounced as if trapped in the belly of some colossal being.

Thick, dense spirit energy erupted outside, sending waves crashing against him.

A deep chill ran down his spine.

An eternity seemed to pass.

Then—

Shaaah—

A cool breeze tickled his face.

The very essence of the air had changed.

Thin and tranquil.

‘I made it out.’

At last, he had returned.

A soft hissing sound rose from the ground beneath him.

The chirping of grasshoppers.

Opening his eyes, he saw a completely different landscape.

Mountains loomed in the mist, their ridges bathed in soft blue.

Thick forests swayed under the sunlight, stretching long and densely.

The crash of a waterfall shattered through the clear air like ice breaking apart.

Not Golden Serpent Gate.

How much time had passed?

He recalled the Young Lord’s words, spoken with an exasperated tongue-click while he meditated:

— "Golden Serpent Gate isn't the only one that can open the Flood Dragon's formation. You’ll likely end up somewhere completely different. Since there are multiple entrances, there are also multiple exits. I’ll try to avoid Golden Serpent Gate, so don’t worry."

Jeong Yeon-shin lightly adjusted his grip on the Tang siblings' shoulders as he surveyed the area.

It was a broad mountain road.

Patches of grass grew sparsely on the ground, and the terrain was relatively flat—almost resembling a highway.

‘This must be a well-traveled path.’

He needed to head to the nearest city.

The state of the martial world was unknown to him.

But first—

He could not continue carrying the Tang siblings' corpses like this.

A coffin was necessary.

Jeong Yeon-shin slowly spoke.

"Come out."

Silence.

Not a soul in sight.

Yet, his gaze flickered toward his shadow as he spoke again.

"How long do you think the Young Lord’s spell will last?"

"......."

Then—

Beyond the hill, a cloud of dust rose.

A group of men came charging into sight.

Five figures, brandishing oversized swords and blades, running with labored breaths.

Their Qi control was sloppy—poor even for their level of strength.

"That bastard! Catch him!"

"Hahh...! He looks like he can fight. Look at the way he’s standing."

"Shut up!"

"Boss, I’ve got a keen eye for people—"

"Idiot! Would you rather get skewered by those Qingcheng bastards?!"

"No, but that guy... he’s a martial artist, too... huh? Yellow character! Yellow character! Black rank!"

"What?"

"Boss, you lunatic! We have to turn back!"

Jeong Yeon-shin quietly observed the low-level martial artists.

Then, carefully, he laid the Tang siblings on the ground.

Step.

He moved forward.

Two powerful presences were rapidly approaching.

Behind them, he sensed the distinct internal energy of young righteous sect disciples.

Only the two at the front were worth his attention.

Expanding his Qi perception, he quickly realized—

This wasn’t an isolated event.

The entire region was in chaos.

The once-clear air now carried the faint scent of blood.

It was an era of turmoil.