Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 379: The World (3)

A man who had survived in the demonic path, a realm likened to hell itself, until old age.

If forced to choose between honor and survival, he would undoubtedly choose survival.

Yet, no one could easily accept what they had just witnessed.

The Lord of Sunmaren, whose voice had thundered with terrifying power, had just spoken—yet his words lacked the overwhelming resonance of a martial sovereign’s decree.

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He had spoken from an immense distance.

To perceive his voice, one would have to heighten their senses through internal energy or read his lips.

As murmurs spread among the crowd, even the veteran masters of the Orthodox Nine Sects looked bewildered.

Notably, the Daoist elders of Qingcheng, rather than the monks of Emei, were the first to react.

“Did that demon-born monster truly say what I think he did?”

“My hearing must be failing me—did he just admit defeat...?”

“When did they even exchange blows?”

“The Lord of Sunmaren was said to have transcended demonic energy itself. Could he have been shaken simply by opposing energy?”

A soft voice slipped into their discussion.

It was the Young Sword Lord of Mount Song.

“It was divine energy. And the Tenfold Gate Master's weapon techniques... Ma Gwang-ik created the perfect conditions for victory. I don’t know how, but he did.”

It was a confirmation of what many had suspected.

The monks of Emei murmured solemn prayers, while the Qingcheng elders grew restless.

“Divine energy? I’ve heard rumors of such power...”

“But to see it with one’s own eyes... Does Ma Gwang-ik truly wield something akin to the Three Pure Daoist Forces?”

Excitement laced their voices.

The Three Pure Daoist Forces were renowned as the most sacred energies under heaven.

It was said that even among the Orthodox Nine Sects, only the Sect Leader of Wudang had ever truly grasped it.

“Silence.”

A sharp voice cut through the whispers.

It was the Sect Leader of Qingcheng, standing at the edge of the cave entrance.

His keen, blade-like features were framed by the flowing hem of his white Daoist robes, still rippling from his sudden rise.

“Satae, what do you think?”

He asked quietly, his gaze locked onto Jeong Yeon-shin, who stood encircled by a storm of floating weapons.

He had not moved a muscle.

Baekyak Satae, who had silently risen from her seat, finally spoke.

“That old man is the longest-lived figure in the demonic path. Whatever the reason, this could happen. Whether he truly fears for his life or has a deeper scheme in mind, we cannot say.”

“Then... is it safe to assume that Ma Gwang-ik has completely mastered the Eighteen Weapon Arts?”

“Did you not just witness it?”

Her rhetorical question was met with silence.

The Sect Leader of Qingcheng wore an unreadable expression.

His eyes remained fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin, deep in contemplation.

“...He is a man who defies natural order. A dangerous existence. A man who tears through absolutes as if it were as natural as breathing. How many sects would tolerate such a being...?”

He trailed off.

Baekyak Satae, watching the standoff between Jeong Yeon-shin and the Lord of Sunmaren, shook her head.

“Emei and Shaolin cannot help but favor him.”

“The more Ma Gwang-ik rises, the greater the upheaval within the Orthodox Sects. He will make countless enemies, even more than the current Lord of the Divine Sword Sect.”

“That is a concern, but not one for now. Look at the old demon—he seems... unsettled.”

The moment she finished speaking—

A figure soared up the cliffside, dressed in monastic robes.

It was a nun from the Emei Sect, her expression tense.

“Grandmaster! The Thirteen Heavens are rampaging!”

“Speak clearly.”

“The surrounding martial sects—they have all been wiped out! Every clan, fortress, and temple between the Orthodox and Demonic paths, including the Imperial Guard... all annihilated! We’ve lost all contact with our scouts.”

“Amitabha...”

“The golden-robed nuns have not returned. Our last message warned of a short woman leading a cataclysm in her wake... If the intelligence is accurate, the Lord of the Golden Dawn Sect is marching this way.”

At that moment—

From the distant duel arena, as the gathered masters watched from the cliffs, a similar discussion unfolded.

“Are you really not going to attack?”

Jeong Yeon-shin’s voice was calm.

The Lord of Sunmaren chuckled dryly.

“Young lord of Ipwang Fortress... your provocation is truly remarkable. However, your years cannot match my own.”

His laughter echoed through the battlefield.

The demonic aura that had darkened the skies was gone without a trace.

It had long recoiled into the elder’s black robes.

The air was bright once more.

Amidst the floating weapons, where streaks of white lightning flickered, Jeong Yeon-shin stared impassively at the Lord of Sunmaren.

Then, he spoke.

“For someone your age, I’m amazed you feel no shame.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“They say you’ve transcended demonic energy, yet your aura feels like it’s corroded your Baihui acupoint.”

The Lord of Sunmaren fell silent.

“You called it a punishment, not a duel. Did you think you could escape it by curling your tail like an old dog?”

As Jeong Yeon-shin spoke, he was also examining his own body.

The life-or-death struggle against the Tenfold Gate Master.

The external wounds were of little concern—he had long since grown accustomed to pain.

The real problem lay inside his body.

The remnants of the Myriad Echoing Souls Art lingered, a piercing energy like long needles stabbing into his veins.

The shockwaves left behind by a veteran grandmaster’s strikes had solidified like adamantine, disrupting the flow of his internal energy.

He wouldn’t be able to exert his full power in this state.

It was the price of defeating one of the greatest masters of the Demonic Outer Path.

Even a brief moment for internal healing would be vital.

‘If I can properly circulate my Regenerative True Energy Art, I can recover quickly...’

Whoosh—

At that moment, he felt it—a gaze, deep and unfathomable, like a void staring back at him.

Dark, shadowed eyes scanned his body.

The Lord of Sunmaren was watching.

Defeating this old man would not be difficult.

If he fought now, he could win with at least a ninety percent chance of success.

The problem was what would come next—facing the Lord of the Golden Dawn Sect immediately after.

‘Mother...’

Standing where he was, Jeong Yeon-shin activated his Regenerative True Energy Art.

Sarak—

The fundamental principles of the technique surfaced in his mind, and his body gradually began to heal.

It was a soft, warm sensation.

His torn meridians stitched themselves back together with internal energy, his acupoints regaining their elasticity at a slower pace than usual.

Slower, because an absolute master stood before him.

The Lord of Sunmaren, who had been watching closely, suddenly smiled.

“Punishment, you say? You have barely held the title of ‘Lord of Gwangik’ for a single month. I have never personally moved against Ipwang Fortress. I simply found the petty skirmishes of my subordinates amusing. But more importantly...”

The wrinkled lips of the old man curled upward as he spoke slowly.

“Your martial arts intrigue me. Have you truly mastered all the weapon techniques of that foolish young Tenfold Gate Master?”

There was genuine interest in his tone.

As if this was a matter of great significance.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the Lord of the Golden Dawn Sect?”

Jeong Yeon-shin responded with a question of his own, completely dismissing the old man's inquiry.

The Lord of Sunmaren’s brow twitched.

In his long lifetime, he had never experienced such disregard.

By all logic, he should crush this insolent brat’s skull with his Netherworld Demonic Palm without a second thought.

And yet—

The floating radiance surrounding the Eighteen Weapons was so sublime, so utterly unprecedented, that he held back.

“...The Lord of the Golden Dawn has always been predictable.”

“Don’t speak in circles. Explain properly.”

“She is exterminating sects that stand in her way. To unlock the hidden sanctuary of the Divine Beasts, one must possess relics of great spiritual power.”

“That old woman is just as shameless as you. She must have seen my message.”

“You needn’t worry. The moment you disrupted the Formation of the Azure Dragon, she was fated to seek you out.”

The old man’s ancient speech carried a sense of inevitability.

It was a conversation between absolute masters.

Regardless of whether the watching crowd could hear or not, the entire battlefield had fallen silent.

Jeong Yeon-shin, unconcerned by their attention, spoke again.

“Tell me where you’ve hidden your lackeys.

The Tenfold Gate, Sunmaren, the Golden Dawn Sect—all of them.”

The Lord of Sunmaren’s expression darkened.

“...You speak with an excess of arrogance, as expected from the descendant of a wayward swordsman.”

“I invited you here to display your martial prowess, yet you choose instead to engage in trivial scheming.”

A subtle disappointment flickered across Jeong Yeon-shin’s face.

His expression had remained unreadable until now, making this shift all the more pronounced.

The Lord of Sunmaren’s brows furrowed.

Across the distant mountains, the expressions of watching masters also shifted.

Martial artists were naturally drawn to the presence of a once-in-a-generation genius.

And when that genius was the same young man who had just slain the Tenfold Gate Master, even unaffiliated warriors would feel compelled to favor him.

Even the smallest shift in his demeanor could sway their perception.

Just like certain women in the crowd, who now gazed at Ma Gwang-ik as if entranced.

A young, peerless master could earn loyalty and admiration simply by existing.

Today was only the beginning.

“You simply did not understand the nature of the Demonic Outer Path.”

The Lord of Sunmaren spoke again.

“Then do not use that term anymore.”

Jeong Yeon-shin cut him off.

“You are nothing but dishonorable scoundrels now.”

For the first time, the Lord of Sunmaren fell silent.

The light in the sky flickered, as if the passage of time itself had resumed.

***

Some among the crowd rubbing their eyes, as if unable to believe what they were seeing. Others simply stood frozen, their expressions betraying pure shock.

It was a scene beyond imagination.

A venerable bhikkhuni and a distinguished Taoist master were standing as guardians—one on each side of Ma Gwang-ik, who sat cross-legged in meditation.

The Thunderous Avalokiteśvara, Baekyak.

The long-standing Grandmaster of the Amitabha Sect.

The Twin-Walled Sword Sovereign, Master Cheongsu.

The newly ascended leader of the Cheongseong Sect.

“......”

The air grew heavy.

Saaaa—

The winds that had been sweeping across the cliffs suddenly reversed their course.

Dust scattered and faded into the distance, but not a single grain settled upon Ma Gwang-ik's face, where the sunlight burned dazzlingly bright.

It was an unprecedented sight.

“Is that truly the Thunderous Avalokiteśvara and the Twin-Walled Sword Sovereign?”

“Send word to headquarters. From now on, all rumors regarding Ma Gwang-ik are to be classified under Ipwang Fortress’s ‘Violet’ intelligence dossier. Not just for his martial prowess, but for his rank.”

“I never thought I’d live to see this day... To witness the absolute masters of the Orthodox Nine Sects standing guard over a single man.”

The leaders of the Orthodox Nine Sects.

Robes of saffron and pristine white fluttered gently.

The sheer weight of their collective energy was overwhelming.

The Lord of Sunmaren clenched his teeth.

Had the names of the Cheongseong and Amitabha Sect’s Grandmasters not been absent from the official invitation to the Martial Summit, he would have left long ago.

To invite a guest only to ambush him with combined forces?

That was something no honorable sect of the Orthodox martial world would dare to attempt—unless they were prepared to be permanently expelled.

And yet, here they were, blatantly standing as guardians.

Thus, the old man scoffed in scorn, his brow furrowing deeply.

"Is this truly the dignity of the great Orthodox Nine Sects?"

The Tenfold Gate Master had been slain.

Everyone could assume that Ma Gwang-ik’s condition was far from perfect.

Yet, somehow, he still appeared capable of handling the Lord of Sunmaren.

That alone was terrifying.

But now—

Now, he was openly recuperating, right in front of his enemy.

And no one could interfere.

Breaking through the protection of two Grandmasters?

There were few in the entire world who could manage such a feat.

"......”

Neither of them replied.

They merely stared down the Lord of Sunmaren with unyielding, heavy gazes.

‘Is he really going to recover fully here...?’

The old man hesitated.

Was it time to unleash the Shadow Weasel?

Sssk—

A faint, indiscernible energy stirred in his wrinkled palm.

There was nothing visible, as if he was merely grasping empty air—

Yet, within that space, something unseen rippled.

A spirit beast. A spectral demon.

A shadow weasel.

Just as the Amitabha monks and Shaolin priests raised spiritual flying «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» squirrels to serve as messengers and trackers, so too did the great lords of the Demonic Outer Path possess their own means—beasts of darkness and sorcery.

Normally, the Shadow Weasel was used to relay commands to subordinates while in seclusion.

And no ordinary martial artist could perceive its presence—not even a grandmaster, for its energy was far too weak to be considered a direct threat.

It also could not stray too far from its master.

But this time was different.

Ma Gwang-ik was right in front of him.

Vulnerable. Unmoving.

This was his chance.

Even a tiny wound on a vital acupoint would suffice.

The Lord of Sunmaren sent his will into his palm.

Go.

“Krrk—”

A sound that existed only in the realm of spirits.

The invisible weasel slid through the air, swift and silent.

Darting between the two Grandmasters, it raced toward Ma Gwang-ik’s shadow.

‘Foolish child. You know nothing of the Demonic Outer Path.’

Just as the old man’s lips curled into a smirk—

Ssshhh.

Something emerged from the shadow.

A head.

Silent and fluid, as if it had been waiting beneath the surface all along.

Hair, black as midnight, rose like a tide, flowing through the air.

Porcelain-white skin gleamed with an eerie radiance.

Everything moved in slow motion, as if caught in the realm of transcendence.

“......!”

A woman’s face surfaced first.

Her lips parted—crimson red—

And she bit down.

Fangs sank into empty air.

And yet, the Shadow Weasel’s form twisted and convulsed—

Before shattering into nothingness.