Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 287: Lotus (6)

The main boulevard outside the estate was abuzz with excitement.

It was an age of the strong preying on the weak. In times of famine, the rise of a single powerful individual could dictate the fate of the common people.

The hands of martial masters were colossal, their scale of plunder unmatched.

In this world of warriors—where the gaps in tactical maneuvering were as vast as the sky—who would emerge as the foremost figure?

The Bi-mu Tournament spanned the entirety of Shanxi, carrying immense significance. Inside the estate, that weight was even greater.

Countless people streamed in and out.

An enormous banquet hall, arranged in a square shape resembling the character 口 (mouth), gleamed under the sunlight.

"The Iron Soul Divine Blade of the Gui family is said to be unrivaled."

"The foundation of Pyongyang Prefecture’s martial lineage is the Gongya clan. Do you even realize how stunning the So-Ga-Ju and I-Gong-Ja siblings are? Their beauty is beyond anything found in the marketplace. Surely, their martial arts must be just as exceptional."

"Are you seriously discussing young Shanxi warriors without mentioning the Sa-Hyeop? That’s laughable. Do you even know how many villains have fallen to the Mayflower Swordplay? They compose poetry over their corpses, as if the King of the Underworld himself knew true refinement."

"And let’s not forget the noble warriors of Goga Sword Sect, Suwol Sect, and Changcheon Gang! Shanxi is home to no shortage of battle-hardened warriors."

Whether their Qi was pure or erratic, the sects gathered here were all considered part of Shanxi’s noble martial society.

The colors of their martial robes varied.

Each warrior bore well-maintained weapons, engaging in casual conversation, their demeanor exuding the leisure of those who reigned as the strongest in an era of famine and chaos.

"What does it matter who wins the tournament? This is hardly the time to idly speculate about its outcome. Have you heard? Bloodfiends in the nearby region have begun emerging like wildfire-stricken boars."

"They’re not Blood Demon Sect assassins, just low-level lackeys—hardly a real threat. I cut one down myself just recently. The fool looked too terrified to even focus on absorption or looting. He was drowning in fear."

"Oh? And since when has your swordplay been so refined?"

"Well..."

The atmosphere was more akin to a grand aristocratic feast. Given that the banquet was hosted by a Sega-level family, that was only natural.

The vast expanse of the estate was filled with people. And this was just those whose names carried weight within the martial world. The world was truly vast.

"Gongya Jeong."

"...Gui Il-tae."

A canopy of vibrant colors stretched overhead, shading the courtyard from the sun.

Gongya Jeong idly adjusted the crimson sash at her waist—or, more precisely, her fingers lightly tapped the scabbard bound by that sash.

A subconscious reaction to an approaching presence that instinctively made her ready to draw her sword.

It was Gui Il-tae of the Shanxi Noble House.

"Still exuding that imposing presence, I see. I almost thought you’d mastered Formless Sword Qi."

A sneering voice twisted the scar on the bridge of his nose. His tone was crude.

His appearance, however, was anything but.

He wore a thick, yellow fur coat. His height was great enough to gaze down at Gongya Jeong, who was already tall herself.

A Daoist warrior, his large, honed physique and the ruddy flush on his face lent him a vibrant, expressive demeanor. He radiated an aura of unchecked recklessness.

And with good reason. He was the one who had inherited the full martial lineage of the Green Forest bandits.

The Shanxi Noble House had been established by former mountain bandits seeking legitimacy.

Roaring Heaven Mad Blade Gui Il-tae was a name well known across Shanxi. Whether for his arrogance or his ruthless blade work.

Gui Il-tae smirked as he looked down on Gongya Jeong.

"I heard you drove away the matchmaker. That’s quite rude for a so-called noble family, isn’t it? A house that goes so far as to bring in scholars to recite poetry."

"The only ones who were rude were your kin. Speaking of marriage proposals to a successor of an Il-mun lineage."

Gongya Jeong didn’t even look at him.

Her voice was as cold as the winter air upon her face. She remained focused on overseeing the banquet as its host.

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Gui Il-tae idly tapped the sheath at his waist.

"And what was so rude about merely suggesting you consider it? Go ask a high monk—he’d probably tell you your mind is tainted by demonic influence. You pretend to be noble, yet you're desperate to protect your own interests. Hardly the mark of a great leader."

Gongya Jeong didn’t respond. Instead, she recalled a piece of advice from Geom Un-bi.

—If you're in a position where defeat is unacceptable, align your breathing with your grip. Do not engage in battle until you've fully observed your opponent. A fight is a collection of variables. Before refining my internal breathing, I couldn’t guarantee absolute victory even against some nameless opium addict. How much more so for those of lesser skill?

Gui Il-tae had approached suddenly, engaging her in conversation.

She was not in peak condition right now. She could not give him an opening.

‘Geom Un-bi...’

Her gaze drifted toward a table beneath the canopy. The young man sitting there, drawing curious glances from many of the young warriors around him.

With his ethereal features that made reality feel slightly distorted, he subtly studied the gathered heroes as if their presence intrigued him.

It was as if he were marveling at the warriors preparing to enter the Bi-mu Tournament.

To Gongya Jeong, however, Geom Un-bi himself was the greater mystery.

‘It’s as if he exists in a different world.’

As a martial artist, she admired Geom Un-bi.

The haunting melancholy and wistful solitude in his sword dance beneath the moonlight—it was unforgettable.

And his casual generosity in passing down a secret technique she would spend ten years perfecting.

Was it because of his appearance? He carried himself like a noble creature, something beyond mortal reach.

Even as the Sega heir, she found it difficult to approach him.

"Hey, what are you looking at? Hm?"

A coarse voice interrupted her thoughts.

Roaring Heaven Mad Blade Gui Il-tae. Another peer-aged rival, like the Sa-Hyeop.

Shanxi’s instability had only grown worse because of people like him.

Figures like Gui Il-tae carried themselves as noble martial disciples in public settings like this, yet in the shadows, they relied on banditry—plundering precious food from commoners.

Their ghostly movement techniques made it nearly impossible to prove their crimes. So, those who knew could only whisper about it in secret.

The martial world was becoming increasingly lawless.

For a scion of the Green Forest lineage, this was the perfect era.

With his privileged status, his brutish nature, and his overwhelming martial prowess, he could act as if he were the center of the world.

From a distance, he spotted the young man with sleek black hair cascading to his shoulders—his face holding a dreamlike quality.

Gui Il-tae’s thick lips twisted into a smirk.

"What a strange bastard. No wonder he caught the So-Ga-Ju’s eye. What is he, a plaything?"

Step.

The large fur coat passed through Gongya Jeong’s right-side vision and moved past her.

She did not stop him.

She wanted Geom Un-bi to establish connections with Shanxi’s famed martial elites. He was far too talented to waste away as a wandering Lang-in.

In a way, this was her own form of gratitude. If the Green Forest nobility sought to leverage their influence against him, she would be his shield.

"Send some Shaoxing wine to that table."

Gongya Jeong instructed the attendant standing behind her.

She was pointing toward Geom Un-bi’s table.

***

A soft rustling.

A dark sleeve brushed against the table, drawing the attention of those around.

The gathering consisted of martial artists with heightened senses. Maintaining composure among those who had refined their perception to an extreme was no easy feat.

‘What is there to look at?’

Jeong Yeon-shin wordlessly grasped his cup.

Many had turned their attention toward him. Their gazes lingered on his face. This was a new experience—something he hadn’t encountered while wearing a robe embroidered with the bold 黄 (Hwang) character.

Now that he had lowered his status and concealed his true martial ability, the world felt much harsher. If he had never entered Ip-hwang-seong, what would he have become?

He suddenly recalled the Pureblood Robe buried in his travel pack. And Chil-sa-do’s ever-smooth smile.

He shook his head inwardly. That life was too distant from his own temperament. Too far removed.

‘Would I have become Great Hero Geom-ryong’s disciple instead? A swordsman of Jongnam Sect?’

As he toyed with his cup, he focused on the auras around him.

‘The man to my right, devouring meat nonstop, is the strongest swordsman of Goga Sword Sect. The woman in front, tilting her drink, is the young sect leader of Suwol Sect. The rising star from Changcheon Gang, some Kim-something, is seated near the back door, idly stroking the hilt of his sword. And the hulking figure approaching from the distance—he must be from the Shanxi Noble House, one of the Gui family. And then there’s...’

One by one, he took note of his targets. It felt like stepping into the shoes of an assassin.

Gongya Jeong had provided him with prior information. These were the ones who regularly plundered the common folk.

Stealing harvested grains was routine. They would intercept taxes before they reached the government, forcing farmers to pay twice.

But this was all circumstantial evidence. Martial artists who had honed their Stealth Arts never left traces behind.

Even the Gongya clan could only speculate about the culprits based on the desperate testimonies of powerless villagers.

This was the reality of a world ruled by strength. In times of famine, martial prowess dictated the hierarchy.

"They say the Hundred and Eight Arhats Formation was once again deployed in Songshan. The skies were overcast, but a massive hole was torn through the clouds. The incense traders of Dengfeng County all knelt in worship right then and there. Some claim they saw the palm of the Buddha."

"Could it be that His Majesty has descended once more?"

"Who knows? The world is in turmoil. Maybe some supernatural entity was defeated by the Shaolin monks."

"Have you heard the rumor that the Lord of Divine Swords wiped out ten Archery Barricades in a single night?"

"You're speaking of another world entirely. I, on the other hand, recently acquired a Shinseondo painting by the artist Tang Yin. Hanging it on my wall has freshened the entire atmosphere... It’s undoubtedly the work of a master. If martial arts could be compared, this would be akin to a supreme swordmaster’s legacy."

"How leisurely. I must visit sometime. My estate is starting to reek of ox dung."

"Didn’t you just acquire a hundred head of cattle during this famine? Do you even have enough feed for them?"

"More than enough."

The noblemen who had taken an interest in Hyeon-cheon Munju Geom Un-bi soon lost interest and turned their conversations elsewhere.

Jeong Yeon-shin was not the only subject of attention. This was a gathering of prestigious clans.

Many groups sat in closed circles, rejecting outsiders from joining their ranks. Among the powerful elite, there was no place for mere guests.

Yet it was an extravagant banquet nonetheless.

Dishes from all over the land were presented.

Guihua Chicken from Hangzhou, Mapo Tofu from Sichuan, and Shanxi’s famous vinegar-seasoned stir-fried mushrooms.

The aroma of fine cuisine blanketed the area like mist.

Even the most refined Sword Fragrance of the Huashan Sect paled in comparison to this feast. Dozens of people laughed and chatted.

Contrary to Gongya Jeong’s hopes, Jeong Yeon-shin had no interest in mingling.

Simply observing their faces, physiques, auras, and names was enough.

"Quite timid, aren’t you? It’s unsightly."

A rough voice boomed from above. It was unbearably loud.

Without any change in expression, Jeong Yeon-shin looked up.

He had already sensed this man approaching.

One of the Gui family from the Shanxi Noble House. A man of immense stature loomed over him, a sinister smirk on his face.

"So your surname is Geom? Never heard of a family with that name. Must be a lowly lineage. No wonder you’ve latched onto the Gongya clan. You should at least make good use of that smooth tongue of yours. After all, the So-Ga-Ju must expect you to entertain her esteemed guests."

A few people whistled.

The scions of noble houses merely observed with measured gazes. Petty disputes like this were inevitable when martial artists gathered.

"Lineage, huh..."

Jeong Yeon-shin tilted his head slightly.

"I heard your family descends from bandits."

"......."

This time, far more eyes turned toward them.

Roaring Heaven Mad Blade Gui Il-tae was said to be one of the top contenders for victory in the Bi-mu Tournament, alongside Gongya Jeong and the Sa-Hyeop.

He had mastered the Iron Soul Divine Blade, the pinnacle of Green Forest sword techniques.

Famous for cleaving through a dozen mounted raiders in a single stroke, his gaze alone carried overwhelming intimidation.

It was clear—he intended to humiliate Gongya Se-ga through Jeong Yeon-shin.

Then.

Jeong Yeon-shin abruptly raised his hand.

And struck.

There was no drawn sword.

The force in his extended hand distorted the air, twisting it into an unnatural ripple.

Beside Gui Il-tae, something took form—like mist coalescing into a shape.

And then, a Bloodfiend’s back erupted in a violent spray of crimson.

Puhwaak—!

"Kuaagh!"

The assassin’s crimson hair, characteristic of a Bloodflame Cult swordsman, flared wildly.

The servant who had been carefully carrying a tray of dishes stumbled back, eyes wide with terror.

"Stealth arts? Focus your senses!"

"It’s the Bloodflame Cult! We’re under attack!"

In an instant, the banquet descended into chaos. Weapons were drawn, and shockwaves of Qi exploded throughout the hall.

The assassins of the Bloodflame Cult, having lost their element of surprise, charged in from all directions.

Zzeoong! Saaaak!

The ground trembled. The once-peaceful air turned heavy with murderous intent.

Swordsmen fell first, blood spurting into the sky as they collapsed.

The situation escalated in mere moments.

The Gongya estate was known for its wealth, and now—amidst a famine—it had openly flaunted a banquet of unparalleled abundance.

Rumors of the Bi-mu Tournament and its accompanying feast had spread far and wide.

It was inevitable that the starving Bloodfiends would come.

"Right side! Hold the right flank!"

"It’s a whip! The assassin knows Whip Arts! Where’s a master of Protective Qi?"

"There are five Bloodflame Sword Assassins...!"

As the elite warriors clashed, terrified servants screamed.

No matter how scattered or disorganized they were, to ordinary people, the Bloodfiends were inhuman monsters.

Their deaths seemed unavoidable.

Until Jeong Yeon-shin moved.

He did not hesitate.

Step.

A single sweeping glance took in the battlefield.

As he planted his foot forward, a faint glow, like mist, rose from beneath him.

A constellation emerged across the banquet hall.

A shadow twisted the air, bending into five sharp angles.

Zzzeoong—!

The first Bloodflame Swordsman, barely managing to block with his blade, was flung backward.

A deafening explosion swept across the banquet.

His body, shattered into a bloody mess, slammed into the distant wall.

Within the dimly shimmering constellation, the echoes of five consecutive shockwaves overlapped into one.