Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 337: Tyranny (2)
The battle unfolded among rocks, thickets, streams, and corpses.
Gun Yu-rin, perched atop his steed and looking down at the Seventh Apostle and the young man, found himself doubting his own eyes.
The scent of blood, once mingled with the sound of flowing water, had long since faded from his nose. The sheer intensity of their close-combat exchange had stripped the moment of any sense of reality.
Who the hell is that?
Gun Yu-rin, his posture unwavering and commanding, found himself in a state of turmoil.
He was the Young Lord of the Heartless Lotus Sect. To master battlefield combat, he had trained in Wiwangsi, an advanced martial art that allowed him to command military forces with precision.
He had personally received training in this technique from his father. Day and night, he had devoted himself to its mastery. Thanks to his natural talent, he had achieved remarkable success.
And now, he was witnessing the techniques of true martial masters before his very eyes.
Their every movement was a blur, but he could still sense the ascending force within their strikes.
The Seventh Apostle, her pure-blood robes fluttering around her, moved differently from when she had fought against the military forces.
Though her qi had been depleted, her attacks now carried a strange, refined grace. Powerful yet mesmerizingly elegant.
Gun Yu-rin nearly lost his composure as he watched.
Even more shocking was the fact that the young man surpassed the Seventh Apostle, despite her state of qi deviation.
The moment he subdued her, his movements reached the absolute peak of the Flowing Realm, to the {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} point where for a fleeting second, Gun Yu-rin was reminded of the Wudang Sect.
There was a reason Gwang Dojon had stopped him from interfering.
—Young Lord.
A voice resounded in his mind, carried through an internal transmission.
A weighty presence approached the side of his white horse.
An overwhelming qi—one that had no place in this battlefield.
It was Gwang Dojon of the Heartless Lotus Sect speaking to him.
—You must proceed with caution.
—What do you mean?
Gun Yu-rin responded.
—Do not be quick to judge him. From his qi, he seems to have cultivated a blood-based technique, but I have never heard of such an Apostle within the Bloodflame Cult.
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Gun Yu-rin did not reply but instead stole a glance at her.
Gwang Dojon, Geum Min.
Her long hair, tied back into a single, elegant braid, exuded an air of refinement. The great saber strapped across her back emanated intimidation.
Like all Three Supreme Lords of the Heartless Lotus Sect, her appearance was deceptively serene, at odds with the sheer depth of her martial prowess.
Her cold beauty had won the favor of high-ranking nobles, regardless of gender.
Just like the Fallen Blood Twin Lord, who had once roamed the noble circles of Beijing—until he was slain by the combined assault of the Four Great Vajras and Ma Gwang-ik.
But Gun Yu-rin did not regard Gwang Dojon favorably.
Apart from Sword Lord Baek Seo-gооn, who had been confined under house arrest for defying the Sect Leader’s summons, Gwang Dojon was the only supreme martial artist who could influence the succession struggle.
And she had been the one to train Gun Yu-rin, his younger sister.
In the martial world, the bond between master and disciple was sacred, above all else.
Moreover, Geum Min was as stubborn as a northern war general. She had rejected Gun Yu-rin’s attempts to win her over multiple times, leaving him humiliated.
"Proceed with caution?" As if I don’t already know that.
The loss of the Fallen Blood Twin Lord had left a gaping void. He had been the only one among the Three Supreme Lords who supported Gun Yu-rin’s succession.
The news of his corpse, found mutilated, with his meridians and dantian destroyed, had been devastating.
Once Gun Yu-rin returned to the sect, he would have to somehow win over Baek Seo-gооn.
And now, standing before him, was a young prodigy—the Seventh Apostle, young, powerful, and of extraordinary talent.
Gun Yu-rin gathered his inner qi into his throat.
—If we fail to take this woman with us, we will have no excuse before the Sect Leader. A thousand-strong force has already been reduced to nine hundred, and now you expect me to let the Seventh Apostle slip through our fingers? Not even you, Gwang Dojon, will escape the Sect Leader’s wrath unscathed.
Gwang Dojon’s brow furrowed.
—That young man... His attire resembles a vagabond’s, but his presence and aura are unmistakably those of a noble of the Bloodflame Cult. It’s possible another true-blood descendant survived the massacre of their main sect. Let me speak with him first. Such men rarely regard those weaker than them as worth acknowledging.
Step.
Without looking back, she strode forward.
Behind her, Gun Yu-rin clenched his fists so tightly that his veins bulged.
She regarded him as though he were an incompetent fool.
From the moment it was revealed that he had once written a love letter to Sword Lord Baek Seo-gооn, this treatment had not changed.
Gwang Dojon approached the two who had just fought.
I must be wary of his limbs.
She observed.
The young man’s exposed limbs—revealed by his slightly short robe—were remarkable.
Despite the lack of visible strain, his muscles pulsed with raw power, his entire physique emanating an overwhelming presence.
His build wasn’t particularly bulky, yet the pressure he exuded was on par with the legendary warrior-monks of the Shaolin Temple, who had fully mastered the Muscle Reversal Technique.
“I am Geum Min of the Heartless Lotus Sect.”
Her voice carried slowly across the battlefield.
A distance of ten paces separated them.
The Seventh Apostle, now suffering from internal injuries, let out uneven, shallow breaths.
The young man held her up, supporting her chin and upper body with one shoulder as he stared silently at Gwang Dojon.
“......”
Silence filled the space.
It was an insolent stillness.
Even within the Heartless Lotus Sect, Gwang Dojon was known for her lightning-fast and destructive swordsmanship.
Yet, the young man did not even bother to remove the Seventh Apostle from his arms.
“Heartless Lotus Sect.”
He repeated her words quietly.
Then, he spoke again.
“Are you on an expedition?”
“...Yes.”
“Your purpose must be military supplies for the north.”
“You are well informed.”
“Any other objectives?”
His tone was calm.
His voice was so low and steady that it was nearly drowned out by the sounds of the river.
But Gwang Dojon heard it clearly.
She did not respond immediately.
No noble warriors of the martial world ever ventured out for a single reason.
Both she and Gun Yu-rin had multiple goals.
They fought to eliminate enemies and sought to recruit talent wherever they could.
Capturing a renegade Apostle of the Bloodflame Cult was no different.
No one in the martial world would criticize them for their actions.
And the young man knew this.
His question was a test, forcing the Heartless Lotus Sect to choose.
Would they retreat?
Or would they fight?
It was absurd.
"Today... my sword feels particularly light."
Gwang Dojon’s right hand twitched ever so slightly.
She was supposed to probe his identity first, yet her sword arm felt unnaturally fluid.
Her martial intuition had never been sharper.
Today, her swordplay would be faster than even Sword Lord Baek Seo-gооn’s.
He would deny it, of course.
Her blade was always ruthless.
Her innate instincts allowed her to anticipate attacks before they happened.
And so, she spoke slowly.
“...The Heartless Lotus Sect is a loyal military force of this land. We have no other purpose.”
As the restless neighs of warhorses filled the encircled village, her voice rang clear.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
Few could survive a direct confrontation with a force of nearly a thousand martial warriors.
Even the Chilsa-do could only delay and evade them before succumbing to mental deviation—despite having mastered Asin Steps, a movement technique ranked among the top five in the world.
Yet, the young man showed no sign of concern over the size of the army.
Gwang Dojon understood. With the footwork he had displayed upon entering the battlefield—his movements resembling the precise placement of constellations—he could cut down the commanders and escape unscathed. At the very least, the Young Lord's death was already certain.
And then—
The young man tilted his head slightly, directing his gaze beyond her shoulder.
"A loyal military force? That one doesn’t seem to think so."
Gwang Dojon didn’t need to turn around. She already knew. She could picture Gun Yu-rin’s face contorted with rage.
She thought to herself: Damn, what an irritating brat.
“That is simply the reckless sense of justice that all young men of his age tend to possess,” she answered smoothly. “Lacking wisdom and virtue, they struggle to discern when to draw their swords... Do not pay it any mind.”
“He needs humility more than martial prowess. Otherwise, he might end up dying a fool’s death.”
“A valid point. I shall make sure to have it drilled into him.”
The young man nodded without a word.
With Chilsa-do’s raven-black strands brushing against his cheek, he slowly turned his chin away.
Gwang Dojon cautiously stepped back, and only after she had returned to the main formation did he finally look away.
Jeong Yeon-shin paid no attention to the distant cries of lowly soldiers.
He ignored the sight of the 900-strong cavalry, kicking up dust as they rode away.
Instead, he was more focused on the rhythm of Chilsa-do’s heartbeat.
It pulsed against his chest like a whisper.
"Mental deviation... Her blood flow is erratic. Her energy unstable."
He began contemplating a way to stabilize her condition.
The Great Circulatory Path of Mara Blood Arts wouldn’t be enough. He would have to incorporate something else. Her energy felt strangely different from typical Blood Arts practitioners.
***
Beneath the ancient cliffs, the vast plains stretched endlessly.
A column of warriors on horseback snaked across the land, leaving behind a shimmering trail of dust.
“Dojon, is this even acceptable...?!”
“What’s not to accept? I just saved your life. Even if we had thrown every last soldier at him, what good would it do if the heir himself died? That young man was that strong.”
Riding side by side with him, Gwang Dojon responded without hesitation.
Seated atop his white stallion, Gun Yu-rin let out a scoff of disbelief. His grip on the reins tightened.
He had no words for his father.
Losing a hundred warriors in pursuit of Chilsa-do was a loss so immense that even an entire mid-sized martial sect would not compare.
And with nothing to show for it, there was no way he could avoid his father’s wrath.
“Wasn’t the whole point of this to take down Ma Gwang-ik? There are rumors that he survived the Ten-Mile Night Ambush. If what you say is true, we should have changed our course long ago. There’s no way I could have handled his movement techniques!”
“That man is not like the Great Priest of Ihwang Fortress. You should have known that already.”
“To think even the great Dojon would falter like this... Does the rank of Three Martial Lords mean so little?”
“Watch yourself. My patience has its limits.”
“I find it highly suspicious. Perhaps you intend to let Yu-rin take the throne instead?”
“I have told you time and time again—if you truly intend to capture that man, you’ll need more than an army. You need peerless martial masters, not just soldiers—”
“I refuse to accept that! We’ll soon see for ourselves! Once we find Ma Gwang-ik’s corpse, we’ll know you were simply overreacting!”
[Whose corpse do you speak of?]
The weight of the voice crushed down upon the earth.
It was a Six Harmonies Transmission, laced with an oppressive, aged aura.
KWAHHHHH!
Before Gwang Dojon could react, before Gun Yu-rin even had time to lift his head—
A thunderous roar tore through the air, so violent it threatened to shatter their eardrums.
900 warriors and their steeds instantly panicked, scattering in all directions.
It was as if the sky itself was collapsing.
“What the...?!”
By the time he realized what was happening—
It was already too late.
Gun Yu-rin’s vision filled with deep crimson.
A split second later—
His arms were ripped apart.
Flesh and bone—torn to shreds. Blood erupted from his shoulders.
A twisted rainbow formed above the rising jets of blood.
KRRRRAAAAAAAAGH!
A horrific scream filled the vast plains.
And amidst it all—
Three massive boar carcasses plummeted from the sky, crashing into the earth with a thunderous impact.
***
After the departure of the Sim Mu-ryeon cavalry, a faint twilight settled over the ancient cliffs.
Jeong Yeon-shin sat with one knee raised, leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree.
He glanced back and forth between two sights—
The dying glow of the crimson sunset in the distance.
And the figure wrapped in blood-red robes, lying on the ground like a makeshift cocoon.
“...You.”
His voice broke the silence.
“You’ve come back to your senses, haven’t you?”
“....”
