Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 344: Ranked Competition (5)

The vast dueling stage, where promotions and ceremonies were often held, was steadily closing in on the three Grandmasters as they drew closer to each other.

Across from them, the grand observation platform overlooked the battlefield. A shade-covered area cast long shadows, but the distinct pale sheen of marble stood out starkly.

The texture itself was so refined that it emphasized the status and rank of those seated there.

“How do you think it’ll turn out?”

Yeouicheon Lord and Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord.

Ak Su-rim idly tapped the pointed tip of her sleek leather shoe, a hint of amusement in her gaze as she watched the three Grandmasters square off below.

“They were set up in a trio to end this quickly, but it seems Myeongryu has no intention of making the first move. How sly.”

Beside her, Yullyeong Grandmaster Yun So-yu responded.

“Myeongryu Grandmaster likely wants to observe Ma Gwang-ik’s movements. His Body Projection Technique was already unmatched among the One-Strike Swordmasters of Wonpyeong. He has never allowed even a speck of dust to land on him, no matter the chaos.”

“So-yeon would be disappointed. She studied real combat more than infiltration techniques.”

Myeolseom Grandmaster and So-yeon Grandmaster had each been developing their own variations of the Hwanik Triple Steps before they were dispatched.

Their mission took them between Xinjiang and Sichuan, resolving the incident in Qinghai. It involved eradicating a martial sect that had turned their techniques into a religious cult.

A dense fog had been seeping from Xinjiang for years. Famine had persisted without end.

Many had taken advantage of the chaos, deceiving desperate commoners into offering themselves as tribute.

“So-yeon’s movement technique suited me best. It gave me the sensation of nobility. Myeolseom’s version was too rough.”

“So-yeon Grandmaster did show great interest in Hwanik Steps... Unlike Myeongryu Grandmaster, that is.”

Yun So-yu trailed off. She had been watching the stage with unwavering focus, clearly bothered by Ak Su-rim’s idle chatter.

Ak Su-rim, sensing the shift in tone, glanced away.

“What’s with the Grand Overseer? He looks like he just returned from Ice Palace.”

“...He’s waiting for Yeouicheon Lord to draw Ma Gwang-ik’s sword.”

The Grand Overseer, Im Jin-myeong, who had been sitting like a brooding bear, finally spoke, albeit sluggishly.

“Only then can it be formally announced. But right now... it’s still hard to believe. Of course, Grandmaster Jeong is not the type to exaggerate, but this is no trivial matter... From Shanxi to Yangyang, if we factor in the time it takes for Myeongryu’s warriors to deliver the news...”

His speech was beginning to devolve into rambling.

A clear sign that he wasn’t really listening to Ak Su-rim.

His large hands repeatedly wiped over his face, a stark contrast to his usual sharp demeanor.

Ak Su-rim raised an eyebrow before shifting her gaze toward another seat.

A prince from the royal court was present.

Sword Prince Ju Cheol.

His posture was rigid and dignified.

Throughout the gathering of Ipwang Fortress’s leadership, he had relentlessly pressed for the One-Strike Swordmasters’ decision. Yet, ever since Jeong Yeon-shin had shattered through the roof, he had fallen into silence.

No one was foolish enough to assume he had lost interest.

No one could predict what lay beneath his calculated exterior.

“From my perspective,” Ju Cheol suddenly spoke.

Ak Su-rim quickly averted her gaze, unwilling to engage with him.

But a prince of the imperial blood had no need for validation from others.

His eyes remained fixed on Jeong Yeon-shin’s profile as the young Grandmaster took a step onto the stage.

Sword Prince Ju Cheol had spent the past day reexamining every detail of Jeong Yeon-shin’s past.

His actual age, the speed of his martial growth, every merit he had accumulated since his initiation—nothing was overlooked.

“To the warriors of Ipwang Fortress, a seventeen-year-old Black Rank is like a fortress wall.

Perhaps such a wall may crumble under certain cannon fire, but it remains the largest and thickest in all the world...”

He continued, unbothered by the lack of response.

“When Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord, Seomye, first attained the rank of Grandmaster, many among the martial forces of Ma Gwang-ik raised objections.

After all, he was leading the elite forces of the most prestigious martial sect in the land, granted the authority to execute even high-ranking officials if necessary... and yet, he had barely passed the age of fifteen.

Had it not been for his accomplishments in Sichuan’s Minggong Province and his qualifications as a Grandmaster, there would have been significant backlash.”

Ju Cheol’s words grew quicker.

As the distance between Yeouicheon Lord and Ma Gwang-ik’s Lord narrowed to less than five paces, his voice shifted to a speed that only Grandmasters could perceive.

“But what happens when that young man removes his Black Robe?

And what happens when he dares to challenge for the position of Singeom Danju, the one who oversees all martial forces?”

A topic that struck at the core of the One-Strike Swordmasters’ council.

The rank of Purple.

It immediately seized the attention of those seated at the high table.

“He looks like he’ll make a name for himself as a supreme martial artist before he even reaches twenty.

But a man who hasn’t even been here for five years rising to the top of an ancient sect?

There is nowhere in the world where such a thing has ever happened.

And certainly not in a place as steeped in tradition as Ipwang Fortress.

Would the Imperial Swords of the royal family truly accept that young man’s strength as legitimate authority?

What about the elder council, as stubborn as the ancient reclusive sects?

The former Elder Council Chief was a kind man, but even he has stepped down from his position.”

“...Sword Prince, what exactly is your point?”

“Ah, Grand Overseer. What I mean is that this event can also be seen through a political lens.

How rare is this?

A direct duel between Grandmasters, openly witnessed by all.

When does such an opportunity arise?”

The Grand Overseer remained silent.

“You must have considered this, even if only subconsciously.

This is an opportunity for the warriors of Ipwang Fortress to establish the hierarchy of a seventeen-year-old Grandmaster.

Even if this is just a Body Projection Contest, no matter how different it may be from true combat, to those watching below, it will all look the same.”

A spectacle where multiple Grandmasters would cross blades before a vast audience.

Six Black Ranks.

Such an event would not occur again for a long time.

Perhaps not for another decade—unless the Seventeenth Order of the Singeom Squad was summoned for the first time since the founding of the nation.

“In the future, no matter what promotions occur within the Black Rank, this duel will always be mentioned.

And the youngest One-Strike Swordmaster of Wonpyeong may very well shatter the resistance of Ipwang Fortress’s warriors before it even forms.

And look—who stands there but the very source of the footwork that has spread like wildfire across this fortress?”

Ju Cheol’s gaze shifted downward, his expression unreadable.

“How amusing it will be to watch the faces of those high-ranking officials and merchant lords who have allied themselves with the Black Triad in hopes of benefiting from the next Singeom Danju.”

By then, two Grandmasters had already brushed past his sleeves.

Among the high-ranking officials seated in the fortress, none could find a rebuttal to his words.

***

Jeong Yeon-shin and Bukgung Ah.

A resounding crack split the air as the massive dueling stage trembled. The stone floor shattered under the weight of their advancing steps.

Jeong Yeon-shin deflected Bukgung Ah’s grasping hand with his forearm, pivoting to avoid her attempt to loosen his collar.

The instant their black sleeves brushed against each other, a shockwave rippled through the air as if tearing the atmosphere apart.

End it in ten exchanges. No more than two consecutive techniques allowed. Only the Body Projection Technique and Golden Silk Thread may be used to distort the opponent’s form.

Jeong Yeon-shin repeated [N O V E L I G H T] the wager’s rules in his mind. They were to fight using only their hands and feet, leaving the final verdict to the three Black-Rank elders observing from above.

Even if Myeongryu Grandmaster deliberately slowed his attacks, the seniors would take that into account before making their decision.

He had no intention of conceding. No matter how much he respected his seniors.

I have to give it my all.

It was his tribute to those who had set out to confront the Young Lord of the Ming Cult and never returned.

They were fellow disciples under the same banner, navigating the treacherous martial world together. He also wanted Baek Mi-ryeo to have the chance to see the grave of her kin.

"As expected, the original is different."

Bukgung Ah’s voice carried a trace of amusement as she passed him.

"There are no restrictions on your defense. You really follow that arrogant doctrine to the letter."

"Arrogant doctrine...?"

Jeong Yeon-shin found himself unable to refute. Though he disagreed entirely, his senior, Yeouicheon Lord Bukgung Ah, had delved into depths of insight far beyond his reach.

How could he even begin to discuss character with someone as virtuous as Confucius or Mencius? He had no choice but to swallow his discontent.

It was the first time he had been so shaken since his niece, Jeong Hye, had scolded him. He subtly inclined his head, circulating the Radiance Wheel within his heart to calm himself.

“...I will move in again immediately."

"That’s not what the rumors said. I expected you to stall at least once."

Why is he so compliant? Bukgung Ah’s brows twitched as she prepared her next attack.

—Thank you, Senior Bukgung, for opening my eyes to virtue.

She pondered the words as she stepped forward. Was he not mocking me?

Few among the Black-Rank held amicable relations with Bukgung Ah.

Yeouicheon Lord was known for her relentless sharp tongue, even towards someone as formidable as Hahoe Wi-jin.

Though she held the minimum respect due to her fellow disciples, no one treated her warmly.

She, too, had never sought comfort in others.

As long as the War God of the North remained alive, there was no peace for her body or mind.

Who cares. Bukgung Ah dismissed the thought.

"I have no interest in that corpse. Let’s exchange another move."

She spoke to the ever-unpredictable Ma Gwang-ik Lord while motioning toward a third presence.

Jeong Yeon-shin followed her gaze. A completely unfamiliar aura stood in the distance.

Myeongryu Grandmaster.

A peculiar figure wrapped in layers of gray bandages, draped in a black robe.

His physique suggested a sturdy yet agile frame, the only indication that he was a man.

He simply stood there. Silent.

Jeong Yeon-shin gave him a brief bow before turning back.

Bukgung Ah was closing in, her steps strangely weaving through the intangible energy fields Jeong Yeon-shin had set with his Hwanik Steps.

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Their first exchange had already given her ample understanding of his movements.

At her feet, a faint white shockwave traced large circular patterns.

Wung— Uung—

The resonance of inner energy roared.

Each step she took was leading to a decisive moment.

She would make a grand step toward him, disrupt his balance with Hwanik Steps, and use Golden Silk Thread to unravel his collar or unsheath his sword.

But no matter how adept Jeong Yeon-shin was in both bare-handed and sword techniques, he could not simply abandon his blade.

Even if Bukgung Ah, a master of hand-to-hand combat, wielded no weapon.

Her footwork operates under six designated stances... but she is already spreading her energy field to amplify propulsion waves.

Jeong Yeon-shin analyzed her movements.

He had seen a similar martial principle before.

It was the very concept he had recently focused on.

It bore a striking resemblance to the Sword-Fist Technique of the Mo Yong Clan.

So, Senior Bukgung is also manipulating space. And she’s aiming for the next Purple-Rank...

The gusts extending from Bukgung Ah’s long legs occupied six directions, billowing like writhing serpents.

A dreadful sense of pressure.

It was as if transparent, miniature dragons were rampaging through the air.

The arrogance of not needing to use every inch of space was embedded in her intent.

But to Jeong Yeon-shin, it felt strangely benevolent.

As if truly, there were only six directions.

"...?"

A flicker of boundless respect flashed in Jeong Yeon-shin’s eyes, making Bukgung Ah momentarily flinch.

In that instant, he concentrated his Radiance Wheel at the Yongcheon Acupoint beneath his soles.

A scorching pulse of energy surged down his thighs.

He had to surpass every Black-Rank present here today.

Regardless of the outcome, the brilliance of his seniors’ techniques would not be diminished.

He took another deliberate step forward.

Kwoong—!

True Advance.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the ground, sending large and small stone fragments skyward.

The propulsion from his heel to his calves was far more explosive than before.

His limbs and meridians had elongated like a divine sword.

The energy accumulated in his pressure points swirled with overwhelming force, incomparable to his past self.

As he slightly leaned forward, the outstretched hand braced against a powerful recoil.

The air screamed, a tempest bursting forth.

Bukgung Ah’s face filled his vision.

She had expected this.

Her lips curled upward.

At that very moment, the white shockwave erupting from her feet swept Jeong Yeon-shin’s bangs upward.

Hwaak!

Bukgung Ah’s black robes billowed violently.

Only the neatly bound black strands of her hair brushed against her pale chin before flowing back.

At the very last moment, she had leaned backward.

The opposite leg lashed upward with the force of a lightning strike.

A terrifyingly powerful kick aimed directly at Jeong Yeon-shin’s outstretched hand.

Kwaang!

A dazzling aerial somersault exploded into a shockwave.

The impact alone distorted the surrounding space, leaving the battlefield in a haze.

It was a clash worthy of the Black-Rank Triad.

Yet, the windstreams anchoring Bukgung Ah’s six stances remained unshaken.

She had stripped him of the chance to properly plant his steps.

Bukgung Ah had reached the pinnacle of Three Converging Purities, creating a fleeting yet absolute cage of thunder.

No visible counterattack emerged.

Not until she seized his sword and unsheathed it.

Sreung—

Sunlight cascaded along the blade like starlight.

A dazzling white radiance.

The pristine sword reflected in Bukgung Ah’s widened eyes.

A blade she could never mistake.

The Meteor Sword of Mo Yong Clan’s Supreme Grandmaster.

A hush fell over the battlefield.

Not even the elders above nor the warriors below uttered a sound.

A loose strand of Bukgung Ah’s hair fell like black silk.

The hem of her black robe pooled at Ma Gwang-ik Lord’s feet, crumpled like shattered armor from a northern battlefield.

Hwanik Five Steps.

Jeong Yeon-shin had opened the gates of time.