Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 392: Hidden in the Shadows (1)

A covert operation.

A faction almost unheard of in the world of martial arts.

Among the esteemed families, those who have fallen into obscurity have gathered here. When it comes to secrecy, they were unparalleled.

Thanks to their mastery of the divine archery technique, their arrows were said to be more lethal than any assassin’s strike.

In reality, they earned their living by assassination. A sect that killed for pay, perfecting the art of murder with exceptional skill.

Naturally, their enemies were many. They hid their faction using secretive arts, so skilled in the craft of concealment that their presence remained unknown for years.

Not even the Haomun Clan or the Gaebang knew of them.

The very fact that their location was unknown made them the stuff of legends, whispered about in awe and fear. Countless stories arose, born from reverence and dread.

From the underground of the North Sea Ice Palace, they periodically descended, digging into the ruins of the great Beijing, hiding with certainty...

“Was there really a covert operation in our city?”

“No way.”

“Their true identities... Is it not time to make a quick escape instead of standing here talking?”

As commoners, trying to hide behind walls and windows, murmured among themselves.

Jeong Yeon-shin lowered his brows slightly.

He concentrated, focusing the immense force from his heart into his sword, causing the surrounding air to ripple gently.

The vibrations from the sword emanated a deep hum. This was his sword technique, inspired by the Crown Prince’s teachings, perfected into an art of lethal precision.

He didn’t act immediately.

This was a large city—Gyeoju. Even in the outskirts where no city walls stood, it was still crowded with commoners.

The barren fields stretched before him, but he couldn’t unleash his full power with the nearby homes in the distance. He needed time to properly channel his energy.

‘Only forward... It’ll take a little longer.’

It wasn’t an easy task to decide the direction of his energy technique, a battle of control and precision.

His technique, based on the principle of Yin energy, didn’t discriminate between friend and foe at first. To decide the path of Yin energy now meant completely altering his method, almost like reworking the fundamentals of his sword art.

‘Hold your breath.’

Jeong Yeon-shin whispered to himself as he focused on his sword.

The technique he was about to use was very different from his «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» earlier days, when every movement taxed his energy reserves.

Through years of transformation and refinement, he had absorbed the essence of the greatest masters, elevating himself to a near-perfect state.

His hand now controlled martial power.

Ki—!

The flow of energy from the blade was now completely under his control.

The waves of energy were now aligned with his will, a seamless vibration flowing through them like the subtle hum of a bamboo flute.

From nearby, Shin Hwang, the Grandmaster, observed Jeong Yeon-shin closely.

“You've fully enclosed your internal energy within your sword.”

His arms crossed, Shin Hwang’s eyes were filled with an unreadable emotion. He had seen Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword art before, during a task with the Haomun Clan. At the time, the young warrior had demonstrated his skill, and it had impressed him deeply.

‘He's definitely different now.’

There was a palpable difference between the rough, muddy craftsmanship of someone just learning and the smooth, polished elegance of a master. When it came to internal energy, the difference was clear.

He could see that Jeong Yeon-shin’s power was now unshakable, capable of a forceful, devastating impact when combined with the support of those around him.

“It’s quite impressive.”

“Well, with a figure like that, he could blow a flute and call upon rain...”

Shin Hwang’s companions, Heavenly Masters Cheon So-so and Wei Ji-geuk, silently withdrew.

Aksurim, smiling warmly, was pulled away by Bukgung Ah by the nape of his neck.

The senior warriors stood by, observing with disinterest. They took little notice of the actions of their juniors, whether done openly or in secret.

Then, from among the spectators, a middle-aged man stepped forward.

“Don’t cause unnecessary unease. Outsiders are attracting too much attention. At a time like this, with the crops barely enough, why are we drawing blades and pretending to be acrobats?”

His voice was deep, carrying authority.

He was dressed in a luxurious orange robe, with a jade-decorated scabbard at his waist, a symbol of his significant rank.

“Is that... the famous Shangpan Sword? I heard you went all the way to Guangxi... and yet you returned safely. Truly, your reputation precedes you.”

“Not sure how much you’ve left behind in the city, but...”

“Thieves will plague us once again in the dead of night, searching high and low for the hidden treasure of the Shangpan Sword.”

The onlookers, many of whom recognized him, murmured in admiration.

Anyone with the title ‘Pan’ in their alias was often someone with a broad influence, widely respected and recognized, a figure of importance.

The man puffed out his chest proudly.

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“So, you’re saying there’s a hidden assassin group in our city? I don’t know where you came from or which faction you belong to, but if you intend to set up shop here and exploit the common folk under the guise of the Thirteen Heavens, you’ve made a grave mistake.”

His voice carried a powerful resonance, strong enough to overshadow the vibrations from Jeong Yeon-shin’s sword.

“Even if you claim to hold the power to search every corner of the world with the Ipwang Command, you still have a problem. It’s common knowledge that Ipwang Fortress abandoned the people—why stir up trouble in a peaceful city and overturn the lives of ordinary citizens? To speak of the Hidden Shadows here? What kind of disaster are you planning to unleash?”

Voices of agreement echoed through the crowd.

The man—known as Shangpan Sword—felt a sudden sense of gratitude toward the Little Lord Yeoryeong.

The Ipwang black faction were an elusive group. There were few who could even recognize when a high-ranking warrior stepped away from their division.

The power of Thirteen Heavens Yeoryeong was immense. They had spread the word in secret.

If the group with golden marks on their shoulders passed through, the commoners would know the truth: Ipwang Fortress had forsaken them for selfish reasons.

Rumors sowing distrust slowly spread across the land.

It was a year of famine.

People were so desperate that they even cursed the heavens, leaving no reason to look favorably upon those who could be blamed.

Even if they were given a reason, it seemed justified. It felt like a backlash against the gathering of the faction leaders.

“We are barely surviving this famine. And yet, strangers come and draw their swords, displaying strange and outlandish techniques? The martial world in Gyeoju, the common people, the authorities, and even the Shangpan Sword will be watching you closely. Come, let’s talk it out.”

The Shangpan Sword, shaking the salt pouch he had brought as proof of his mission, spoke confidently.

The streets were busy, the sun was out.

The attention of the crowd turned into power. Especially for someone like the local warrior who had lived in Gyeoju for many years.

However, the black-clad warriors didn’t pay him any mind. They only watched Jeong Yeon-shin, who held his sword firmly. They stood with their arms crossed or straight-backed, paying no attention to anyone else.

“It wasn’t a mission, it was a raid. I can smell the blood seeping out of the swordsman's faction... It’s far from ordinary...”

Soyeon Grandmaster, Yu Jeong-myeong, muttered under his breath as he tapped the ground with his long legs. The master beside him, Head of Geuk Techniques, smiled faintly.

“The Hidden Shadows are involved. Seeing them so anxious, it seems that Lord Yeoryeong has accurately assessed the situation. Let’s wait and see how Master Jeong Yeon-shin demonstrates his skills. I’m curious about what will unfold.”

The Shangpan Sword had intended to give the crowd a reason to reject the outsiders, but he hesitated when he heard Yu Jeong-myeong’s words.

Despite his seasoned experience as a swordsman, he was reluctant to draw his blade right away.

Hearing the words of the famous warrior made him realize that his opponents were no ordinary group.

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The reason they hadn't prepared a storehouse, despite frequently venturing out on missions, became clear. Shangpan Sword was the one providing supplies for the Hidden Shadows.

‘Lord Yeoryeong and Grandmaster... Could it be that the legendary masters from Ipwang Fortress are truly gathered here?’

His expression hardened, reflecting the resolve of his clan. He knew he could die here. But he had to stop the youngest among them from making any moves.

By some twist of fate, they stood directly in front of the Nine Provinces array, a hidden formation of the Hidden Shadows.

There were thirteen elite warriors from Ipwang Fortress.

Nothing was impossible for them.

The Nine Provinces array had once brushed off the blows of the legendary Da-yao of the Great Wild Faction. However, with thirteen masters of their faction, there was no telling what bizarre countermeasures they might employ.

‘The mastermind is clearly preparing. If even a single hair is disturbed...’

Shangpan Sword’s gaze shifted to the young man in the distance. His appearance reminded him of the famous tale of the once-beautiful Ban-ak. If the rumors were true, this must be Ma Gwang-ik.

More sensitive than any noble warrior, his energy control could be disrupted only with the most secretive of arts.

Fortunately, Shangpan Sword had a piece of spiritual energy hidden up his sleeve.

The feather of the Fowl of Misfortune, brought from the northern lands, was enough to disturb the arts of the Hidden Shadows.

‘Dark Night Needle Technique.’

A silent throwing technique, capable of striking from a distance without the target sensing the attack. This allowed the practitioner to act as if they belonged to the Hidden Shadows, despite never having trained in archery.

The problem, however, lay in the incredible sensitivity of the Ipwang warriors. Could he deceive the senses of such legendary figures while merely twitching his fingers? It was a gamble, one to be left to fate.

There was a chance.

The supreme techniques of the Hidden Shadows boasted unparalleled stealth in their first use.

The current leader of the Hidden Shadows, recognized as the greatest assassin in the world, was famous for executing the impossible.

Shangpan Sword subtly raised his arm.

“Say something! Do you think my words mean nothing?”

From his sleeve, an incredibly thin thread of spiritual energy shot out, moving like a pointed finger toward Jeong Yeon-shin.

In that instant, a look of pride crossed Shangpan Sword’s face. His eyes, reflecting a sense of nobility, showed his unshakable resolve.

‘I will die here, but I will fulfill my role as a warning for my clan...’

Suddenly, there was a sharp sound within his body.

A sensation like burning fire spread from his back, searing through his veins. No, it was both hot and intensely cold, as if his energy points were being set ablaze.

He quickly realized his entire body had frozen.

‘Ice Energy!’

Shangpan Sword struggled to shift his gaze. A gust of white breath escaped from his shoulder.

In the midst of the rapidly fading sensation, he faintly sensed a delicate presence.

Though invisible, it was unmistakable—Yeoryeong.

“You are an example.”

The voice was a clear, crystalline whisper.

“Ma Gwang-ik is revered. You have no right to touch him.”

The voice gradually faded.

Shangpan Sword heard nothing else.

His vision grew blurry, like fog. The silhouette of Ma Gwang-ik emerged, sword drawn, in front of the Nine Provinces formation.

The sunlight streaming through his black hair seemed surreal, as if detached from reality itself.

‘Not so easily...’

Suddenly, Shangpan Sword’s vision widened.

From Ma Gwang-ik’s sword, a wave of monochromatic energy spread outward. It was like the surface of a lake, where ripples broke apart into endless concentric circles.

Through the cracks in the air, transparent sunlight began to shine, illuminating the trees and buildings in the distance.

“...!”

In a single stroke, Ma Gwang-ik shattered the ancient battle formation.

Shangpan Sword couldn’t comprehend the brilliance of the technique.

He should have cried out in alarm, but only silence echoed in his mind. The sound seemed to be aimed at one person alone. A person so noble, beyond any faction, that Shangpan Sword would never hear his warning.

Before anything else, he had to hide the Fowl of Misfortune from reaching its destination.

Run, quickly.

‘Even if the Ten Ri One Kill technique is prepared a hundredfold, I must not confront it...’

With his eyes wide open, he froze to death.