Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 410: Beijing (2)

Had he been stripped of his formal speech, he would not be so different from Yeon-shin himself.

A Seomye unaware of decorum.

With the scent of liquor in the air, an odd sense of kinship took root. Without thinking, Yeon-shin murmured words of encouragement.

“Yeah. The Nine Great Sects will win.”

From a distance, a voice rang out.

It was Bukgung Ah, Lady of Yeouicheon, reclining with her legs crossed.

“Is he drunk?”

Beside them, the young Daoist muttered a Daoist courtesy name.

“Wenxi Anzhen.”

“...Your speech is as audacious as a seasoned outlaw, yet your nature carries a sense of humility. That, at least, is fortunate.”

“Daoist insults are rather elegant.”

Yeon-shin muttered nonchalantly.

He understood.

No matter how refined the boy’s martial skills, deep down, he was just like any commoner.

There was no need to treat him with a sharp edge.

The young Daoist’s expression grew unreadable.

“In any case, words are nothing special. But there is something that must be addressed here.

Do you truly intend to enter the duel wearing black robes?”

“A Purple-Rank martial robe isn’t something you can wear just because you want to. It requires Imperial approval and the recognition of the fortress lord—”

“Yet you are wearing one right now, are you not?”

Yeon-shin feigned indifference, letting the words pass. Instead, he reached for the highest bud of the Five Harmony Herb.

“You know, Seomye.”

Yong Hui-myeong, who had been watching Yeon-shin with a pleased expression, finally spoke.

“This isn’t something anyone signals. Lord of Annihilation is right.

At first glance, plucking this Five Harmony Herb might seem like a simple game, but there’s no better way to test our coordination before formal training.

Let’s do this naturally.”

“Commander, do you actually train alongside others?”

Yeon-shin ran his fingers over the rough tip of the herb’s stem.

Beside him, Ak Su-rim playfully knocked her knuckles against his.

Trying to focus, Yeon-shin locked eyes with Yong Hui-myeong.

“You’re asking about Purple-Rank formations. As long as our movements are synchronized, there’s no reason we can’t.

A battle between sects is rarely fought one-on-one. In fact, chaotic skirmishes are far more common.”

Yong Hui-myeong smirked as he continued.

“As you already know, a peerless master rarely comes alone.

There’s always the chance that, on an unlucky day, you could end up trapped in something like Thunderclap Ninefold Labyrinth of Taemo Fortress.

And in that case, you’d have no choice but to wait for reinforcements.

The martial world is absurdly vast.”

Taemo Fortress.

One of the Thirteen Heavens of the Outer Demonic Sects.

It had secretly assisted in setting up the Heavenly Web to kill Yong Hui-myeong.

They were said to practice only one kind of martial arts—mystical techniques.

The martial world was, indeed, vast.

The threat of combined attacks against Ipwang Fortress could never be underestimated.

“It won’t be easy for the Singeom Squad to gather like this again.

Let’s test our coordination and then part ways.

It should be entertaining.”

So much for no signals.

That sentence alone became the trigger for action.

Hahoe Wi-jin’s large fingers twitched, as if he could no longer remain still.

Then, as Yong Hui-myeong, Ak Su-rim, and Cheon So-so moved their fingertips—

—A thought, vibrating like unspoken wisdom, reverberated in the air.

"You truly intend to enter the Huashan Agreement as a Black-Rank warrior, Ma Gwang-ikju?"

A small arm reached out from Yeon-shin’s left.

It was the young Daoist.

His hand moved effortlessly, pushing down on Cheon So-so’s wrist.

The motion was executed with such profound martial insight that it felt as though he was carving time itself.

"This is against the conventions of the martial world and the very principle of fair duels. You must step back."

“......!”

The moment Cheon So-so’s pale fingers brushed against the herb’s leaves and fell away—

Yeon-shin suddenly grabbed the young Daoist’s hand.

Whooom—

A wave of colorless energy rippled outward.

The air distorted into near-transparency under the sheer force of Shihwa Infinite Flow, its characteristic fierce energy rippling like summer heat.

But it didn’t last long.

The young Daoist simply rotated his wrist, effortlessly breaking Yeon-shin’s grip.

His movement was both firm and incomparably soft, as though it flowed like the river beyond Pavilion of the Divine Sword.

"Wudang Cotton Palm...?"

Yeon-shin’s thoughts accelerated as he recognized one of the most widely known techniques of the Nine Great Sects.

Kiiiing!

A sound rang from the Baihui acupoint at the crown of his head.

It felt as if time itself had splintered, stretching each moment into eternity.

The surroundings grew slow, yet within that decelerated space, one figure moved with effortless grace.

The young Daoist’s hand cut through the stillness—

Reaching for the top of the Five Harmony Herb.

Even within Yeon-shin’s absolute combat domain, the young Daoist’s Wudang Cotton Palm did not lose its speed.

"He’s fast."

Yeon-shin activated Shihwa Infinite Flow once more.

The air shimmered violently, like heat rising from summer pavement.

Tap—

Just as Yeon-shin’s fingers tightened around the boy’s wrist—

The Daoist’s robe, embroidered with a sword and pine tree, fluttered upward.

In an instant, he twisted his elbow, tapping Yeon-shin’s forearm and forcing his grip to loosen.

Between the base of the massive green flower bud and its tip—

A pair of intertwined trajectories blurred, ringing out like vibrating steel.

Their hands struck, seized, and then released in rapid succession.

In the martial world, even the smallest matters could spark battles.

But Yeon-shin had never expected to be the one caught in such a moment.

Even now, he couldn’t fully understand his own thoughts.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He simply wanted the Singeom Squad to pluck the Five Harmony Herb.

"Your intent is fierce. Like a waterfall beyond the Blade Releasing Grounds.

Tell me, how could a warrior of your caliber not carry the mantle of Purple-Rank?"

And then—

The young Daoist traced a small circle in the air with his hand.

With a single tap to Yeon-shin’s knuckles—

A force akin to an unrelenting river erupted.

Wudang Cotton Palm.

Even through his intoxication, Yeon-shin realized it.

In the midst of their exchange, the force of their attacks had rebounded entirely upon himself—

Flowing invisibly along the Tai Chi principle.

Yeon-shin’s hand fell away.

At that moment, the young Daoist’s voice resonated.

The Wudang Daoist Palm was said to stand at the pinnacle of all palm techniques in the world, capable of contending with any martial sect.

And as for Golden Silk, there was no need to even mention it—its essence lay in sealing an opponent's movements.

"If that’s the case..."

A sound like lightning crackling erupted from Jeong Yeon-shin’s grasp—the precursor to Hwan-gang, the absolute pinnacle of palm techniques.

Had the sheer oppressive force already reached the young Daoist sitting beside him?

For an instant, the boy's face paled in shock.

—You brat! How could you...! Were you planning to break everything?!

At that moment, Yeon-shin realized something.

Even the profound Tai Chi of Wudang could not erase Hwan-gang.

There was no way to win with Golden Silk alone. But that one fact was enough.

From a broader perspective, he had already won.

Swish.

A hand, pale as white jade, gently reached out and plucked the highest bud of the Five Harmony Herb.

It was Cheon So-so, the Lord of Seonmok Ridge.

She was a supreme master of Triple Essence Convergence.

There was no way she would have remained idle while Yeon-shin and the young Daoist clashed.

Whoooom—

The Qi that had enveloped the Five Harmony Herb, placed there by Yong Hui-myeong, dissipated.

In the moment the young Daoist hesitated, the five warriors of the Singeom Squad had already plucked away the herb’s leaves, treating it as nothing more than a trivial gesture.

At the same time, Yeon-shin’s sense of time returned to normal.

The Five Harmony Herb unfurled like a blue flower—just as he had once seen at Jeong Household.

A rich fragrance filled the air.

"You could have just said something. You lot really live up to your reputation as Murim warriors."

Yong Hui-myeong spoke dryly.

The young Daoist, still staring blankly at Yeon-shin, let out a forced cough.

"Feng shui aside... This is not an auspicious place."

"It does seem that way. For someone who clings so desperately to his status atop Wudang Mountain, you’ve had your pride knocked down several times today."

Yong Hui-myeong grinned.

The young Daoist shook his head, shifting his gaze away from Yeon-shin.

"There’s no point in demonstrating Ten Silk Brocade here..."

A martial technique of unparalleled prestige had been named.

The Ten Silk Brocade of Wudang—hailed as the greatest of all palm arts in the world.

It was another way of saying that, against Hwan-gang, nothing short of Ten Silk Brocade would suffice.

Yong Hui-myeong smirked, looking completely unbothered.

"Then let’s settle it at the Huashan Agreement. We can test each other then."

For the first time, the young Daoist’s face flushed red—his expression finally matching his youthful appearance.

"Why wait for another time? He’s entering the duel as Black-Rank!"

"I don’t see why you’re so upset. The Wudang Sect is beloved even by the Emperor himself, and its disciples fear nothing under heaven."

"You... you insolent—!"

The young Daoist took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

When he opened them again, he was no longer looking at Yong Hui-myeong.

Instead, he raised his cup toward Yeon-shin.

*"My desire to test you in martial combat led me to commit a great discourtesy today.

I offer my sincerest apologies. Will you accept this drink?"*

*"Of course, of course. Don’t hold onto mistakes too tightly.

At your age, you’re allowed to make them."*

Yeon-shin nodded, feigning magnanimity.

His head was clouded—the alcohol, rather than being expelled, had been left to settle alongside his Qi.

“...Fine. Take this drink.”

The young Daoist extended his cup toward him.

The instant he did, the clear liquor within shimmered under the sunlight.

It was the radiance seen when pristine internal energy fused with water.

Yeon-shin knew the phenomenon well.

The purer the Qi, the clearer the water became.

A legendary story from the Henan Dharma Assembly was well known for this very spectacle.

A Shaolin Abbot, while expounding the teachings of the Buddha, had turned the lake behind him into a mirror—using it to preach to the gathered commoners.

The cup now extended toward Yeon-shin reflected the slanted sun just as clearly.

A sign that immense Qi had been imbued into the drink.

There was no way to accept this cup by ordinary means.

"Our earlier exchange wasn’t enough. I want to truly gauge your level."

The young Daoist’s voice was calm.

Yeon-shin simply nodded absentmindedly.

"Childish—he’s far too competitive."

He reached for the cup.

"No, you don’t."

Yong Hui-myeong suddenly leaned forward and seized it first.

At that moment—

The sun reflected in the liquor vanished as if it had never been there.

It was a display of Qi manipulation so refined it bordered on divine skill.

A technique wielded by none other than Singeom Squad Commander Yong Hui-myeong.

"Experiencing Wudang Cotton Palm would indeed be a valuable lesson for a future Purple-Rank warrior like Seomye."

He spoke casually, but there was no mistaking the warning in his voice.

*"However, openly revealing the techniques of Qi manipulation—especially before none other than a true master of the Nine Great Sects—

That is a different matter entirely.

Master Immortal, you should respect the boundaries."*

*"...I shouldn’t have come here.

What a disgrace."*

"This meeting is over. We’ll be leaving now."

*"Fine. There’s nothing more to say.

I will see you next time."*

And then—

The young Daoist vanished.

Not a single trace remained.

Only a cool breeze lingered in the pavilion, sweeping gently across the gathered warriors.

It was as if the boy had become the wind itself.

A true display of supreme movement techniques.

"By the way,"

Yong Hui-myeong, still holding the cup, drained it in one gulp before chuckling.

His eyes turned to Yeon-shin.

*"There aren’t many in this fortress who could handle a Wudang Immortal Swordmaster that way.

I witnessed something rare today."*

"...What?"

Yeon-shin blinked, his mind sluggish from the alcohol.

***

The city of Wuchang was wealthy.

Perhaps due to its proximity, the sound of roosters crowing at dawn echoed across the city streets.

The commanders of the Singeom Squad had spent the night in the guesthouse behind the pavilion.

Outside, the innkeeper was waving his hands in protest.

"Will this really be enough?

These days, even a single bedding mat is incredibly expensive..."

"No, no! Just the honor of hosting you is more than enough!

Even if you left without paying, I would boast about this to my descendants for generations!"

At that moment, as Yeon-shin was settling the cost of the torn blankets from the previous night—

A voice called out from the distance.

Someone was shouting his name, their tone urgent.