Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Jung Yeonshin landed smoothly, lowering his hand naturally. He didn't even need to take a few steps.

The hem of his fluttering blue robe briefly wrapped around his leg before loosening again.

'Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm... it's highly effective against even masters of the Demonic Sect.'

He confirmed the effectiveness of the technique, just as its name implied. It possessed an overwhelming advantage against the forces of heterodoxy.

Against certain opponents, he might even be able to contend with masters a level above himself.

"Hoo…"

It was the sound of air being exhaled, as if emptying the lungs. A dead breath. The master of Pure Demon Alliance, whose head had been crushed, lost his balance.

His body staggered for a moment, unable to withstand the whirlpool of force that had swept through it.

The shoulder guard covering his upper body hung limply down his back.

Whoosh!

Fragments of energy, not yet fully dissipated, swirled into a gentle breeze. Slowly, his body toppled backward, eyes wide open.

Thud!

A heavy vibration rang out. It was on a slightly sloping path. The corpse slid down a little before coming to a stop.

It was instant death.

"...!"

The martial artists who had been following behind suddenly came to an abrupt halt. There were about a dozen or so of them.

Their legs, still exerting lightness techniques, suddenly tensed.

Faces stiffened rapidly. In a brief moment, their eyes darted between the corpse and Jung Yeonshin, their pupils swirling with shock.

Kwaak!

They stopped in a hurry, keeping a distance of about ten steps.

"Young Hero Jung!"

A voice rang out behind him. It was Heon Wonchang's cry, brimming with relief.

Jung Yeonshin turned his body, keeping his enemies in front of him.

A sense of composure befitting a strong warrior began to emanate from his demeanor. The golden embroidery of Desolate Fortress briefly flashed before the enemies' eyes and disappeared.

"What in the world…"

One man muttered in a daze. At that moment, Jung Yeonshin's gaze met Heon Wonchang's.

Heon Wonchang's eyes widened as if they would tear, and then he grinned broadly.

"It is you! It really is you! For a moment, I doubted my own eyes!"

Laughing heartily, he ran toward Jung Yeonshin. Given the short distance, they faced each other in no time.

Jung Yeonshin looked at him and inwardly felt relieved. At least, Heon Wonchang was alive.

"Young Hero Heon."

"There's no greater joy than this! I thought I wouldn't survive today!"

"I don't see any visible injuries. Are you unharmed internally?"

Jung Yeonshin suppressed his excitement and asked. Heon Wonchang's smile deepened.

"Of course. I'm quite adept at self-protection techniques, you know? The internal defense of this Desolate Fortress' Sacred Warrior isn't so easily breached by nameless pawns. Anyway, I can't believe you found me! This place is as hidden and mysterious as it gets. You really came. I've been waiting anxiously."

"That's…"

"Anyway, it seems reinforcement was sent from the fortress, and that's excellent! I didn't expect you to be part of it! By the way, what about the Namgoong Clan? Did you defeat Azure Qilin? You must have won since you're here. Truly impressive! Young Hero Jung, you're undoubtedly one of the rising stars who will one day be called the greatest under heaven."

His joy was evident. Heon Wonchang's face lit up with a broad smile.

The heroic scarf on his forehead, which he often boasted about, was torn somewhere, leaving his straight eyebrows curving humorously below it.

Then, as he tilted his body slightly, he glanced at the corpse of the Pure Demon Alliance' warrior sprawled behind Jung Yeonshin.

"That one. No, that bastard is known as Shadow Palm, a martial artist of Pure Demon Alliance. He's a master of palm techniques who can kill three men with a single strike. But he couldn't even withstand one of your palm strikes!"

As he spoke, Heon Wonchang took a step to the side.

Tap!

Placing his hand on Jung Yeonshin's shoulder, he pressed and squeezed it as if massaging, unable to hide his excitement.

"Shadow Palm, my foot. His crown is wide open—dead."

"..."

"A truly satisfying end."

Jung Yeonshin said nothing. He was already accustomed to Heon Wonchang's blunt mannerisms.

The comment about the crown wasn't intended as a pun on vital points.

The young man turned his body again.

"More importantly, those people."

He spoke, turning his gaze to the ones following Heon Wonchang.

They were the ones who hadn't dared to move while the two conversed.

They seemed to be whispering among themselves, trying to come up with a plan against the overwhelming master before them.

Heon Wonchang smirked and spoke, exuding confidence as he stood by Jung Yeonshin's side.

"They're trash from Sichuan's Pure Demon Alliance. Their sect leader stabbed Baek senior in the back."

"Senior Baek Miryeo?"

Jung Yeonshin's voice dropped. Vivid images flashed through his mind from the upper dantian.

Many seniors had been slashed or stabbed in the back. He also remembered Baek Miryeo, who had especially pale skin.

He recalled Chung Myung's sharply defined abdominal muscles, now split open by a sword wound.

It wasn't foresight. It seemed the current state of the City of Master Craftsmen was being shown.

"How could that happen? Senior Baek's martial prowess could wipe out several medium-sized sects alone. Was it betrayal?"

"Betrayal? Nonsense."

Heon Wonchang scoffed, not at Jung Yeonshin but at the enemies before him, mocking them.

"Where else could we put our trust? Even Young Hero Jung was harmed by the Namgoong Clan. Moreover, it's absurd to trust sects from Jianghu."

"Then?"

"We never trusted them in the first place. It was obvious they were just servants of the Thirteen Heavens. We were simply overwhelmed by their numbers. Pure Demon Alliance and Ten Perfection Sect. Two factions of the Thirteen Heavens from Sichuan attacked from both sides, leaving us no choice but to expose our backs."

His words were not criticisms but sank into gloom toward the end.

"Chung Myung senior and Baek senior… they were injured protecting me. Because of one incompetent fool among the Radiant Demon Squad."

It was inevitable self-blame. Jung Yeonshin didn't offer shallow comfort.

He clearly remembered Desolate Fortress' heroic figure shielding civilians from the Blood Flame Cult of Xuzhou.

The man possessed chivalry—a sign of inner strength.

"Why were you alone? What happened to the other seniors?"

Jung Yeonshin asked quietly.

"The City of Master Craftsmen is divided into four zones."

Heon Wonchang answered, his smile gone.

"Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. We're in the Spring Zone. The Radiant Demon Squad is advancing toward the Winter Zone."

Before Jung Yeonshin could respond, a voice interrupted.

"Excuse me."

Jung Yeonshin raised his head. One of the men from Pure Demon Alliance called out, seemingly trying to negotiate.

"Young master of Desolate Fortress. There's no need for bloodshed. We'll retreat."

The man, wearing a silk robe now covered in dust, continued.

"The golden embroidery implies nobility. We only acted under Pure Demon Alliance's pressure. Please, show mercy."

It was a strange demeanor—pleading while trying to preserve dignity, standing upright despite the plea.

It carried the characteristic closed-mindedness of Sichuan's martial artists.

"..."

Jung Yeonshin's eyes swept over them.

Not one of them could meet his gaze, each turning their heads slightly to the side. They seemed well-acquainted with the martial world's law of survival of the fittest.

'He called them greedy sects.'

There were countless sects in the central plains. Those that straddled the line between righteousness and heresy, moving according to their own interests.

Chung Myung had described them as demonic sects disguised as righteous ones, always mindful of the authorities.

Jung Yeonshin slowly parted his lips.

"This time, you chose the wrong side. You crossed the line."

"Shall we kill them?"

The voice of Flame Dragon echoed from behind his neck.

He didn't need to turn around to know.

The masters of Returning Wings Squad had lined up behind him, ever since Jung Yeonshin began speaking with Heon Wonchang.

That was why the martial artists of Pure Demon Alliance, unsure of what to do, had stepped forward first.

Heon Wonchang, who had been glancing nervously behind while explaining the situation, froze and gaped when he saw Flame Dragon.

"Hwangbo Young Master…?!"

"So you know me. But I don't know your name. I only vaguely remember your face."

"What is this, what's going on?"

The boy spoke calmly.

"Young Hero Heon."

"Young Hero Jung, but these people…"

"How severe are Radiant Demon Squad's members' injuries? The most serious one."

"…Senior Oh lost her left arm."

For a moment, Jung Yeonshin felt sharp pain in his lower lip. He had bitten down on it without realizing it.

The image of Wu Yu-xiang, the senior in blue, immediately came to mind—a middle-aged woman who had treated him like a son.

"Returning Wings Squad."

The boy called out softly.

Shhhhhhh—

At that moment, Heon Wonchang had the illusion that Jung Yeonshin's blue robe was turning red.

It was as if he were seeing the blood-dyed robes of a Blood Flame Cult's Apostle.

'His internal energy is advancing to the next level…!'

He thought, deeply astonished.

Waves of Demon Roaring Blood Art spread irregularly from Jung Yeonshin's body.

Colorless ripples shimmered momentarily, eerily rising like mirages.

He did it deliberately, to project an aura of dominance.

They had to move forward, but the City of Master Craftsmen was a closed city.

Leaving enemies behind them? Anyone would call it a foolish decision, no matter the numbers.

As the leader of Desolate Fortress' backup squad, it was time to make a decision.

Slowly.

Jung Yeonshin opened his blood-red lips.

"Kill them all."

Step.

The boy, having given the order, began walking down the path alone.

He moved in a straight line toward the village where the civilians resided in the City of Master Craftsmen.

Under the faint glow of the underground city's lights, he walked without interruption.

Slash! Fwoosh!

"Argh!"

"You… you bastards…!"

The air heated up. Flame Dragon immediately leaped forward and smashed the enemies' heads with his fists.

Winds twisted violently and burst outward. Amid the storm, White Qilin Namgoong Hwashin's colorless sword energy soared in all directions.

It was the pinnacle of the Boundless Heaven Technique.

While the sharp sword winds of Returning Wings Squad's masters sliced through their enemies, Tang Ryeo-ryeo, Tang Yeohwa, and other martial artists of the Tang Clan and Beggars' Sect gazed blankly at Jung Yeonshin's retreating back.

The path was opening wide.

Only the boy's footsteps rang distinctly as he walked straight through the center.

"Returning Wings Squad, Lightning Genius."

Hu-ae muttered softly.

Meanwhile, far away—

"Ah…"

A melodious voice echoed. It was more of a sigh than a word.

Atop a towering stone wall.

The Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Cult swept her long, black hair back over her shoulder.

She had completely suppressed her terrifying energy.

Lying sideways on a protruding rock, she gazed at her Grand Master with a face full of rapture.

"You've changed again, my Grand Master."

Her ruby-like lips moved softly.

She didn't stir for a long time, watching her little Grand Master with crimson eyes.

She savored everything—the perfectly honed body, the noble and overwhelming blood energy, and the calm footsteps that followed his order for slaughter.