Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 372: Ritual (2)

A single letter was posted throughout the capital.

It spoke of a martial tournament—one unlike anything in recent memory. Its words summoned absolute masters from across the land.

Who could refuse such a challenge?

It was a proclamation so grand that it was shaking all twelve provinces and seven prefectures that made up Sichuan, enough to uproot the entire region.

Not only Sichuan, but even lands beyond were now in turmoil, swept up in the ripples of this ever-expanding declaration of war.

Rustle.

A letter, carried by the wind, lodged itself between the pure white index and middle fingers of the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master.

At the same time, the Buddha statue, which had been wildly bouncing and spinning in midair, suddenly plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud.

As though an unseen hand had abruptly vanished.

"One-on-one duels? Or a survival gauntlet...?"

She murmured, her voice small but rising slightly at the end.

It was clear that she had lost interest in the Buddha statue she had been toying with.

From the jade horai flask in her other hand, the rich scent of aged wine spread through the air.

For a brief moment, a thick mist swirled around her body, like clouds forming in the sky.

The warriors of Golden Dawn Sect flinched in response.

"Bright Wing Lord... How utterly arrogant. Truly, beyond arrogant."

Godblade of Iron Helm, Geum Hwi-cheol, sneered as he slammed his great saber into the ground.

For a brief moment, blue light coursed through the thick veins of his unnaturally muscular forearm, flickering like streaks of lightning before vanishing.

It was manifested internal energy, condensed into tangible force.

"Preposterous. That bastard doesn’t even understand what he’s done."

The old man spat the words bitterly.

In the fleeting instant when the letter had flown toward the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master, his sharp gaze had already scanned every word.

Meanwhile, the messenger of Yeo Ryeong stood frozen, staring at the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master, bathed in the radiant sunlight.

He only snapped back to reality because of the old man’s harsh outburst.

Internally, he cursed.

"Ignorant old fool."

Geum Hwi-cheol.

A master of the saber, one powerful enough to establish his own sect. He was also known as the warrior within Golden Dawn Sect most capable of enduring the sect master's techniques.

Unlike Yong Ryeong-shin Kwon, who was utterly captivated by her beauty and reduced to a mere servant, Geum Hwi-cheol wielded significant influence within the sect.

He personally commanded the beast hunters and oversaw the extermination of spirit creatures.

In faction wars, it was Geum Hwi-cheol who ordered the complete annihilation of enemy sects.

Just days ago, it was Geum Hwi-cheol who had led the charge in burning Emei Sect to the ground, ensuring that the Golden Dawn Sect remained stationed there until today.

"That man has long carried sins beyond redemption. And now he’s practically begging to be killed, performing his own funeral rites. He’s nothing more than a mere subordinate of the Leader of the Society of Sacred Swords."

Geum Hwi-cheol sneered.

Though it was unclear whom he was addressing, the messenger of Yeo Ryeong knew he had to respond.

It was difficult to converse directly with the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master, for many reasons.

So, he casually inserted himself into the conversation.

"A member of Ipwang Fortress, even one among the Black Ranks, is not someone of low status. Not long ago, even ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the Lords of the Ten Gates and Sunmaryeon refrained from clashing with Bright Wing Lord and instead withdrew..."

"There were likely circumstances beyond our understanding."

"Of course."

"But that man is not one of the Violet Ranks. There is no need to entertain such a lowly performance. A mere whelp dares to summon the Sect Master as though she were his plaything...?"

The grip on Geum Hwi-cheol’s saber tightened.

The messenger watched the movement from the corner of his eye and shook his head slightly.

"No, that won’t do."

"This has already drawn the attention of the entire martial world. In the upper circles, they're even calling it the Grand War of the Martial Gods."

"Grand War of the Martial Gods?"

Geum Hwi-cheol repeated, narrowing his eyes.

The messenger gave a slow nod.

"A grand duel where only the most exalted martial masters will engage in life-and-death combat. The stage has been set perfectly. It is a rare occasion for the leaders of the major factions to rise from their seats."

"The Sect Master is no street performer."

Geum Hwi-cheol scoffed, dismissing the idea outright.

But the messenger furrowed his brows and spoke again, this time more seriously.

"On the contrary, it would be a hundred times better for the Sect Master to attend. That is what I truly wish to convey."

"And why is that?"

"Surely you’ve noticed. A very peculiar situation is unfolding."

"The Ten Gates, Golden Dawn Sect, Sunmaryeon, Blade Sect, and even portions of our Yeo Ryeong’s forces, along with numerous subordinate factions... have all been vanishing, one by one."

"Originally, we should have long since crushed the orthodox sects of Sichuan and eliminated the remaining Shin Geomdan combat units in one fell swoop."

"Hmm."

"If this event presents the opportunity to eliminate not only the Sect Masters of Qingcheng and Emei but even Ma Gwang-ik of Ipwang Fortress in a single stroke... then attendance is imperative. The duel has been publicly announced, so it cannot be a trap. There won’t even be time to devise any schemes beforehand."

Qingcheng Sect had already lost their Sect Master once at the hands of the Blade Sect’s Lord.

The Tang Clan was too preoccupied trying to recover from the devastation inflicted by the Ten Gates and Sunmaryeon. What little poison and hidden weapons they had left were hardly enough to make a difference.

The Emei Sect was in an even worse state. Their Sect Master, after a prolonged absence, had returned to their sacred mountain—only to suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master. Even Mount Emei itself, once renowned for housing countless divine relics, had been seized.

As for Ma Gwang-ik—that went without saying. The Society of Sacred Swords of Ipwang Fortress would never unite.

"The real issue is Cheonrimdae and Seonmokryeong, which should have remained within the Dragon Constellation Formation..."

There were still uncertainties, but they paled in comparison to the forces still standing in the Ten Gates, Sunmaryeon, and Golden Dawn Sect.

Not to mention the additional reinforcements from Blade Sect and Yeo Ryeong.

"Do they think they can crush the Thirteen Heavens with a mere martial tournament?"

The messenger of Yeo Ryeong narrowed his eyes.

"They act as if they’re trying to turn the tides in their favor... but the Chicheon Dragon Execution Technique is no martial art of mere men."

His gaze shifted to the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master, watching as her slender fingers traced Ma Gwang-ik’s written words.

Her obsidian-black hair flowed like silk beneath her delicate ears, moving slightly with the rhythm of her gestures.

Her posture was entirely unremarkable—

Yet, strangely, she resembled a phoenix in human form.

"Hwi-cheol."

"Yes, Sect Master."

"You said it was Yeon-shin, right? I’m going to see him."

"...As you command."

Godblade of Iron Helm, Geum Hwi-cheol, replied in a voice tinged with age.

He bowed his head slightly.

The authority he held came solely from the fact that the Golden Dawn Sect’s Master paid little attention to affairs outside her own sect.

"I wonder how the orthodox sects will meet their end."

The messenger of Yeo Ryeong muttered inwardly.

A similar scenario was surely unfolding in the Ten Gates and Sunmaryeon at this very moment.

Ma Gwang-ik’s martial challenge, which likened martial artists to mere parasites feeding off the people—there was no way those bound by honor and prestige could ignore it.

It was a masterstroke of calculation.

"By wording it this way, even the righteous sects won’t take kindly to him... but he must have seen greater value in ensuring the duel actually takes place."

Someone so young could not have fostered such boundless arrogance genuinely.

Which meant...

Every single word of that challenge had been carefully, meticulously crafted.

"He should have come to Yeo Ryeong."

The messenger swallowed his regret.

***

Jeong Yeon-shin’s challenge letter was spreading across martial sects far and wide.

Even factions like the Beggars’ Sect and Yeo Ryeong, known for their ability to twist rumors and exaggerate information, were relaying the message despite their antagonism toward Ma Gwang-ik.

The reason?

The Tang Clan, the prestigious aristocratic family that had dominated Sichuan’s martial world for generations, had greatly facilitated its circulation.

"It’s a relief, truly. Whether it’s spending gold or commanding people, Tang Clan alone surpasses all our combined secular branches."

"Indeed."

A man and a woman strolled through a vibrant garden, where rare flowers and exotic grasses bloomed in vivid colors.

It was Swordswoman Queen Chui So-ok and Ma Gwang-ik, Jeong Yeon-shin.

Trailing behind them at a measured distance was a young man dressed in pristine white robes, moving with the cautious steps of an attendant.

It was So Il-su, the White-Ranked warrior who had narrowly escaped death at the hands of Sunmaryeon’s Lord.

"Still, I find it strange. Even though the Tang Clan offered to assign an attendant, you specifically chose him... I’ve never seen an elite White Rank warrior serving as someone else’s valet."

Chui So-ok cast a glance at So Il-su as she spoke.

Jeong Yeon-shin nodded slowly.

"It’s something I deeply appreciate."

"I asked for this myself! For those of us martial artists scattered across the world, at least one of the seventeen Black Ranks is bound to be an idol!"

So Il-su grinned as he shouted.

Jeong Yeon-shin turned his head slightly, just enough to avoid letting his expression show.

An idol, huh?

Then—

"...Adorable."

A smooth, whispering laugh slipped from the shadows beneath his feet.

It was followed by a faint rumbling sound, as if someone’s stomach was growling. The presence felt mysterious—yet also utterly insignificant.

Jeong Yeon-shin knew what it meant to be hungry.

When he was around seven years old, he had once overheard his father reading from Shanhaijing and Da Ming Gangmu to his older brothers.

Jeong Yeon-shin had begged his father to tell him stories about his mother instead.

As a result, he had been locked away for four days in isolation.

A warrior’s son shouldn’t throw tantrums.

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But there had been a silver lining.

During that time, he had deepened his understanding of Void—one of the most crucial mysteries within his Jeong Family’s Internal Art.

"You empty yourself... so you can fill yourself more. You should already understand that."

Would the Seventh Apostle really be less competent than his seven-year-old self?

The Apostles had intellect and talent closer to humans than beasts.

There was no reason for them to starve like he once had.

Jeong Yeon-shin considered it for a moment.

Would the Seventh Apostle emerge immediately if he pricked his finger and let a single drop of blood fall?

He could still recall the cold sensation of those sharp fangs sinking into his nape.

"Jeong Gongja... Jeong Gongja-nim?"

"Hm?"

"We’ve arrived. Turn here—it’s the first room down the hall."

Chui So-ok informed him.

As he lifted his gaze, a grand pavilion with emerald roof tiles came into view.

It was an exquisite structure, radiating timeless elegance—one of the Tang Clan’s guest residences for their most esteemed visitors.

It had taken a while to reach.

Currently, Jeong Yeon-shin was staying in the Tang Clan’s inner compound, usually reserved for direct descendants.

His eyes settled on the tranquil pavilion.

"Reigning Avalokiteshvara... is inside?"

That was the title of the Emei Sect’s Grandmaster.

Her Dharma name was Baek Yak.

Last night, after receiving a message, Jeong Yeon-shin had gone out to greet Hahoe Wi-jin and Cheon So-so.

Meanwhile, Grandmaster Baek Yak had arrived at the Tang Clan, leading a group of Emei’s finest warriors.

He had heard that the Emei Sect had suffered a devastating loss to the Golden Dawn Sect.

The Grandmaster herself had formally requested a meeting with Tang Clan’s Lord regarding Ma Gwang-ik.

"Is she here to negotiate the order of the duels?"

Jeong Yeon-shin pondered as he walked forward.

As the youngest son of a wealthy landowning family, he had once been just an ordinary commoner.

The martial arts he had taught himself—even if passed down through his household—would have been third-rate at best.

Like any other civilian, he had been raised to respect monks and Taoist priests.

A Grandmaster of Emei was someone who could speak as equals with the Abbot of Shaolin.

Her status alone demanded respect, regardless of her martial prowess.

"Jeong Gongja-nim."

"Hm?"

"May I speak to you before you enter?"

"...Go ahead."

Jeong Yeon-shin, lost in thought, almost told her to just say it.

But he caught himself.

Chui So-ok was radiating sharp, unconcealed energy—an instinctive response after dealing with too many ill-mannered martial artists lately.

"Martial artists are of no use."

He reminded himself to be wary of their influence.

Now, he was about to meet a Buddhist master of great spiritual attainment.

His heart pounded slightly.

Wooong—

Suddenly, a barrier of invisible force enveloped both Jeong Yeon-shin and Chui So-ok.

It was Qi Suppression, originating from Chui So-ok herself.

When Jeong Yeon-shin gave her a curious glance, she spoke as if making an excuse.

"Just in case any unnecessary conflicts arise."

"Conflicts? I’ve heard that Grandmaster Baek Yak possesses deep spiritual wisdom."

For a moment, Chui So-ok didn’t respond.

She swallowed dryly, as if holding back certain words.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s ashen pupils gleamed like distant stars.

"Is she short-tempered? I’ve heard that some monks vent their frustrations as a means of clearing their minds. Even Shaolin’s Wall Tiger Fist operates on that principle—"

"No, it’s the opposite."

"What?"

"Grandmaster Baek Yak is called a Buddhist Recluse even among unorthodox sects. No one can shake her composure. Even Little Invincible once tried to play the role of a Heavenly Demon in front of her—only to flee in humiliation."

"Even the famed Heavenly Bliss Technique, which is unrivaled in seduction, was effortlessly deflected... without even raising her internal energy."

"Impressive."

Ever since reuniting with his niece, Jeong Yeon-shin had found himself secretly wary of his maternal bloodline.

Now, he was intrigued.

"I must meet her at once."

Chui So-ok’s expression grew slightly urgent.

"I overheard part of her conversation with the Tang Clan Lord. It seemed she was opposed to your participation in the martial tournament. She only cares about Zen Buddhism and the pursuit of enlightenment. So if she disregards you for a moment—"

"That’s quite an odd concern."

Step.

Jeong Yeon-shin casually walked through the barrier.

As he passed, the Qi Suppression shattered, dispersing into countless fragments of light that rippled behind his jet-black hair.

For a moment, Chui So-ok almost stood frozen, mesmerized by the sight.

"At least let me finish—!"

She instinctively reached out—but then hesitated.

From the black robe of Ma Gwang-ik, a faint wisp of spiritual energy drifted like smoke—before vanishing into the air.