Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 391: Society of Sacred Swords (7)

A chamber with an open ceiling.

It was immense in scale.

Carrier pigeons, bred through the mystical arts of the Myung lineage, flew about like migratory birds, dropping various messages. Meanwhile, over a hundred scholars sat in silence, poring over documents and swiftly moving their brushes.

It was a place of secrecy—the headquarters of the Shadow Order.

“I will hear the report. Summarize the movements of the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps.”

A figure, wrapped entirely in black robes like the night sky, spoke. He was the master of the Thirteen Heavens’ Shadow Order, a man whose wide-brimmed hat concealed his jet-black beard.

The moment he stepped into the grand hall, there was only one thing he needed to confirm.

The Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, who had ultimately escaped from the Heaven’s Net Formation, even though it had included three of the Thirteen Heavens’ greatest masters. The chase had dragged on endlessly, like a monsoon refusing to end.

A man whose martial skill stood at the peak of the world—his life force was astonishingly tenacious.

‘That footwork... I had never seen anything like it before.’

The Shadow Lord’s eyes traced back to the past.

The Commander of the Divine Sword Corps of Ipwang Fortress.

His explosive speed.

It was not the movement of a poisoned man. The radiant aura that trailed beneath his feet—a signature of the current Commander—had been unmistakable.

It was different from the usual unwaveringly stable footwork that could allow one to run forever.

Rather, it was as if he had fully tapped into his Dragon Eye, the legendary vision said to allow its wielder to perceive a thousand trajectories at once.

The Shadow Lord had watched as the Commander narrowly dodged his own strikes, evaded the Supreme Blade of the Namgung Clan, and escaped from the barrage of arrows fired by the Lord of Dark Night's infamous archers—all while carrying a blue-robed warrior under his arm.

The chase had continued from that moment onward.

Looping around the region while heading south, he unleashed surges of aura-powered acceleration at will.

It was impossible to believe he was poisoned.

—How do I counter his movement?

That was the Shadow Lord’s greatest dilemma. How could he construct Heaven’s Net in a way that could cripple the Commander’s legs?

He had even sought advice from the Broad Scholar of Nine Provinces, said to be the most knowledgeable man in the world. Yet, all he received was a question laced with age-worn laughter:

"Did that brat from the Dragon lineage always have such a skill?"

It was a newly acquired insight.

‘That is not surprising.’

The Commanders of the Divine Sword Corps had always been extraordinary geniuses.

While the world’s top martial masters never ceased in their pursuit of growth, the leader of the Divine Sword Corps was always in a league of their own.

It was Ipwang Fortress’ greatest fortune. Something the scribes seated before him could never compare to.

Snap—

The Shadow Lord flicked his fingers.

A translucent ripple spread outward, dispersing the faint scent of ink that filled the hall.

The scholars, who had been silently examining the documents scattered at their feet, suddenly found their voices freed.

By infusing internal energy into his snap, the Shadow Lord had released the pressure points that had sealed their speech.

“The summary should be complete by now. Those in charge of Dragon Capture, report at once.”

The hall instantly erupted into noise.

“I shall begin with events from a week ago. The Grand Spirit Formation of Taemo Fortress was partially destroyed by the Commander’s Dragon Ring Blade, and—”

“The Seventy-Two Ghost Archers of the Dark Night Division were completely annihilated!”

“We have intelligence from the Dragonless Society. The Supreme Blade of Namgung had his cherished sword broken, but he has since stolen the Heaven-Reliant Sword from his own clan and is continuing his pursuit of the Commander.”

The Shadow Lord turned toward the scholar who had mentioned the Namgung Clan’s Supreme Blade.

“Our family heirloom was stolen? You are dancing around the truth.”

“It is also believed that, along with the Heaven-Reliant Sword, the Commander seized a supply of the Namgung Clan’s highest-grade elixirs.”

“Pillage. A supply method fitting for the times. I suppose the Commander is well-prepared now.”

He muttered to himself before speaking again.

“Continue.”

“Four days ago, the Dark Night Division activated the Ten-Mile Kill Formation six times, yet only managed to strip a single shoe from the Commander...”

“This is good news. Spread the word among the Thirteen Heavens and all high-ranking officials under our command—this is not a disgrace for the Dark Night Division. Rather, it proves that even the Dragon-blooded one is still human.”

The Shadow Lord’s voice was flat as he gave the order.

Then—

“Urgent news! One of the Three Arcane Seats of Taemo Fortress, Zami Celestial Star, has been killed!”

Taemo Fortress.

A sect descended from the Maoshan School, wielders of mystical sorcery and martial arts.

Their fortress, nestled deep within an immortal-like paradise, was rumored to rival the Prime of the Zhuge Clan in strategic warfare.

The Three Arcane Seats were the three supreme sorcerers under the Fortress Lord, their deadliest weapons in war. Their mastery of the arcane arts was said to be on par with the Clan Lord of Zhuge himself.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

With their ritual artifacts and formations in place, they could collapse fortress walls with a mere hand gesture.

“...Zami Celestial Star is dead? How many times did the surroundings flash before she perished?”

“The area darkened once, and then she was cut in half.”

“One strike... Who sent this report?”

“It came from Dark Phantom No. 17.”

The Shadow Order’s spies were known for their supreme sensory skills, having cultivated both clairvoyance and foresight.

The report was undoubtedly accurate.

“...Perhaps this is for the best. Taemo Fortress’ Lord will have no choice but to act now.”

Even as he accepted this conclusion, the Shadow Lord found something unusual.

The Commander was an eccentric man. His violet scholar’s robe alone was proof of that.

His pursuit of elegance and refinement extended even to his martial arts. Every one of his techniques was not only powerful but breathtakingly intricate.

He had never been one to favor swift, decisive battles.

If anything, he often mocked his enemies with flamboyant swordplay, using it to glorify the prestige of Ipwang Fortress.

The only exception had been when he fought the deceased Lord of the Namgung Clan—a man whose martial prowess had been one of the greatest among the Eight Great Houses.

Zami Celestial Star had been far weaker than that.

Something had changed in the Commander’s martial arts.

What exactly was happening within Ipwang Fortress?

There had also been rumors of a sudden emergence of extremely direct, ruthless swordsmen within the White Order.

A name flashed across the Shadow Lord’s mind.

Seomye’s Inner Veins.

He slowly spoke.

“What of Ipwang Fortress’ movements along the upper Yangtze River?”

“There has been none.”

“...Fools. Cunning fools.”

His fingers clenched.

“Where is the Commander now?”

“He has entered Hu-Guang Province, passing through Wuchang long ago.”

“He cannot enter Ipwang Fortress itself.”

“...Then he will arrive in Guizhou soon.”

“It will take only a few days at most.”

“His body is starving. No matter how boundless his energy may be, he won’t be able to withstand the Scattered Energy Poison forever.”

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With a deep voice, the Shadow Lord muttered before motioning toward the opposite side of the chamber.

“What of the Heaven’s Net at Unhoe Peak? Has the final report come in?”

As all the focus in the room remained on the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, a solemn order finally unlocked the voices of the other scholars.

Their tone and breathing were different from before. Unlike those who had spoken earlier, they could not keep their voices firm. A faint tremor ran through them.

“The Lord of Tenfold Gates, the Master of the Order of Pure Demons, and the Head of the Golden Dawn Sect have all been defeated by the Commander of the Divine Sword Corps, Ma Gwang-ik. Their sects suffered near-total annihilation, and the Lords of Tenfold Gates and the Golden Dawn have perished.”

“...What did you say?”

The Shadow Lord’s wide-brimmed hat trembled for a moment.

The silence that spread from him devoured all sound in the vicinity.

***

The black-clad figures continued their journey northward, their movement punctuated by brief bursts of speed.

Whenever they truly sprinted, they kicked up clouds of dust across the grasslands. But they couldn’t move in a straight line.

Scenes of bandits and rogue warriors pillaging villages unfolded before them time and time again.

They could not simply pass by.

“Mercy! Please have mercy!”

“If you lacked grain, you could have just taken food—why did you have to harm an entire family?”

“...Because...”

“If you find yourself before the Judge of the Dead, tell him this: that you were sent there by a kick from the Martial Lord of the Infinite Sky.”

“...The Infinite Sky...”

It was an age of chaos. The strong had only slightly more leeway than the weak.

During his journey with his senior warriors, Jeong Yeon-shin bore witness to countless horrors.

The starving masses, their eyes lifeless. The emaciated bodies of those who sat motionless or, in desperation, offered their own children to sects rumored to have turned to cannibalism.

A young man who had ascended to the pinnacle of martial arts found himself repeatedly recalling his childhood.

Hunger.

Everything—**betrayed kin, brotherhoods torn apart over principles, desperate hands reaching for food—**they were all starving for something.

They were hungrier than the child he had once been.

Not a single child played on the Dragon Boat Festival swings erected in the villages they passed.

Yet, despite the tragedy around them, they had to consider not just the people, but the imperial court and the martial world itself.

“It’s paradoxical. As we move north, we must make it clear that we are not abandoning the people, or we risk provoking the empire... but at the same time, we cannot let down our guard regarding the Commander.”

“You called it a needless worry, didn’t you?”

“That’s true. After all, he’s a man who survived among the northern barbarians in his youth.”

Ak Su-rim scratched Jeong Yeon-shin’s back playfully, offering a seasoned veteran’s reassurance.

He accepted the gesture.

This was not the first famine. If he let it drag him down, it would only make things worse.

“Seomye.”

At times, the Lord of Annihilation, Shin Hwang, would approach. His sunken eyes would quietly observe Jeong Yeon-shin before occasionally posing cryptic questions.

“Do you have a favorite dish?”

“I like Five-Tone Mountain Herbs.”

“You mean the Myung lineage’s mountain greens? Why?”

“I found it fascinating how, when multiple people plucked the same leaf together, its scent would intensify in the dish. I saw it a few times in my family.”

“A dish of harmony. A delicacy for masters. Timing is everything.”

“...I suppose that’s one way to see it.”

“I see now... You were born a manifestation of the martial path.”

“...Excuse me?”

It was a conversation beyond his grasp.

Yet, the Lord of Annihilation would simply nod to himself before walking away—only to return again, unraveling his stories and insights.

Most of them concerned the high-ranking officials of the Forbidden City or the martial prowess of his fellow Lords of the Divine Sword Corps.

One day, their entire group discarded their black garb, donning common robes instead.

“This is the place.”

Seonmok Ling Master Cheon So-so spoke, clutching a sapling of the Heavenly Wood.

The branch, though small, was infused with a faint trace of the Flood Dragon’s aura, making it incredibly spiritually rich.

For her, it was a sacred artifact.

A relic from those who once shared her bloodline, now long lost, leading her to those who had been stripped of their pale skin.

The Heavenly Dragon Lord, Wei Ji-geuk, ran a hand over the ropes tied to his belt before stepping forward.

“Every time I pass through here, I find it strange... Is the Dark Night Division really hidden here?”

“Yes.”

Cheon So-so nodded.

In the center of the group, shielded by his seniors, Jeong Yeon-shin slowly ran his fingers over the hilt of Thunderclap.

Before them, a pale mist stretched across the landscape, the sound of the wind howling like wailing ghosts brushing against their ears.

They had arrived.

The outskirts of Guangyin City in Guizhou.

A city of ominous rumors.

Dried vines coiled around the houses like a fortress wall, and the atmosphere ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) was uncanny.

The locals had ashen skin and ears that tapered like leaves. Hidden between the gray trees and crumbling brick walls, many eyes watched them.

The city folk murmured.

“They carry weapons... They must be warriors.”

“They look well-fed. Their skin is full of color.”

“Indeed... and they’re all so strikingly handsome.”

“Look at them. Even that bald brute is a fine-looking man. They must be experts who’ve mastered complete control over their bodies.”

“...Could they be from Ipwang Fortress?”

“Ridiculous. Why would those lofty warriors come all the way to this forsaken place?”

The city reeked of seclusion. Some glared at them with undisguised hostility.

In a world plagued by famine, any outsider was seen as an enemy.

There was no sign of cooperation.

“The main headquarters is likely hidden within a formation. We’ll need to identify who among them is from the Dark Night Division.”

The Lord of Silent Lotus, Yoo Jeong-myeong, scanned the surroundings sharply.

But Cheon So-so shook her head.

“It may look like barren land... but it’s here. Finding the entrance to the formation will be faster.”

“And how long will that take?”

As the Forest Lord, Hahoe Wi-jin, clenched his massive fist—

Jeong Yeon-shin stepped forward.

His footsteps squelched in the damp earth.

The entire group was composed of black-clad warriors, but none of them had hierarchical control over the others.

Anyone could act freely.

As he reached out his hand, a blade bathed in cold light flew into his grasp.

It was not Thunderclap.

It was one of the eighteen weapons of the fallen Lord of Tenfold Gates, a mere disposable tool.

Jeong Yeon-shin had grown weary of formations.

With the Commander’s fate uncertain, his patience had worn thin.

If the Dark Night Division was involved in treacherous dealings, then time was of the essence.

“What are you doing?”

The Master of Wandering Sky, Bukgung Ah, asked lazily, arms crossed.

Behind him, a gathering of the greatest warriors in black watched.

And as Jeong Yeon-shin gripped the sword’s hilt—

Vwoooong—

A dull resonance spread from the blade.