Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Right after the young Grand Master broke Go Jonghak's neck.

The Third Apostle did not care about his son's death. He must have gone to Peach Blossom Land.

The Blood Flame Cultists were unconcerned about the well-being of the departed. It was the trivial matters of the mortal world that enraged them.

"A lowly brat."

The scum of Desolate Fortress had acted as he pleased. Though his talent was unseen before, it was not a force that could dominate the world.

For now, it was merely the behavior of an insect.

"Bring him."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader spoke softly.

Sitting on the Grand Master's seat with his chin resting on his hand, his silver-like white hair flowed down due to its luster.

His expression was hard to read. At least, he did not seem to be considering an immediate execution of the Grand Master.

'This cannot be.'

Third Apostle thought.

The lowborn of Desolate Fortress was a rather dangerous one. It was impossible to gauge his innate talent, and even his temperament was unruly.

Few in the world possessed the disposition to defy authority in front of the Cult Leader. He would grow into someone difficult to control.

The sprout must be cut.

He conveyed the message using energy sound transmission—a method to secretly transmit thoughts to multiple individuals.

It was but a moment. The enraged senior officials charged at the young brat, yet the Blood Flame Cult's elite swordsmen could hardly handle him.

He wielded martial powers strengthened by spiritual techniques and had even mastered the Demon Roaring Blood Art. The Blood Master Swordsmen swordsmen were no match for him.

-Sixth Apostle. Step forward.

-Do not order me.

A raw voice resonated from the depths of his chest.

The Third Apostle glared at the Sixth Apostle, who had a gaunt figure and a harsh expression.

There were four Apostles in the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters. Excluding the Seventh Apostle and Tenth Apostle, who had gone on reconnaissance, there were only two left.

The Sixth Apostle, too, was as good as absent—a madman obsessed with the extremes of martial arts despite mastering the Blood Arts.

To avoid displaying an unsightly scene and to break the arms and legs of the lowborn from Desolate Fortress, Third Apostle himself would have to step in.

He rose from his seat.

Channeling the Demon Roaring Blood Art, divine energy surged through every vein in his body.

Whoosh!

The Third Apostle unleashed the burning energy forward with his will.

The web of his aura ensnared the body of the young Grand Master, who remained seemingly calm.

It was an advanced martial art, praised as being comparable to the King's Sword Forms of the Namgoong Clan. It would feel like an invisible prison.

Would he dare to block even a single move? The arrogant brat, drunk on his own talent, was not worth wasting even half a second on.

'I'll tear off his limbs.'

He observed the young one, whose eyes had turned an icy sky-blue. Using the martial art of Sight Techniques, the Third Apostle pierced through the youth's gaze.

The movement of his pupils was peculiar. He defended against the swordsmen's assault while looking elsewhere, as if immersed in his own mind.

It was laughable. His thoughts were distracted.

"I know your family well. A worthless, third-rate martial clan."

The Third Apostle spoke slowly as he descended the steps.

"Xinye County in Henan. The House of Jung."

The memory was vivid.

"You possessed fertile lands beyond your means."

Due to the complex dynamics of the Thirteen Heavens of Darkness, they had to cooperate with the sword demons of the Tyrant Sword Tribe.

Draining the power of the World Tree. Clearing away the troublesome third-rate clan and burning their lands was commanded.

Even the Cult Leader permitted it. In short, this brat was playing master in front of his enemies.

"Did you know that your father, the Lord of Jung House, was a notorious philanderer in Henan? They said he stirred up endless scandals with noble ladies. With his exceptional looks, he even seduced your mother. It's well-known that the previous Divine Sword Squad Leader was narrow-minded, yet he seemed noble for taking in his disowned daughter as a concubine after witnessing the affair."

There was a tinge of laughter in his tone. It was a mockery.

"Your father was a scoundrel, so you are a bastard. Even as the grandson of Ma Yeonjeok, it is the same. Out of fear that the decrepit old man might plead for revenge against the Lord of Desolate Fortress, I spared your life. Yet, you repay the Cult's mercy with vengeance."

When the Seventh Apostle lost her left eye, all secret forces of the Blood Flame Cult were mobilized.

Even the lowest-tier intelligence network, Hao Clan, was threatened to dig up everything about the scum of Desolate Fortress.

It was absurd. The one spared out of fear of repercussions had turned into a greater threat. Such were the mysteries of grudges in the martial world.

"You handled the Blood Master Swordsmen well."

The Third Apostle's tone grew rough. The aura of a master in his voice churned up his throat.

"You no longer need limbs. Your mouth will suffice. I'll slice you apart from under your fingernails with needles. Even the boldest tongue becomes meek when flayed."

Clang!

The brat was holding off the combined attacks of the bloodsword disciples rather well.

He spun like a whirlwind, moving fluidly while striking with his hands.

The internal energy flowing delicately from his blood points was astonishingly refined.

Even as the Third Apostle released waves of Demon Roaring Blood Art, the youth shattered the swordsmen's heads as if it were a divine art.

It was shocking. He could not be allowed to grow further.

"Step aside."

The swordsmen withdrew immediately. A path opened in an instant, and the Third Apostle walked toward the brat.

"The pinnacle of martial arts encompasses life experiences in the martial world. Humans grow stronger with time. Your meager instincts have yet to bloom. In short, you lack insight."

Even knowing the brat wasn't listening, he continued speaking.

To sever the limbs of a rising prodigy destined to leave great footprints in the martial world, there was an odd sense of thrill.

"One move. Resist, and you will be slain. Behave as befits a bastard."

Then it happened.

Kuuung!

The sky trembled. The Third Apostle doubted his senses.

Even in the transcendent state, he wondered if he had seen wrong.

He had not.

Kwaaang!

The second tremor was different. Something shattered. The heavens and earth seemed to collapse.

Immediately, the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Formation came to mind. If his intuition was right, it truly was a collapse of heaven and earth.

It had guarded the headquarters for centuries. The destruction of the Twin Flame Blood Spirit Formation signified the downfall of the Blood Flame Cult's dominion.

"Moon Spirit Divine Art!"

It was from behind. The Cult Leader, who had been watching leisurely, sprang up, abandoning the composure of an absolute ruler.

Kwaaah!

A blinding white storm swept through. The shattered fragments of the barrier whirled wildly.

The Third Apostle immediately sensed it with his vast perception.

The energy scattering in all directions merged with the outside wind and pressed down on the headquarters.

Waaaah!

The cries of martial outcasts charging in echoed everywhere.

Where were the Seventh Apostle and Tenth Apostle? They had left with elite swordsmen for reconnaissance, but their fate was unknown.

It no longer mattered.

The Third Apostle fell into panic. Even the transcendent masters in the headquarters, who could dominate anywhere in the world, stared upward in terror.

From the distant heavens, someone descended.

It was but a moment. Her figure vanished into the wind and appeared on the ground.

Lime-green hair and robes radiated an ethereal brilliance, as though detached from reality.

"······."

A woman who landed gently, like a heavenly maiden.

Yet, the presence emanating from her was not so. The bodies of the Blood Flame Cult's masters froze.

The higher their martial prowess, the greater their fear.

Not a celestial maiden, she was the Judge of the Dead.

Step.

She advanced calmly, her verdant robe brushing softly against the floor.

At some point, she had drawn her sword. Light flowed down its blade, merging with her brilliant eyes and pale skin.

The sunlight seemed unusually bright.

"Insane…"

The Blood Flame Cult Leader muttered.

Across the world, those who sought power memorized the profiles of absolute masters.

Her face was always the first.

Whether among regional warlords or martial clans, the answer was the same.

Even the royal families of small nations agreed.

"The Lord of Desolate Fortress…?"

The Third Apostle murmured in disbelief.

It did not feel real.

Neither did her face, which was too beautiful to be captured in any profile.

No.

Her face did not matter.

When the Lord of Desolate Fortress took another step forward, the Third Apostle finally felt a chilling shock pierce the back of his neck like an icicle.

'This is the Cult's doom!'

A suffocating pressure pushed against his skin layer by layer.

The power he faced was beyond comprehension.

"Attack!"

He commanded the gathered senior officials.

Swish.

The Lord of Desolate Fortress moved.

No longer granting the scum any time.

The moment the Third Apostle widened his eyes and let out a shout, she was already striking at him head-on.

Was it the technique of shortening distance like an immortal? Her movement was so unreal it seemed she had turned into the wind.

Her pure white sword rippled like a transparent breeze.

Thud.

Third Apostle's head fell. It was an unworthy end for such a notorious grandmaster.

A name that had traversed the vast cities of the Central Plains vanished in vain.

Jung Yeonshin opened his eyes wide, suddenly snapping out of his trance.

It was because his upper dantian's energy perception aligned with the scene before him.

'I couldn't see the technique.'

Jung Yeonshin speculated. The same was true for the Third Apostle—he had ascended without even recognizing her strike.

He must have only been certain of his impending death.

All he saw was her raised hand. He hadn't been able to capture the sword's path.

An absolute master. Or perhaps, a supreme master.

Though the meanings were different, the feeling was the same.

No matter who she faced, she would always hold the upper hand. There was no equal in the world.

'TheWorld Tree's fruit isn't something to be seized, after all.'

The stories of the martial world gossipers were right.

The most divine elixir-bearing tree under heaven would remain eternal under her protection.

"······."

A deathly silence blanketed the inner hall of the Cult Leader's chamber.

A lone intruder had slain Third Apostle, one of the Blood Flame Cult's highest authorities.

But even indignation had to be tempered by recognizing the opponent. The silence deepened.

Only the cries and momentum of the martial artists outside continued to rise.

Step.

The Blood Flame Cult Leader descended quietly. He stood face-to-face with the Lord of Desolate Fortress.

His crimson robe, embroidered with golden dragons, belatedly fluttered as he swept his snow-white hair back and spoke.

"This is our first meeting."

"There is nothing to discuss with a sinner."

The tone of the Lord of Desolate Fortress carried no emotion.

Neither did her sword.

Without warning, a pale gleam of her blade flashed, and blood burst from the Cult Leader's neck.

The gathered swordmasters of the Blood Flame Cult drew sharp breaths.

The ancient blood of an absolute ruler spilled so easily, like in a dream.

Yet he did not die instantly. The Blood Flame Cult Leader had already retreated half a step.

It was a significant feat. He had reacted to the strike, properly executing an evasion step.

"Heh heh."

The Blood Flame Cult Leader's twisted lips gurgled as he laughed, his blood-red mouth stretching unnaturally to its limits.

At that moment, Jung Yeonshin clearly saw it.

The wound on his neck bubbled and rapidly regenerated, a sight more grotesque than his laughter. He was a grandmaster of the Blood Arts.

The regenerative ability was on a completely different level from the Blood Sword disciples.

At that instant, the two absolute masters vanished. It felt as though they had entered another realm, an unimaginable level of internal cultivation.

Kwaaaang!

The sound exploded from far away, yet it nearly knocked him off balance. The shockwave that struck his ears was overwhelming. Still, nothing was visible.

Jung Yeonshin quickly roused his energy. He didn't even need to inspect his internal state.

He instantly created an internal energy barrier around his ear canals. It was a delicate maneuver executed in a flash.

His cultivation had advanced another step as he honed his Demon-Slaying Azure Steel Palm and Demon Roaring Blood Art.

"The Cult Leader, where is he?"

"He's fighting the demon!"

The masters turned their heads toward the mountain behind the Cult Leader's hall.

Another earth-shattering sound rang out, as if hundreds of thunder bombs had exploded at once.

A massive dust cloud rose into the air.

But that was only the beginning.

The thunderous clashes soon became sporadic. The battles of supreme masters were only loud in their initial exchanges.

'One breath.'

Jung Yeonshin calmly analyzed. He had heard tales of supreme masters.

For them, a single breath could feel like an eternity. It seemed evasion and feints dominated their duel more than direct clashes.

Jung Yeonshin quickly shook off his thoughts.

"Eradicate the cult!"

"Uphold justice! Destroy the heretics!"

The sounds of blades clashing and energy bursts grew closer. Martial artists had begun their assault on the Blood Flame Cult's headquarters.

Familiar faces emerged, deflecting enemy attacks with ease as they charged forward.

Chung Myung was the fastest. Following him were Wei-Ji Myohwa and Baek Miryeo.

The monk Gak Jeong's defensive techniques were equally impressive. Even the Plum Blossom Swordsmen of the Mount Hua Sect were present.

It was a welcome sight. It felt as though a safe haven was approaching.

"Jung, Master Jung······!"

He heard the call clearly. At the edge of the vanguard was Heon Wonchang.

With his gaunt face, he rushed forward, deftly avoiding the swords of several Blood Flame Cultists.

When he spotted Jung Yeonshin, he even managed a weary smile. Still the same companion.

'He's recovered his martial arts.'

Feeling relieved, Jung Yeonshin's mind spun rapidly.

He imagined the Lord of Desolate Fortress emerging victorious. Yet the Blood Flame Cult Leader was also among the top absolute masters of the vast Central Plains.

It was hard to picture him being easily defeated.

If not, the casualties would be immense. He could tell with a quick glance.

"You were the Cult's disaster all along."

The greatest problem now was the Sixth Apostle, whose killing intent had begun to rise nearby.

He alternated his threatening gaze between Jung Yeonshin and the martial artists.

Strong opponents like him were rare, even in Desolate Fortress, black-robed masters were not common.

'There's no supreme master to deal with the Apostle.'

Even with hundreds of martial artists pressing in, it was the same.

The dozens of Blood Master Swordsmen were also an issue. Given their level, they could dominate not just counties but entire prefectures.

They were rare elites in the martial world.

" Desolate Fortress' Squad Leaders are coming!"

Chung Myung shouted as he sped forward. It was clearly a bluff.

Jung Yeonshin had already sensed it when his energy perception activated, there were no black-robed figures nearby.

This was the moment the chronic weakness of Desolate Fortress was revealed, a lack of manpower to oversee the vast Central Plains.