Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time-Chapter 429: Grandmaster (3)

The death of the Peng Family Head had been an unplanned incident—an impromptu duel to the death that left no room for formality.

The official duels of the Huashan Pact were different.

They were held at an appointed time, starting exactly on schedule, and conducted with great magnificence. This was largely due to the generous support of the wealthy lay disciples from the Nine Sects.

At the heart of the Emerald Jade Sword Manor, a vast dueling stage stood—a grand platform of golden-hued bricks, their surfaces sheared so cleanly that they resembled polished marble.

Encircling it, six or so tiers of viewing platforms and pavilions formed a wide ring, with large canopies providing shade. Beyond them, the manor’s tall, pristine white walls gleamed under the blazing sun, reflecting light in all directions.

Beyond that, as far as the eye could see, a sea of people filled every available space.

It was a literal ocean of people. Some claimed that this was the largest martial duel gathering in the last fifty years.

“Mount Wudang’s Elder Zhang Bong...!”

“The Eighteen Arhats of Shaolin are here!”

“Aren’t those monks from the Four Vajras? I never thought I’d see all six of the Great Seals in my lifetime...!”

“Look over there! Swordsmen from Mount Qingcheng!”

“The Six Kings Sect! Even they have come!”

The crowd was abuzz with excitement, their voices filled with awe and anticipation.

The greatest names in orthodox martial society had gathered. Even those who had entered the manor as participants were now behaving more like spectators, chattering amongst themselves in barely restrained enthusiasm.

Their numbers stretched into the hundreds, perhaps even more.

Some glanced at Jeong Yeon-shin, seated across the arena in the spectators' pavilion, whispering amongst themselves.

The gazes directed at the new Purple-Robed Lord were filled with a mix of fear, doubt, and reverence.

It was a true sea of humanity.

A gathering of only the most esteemed warriors.

It should have been an impossible space to regulate—but the moment a young Daoist, clad in white robes, stepped onto the highest seat of the grandstand, the air grew heavy.

The mere presence of Wudang’s Grand Elder pressed down upon the entire orthodox martial world.

“Everyone, be silent.”

The Grand Elder spoke.

He turned to his right, where Jeong Yeon-shin sat, and gave a slight squint, as if in acknowledgement of the incident with the Peng Family Head.

But that was all.

The Grand Elder of Wudang was a peer of the Wandering Hero, a warrior who had endured the chaos of the martial world for decades—a God of War in his own right.

He did not reprimand the new Purple-Robed Lord. Instead, he turned his gaze to the one seated to his left—the acting head of the Peng Family.

“Is the Peng Family prepared?”

“Yes.”

Peng Ga In-hu gave a slight nod.

Her limbs had grown longer, almost as much as Jeong Yeon-shin’s, an effect of the Sacred Yoga Arts of India, which enhanced one’s physical capabilities.

Seated among the most revered martial figures, she lounged with her legs casually crossed, exuding an air of ease despite the weight of the occasion.

No one openly criticized her demeanor.

The martial artists seated around her only showed mild discomfort.

As the future head of the Peng Family, she had every right to turn the pavilion into her private chamber of vengeance.

This was a duel of retribution for a noble house.

“You are not late.”

A voice echoed from behind Jeong Yeon-shin, from a single step higher on the grandstand.

A deep yet delicate fragrance drifted through the air.

Soft fabric rustled as a figure gracefully descended the steps.

The subtle plum blossom scent carried a trace of profound internal energy.

There was no need to turn around—everyone knew who it was.

“This is good. Will the Sect Leader of Huashan also oversee the proceedings?”

“Yes, I shall.”

The formal setting seemed to necessitate such protocol.

Jeong Yeon-shin paid no further attention to the conversation between Wudang’s Grand Elder and Yulha Nangrang.

The presence of martial world supremes watching this duel was secondary.

Instead, his focus turned to the young warrior who had stepped onto the dueling platform.

A White-Robed Warrior from the House of Ipwang Ma, a man named Ma Woong.

He had once been a late-stage prodigy who sided with Ma Se-in’s mother. Upon witnessing the Wandering Hero return in his youthful form, Ma Woong immediately admitted his error and attempted to destroy his own dantian.

Jeong Yeon-shin had stopped him.

He had heard that Ma Woong was more than just Ma Se-in’s bodyguard—he was like an elder brother to him.

Back then, Jeong Yeon-shin had thought of his own deceased older brother, Jeong Jung.

He had no desire to strip Ma Se-in of a family bond he himself had never known.

‘I heard he has mastered the Jeong Family’s Inner Arts.’

It was said that Ma Woong’s lodging now bore the image of a bridge of crows and magpies, alongside a kite adorned with a hawk’s emblem—a reference to the core mantra of the Jeong Family’s martial arts.

That same mantra had once expressed Jeong Yeon-shin’s childhood envy of the kite-flying games his brothers used to play during the Qixi Festival.

That night, upon hearing the news from Ma Se-in, Jeong Yeon-shin’s bed had shattered.

Regardless, Ma Woong had dedicated himself to mastering the Jeong Family’s martial arts.

But his opponent was problematic.

“I am Peng Jun.”

The man across from Ma Woong greeted him with a formal salute.

“I have trained in my family’s Five Tiger Sabers, and due to this, my fellow martial artists have given me the title Great Tiger Saber.”

The Yellow-Robed Warrior carried a saber at his waist. His salutation was perfectly measured, yet devoid of respect.

Instead, his eyes burned with hostility.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

He was a rising young master, said to be notable among the younger generation.

He was slightly older than Ma Woong, his robust frame exuding raw power.

Even before the duel began, he radiated invisible energy, subtly distorting the air around the platform.

“Ma Woong.”

“I have studied a condensed version of the Jeong Family’s Inner Arts.”

Ma Woong barely lifted his hands in greeting before immediately drawing his sword.

His movements were starkly minimalistic, yet picture-perfect in their clarity.

From the grandstand, Jeong Yeon-shin clicked his tongue in disapproval.

‘If not for myself and Ma Se-in, my maternal family’s etiquette would have been long forgotten.’

‘Then again, when the elders are waterfalls, what else can be expected?’

As his thoughts drifted to Wandering Hero Ma Yeon-jeok and Hellslayer Ma Jin, the Grand Elder of Wudang spoke.

[“The House of Ipwang and the Peng Family... As the Lord of the Radiant Wings Division has defeated the late Peng Family Head, today’s duels shall be conducted in three rounds. The two on the stage may now begin.”]

His voice rippled through the air.

It carried immense martial power, far beyond that of the late Peng Family Head.

Jeong Yeon-shin acknowledged that the Grand Elder’s internal mastery surpassed his own—but at this moment, his concern was solely for Ma Woong.

The Little Cat Saber of the Peng Family had already begun to exude killing intent.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s brows furrowed.

‘Unrefined energy... Have they fed him elixirs?’

The accumulated energy of that Peng mongrel was already overwhelming Ma Woong.

***

The duel was decided in an instant.

The victor was Peng Jun.

Despite the Swift Execution style that the Seomye Martial Lineage had recently become famous for, he had overwhelmed Ma Woong with an even faster saber technique.

Ma Woong had been helplessly pushed back by the shadows of the Five Tiger Saber Style and was eventually knocked out of the arena.

That was a stroke of immense fortune.

Peng Jun had been intent on killing him. Though he never once dared to look up at the monstrous Jeong Yeon-shin, he had vented his fury over the loss of his family head upon his opponent, as if determined to take revenge.

His saber aura had been ferocious. Had Peng Ga In-hu’s fingers not snapped at just the right moment, Peng Jun might have leapt off the stage and plunged his saber straight into Ma Woong.

‘And afterward, he would have blamed it on a moment of competitive zeal...’

Peng Ya shot a sidelong glance at Jeong Yeon-shin and shook her head internally. She could not allow the family’s warriors to act as they pleased.

After all, a massacre had nearly erupted following the Celestial Web Incident involving the Lord of the Divine Sword Corps. It was only through the intervention of the Nine Sects that this very tournament had been arranged.

She already understood the reality of the situation.

‘Winning is enough. There’s no need to provoke him further.’

Peng Ya gestured toward the Peng Family’s contingent, instructing them to send in a warrior equivalent to an Azure-ranked expert from Ipwang Fortress.

Meanwhile, both Peng Jun and Ma Woong saluted toward the grandstand, where Peng Ya, the Grand Elder, Jeong Yeon-shin, and Yulha Nangrang were seated, before stepping down from the dueling stage.

Ma Woong’s expression was marred with utter despair.

[“The Peng Family claims the first victory.”]

The Grand Elder’s youthful voice resonated throughout the Emerald Jade Sword Manor, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Regardless of the vendetta between the two great martial factions, the spectators had been granted a firsthand look at the techniques of two promising young masters.

‘This is it.’

Peng Ya clenched her long fingers into a fist.

Balance had been restored between the Peng Family and Ipwang Fortress.

A Purple-Robed monster had slain the Peng Family Head, and now, a Peng Family prodigy had bested one of Ipwang’s White-Robed Warriors.

This was the essence of the Huashan Pact Tournament.

The reaction from the crowd was promising.

“The history that a great sect accumulates always bears fruit in the hands of its young masters. The Seomye Martial Lineage may be known for its speed-oriented techniques, but the Five Tiger Saber Style has long been recognized by the imperial court for its ferocity.”

“That’s an odd way to phrase it. Isn’t Ma Woong also a prodigy of the House of Ipwang Ma? Even if he is from a branch family...”

“Ipwang Fortress isn’t the issue here. If we compare individuals, the Lord of the Radiant Wings Division and the Invincible Young Master of Mount Xiaotian will undoubtedly contend for the title of the greatest of the next generation. This duel simply exposed the limits of a newly established martial lineage.”

“The Five Tiger Saber Style is truly unparalleled...!”

The Peng Family was an aristocratic house of Northern Zhili.

Even with the death of their leader, their influence had not simply vanished.

As long as they displayed strength befitting their name, the martial world would applaud them.

That was precisely Peng Ya’s goal—to minimize the backlash from the mess left behind by the late family head.

Today, she would reaffirm the Peng Family’s presence.

She intended to remind the world that the Peng noble lineage had been a pillar of the martial world for centuries—and to ensure that Ipwang Fortress’s anger remained something the orthodox factions would only hesitantly acknowledge.

[“Next.”]

Two more figures ascended the dueling platform.

A middle-aged man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Peng Jun, and a one-eyed swordsman with a blue headscarf.

The former was Peng Jun’s father, Peng Mun-il, known as the Great Forceful Saber.

The latter was Cheongmyeong, the Azure Blindfolded Sword of Ma Gwang’s Elite.

As Peng Mun-il silently unfastened his saber gauntlets, utterly indifferent to his son’s prior victory, Cheongmyeong simply offered a faint smile toward the high seats.

‘The Demon Sword of Ma Gwang...’

Peng Ya’s brow furrowed ever so slightly.

She had a bad feeling about this.

[“Begin.”]

Blade light and sword light clashed, scattering piercing blue radiance across the stage.

Their duel, too, was brief.

Cheongmyeong carved a massive circle around Peng Mun-il, sending dozens of crimson arcs spraying into the air.

It resembled a sword dance.

His movements were impossibly swift and fluid.

Each strike was a perfectly timed rotation of the Celestial Spiral Slash, trapping his opponent in a prison of blade arcs while his footwork glided effortlessly, as if he were merely stepping across a patch of grass.

There was no hesitation, no sense of danger.

It was the Wind Deity Step—the Seomye Martial Lineage’s supreme movement technique.

[“Ipwang Fortress claims its second victory. The two of you may step down.”]

Peng Mun-il, bloodied and unconscious, was carried away by the Peng warriors.

Meanwhile, Cheongmyeong casually sheathed his sword and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a trail of bloodstained footprints in his wake.

He had been a tempest.

Time lost all meaning.

The two duels had passed like a whirlwind—a clash between the lightning-fast techniques of the Seomye Martial Lineage and the Peng Family’s martial arts, which sought to bury that momentum beneath centuries of tradition.

“......”

Silence filled the arena.

One match remained.

If Ipwang Fortress won, they would claim complete victory with a score of three to one.

If the Peng Family won, the tournament would end in a draw.

Suddenly, the shrill cries of cicadas filled the space.

The sun blazed down heavily, and the sweltering midday air wavered in the heat.

As if the restless stirrings of nature had become unnaturally pronounced.

Slowly, Peng Ya rose from her seat.

‘...A draw is possible.’

Sskt.

With a slight shift of her foot, she was already standing atop the dueling platform.

She had revealed her mastery of the Wind Deity Step to the entire world.

Then, with deliberate force, she drew both sabers from the twin scabbards crossed behind her back and plunged them into the ground.

Boom!

“The Peng Family!”

Peng Ya’s voice rang out, raw and unrestrained.

“I will now display the martial arts I have so relentlessly honed before the eyes of my peers in the martial world.”

Boom!

“Speak, Ipwang Fortress!”

Peng Ya shouted toward Jeong Yeon-shin, raising both of her sabers like a triumphant general.

“Who among you will receive my saber techniques?”

Her presence was overwhelming. The crowd surrounding the dueling stage erupted into thunderous cheers, their voices so loud that the stage itself trembled.

Those well-versed in martial world rumors turned their gazes toward a particular figure.

A young man clad in black robes, sitting with his eyes closed, hands resting on his knees—the White Qilin, Namgung Hwashin.

Excitement flickered across the faces of the spectators.

There were few in the martial world who did not know of the duel between Semye and the Azure Qilin. Rumors abounded that Semye had even developed a sword art to honor a worthy rival after that battle.

The Extreme Qilin.

Could the sword form inspired by the Namgung Family’s First Sword truly manifest in the hands of Namgung Hwashin, who had been unable to inherit the Imperial Sword Forms due to his bloodline?

It would be a sight to shake the entire Dengfeng Prefecture for months to come.

“......”

Yet, Namgung Hwashin did not rise. He remained seated, his expression heavy.

At his waist, there was no Righteous Heaven Sword—the famed blade that had supposedly been taken from the Namgung Family’s First Sword. There was no aura reminiscent of the Imperial Sword Forms either.

Murmurs of doubt began spreading through the crowd.

“I... don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Ah...”

“I get it, but still.”

“An illegitimate child, an exile, a warrior of Ipwang Fortress, yet still of the Namgung Family and the Azure Qilin. He tried to stand in all these places at once, but in the end... he has overcome none of them.”

It was a gathering of esteemed figures, and none openly jeered at him. But several clicked their tongues in disappointment.

“In the end, has Semye failed to reach the level of true grandmasters?”

“A shame. Perhaps he will be ready in ten years. Maybe even in one year—if Cheongmyeong dons the black robes instead.”

“Either way, today is not the day.”

“So what happens now? Ipwang Fortress planned to compete with three fighters, didn’t they? Someone must step forward. After all, the Huashan Pact is meant to bring forth each faction’s finest...”

Peng Ya stomped her foot against the stage. The force of it drowned out the murmurs with a deafening shockwave.

“Will Ipwang Fortress make me draw my sabers in vain?”

An overwhelming aura swept through the crowd. All eyes turned toward the upper pavilion where the Purple-Robed Lord of Ipwang Fortress sat with an impassive expression.

Then—

BOOOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted near the dueling platform. The walls of the Emerald Jade Sword Manor collapsed in an instant.

The force of the impact was so immense that plumes of dust, rising through the rubble, were violently thrust skyward.

“What...!”

Those nearest to the wall spun around.

Through the dust and chaos, a pitch-black shadow streaked past them, accompanied by a ferocious gust of wind.

Clothes fluttered °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° wildly as though caught in a storm.

WHOOOSH!

In the blink of an eye, the shadow arrived at the center of the dueling platform.

A man, clad in black, stood three steps in front of Peng Ya, looking down at her.

“......”

His presence was heavy—domineering.

Even his appearance carried the same air. His once-handsome face was now marred by scars, and instead of flesh, one of his sleeves revealed dark, metallic plating that absorbed the sunlight.

“...And you are?”

Peng Ya’s voice, which had moments ago been filled with indignation, now held a note of wariness.

Seated in the pavilion, the Grand Elder of Wudang wore an expression of disbelief. It was clear that he recognized the intruder.

“If the crowd was a problem, you could have leaped over. Why destroy an innocent wall?”

The Grand Elder scolded.

At last, the black-clad man’s lips parted.

“A gentleman wouldn’t climb over a wall.”

“...What?”

“I was in a hurry. There’s no way I was going to let the Peng Family get an undeserved victory by default. Now then... brat, you may begin.”

That last remark—

It was directed at Peng Ga In-hu. His tone and bearing were arrogant beyond belief.

Even compared to the Purple-Robed Lord of Ipwang Fortress, his sheer disregard for decorum was staggering.

Peng Ya’s gaze sharpened.

“A washed-up old relic, speaking out of turn...”

There was no longer any need for formalities.

Veins bulged in her hands as she raised both sabers high above her head.

KIIIIIIIING—!

A shrill sound pierced the air as her twin blades ripped through the atmosphere, carving out streaks of lightning.

One decisive strike.

She aimed to cleave his shoulders apart, severing them completely.

As the sabers fell—

The black-clad man merely flicked them upward with his bare hands.

CLAAAANG—!

His hands tilted at a precise angle. The force of the impact was eerily muted, as though the very sound itself had been suppressed.

The eyes of every spectator widened.

“......!”

Peng Ga In-hu’s twin sabers...

Had been returned to their scabbards.

It was as if he had sheathed them for her.

It was the ultimate humiliation—to force a master of the saber into involuntary submission.

“Total Body Shockwave. Jeong Family Inner Arts.”

The black-clad man murmured.