Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Slowly.

The space, which had scattered sunlight in every direction like a fractured sky, regained its original hue, like a sky clearing after a storm.

The countless intangible swords, once spread like a sea of clouds, vanished.

In their place, the ruined battlefield was revealed—scarred with blade marks, the earth a desolate shade of ochre.

“……”

Two figures stood in silence.

No wind blew.

The air was dry, stripped of even the faint moisture of autumn by the storm of swordplay that had raged moments before.

Now, only two swordsmen were permitted to move.

“Heh, well now…”

A strained groan, followed by an easygoing voice.

“If you had used both hands, I’d have lost both my arms.”

“……”

“I told you before, didn’t I? Absolute balance is my creed. Today, my stubbornness in using only one hand paid off.”

The right arm of the master of Heavenly Extreme Sect was gone—severed from the shoulder.

His upper garments were in the same state.

Across his now-exposed chest, a deep crimson line stretched, blood oozing in thick surges.

A legendary swordsman, now maimed.

His missing arm, the near-bisected state of his torso—testament to the ferocity of their duel.

“In all the hardships this wretched body has endured, this was by far the most exhilarating.”

He swayed slightly but smiled.

Meanwhile, Jeong Yeon-shin, standing firm, did not look at him.

Instead, his eyes turned slightly to the side, where two severed arms lay.

One, a right hand cut off at the wrist, the remnants of a limb utterly overwhelmed by sword force.

The other, a left arm severed cleanly, its cross-section smooth as glass.

One belonged to the master of Heavenly Extreme Sect.

The other was Yeon-shin’s own.

Even the veins, once coursing with qi, had been severed differently.

So too had their fates diverged.

Winter’s Dream, the sword the master of Heavenly Extreme Sect had lost, lay abandoned on the ground.

But Yeon-shin still held Thunderbolt Lightning in his grasp.

It was decisive.

Both of them knew it.

“…How does it feel to be one of the five greatest swordsmen in the vast world?”

The master of Heavenly Extreme Sect spoke with a faint smile.

“There will be more people eager to hear your story than there are clouds in the sky. Even those monstrous giants of the northern tribes, who wield crescent blades and massive axes, will respect your sword. Just as I did.”

He laughed, but Yeon-shin did not respond.

Nor did the man expect an answer.

“I’ve always been curious.”

In that moment, his left hand extended—Winter’s Dream flew back into his grip.

A movement faster than a swift sword, a perfect execution of the technique that grasped objects from afar.