Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Jeong Yeon-shin gave a small nod. The insight of the most renowned master in all of Jianghu was indeed profound.

Not confining his final survival technique to Mouth of the Empty Moon—something one might use only once in battle—was a thought he had already considered even before he was to cross swords with the Heavenly Pole Lord.

The nature of battle would always change. After all, he was a warrior of Ipwang Fortress.

But…

Lowering his gaze, Jeong Yeon-shin saw Abbot Beomheo. His half-closed eyelids had erased all expression from his face. He now resembled a Dharma Guardian, one who safeguarded the Buddhist Law.

Not even a wisp of aura leaked from him, yet it felt as though he held the entire world within him. The hazy mist around him was being pressed down, ever so slightly, in his presence.

Seamless Perfection.

His control over energy was absolute.

Just how much ascetic training had he endured? The fact that the heat radiating from the Flood Dragon’s scales had been subdued was proof that the Supreme Wisdom of Prajna had fully permeated the living embodiment of a natural disaster.

The power of the Muscle-Tendon Changing and Marrow Cleansing Sutra, refined and wielded like a diamond—ever since Bodhidharma had created it, the technique had always been called invincible.

The Greatest Master of the Orthodox Sects.

The unchallenged pillar of the righteous path in Jianghu. The absolute figure whom countless warriors of the orthodox world revered as their spiritual foundation. A man like him had no reason to imply his own death.

“I do not understand your intentions, Master Abbot. Why are you giving me such advice now?”

Jeong Yeon-shin ran his fingertips over the blade of Thunderclap as he asked.

Beomheo’s face had entered a state of absolute clarity, as still as a sculpted statue. His immersion in the profound techniques of the Buddhist path made his expression seem all the more devoid of emotion.

Only when he was about to speak did his wrinkled lips move.

“Listen carefully. The third thing is karma.”

The old monk continued his guidance at a slow, deliberate pace.

“The affairs of Jianghu are ultimately matters between people. Even those who pursue the pinnacle of martial arts are bound by countless ties of karma and memory. This is true for the Heavenly Pole Lord, true for the so-called Lord of the Tyrant Sword, and even true for the Martial God of the North. If it were only about strength, why do you think even that man, the Northern War God, would go so far as to tarnish his own honor for the sake of his clan? That is why he is called the War God and not the Martial God.”

“…At this point, I fail to see what any of that matters. We are standing atop the scales of the Flood Dragon, are we not? You speak of warriors and non-humans, but are we not already facing a world where beings beyond humanity have begun to take over…?”

“Do not think that way. You must live in the Jianghu of men.”

Beomheo quietly cut him off.

“Our mountain sects—the so-called Nine Schools—and certain elite warriors of the Ipwang Fortress Divine Sword Division hold shut a door that few can see. That is simply the role assigned to them. Since ancient times, extraordinary monks and Taoists have been the ones who suppress the strange and unnatural. Long ago, the monks and priests of the Nine Schools became exorcists by a covenant with the Ming Dynasty’s first emperor. That is why they rarely interfere with worldly affairs.”

“……”

“You are by far the youngest among the commanders of Ipwang Fortress.”

The old monk’s words carried on in a low voice.

“You should walk among men and handle the matters of men. Do you know why the Nine Schools did not request your help when they moved to stop the Dark Heaven Emperor’s Tiger-Dragon Techniques? The Nine Schools are like ritual instruments used by nations when they conduct exorcisms. But you… you are a sword that kills men. I assure you, after today, this land will no longer drag you into battles against demons and spirits. The Nine Schools will now be far more cautious.”

Wudang, Emei, Jeomchang, Kongtong, and Hengshan.

None of their grandmasters had come to Hangzhou.

And with the Sword Immortal of Zhongnan slain—his blade having cut through the Gate of Samsara before he passed—the remaining disciples of Zhongnan were now rebuilding their sect in the region.

Among them was his niece, Jeong Hye. And he had heard that Yun So-yu of the Sword Dragon of the Clouds, whom he had once shared deep ties with, had taken the position of Zhongnan’s sect leader.

Suddenly, Jeong Yeon-shin recalled his grandfather’s letter.

—The Yong Family and the Old Man shall exterminate that which is not human. You, on the other hand, shall subjugate the world.

The exact same words.

It was not merely because Beomheo and his grandfather were of the same generation. It was because they shared the same view—of both the world and of Jeong Yeon-shin.

Jeong Yeon-shin found himself silently agreeing.

Yet he still did not fully grasp what Beomheo intended to do about the crisis in Hangzhou. Had it not already spiraled beyond human intervention?

Whoosh—

A sudden wind blew.

A gentle breeze brushed against his skin, descending like a transparent thread between the two men, forming a wall between them. Even in the boundless sky, the air barely stirred.

“…I understand your words, Master.”

Rustle.

As Jeong Yeon-shin’s deep purple sleeve billowed in the wind, Beomheo slowly nodded.

“Yes. It is enough that you value human bonds. No force is stronger than the ties between people. Whether it is good karma or ill karma, karma itself is a force that surpasses calamity, even the upheaval of nature.”

Wudang and Shaolin.