Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

In an instant, So Cheonmujuk scattered like a mirage in the great desert of summer, then reappeared beneath the airspace on the opposite side.

Before the defensive aura could even be tested against the sword strike, seemingly forged from moonlight, Jeong Yeon-shin had succeeded in performing Ihyeong Gongheo— a technique tied to both longing and resentment.

It was different from his previous encounters— from the Sect Master of Cheonggeuk Gate, whom he had to strike down multiple times, or from the moment he had called out to Abbot Beomheo, relying on the resonance of dharma and desperate wishes.

But as So Cheonmujuk stepped upon the void, her brows furrowed for the first time.

She had been in the midst of reciting an incantation, enhancing the technique’s mystical power. A quiet thought slipped from between her lips.

[How could you…!]

It was a muttered curse, spat out as if chewed through clenched teeth.

Above the canyon.

Hwaaak—!

The vast, flickering storm clouds of thunder were split in a single stroke, scattering to either side.

Like fuses ignited by a violent flame, the sword strike severed something fundamental at the core of the sorcery-infused martial arts.

By the time Jeong Yeon-shin below widened his eyes and exhaled a single breath, it had ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) all vanished.

Complete annihilation. Overwhelming.

[Since when have you been watching?!]

Sarak.

The hem of a pale green robe brushed through the air. Darker green hair, absorbing the sunlight that had begun to weave its way back into the canyon, swayed lightly with the returning wind.

It felt as though she had descended along the full-force trajectory of So Cheonmujuk’s Six Harmonies Celestial Ascension.

From a nearby cliff, fragments of stone crumbled and tumbled down.

Amidst it all, the silhouette gripping a single sword slowly descended to Jeong Yeon-shin’s eye level before pausing in midair, standing as though upon an invisible cushion.

For a moment, the long strands of jade-green hair, shimmering in sunlight, swayed gently with the rebound of landing.

Yet there was no sound of feet touching the air.

No presence.

"……."

Jeong Yeon-shin, rarely taken aback, stared at the figure.

Perched upon a sparse, skeletal tree branch protruding from the cliffside, the Seventh Apostle had silently crept close, floating midair using her mastery of Ashin Technique.

Jeong Yeon-shin’s pupils, long devoid of the brilliance of An Technique, reflected a long-lost image of the Martial Deity.

Ears sharper than any noble lineage.

A delicate yet perfectly harmonious face, the epitome of beauty rarely seen in this world— yet even that paled in comparison to the deep green eyes, devouring souls like an abyss.

Saaaah—