Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

The wall of Mok Family Manor.

At some point, the boundary of the shadows stretching along the outline of the wall mixed with the sunlight and cold air.

A few people had gathered in the crisp winter wind, which burst like flower buds.

Among them, Hyeon Won-chang, who had roughly slung a bundle over his shoulder, suddenly furrowed his brows.

He had been eavesdropping on the conversation inside with his hands cupped around his ears, but it wasn’t an exaggerated gesture—rather, it was a skill known as Thousand-League Earth Listening Technique, a secret art of Salmun.

“What does that mean…?”

“What does?”

At Hyeon Won-chang’s question, the famed swordsman leaning against the wall lazily responded.

A handsome man wearing a blue headband.

His originally gentle expression now carried a strangely sharp aura—Cheongmyeong, the Azure Cliff Sword. A cold killing intent seeped from the eyepatch covering one of his eyes.

The blue robe draped loosely over both his shoulders no longer seemed to suit him.

“You heard it too, senior.”

Hyeon Won-chang asked back, glancing at him. Cheongmyeong, without even turning his head, slowly spoke.

“That our Lord is being taken to the Celestial Tree?”

“Yes, that. I don’t understand a single thing the Lord said… And that so-called Divine Doctor is kind of strange too, isn’t he? Talking as if some sacred branch had taken human form…”

“No wonder you don’t understand. The story is missing its core, and you don’t know enough.”

It was an indifferent reply.

Hyeon Won-chang looked somewhat shocked.

Shin Sobin, who had been glaring at the wall as if she might break through it at any moment, let out a chuckle.

By now, everyone knew that when people spoke of the Great Snow Sword in Ipwang Fortress, they were talking about a man who could recall even the most obscure affairs of the martial world. Even Hyeon Won-chang himself took pride in having greatly contributed to Jeong Yeon-shin’s knowledge of Jianghu.

“Talking about the martial world in shades of purple… If that’s the case… I’m completely useless…”

While the Great Snow Sword rambled on, Shin Sobin turned to Cheongmyeong.

“Our Lord… Is she truly the rightful successor of the Lord of Ipwang Fortress?”

She asked.

Shin Sobin, at least, knew more about the affairs of Ipwang Fortress than Hyeon Won-chang did.

A descendant of the Shen family, which was the most prestigious in Ipwang Fortress, and the granddaughter of Elder Shen Byeok—naturally, she had seen and heard much.

“Was there ever a time she wasn’t?”

Cheongmyeong responded without a trace of emotion.

But his words hinted at a truth that would be significant not only for Ipwang Fortress but for all of Jianghu.

The meaning behind taking Jeong Yeon-shin to the Celestial Tree.

Many royals had studied under the Lord of Ipwang Fortress, deepening their martial prowess, but to call someone a true successor was something entirely different.

“Apologies for interrupting your conversation.”

A boy of about eighteen, with a hollowed face, suddenly interjected.

“I was just too curious. I’ve never heard of Yeonhwa Nata using the Moonlight Divine Technique of the greatest martial artist in the world… Was she really a disciple of the Lord?”

Despite wearing a Taoist robe, his demeanor didn’t suit that of a Taoist priest.

A worn sword hung at his waist, and on the narrow cuffs of his sleeves, a small yin-yang symbol of blue and red was embroidered.

A symbol of Qingyun and Red Haze, the famous divine arts of the Taoists of Cheongseong Sect.