Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

The place left behind by the four peerless martial artists and the Flood Dragon.

White heat haze coiled like snakes, appearing and disappearing in waves.

Ssssshhh—

The ground was rough and worn. The sound of thunder rolling through the hazy air was heavy and deep.

The land was utterly devastated, with fallen leaves tumbling among the weeds.

Two people stood facing each other.

One was So Cheonmujuk. The air around her was stale, as if thick with dust. She idly pulled down ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) her pure white scarf below her collarbone, wearing an expression of boredom.

Her pristine white robe wrapped her body completely, without a single stain.

Her presence was flawless.

“You’re relentless in keeping me here. I don’t understand.”

A voice, clear in pronunciation but rough in tone. She scratched her throat with internal energy, as if it were second nature. It was different from when she spoke with Jeong Yeon-shin.

“I know what kind of lunatic you are. Among the Bloodflame Cult’s nobles, there’s talk of you being the greatest in history. It makes sense that you would be drawn to Jeong Yeon-shin through martial arts, but…”

Whoosh—

A dark mist coiled around So Cheonmujuk’s left arm, pulsing with chaotic energy like blood techniques.

Unlike tyrannical demonic energy, this presence was eerie. Stone fragments snapped and popped, bouncing off the ground in disorder.

Its form was exactly the same as the Bloodflame Cult’s martial arts.

“Your loyalty should be the same toward our cult leader if you want to be consistent.”

Her words were drawn out.

“You’ve reached this level of strength despite having no remarkable talent or paying any price. To your eyes, there should be no difference between Jeong Yeon-shin and me.”

There was no answer.

Only a faint laugh seeped into the air. So Cheonmujuk did not take the mockery too seriously.

“Come to me.”

She spoke calmly.

“I will show you the pinnacle of martial arts. Unlike Jeong Yeon-shin, I have a different paradise. Don’t you want to experience a vastly different nature?”

A voice both indifferent and seductive brushed against the air. The allure of a Mara.

At that moment, the robe of the Seventh Apostle billowed behind her.

Still bright red, still smooth—but torn and punctured in several places, soaked in blood. Even charred black marks, like scars, adorned her figure, evidence of her disadvantage.

The only thing left unscathed was her eerily pale skin. A testament to her overwhelming regenerative ability.