Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Chapter 408

The moonlight was brilliant against the night sky. A pale mist rippled gently, shimmering like waves of light.

Atop a steep mountain peak, a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man gazed up at the full moon.

Draped in a disheveled red-gold robe, his scarred abdominal muscles were exposed between its folds. In his hands, he raised an enormous sword high above his head.

Whoom—

A pitch-black sword arc slashed downward.

The sound of air splitting was subdued. The greatsword left behind a heavy, singular trajectory, devoid of any unnecessary flourish.

And then, the moon split.

A straight, empty void formed across the glowing full moon.

As if it had been cleaved in two with a single strike. The mist drifting faintly around the swordsman added to the surreal, dreamlike spectacle.

Then, the silence was broken.

Someone clapped.

“A sword path as simple as your talent, yet it holds profundity. To carry such shockwaves in a single strike—if anyone saw, they’d think you were Dancing Moonblade himself.”

The voice came from behind the swordsman, about five steps away.

A man, clad in a black Pi-poong robe, smirked beneath the brim of his wide bamboo hat.

He lazily clapped his hands together, making a soft sound with only the tips of his fingers. The air of mockery in his demeanor was ingrained, an effortless part of his very being.

“It’s finally worthy of being called Pahwang Samsik—The Three Desolating Strikes. For something born from the world’s most dull-witted talent, the name no longer seems excessive…”

“It is now One Strike.”

A deep voice rumbled forth—the reply of the swordsman gripping the enormous blade.

After speaking, he fell silent once more. He simply gazed down at his own sword.

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