Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time

Chapter 432

Beneath the deep blue sky stretched a land darkened with shadow. The earth sprawled in all directions like an endless plain, entirely scorched black.

Scattered across the landscape, jet-black flames flickered and swayed. The summer sun, shimmering transparently as it descended, reached the ground and seethed with an obsidian glow.

It was less of a ruin and more akin to a vision of hell itself—a land fit to be called dead.

Amidst it all, a strange voice resonated softly. The cadence resembled that of a restless ghost reciting poetry in a faltering tone.

When ten men gather, one will surely claim kingship.

The dust storms of the plains are the distant howls of warhorses.

A fence built in ten days is but a sandcastle awaiting the high tide.

Is the great tide of time an undeniable providence, or is defying it the test that has been granted?

Black embers danced erratically above the dead earth before vanishing.

“How does it feel to hear it in person?”

A silver-white mask, covering only down to the bridge of the nose, tilted slightly in amusement.

The figure wearing it was draped entirely in a white cloak embroidered with extravagant golden patterns, as ornate as a monarch’s robe. Yet, despite his regal appearance, he was gripping an old man’s throat and lifting him into the air.

“This is the preface to the Heavenly Demon Divine Art you so desperately sought. The mnemonic verse has a certain charm, don’t you think?”

“…I cannot believe it. It… cannot be authentic.”

The old man’s voice, thick with phlegm, rasped as he spoke. Even with his throat seized, his internal breathing remained unbroken.

His black robe, which hung long and loose over his back, bore the words Pure Demon—etched in a vigorous, dragon-like script.

“You foolish old man. Where is there authenticity in the demonic path?”

The masked figure sneered.

“The martial arts of the Ming Cult exist to be reforged in the hands of the successor. Those halfwits who blindly follow the teachings of past generations can never become the Heavenly Demon. That is why you are merely a branch lineage.”

“……”

“And yet, I must admit, I was somewhat surprised. You took the demonic essence of the dead? Wasn’t the grave you desecrated that of the previous Pure Demon Lord? Your own disciple, no less.”

“That is… the way of the demonic path.”

The old man’s eyes turned pitch-black as he spoke.

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