Even the Same Apple Doesn't Taste the Same?
‘Impossible.’
The assassin’s eyes widened in shock. Just a couple of days ago, this guy had been lying on his deathbed, barely clinging to life. A pathetic body that didn’t even know the first letter of aura. For such a wretch to flick away his all-out strike—honed through decades of bone-grinding agony—with a single finger, and one infused with aura at that? It was utterly inconceivable.
‘Where did he pick up that cheap trick…! Right, he must’ve gotten his hands on some artifact with defensive magic or a barrier scroll!’
The assassin’s mind spun frantically, desperately fleeing reality. If he’d timed a fake finger flick to match the sword’s clash and activated a hidden barrier scroll from his robes, then this absurd miracle unfolding before him might make some sense. No, he had to think that way, or it would feel like his entire life as a swordsman was being denied.
But the assassin didn’t know. In this fantasy world, it was called aura; in the martial world where Cheon Woo-jin had lived, inner power. When it came to handling and controlling that superhuman energy, there wasn’t a single soul in the world who could surpass Kael.
The absolute genius of inner power manipulation. That was the secret behind Heavenly Demon Cheon Woo-jin reaching the Transcendence Realm, a height no one in history had attained. His efficiency in wielding energy was on a whole different plane from ordinary humans.
Kael smirked faintly, speaking calmly. “What’s wrong? Can’t wrap your head around it? Our energy reserves seem about equal, don’t they?”
“D-don’t get cocky just because you blocked once!”
“You still don’t get it, huh? Let me put it this way: even the same apple doesn’t taste the same, right? That’s the difference between you and me. A rotten apple versus one fit for an emperor. That level of gap.”
“Bullshit!!”
“Then why aren’t you coming at me? Scared of a mere finger flick, assassin?”
“Shut up! Don’t flaunt your luck with some barrier scroll trick!”
Kael let out a disbelieving chuckle at the assassin’s shout. “Heh heh heh. Your denial’s getting worse. You see only what you want, believe only what you want—that’s why you’re stuck at that level. If you still can’t accept it, how about this?”
Smoothly—Kael raised his right hand, extending just his index finger high.
A hazy gray energy, like heat shimmer, faintly rose from his moonlit fingertip.
“I’ll face you with this one finger alone. If my feet so much as shift an inch from this spot or I draw my sword, I’ll gladly offer my neck to that dagger of yours.”
It was the ultimate insult to a warrior who lived by the blade.
“Y-you arrogant bastard!”
The assassin’s reason snapped. A blazing blue aura erupted from his body like an explosion, scattering beastly killing intent in all directions.
Kicking off the ground, the assassin’s form split into seven afterimages, perfectly encircling Kael from front, back, left, right, and beyond.
“That confident, huh? Then block this! This is my swordsmanship!”
Even amid the onslaught of blue sword winds from every side, Kael’s expression remained utterly serene.
This sensation… how long has it been? So thrilling, truly thrilling.
After standing at the peak of the Shipman Mountain Range, no one in the world could withstand his blade. The thrill of life-or-death combat had faded into distant memory.
Though his inner power was sorely lacking now—a single slip could cost him his finger, or even his head—Kael’s heart pounded hotter than ever.
Whoosh—! Whoosh—whoosh—!!
The assassin’s dagger poured down like a shower toward Kael’s vital points.
But Kael stood rooted like a tree, unmoving from the waist down. With only subtle upper-body shifts and his raised index finger, he perfectly read every trajectory.
Ting! Cling! Chaang—!
Each clash of the gray Chaos Qi at Kael’s fingertip against the dagger rang out with a clear metallic chime in the quiet courtyard.
The Taiji principle of yielding softness to deflect hardness blended seamlessly with the domineering might of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art at his fingertip.
He blocked it again. His strongest attack, no less.
“Urk! This… impossible…!”
The more he attacked, the drier the assassin’s lips grew. He was overwhelming with speed and power, yet it felt like sinking into a vast swamp, struggling futilely—a bizarre pressure crushing his entire body.
Kael’s finger never met the blade head-on. It tapped the flat to twist the path or slyly struck the side to deflect the assault.
This was no defense technique. It was absurd.
N-no way! He’s reading all my attacks! Like he’s peering into my mind!
Terror crept into the assassin’s eyes.
B-but our energy levels are similar!?
The absolute quantity of power wasn’t far off between them.
So why this vast skill gap? As that question arose, Kael spoke.
“Your breathing’s shallow, your sword path crude. You rush for results, leaving no power in the tip. True outcomes arise naturally from the process. Obsess over results alone, and you’ll never rise above that mediocrity.”
Had the assassin heeded this advice, he might have grasped something.
But there was no room for that.
“Shut up!!”
Reason lost, the assassin gripped his dagger two-handed, raising it overhead.
His final strike, squeezing out every last drop of aura. A massive vortex swirled around the blade, plunging toward Kael’s crown.
“Die!!!!”
The smile vanished from Kael’s lips.
“That’s your best? Pathetic.”
His raised finger flicked out with a snap.
One of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s ultimate techniques: Demonic Void Bullet.
No, perhaps Chaos Void Bullet now?
The compressed gray energy shot from his fingertip like a bullet.
Kaaaang—!
Crack—!
The instant it collided with the dagger’s vortex, a ear-splitting sonic boom shattered the air. The assassin’s dagger exploded into fragments, scattering into the void.
“Gahk…!”
Both wrists gripping the dagger twisted at grotesque angles.
The violent shock reversed his aura’s flow. He vomited a mouthful of blood and collapsed to his knees in the courtyard, wretched.
The fight had ended in the blink of ten breaths.
“Kuh… heh heh heh… cough.”
Face-down on the ground, the assassin coughed blood-mixed phlegm, laughing madly.
“You hid your fangs perfectly. Fooling the family with that sickbed act all this time… As expected, the true heir of House Restis.”
His voice dripped with hollow defeat, admitting he’d been utterly played.
Kael, hands behind his back, gazed indifferently at the fallen man and spoke.
“Answer truthfully, and I’ll spare you. It was Silina, the acting head, who sent you to kill me, right?”
Hope flickered in the assassin’s dying gray eyes at Kael’s offer. The young master’s reputed weakness suggested he might show mercy if begged fully.
“Y-yes. Madam ordered your death.”
“Tsk, mind your tongue. I’m the family’s eldest young master—show some respect.”
At Kael’s icy rebuke, the assassin bowed his head hastily.
“Y-yes, Young Master. Spare my life, and I’ll reveal every plan of the acting head without omission.”
“Good. Speak.”
Relieved at Kael’s subsided killing intent, the assassin spat bloody saliva and spilled Silina’s vile deeds one by one.
From poisoning his medicine with toxic herb extract to slowly wither him away, to tonight’s plot to burn the annex and silence the maid and guards alike.
After hearing it all, Kael stroked his chin thoughtfully.
“Hmm. All this effort just to kill one bedridden invalid. Am I that valuable—or threatening—to her?”
“W-what are you saying? You’re the only blood of His Grace Duke Restis’s beloved first wife, the family’s rightful eldest son. For her own son, young master Esler, to inherit, you’re the biggest thorn in her side.”
Human greed for power was no different in the Central Plains or this strange fantasy continent.
“Then one more question. What happened to my mother?”
The assassin’s eyes twitched faintly.
“T-that was before I joined the family, so I don’t know exactly. But family rumors suggest… it wasn’t a simple illness. Considering Madam Silina’s skill with poisons and herbs.”
His predecessor had likely been poisoned by Silina too.
That moment.
Kael’s body began trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Not Cheon Woo-jin’s will.
The original owner’s will.
Oh… this is…
Cheon Woo-jin instantly grasped what the body’s true master wanted to say.
“You killed her.”
“!!!!”
He’d only asked due to the body’s reaction.
But Cheon Woo-jin, who’d faced countless foes in the Central Plains, didn’t miss the assassin’s fleeting glance.
He did it.
To Cheon Woo-jin, that reaction screamed ‘Yes, I did.’
“You killed my mother and earned Silina’s trust to infiltrate the family. Ah, that’s why you seemed familiar.”
Familiar.
Impossible for Cheon Woo-jin.
But this body was Kael’s. The lingering senses within recognized the man before him.
“S-spare me!!”
“Sure, you were just following orders for coin.”
“Y-yes! Take me in, and from now on, I’ll serve you, Young Master…!”
Psssh—!!
“……????”
Before his words finished.
A motion too fast for the eye, followed by a delayed sharp whoosh piercing the eardrums.
“G-guh…? Y-young… Master?”
Clutching his throat, the assassin’s eyes bulged in disbelief.
Dark red blood sprayed between his fingers like a fountain.
Kael stood as before, hands behind his back, gazing coldly down.
“Even if I forgive, this body’s owner can’t.”
Splatter—
Unable to stem the gushing blood, the assassin gasped like a beast, then rolled his eyes back and crumpled.
A brief convulsion, and he breathed his last.
Kael stared at the cooling corpse without a flicker of disturbance.
Atop the Shipman Mountain Range, amid countless betrayals and intrigues, he’d etched one truth deep in his bones.
Some could be spared to serve later; others had to die on the spot to eliminate future threats.
This tail-wagging mongrel, loyal only to his feeder, was never worth keeping.
A promise to spare? In the lawless rivers and lakes where blood sprayed and flesh was carved, such flimsy words were lighter than a feather—flipped on a whim.
Besides, the body’s master demanded his death.
Proof: his thundering heart and tremors had vanished like lies.
“You wanted revenge, huh… Hope this eases your heart a bit.”
Cheon Woo-jin murmured softly to Kael.
“That revenge. If I handle it properly, will you rest in peace?”
A faint quiver of the eyelids.
It felt like agreement.
Cheon Woo-jin smirked.
“Watch. I’ll settle it more thoroughly than you imagine.”
As the body stilled, Kael glanced around, muttering.
“Hmm, but when am I supposed to clean up this bloody meat lump?”
He scratched his head awkwardly at the corpse at his feet.
In his days as the Central Plains’ supreme, a gesture summoned dozens of cultists to erase even bloodstains flawlessly.
Now, with low realm, he couldn’t even incinerate it with Samadhi Truefire.
Ella and Weger will freak tomorrow…
This mess pained him a hundred times more than blocking the attack.
And then.
“Woof! Woof woof woof woof!!”
Oliver, catching the blood scent, charged toward Kael.
“Mm… Oliver. Quiet down, boy…”