If You Kill, Be Prepared to Die
Cael's interrogation methods were brutally simple and primal. Yet within that simplicity lurked an insight no one else could imitate.
From his days as the Heavenly Demon, Cael had honed his senses to the extreme through countless brushes with death, learning to read the flow of qi in a person's body. This wasn't something you could gain merely through superior martial prowess or vast inner energy. It was a transcendent intuition, hard-won only by those who survived endless malice, lies, schemes, and deceptions.
Cardor, slammed to the floor, glanced around furtively and stammered, "I-I was just following orders! They said if we hit that village and sold the people as slaves, we'd make a fortune! That's all it was!"
From Cardor's perspective, it was a clever answer. Fearing his outright lies would be exposed, he'd mixed in truth to downplay his responsibility.
But before he could even finish—
Thwack—!!
"Guh, cough…!"
Cael's merciless kick plunged deep into Cardor's solar plexus. Breath choked off, Cardor rolled on the floor, hacking up blood-flecked spittle.
Cael gazed down coldly and spat a single word: "Again."
Cardor's mind went blank. He couldn't fathom it. What he'd just said was undeniably true. Raiding the village did bring in money. But it was only half the truth, conveniently omitting the core.
His eyes darted wildly in panic. What should he do? Spin a complete, plausible lie? Or scrape together every scrap of real truth he knew and spill it all?
Get caught lying, and he'd die under those ruthless fists. But confessing everything offered no guarantee this devilish man would let him live.
"……."
As Cardor clamped his mouth shut in confusion, buying time, Cael drawled lazily, "Oh? Still not talking, eh? Your will to live is pathetic. Farewell, then."
Cael raised his foot, channeling energy as if to crush Cardor's skull outright.
Sensing that aura, Cardor screamed desperately, "W-Wait!! Young master! I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! S-So, the one who ordered me was Verophon, the organization's number two! And me… well! Yeah! They said raid the village and wait—some sickly noble from the duke's house would show up with just a few men, and it was okay to kill him!!"
The truth poured out in a frantic, jumbled rush. Truth was always like that—messy and raw.
Cael's lips curved in satisfaction. "There you go. Just mix truth like that in your answers. You're doing splendidly."
Cardor gasped for air, swallowing dryly. How does he know? How could this young noble pierce whether he was weaving clever lies or spilling pure truth?
With all mental defenses shattered, Cardor trembled and spilled every secret he knew: the organization's scale, hideouts, and the shadowy directives from above.
And soon after.
Cardor lay prostrate on the inn room floor, his face—and now his entire body—beaten beyond recognition. Lips swollen, he could barely speak, but he bowed his head at Cael's feet, desperate to live.
"Th-That's everything I know. I swear, not a single thing hidden. Please!"
Cael stroked his chin leisurely and snorted. "You spill it all, then make that aggrieved face. For someone so sly, you lied like a pro without batting an eye."
Cardor was beyond despair. Speak truth, then try patching with lies—he saw through it every time like a ghost. Shouldn't a human get confused after the truth and fumble the follow-up? This guy wasn't human.
Ah, a demon…!
Cardor himself was an Expert-level fighter, a veteran criminal who'd done every dirty deed under the sun. He'd been grilled by guards before, always escaping crises by blending truth and lies. But against this man, no cheap trick worked. It felt like he was peering straight into Cardor's mind.
Gazing at those bewildered eyes, Cael stifled a chuckle inwardly. Inflicting pain to loosen tongues was easiest with bone-marrow-crushing techniques. But Cael skipped the hassle. After years bedridden, his body stiff, he'd sorely missed the solid thud of pummeling flesh.
Hmm, who knew I'd crave a fight again.
Having extracted the organization's size, Verophon's role as number two, and hints of a hidden tail pulling strings, Cael rose slowly.
"Good. I've got what I want, so I'll spare your life—as a special mercy."
Cardor's swollen eyes lit with joy and relief. "R-Really? I'll never forget this grace!"
"Yes. But I'll shatter your dantian completely and sever the tendons in both wrists and ankles. You've spent your life trampling the weak—now crawl as one yourself. It'll help atone for your sins."
Despair crashed into Cardor's eyes, erasing the joy.
For a martial artist, a ruined dantian and severed tendons meant hell worse than death.
"N-No!! Please, young master! Anything but that! Cut off one arm instead! Spare the dantian, I beg!!"
Cardor kowtowed madly, wailing. But Cael's gaze was colder, more indifferent than northern ice.
"How did you treat those screaming in the slums? Show mercy?"
"Th-That was…!"
"You wielded that paltry power without hesitation on the powerless. So when you meet someone stronger, it's only right you be trampled the same."
Poisonous venom filled Cardor's eyes. Better to go berserk than become a cripple.
"You cruel demon bastard!! Even in hell, I'll curse— mmph!!"
Cael flicked a finger, resealing his mute acupoint.
"If you try to kill, be prepared to die yourself. Nothing in this world is free."
Cael's toe lightly stabbed Cardor's dantian.
Crunch—!
A dull rupture echoed as Cardor rolled his eyes and fainted. Decades of Expert qi burst like a popped balloon, scattering futilely.
Cael then sent chilling energy to neatly sever the tendons in both wrists and ankles.
He casually sealed the bleeding wounds with acupoint strikes and turned away impassively.
For such vile criminals, even a painless death was too merciful.
The agony of utter loss and despair when a peak martial artist is stripped bare and reduced to a street worm—Cael, who'd stood at the pinnacle of the martial world, knew it better than anyone.
He recalled the faces of those dead in the slum huts.
I hope this offers them some solace.
***
The next morning, in the inn's spacious dining hall.
Confusion etched the faces of Cael's companions at the table.
Ella's eyes widened as she parroted back, "Pardon? Young master? You're staying here another day?"
"Yes. So from breakfast on, you'll handle all the cooking yourself, Ella."
Ella tilted her head quizzically. "Huh? What do you mean? This is a top-class inn—why make me cook when the owner and chef are fine…?"
Then her face bloomed brightly. "Oh! The food doesn't suit your taste! You crave my cooking, right!? Why didn't you say so sooner? Your eternal maid Ella will prepare a feast…!"
Cael cut her off calmly. "I paid off the staff and guests early this morning and sent them all packing. Today, no one enters this building but us—not even a rat."
"P-Pardon…? Not for my food…?"
Weger and Roben shot up in shock beside her. What madness was this? Clearing out a thriving inn?
Anxiety shook Weger's voice. "Wh-Why, young master???"
Cael smiled faintly. "Because Legnum's thugs will come here to kill us."
"!!!???"
All three jaws dropped.
That was why Cael had let Cardor escape alive after interrogation—not just for atonement.
Hunting down Legnum's hidden lairs and vermin across the vast territory was too tedious for the Heavenly Demon's temperament.
With dantian shattered and tendons cut, the enraged foes would swarm here like flies to bait.
Cael smirked like a mischievous boy. "Come on, after yesterday's real combat, didn't you feel your energy surge stronger? True life-or-death chances don't come often for warriors. Survive tonight's battle, and tomorrow you'll meet a dazzling new self."
Ella clutched her head at his romantic lunacy. "N-No, wait!! Young master!! What are you even saying?!"
"But they'll come with their full venom, everyone they have!!"
"How can we three handle that many?!"
Weger, Ella, and Roben's indignant cries echoed through the empty morning hall.
But Cael ignored them, rising leisurely. "Once you're done digesting, prepare. They'll likely hit at dusk. Circulate your qi all day and swing your swords once more—boost your survival odds by even 1% for tonight."
Leaving his despairing subordinates, Cael hummed cheerfully up the stairs.
The inn's festival tonight was already something to anticipate.