Harmony of Yin and Yang
“What the hell are you standing around for?! Anyone who runs gets slaughtered by my hand!!”
The moment Hugo's mad command rang out, the fifty-odd gang members—who had been backing away in terror—snapped to attention. They raised their weapons en masse and charged straight at Cael.
To drown out their fear, they bellowed war cries, their momentum fierce and savage. Gleaming blades and crude axes danced from all directions, slicing toward every inch of Cael's body.
But Cael, standing calmly at the center of that onslaught, wore an utterly serene expression. If anything, a flicker of deep curiosity and scholarly fascination gleamed in his ash-gray eyes.
As the attacks rained down, Cael didn't unleash the destructive, ferocious strikes of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art he favored. Instead, he lightly spread his feet shoulder-width apart and traced soft, flowing circles in the air with both hands, like water gliding over stones.
Tai Chi. The collective name for the ultimate arts left by Zhang Sanfeng.
Upon closely examining it after arriving in this fantasy world, Cael had found Tai Chi too profound and wondrous in its principles of yin and yang to dismiss as mere "righteous faction" martial arts.
Back when he was the Heavenly Demon, biased toward demonic paths, he hadn't even bothered touching it. But now was different.
The ash-gray chaos qi blooming in this new body encompassed righteousness and evil, good and bad, light and darkness—all of it. Chaos qi was the perfect energy to embody the true essence of Tai Chi.
Shhh—
The instant Cael's hand drew a massive circle in the air, the charging gang members' weapons seemed caught in an invisible whirlpool. They lost their trajectories and slid harmlessly aside.
“Wha—huh!?”
“What the fuck's wrong with my sword?!”
An axe clearly aimed to cleave Cael's neck merely grazed the back of his hand—then spun wildly through the air, burying itself deep in the chest of a comrade thrusting from the side.
Cael simply stepped lightly, extending and withdrawing one hand with effortless grace. Yet wherever he passed, the enemies' own strength turned against them like daggers of self-destruction.
Push away, pull in, deflect, repel.
Four Taels to Move a Thousand Catties. The exquisite art of Tai Chi—deflecting a thousand pounds with a mere four taels of force—was manifesting perfectly at Cael's fingertips.
Thud—!
Crack—!
Crunch—!
Cael's movements were beautiful, almost artistic. But the resulting carnage was anything but.
“Gaaahhh!!”
The fifty gang members hacked and chopped each other to pieces, collapsing like autumn leaves in a gale—a hellscape straight out of a demon's prank.
'Impressive indeed. Tai Chi... the harmony of yin and yang is such a crucial element in martial mastery. The path of martial arts truly has no end.'
Through this fusion of energies, Cael gained one certainty. In his past life in the martial world, he had reached the absolute pinnacle as a demon.
But now, with this chaos qi perfectly blending righteousness and evil, it would surely propel him beyond even the Transcendence Realm.
A pure curiosity for martial arts, once stalled by the boring title of "strongest under heaven" and the sense of nowhere left to climb, now reignited as an endless thirst.
'Right—this world is teeming with powerhouses. There are monsters out there who wouldn't even blink at mere Transcendence.'
Recalling books of this world's knowledge and memories of the original novel, this continent was home to transcendent beings like dragons and demon kings.
In his Heavenly Demon days, raw power alone might not guarantee victory against them. But reaching beyond Transcendence? Then he could revel in life-or-death games with those mythical entities.
Cael's heart pounded wildly for the first time in ages.
'Even these back-alley thugs have some bite—can't wait to see what the real powerhouses bring.'
High praise from Cael in his mind, yet his hands showed no mercy—pure one-sided devastation.
“Raaah! You fucking monster!!”
Unable to stomach their comrades dropping like flies, Hugo and his last remaining Expert gritted their teeth and lunged at Cael together.
A greatsword and longsword spat azure aura, trying to rip through the Tai Chi vortex by force.
But Cael didn't flinch. Having deflected with softness, now it was time to sever with hardness.
A surge of condensed ash-gray chaos qi erupted fiercely from his right hand.
Boom—!!!
Not even a formal technique. Cael's fist merely struck the flat of the greatsword, shattering Hugo the Expert's aura to pieces. The blade exploded into dozens of fragments that embedded themselves in the other Expert charging from the side.
“Grahhh!!”
“Guhk...!”
One blow. The two Experts who ruled the territory's night streets lay riddled with their own blade shards, crumpling pathetically to the ground.
Cael turned his indifferent gaze away from the fallen.
'Tch, not even a tickle. That's why I hate getting my hands dirty... No stronger ones around?'
***
In one corner of the inn's ashes, a desperate bloodbath raged.
Weger, Ella, and Roben Banis—freshly stepping into the Adept realm—thrashed desperately to overcome the towering wall of an Aura Expert.
Their foe, a dual-wield Expert, had lost one arm to Cael and was bleeding profusely, but an Expert was still an Expert. His azure aura and swordsmanship overwhelmed the trio, who had only just grasped energy manipulation.
Still, their numbers and his missing arm kept the fight dragging on.
“You rat bastards!! How dare you underestimate me!!”
The one-armed Expert's bloodshot eyes flashed as he swung wildly.
Clang—!
Weger barely parried with his heavy iron sword, but the transmitted aura shockwave sent him skidding back a dozen paces.
“Nngh!!”
Blood trickled from Weger's mouth.
Seizing the opening, Roben lunged with orthodox swordsmanship from the flank. But the Expert sneered, twisting aside effortlessly before slamming a brutal kick into Roben's exposed shoulder.
“Kgh...!”
Roben rolled across the ground, groaning as if his bones had cracked.
It was utter desperation. The three were covered in gashes large and small, their stamina spent. Each breath reeked of blood.
A short distance away atop some rubble, Oliver had already torn through the low-level grunts. Now he lounged beside Cael, watching the fight leisurely.
“You gonna help or what?”
“Woof! Woof!”
“Hahaha, right—if they can't handle this much, they're not worthy to be your comrades.”
“Woof! Woof!!”
What faces would they make knowing a dog was judging them? But Cael just stroked Oliver's head with a smile.
“Teaching someone with my own hands and watching them grow... it's way more fun and satisfying than I thought.”
As the Heavenly Demon, he'd never properly mentored anyone. He discarded the dim-witted without mercy, and his followers were already finished monsters.
But now, seeing these three absorb his teachings from the ground up, sprouting like weeds in the fray—it filled a corner of his heart with strange, profound joy.
'So this is why people take disciples.'
Oliver wagged his tail furiously in agreement at Cael's murmur, barking loudly.
“Woof!! Woof woof!!”
“Haha, yeah. You've grown the most, haven't you? Excellent work, Oliver.”
Cael praised him, ruffling the dog's fluffy fur.
As they chatted peacefully, the battlefield edged toward resolution.
“Raaahh!!”
Weger poured his last dregs of aura into his iron sword and leaped into the air. The heavy downward strike of the Eight Heavenly True Sword.
It fell with mountain-splitting force. The one-armed Expert clenched his jaw, raising his dagger at an angle to block.
Crunch—!
A massive shockwave erupted as their energies clashed.
Normally, the Expert's aura would repel Weger. But with his balance shattered by the lost arm, he couldn't withstand the barbarically heavy greatsword. His ankle buckled slightly, center crumbling.
That split-second opening.
Ella, lurking in the shadows, exploded forward. Her blade, infused with Hwasan subtlety, trailed plum blossom afterimages in the air.
Slash—
Cael's eyes widened.
'Oh? Already blooming plum blossom phantoms?'
Not perfect, but definite signs.
'After Oliver, Ella's the most gifted.'
The Expert flailed, off-balance in that fatal gap. Ella's sword tip pierced his throat without a millimeter's error.
“Guh... guhk...!”
The Expert's eyes wandered, then lost focus.
“F-Fuck... If I'd had... both arms intact... I wouldn't lose to small fry like you...”
He spat bloody foam, muttering curses in bitter resentment. But "if" had no place in victory.
A dual-wielder without an arm couldn't perform at full strength—that was natural. Yet these three, barely handling Adept aura, had triumphed over an Aura Expert through teamwork without a single death. An achievement worthy of utmost praise.
Thud—
The Expert's massive body finally hit the dirt.
Confirming it, the trio collapsed on the spot, gasping raggedly as tension drained away.
Cael approached with leisurely strides, looking down at them.
“Excellent work. Rough around the edges, but you're starting to carry yourselves like true martial artists. As expected—live combat is the best teacher, eh?”
At Cael's applause, Ella swept back her sweat-matted bangs, whining indignantly.
“Hah... huff... huff! Y-Young Master! I really thought I was gonna die this time!”
Cael chuckled at her complaint.
“Didn't you survive just fine and live to complain to me?”
“W-Well... yeah...? Guess I did survive.”
She patted herself down in relief. Cael offered gentle yet pointed advice.
“Remember this: the sweat and blood you shed tonight, fighting for your lives on this ground—it'll save your necks in far deadlier hells later. Never forget that sensation. Understood?”
Weger, Roben, and Ella bowed their heads as one, voices thick with emotion.
“Yes, Young Master!”
***
At the same time, in the opulent lord's castle of Vollex Territory.
Frank Leshold, Viscount, paced his spacious, luxurious office in jittery circles. Deep furrows creased his brow as he exhaled a long plume of premium cigar smoke.
“What the hell... Why no word yet? The sun's been down for hours!”
At the viscount's irritable snap, his attending steward wiped cold sweat and ventured cautiously,
“W-Well... maybe things went sideways? Surely Legnum didn't fail the purge...?”
“Impossible! Don't spout nonsense!”
The viscount slammed his fist on the desk, bellowing.
“We threw three Sword Experts at them! The targets? A bedridden weakling fresh from his sickbed, one guard knight, and two lowly attendants. How the hell do you fail to snuff out four nobodies?!”
Greed glittered in the viscount's eyes.
“This is a gift from the heavens. Catch the eye of the Restis acting head, shed this backwater viscount tag, climb to earl—or higher! It has to succeed!”
For years, Viscount Leshold had turned a blind eye to Legnum's crimes in the territory. Their massive bribes were sweet, but they made perfect hunting dogs—handling dirty work without staining his hands.
As he lit another cigar and glanced anxiously out the window—
Bang—!
The office door flew open as if about to shatter. A duty knight burst in, face ashen.
“V-Viscount!!”
The viscount's eyes lit up with eager hope.
“Yes! Finally word?! Did they complete the mission!?”
The knight couldn't even answer properly, panting and pointing outside with trembling hands.
“N-No, sir! A, a guest has arrived!”
“A guest? What guest?! Don't tell me the Restis Ducal House sent someone?”
The viscount roared in fury. The knight flattened himself to the floor, face crumpling.
“I-It is the Restis house, but...”
“But what?!”
“Young Master Cael... he's here! Right now!!”
“Wha—WHAT?!”