Even the Same Apple Doesn't Taste the Same?
‘That’s impossible.’
The assassin’s eyes widened in shock. Just a couple of days ago, this guy had been a bedridden wreck on the verge of death. 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 laced with aura at that? Unthinkable.
He must’ve pulled some cheap trick…! Yeah, he probably got his hands on some artifact with defensive magic or a barrier scroll!
The assassin’s mind spun desperately, fleeing reality. If he’d timed a fake finger-flick to match the sword clash and triggered a hidden barrier scroll, 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 had been utterly denied.
But the assassin didn’t know. In this fantasy world, it was called aura; in the martial realm where Cheon Woo-jin had lived, inner power. When it came to handling and controlling that superhuman energy, no one under heaven could surpass Cael. Not a single soul.
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 touched. His efficiency in wielding energy was on a whole different plane from ordinary humans.
Cael 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 ‘cause you blocked once!”
“You really don’t get it, huh. Alright, let me put it this way: even the same apple—does it always taste the same? 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, Mr. Assassin?”
“Shut your trap! Don’t think you can get lucky with some barrier scroll trick!”
Cael let out a disbelieving chuckle at the assassin’s shout. “Heh heh heh. Your denial’s getting deeper. You see only what you want, believe only what suits you—that’s why you’re stuck at that level. If you still can’t accept it, how about this?”
Whoosh—Cael raised his right hand, extending just his index finger skyward.
A hazy gray energy, like heat shimmer, faintly rose from his moonlit fingertip.
With this one finger alone, I’ll handle you. If my feet shift even an inch from this spot or I draw my sword, I’ll gladly offer my neck to your dagger.
It was the ultimate insult to a warrior who lived by the blade.
“Y-you arrogant bastard!”
The assassin’s reason snapped. A brilliant blue aura exploded from his body like a beast’s roar, scattering murderous intent in all directions.
He kicked off the ground, his form splitting into seven afterimages that perfectly encircled Cael 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 angle, Cael’s expression remained utterly serene.
How long has it been since I felt this sensation? So thrilling—truly thrilling.
Since standing atop the Shipman Mountain Range, no one in the world could withstand his blade. The raw edge of life-and-death combat had faded into memory long ago.
Though his inner power was sorely lacking now—a single slip could cost him his finger, or even his head—Cael’s heart pounded hotter than ever.
Shuuuk—! Shuu-shuuk—!!
The assassin’s dagger rained down like a storm on Cael’s vitals.
But Cael stood rooted like a tree, unmoving from the waist down. With only subtle upper-body shifts and that raised index finger, he read every trajectory perfectly.
Ting! Titing! Chaeng—!
Each clash of the gray chaos energy at Cael’s fingertip against the dagger rang out clear and metallic across the quiet courtyard.
The Taiji principle of yielding softness to deflect hardness blended seamlessly with the Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s dominance, all at his fingertip.
Blocked again. His strongest assault, no less.
“Grrrk! This… impossible…!”
The more he attacked, the drier the assassin’s lips grew. He was overwhelming with speed and power, yet it felt like thrashing in a vast swamp—a bizarre pressure crushing his entire body.
Cael’s finger never met the blade head-on. It tapped the flat to twist the path or slyly struck the side to redirect the strike. Impossible defense.
N-no way! He’s reading every attack! Like he’s peering into my mind!
Terror crept into the assassin’s eyes.
B-but our energy levels are even…!?
The raw magnitude of power was comparable between them. So why this vast skill gap?
As that question arose, Cael 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’re stuck at this level.”
Had the assassin heeded that advice, he might’ve grasped something. But there was no room for that now.
“Shut up!!”
Rage-blinded, 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 Cael’s crown.
“Die!!!!”
The smile vanished from Cael’s lips.
“That’s your best? Pathetic.”
His raised finger flicked out.
One of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art’s ultimate techniques: Demon Void Bullet.
No—maybe Chaos Void Bullet now?
The compressed gray energy shot from his fingertip like a bullet.
Kaaaaang—! Pa-crash—!
The instant dagger-vortex met finger, a eardrum-shattering sonic boom erupted. The assassin’s dagger shattered into fragments, scattering into the air.
“Gahk…!”
His wrists, still clutching the hilt, snapped at grotesque angles. Aura backlash surged; he vomited blood and collapsed to his knees in the dirt.
The fight ended in the span of ten breaths.
“Heh… heh heh… cough.”
Face-down on the ground, the assassin coughed blood-mixed laughter, half-mad.
“You hid your fangs perfectly. Faking frailty to fool the family… As expected, the true heir of House Restis.”
His voice dripped with hollow defeat, admitting he’d been utterly played.
Cael, hands behind his back, gazed down indifferently.
“Answer truthfully, and I’ll spare you. Silina, the acting duchess, sent you to kill me, right?”
Hope flickered in the assassin’s dying eyes at the offer. Cael’s reputed weakness suggested he might beg mercy and spill everything for a chance at life.
“Y-yes. The lady ordered your death.”
“Hey, watch your tongue. I’m the family’s firstborn heir—show some respect.”
At Cael’s icy correction, the assassin bowed his head frantically.
“Y-yes, Young Master! Spare my life, and I’ll reveal every plan of the acting duchess without omission.”
“Good. Speak.”
Relieved at Cael’s eased killing intent, the assassin spat blood and spilled Silina’s vile deeds: poisoning his medicine with toxic herb extract to wither him slowly; tonight’s plot to torch the annex and silence the maid and guards too.
Cael stroked his chin after hearing it all, murmuring.
“Hmm. All this effort just to kill one sickbed invalid. Am I that valuable—or threatening—to her?”
“W-what are you saying? You’re the only blood of the duke’s beloved first wife, the rightful eldest son. For her son Esler to inherit, you’re the biggest thorn in her side.”
Human greed for power was the same whether in the Central Plains or this strange fantasy continent.
“One more thing. What happened to my mother?”
The assassin’s eyes twitched faintly.
“I-I wasn’t in the family then, so I don’t know exactly. But the whispers say… it wasn’t a normal illness. Considering Lady Silina’s skill with poisons and herbs.”
His predecessor likely poisoned by Silina too.
That moment, Cael’s body began trembling like a leaf.
Not Cheon Woo-jin’s will. The original owner’s.
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 martial world, caught the assassin’s fleeting glance.
He did it.
To Cheon Woo-jin, that look screamed guilt as clear as a confession.
“You killed my mother and earned Silina’s trust to infiltrate the family. Ah, that’s why you looked familiar.”
Familiar. Impossible for Cheon Woo-jin—yet this was Cael’s body. Lingering instincts recognized the man.
“S-spare me!!”
“Sure, you were just following orders for coin.”
“Y-yes! Take me in, and from now on, I’ll serve you—”
Pfshuk—!!
“……????”
Before he finished, a motion too fast for eyes to track—followed by a delayed whip-crack of air.
“G-guh…? Y-Young… Master?”
Clutching his throat, the assassin’s eyes bulged in disbelief. Crimson blood sprayed between his fingers like a fountain.
Cael stood as before, hands clasped behind, gazing coldly.
“Even if I forgive, this body’s owner can’t.”
Shwaaa—
Unable to stem the geyser from his neck, the assassin gasped like a beast, rolled his eyes back, and crumpled.
A brief spasm, then death.
Cael stared at the cooling corpse without a flicker.
Atop Shipman Mountain Range, amid betrayals and intrigues, he’d etched one truth deep: some you spare to wield later; others you kill on the spot to end threats.
This tail-wagging cur wasn’t worth keeping. Promises of mercy? In the lawless jianghu, where blood splashed and flesh flew, they were lighter than feathers—flipped on a whim.
Besides, the body’s master demanded his death. Proof: the frantic heartbeat and tremors had vanished like lies.
You wanted revenge, huh… Hope this eases your heart a bit.
Cheon Woo-jin murmured softly to Cael.
That revenge—I’ll handle it properly. Rest easy then?
A faint quiver of the eyelids. Affirmation.
Cheon Woo-jin smirked.
Watch. I’ll make it surer than you imagine.
With the body calm, Cael glanced around, muttering.
“Hmm. Now, when do I clean up this bloody meat lump?”
He scratched his head, eyeing the corpse at his feet, troubled.
In his days as the Central Plains’ supreme, a gesture summoned cultists to erase even bloodstains. But now, at low realm, no incinerating samadhi flames either.
Ella and Weger will freak tomorrow…
This mess pained him tenfold more than blocking the attack.
And then—
“Woof! Woof woof woof woof!!”
Oliver, scenting blood, charged toward Cael.
“Mm… Oliver. Quiet down, boy…”