A purplish energy covered Cassemir’s body, contained to his immediate surroundings but still strong enough to threaten Red. An unfamiliar corrupting influence reached him, revealing a new kind of demonic power he had never been in contact with.

This wasn’t the raging anger of the slaughter demon, or the lust for blood of the lizard demon. It was unyielding pride, aloof, as if it saw everything and everyone as beneath it. A different corruption, yet still just as powerful and not to be underestimated.

The youth didn’t move from his spot, his muscles tensing even further as he stood ready to strike.

“Even if you can somehow kill me, do you think you can hide the commotion from the guards?” He asked.

The man snorted. “This is not something the dead should be concerned about. Stop trying to buy time and make your decision.”

Red didn’t respond. Common logic told him he should take this opportunity to leave the city now that his identity was revealed, but he somehow doubted matters would be resolved just like that. It was likely instead that this man would send someone to tie up loose ends and assassinate the youth, if he was even allowed to leave the capital in the first place, and by then he wouldn’t be restrained by having to maintain secrecy.

Yet, the other options didn’t offer an easier way out. Submit himself to an archdemon in exchange for being allowed to remain in the city? Red would never do that. Fight this more experienced cultivator? Even if he won, whatever happened here would be difficult to hide from both the guard and this man’s demonic allies.

After a long silence, the youth made a decision.

“I’ll submit.”

Cassemir looked taken aback by this. Still, he kept his guard up, staring at Red with a skeptical expression. “Kneel, then.”

The youth showed some natural hesitation at this, but he still forced his tense body down on one knee. He kept his gaze trained on the man across from him the entire time, though.

Somehow, Red’s reluctance seemed to put Cassemir at greater ease judging by his fluctuation. After all, who would believe a cultivator would be willing to let go of their freedoms to submit to a greater being just like that? Even now, the man carried a great deal of suspicion and skepticism in his face, but the youth’s actions to kneel already put him at a disadvantage if they were to clash.

Cassemir looked at his squirming brother behind Red. “Bring him the medallion.”

The old man stopped moaning in pain, taking a deep breath as if his head was finally raised above the water. He stood up with some difficulty, his expression still pale with fright as he approached Red.

He fished something out of his pocket before showing it to the kneeling youth. It was the nine-pointed star symbol, similar to the pendant Cassemir carried, but this one was larger and seemed to be made up of darker metals. Just staring at it made Red’s mind tremble as he felt a wicked presence inside the symbol he didn’t feel when he looked at the pendant.

Something trembled in the pit of his stomach, as if reacting to the foulest thing in the world.

“Kiss the pendant.” Cassemir said.

Red frowned beneath his mask.

“Be careful with how far you’re willing to take this farce, Red.”

Aurelia’s warning came to his ear. She, of course, knew that the youth would never willingly swear an oath to any deity, much less a devilish one. Even Cassemir didn’t stop circling his energy, completely ready for everything to break down.

Whether his enemy was prepared or not, though, didn’t matter to Red. He only needed an opportunity, and he meant to create it.

He grabbed Emer’s hand that was holding the pendant with deliberate movements, bringing it closer to his face. Then he lifted the bottom of his mask slowly, revealing his mouth as he brought it closer to the devil’s symbol.

Cassemir squinted his eyes, surprised at how far things had gone.

At that moment, every muscle of Red screamed, tensing beyond their limits. Every second since he stepped into this house, his body was on fire, on the edge of exploding into movement at the slightest sign of danger. Even Cassemir thought this was a normal reaction of a cultivator entering an enemy’s territory, ready to react once a trap sprung upon them. Yet, he couldn’t have known that the youth’s tension wasn’t made in defensive preparation.

Instead, it was the gathering of momentum for one movement. It was the prelude to his offense - the assassin’s strike - the White Beak Weapon Art.

Right as Red’s lips were about to touch the medallion, he sprung into action. His left leg, once in a kneeling stance, now served for additional impulse as he pushed against the ground and shot towards Cassemir. He knocked Emer’s hand out of the way, grasping his dark-iron sword and drawing it like lightning as he slashed it towards the demonic cultivator.

His actions were measured and quick, reaching a level of power and danger the youth never saw before. Now that he opened his Spiritual Sea, his assassinations technique had reached an unprecedented peak.

Yet, he was no longer fighting mortals, either. This was a Lesser Ring Realm cultivator, one a lesser realm above him and who was also prepared to react against such an attack.

Cassemir shot up from his chair, extending his hand forward as a purple spiral-shield formed around his palm. Red’s sword clashed against the barrier, causing the man to slide backwards from the impact.

Still, the youth’s attack was successfully parried away.

Cassemir showed a wicked grin, as if things were developing exactly as he was expecting. “Pathetic!”

His other free hand formed a symbol as energy started to gather there. He was preparing another Spiritual Art, and the speed through which the power circulated and took form was something that Red could simply not compare to.

This was the difference between an experienced cultivator against someone who had just taken their first step in this path a few weeks ago. Yet, Red didn’t retreat, instead sticking close to the man and his spiral barrier.

Cassemir was obviously delighted at this, but before he could finish his preparations, his face changed.

The youth opened his mind and blew out air, as if he was whistling. Crimson threads flew out of his mouth, riding the air as they shot towards his opponent. Rather, it seemed as if these threads were the air itself.

The Bloody Gale Breath, a Spiritual Art that required no preparation.

Cassemir lifted his spiral shield up, trying to block the crimson air. The wind, however, whistled around his small shield created in a moment and clashed against the man’s face.

“Argh!”

Lacerations spread through the demonic cultivator’s skin, spraying blood and creating quite a grisly sight. His developing technique slipped away as the pain and shock were enough to throw the man’s composure away as he grabbed his face in pain, if only for a moment.

Of course, this wasn’t enough to kill a cultivator at his level. Red used his Gale Breath as a surprise attack, and as such, he didn’t have time to create anything more than some simple slicing winds.

Yet, what he was looking for wasn’t to kill the man with that strike, but to create an opportunity.

Cassemir’s momentary distraction allowed Red to slip beneath his spiral shield, using the remaining momentum of his sword attack to strike once more. The man seemed to notice his opponent’s movements, but it was too late to react.

The short sword stabbed into his chest, finding some resistance in the robe that somehow resembled an armor in sturdiness at that moment. Yet, Red wasn’t using a normal steel sword, but a dark-iron sword which had the same sharpness of a Spiritual Artifact.

The resistance was momentary, and the blade dug into the man’s flesh through bone and sinew. His opponent let out a gasp of pain, but before he could even react, Red dragged the sword upward, tracing a bloody path to his neck.

Strength and resistance started to leave Cassemir’s body, but even then, the youth took no chance. He cut upwards until he stabbed through the man’s jaw and reached the cranium. His blade hit a soft organ there, and Red twisted it.

The man twitched, and a few seconds later, his body relaxed, and his eyes clouded over as the purple energy around him dissipated. Red felt the demonic fluctuation disappear, and only when it was completely gone did he remove his sword, letting the corpse fall to the floor.

There was a silence in the room as a puddle of blood grew around the youth’s bare feet. His mask and clothes were now covered in blood, and if one looked at his savage appearance at that moment, they would wonder who had been the real demonic cultivator.

A scream rang out in the room, and Red looked at its source. As many calculations had gone through his heads through the confrontation, the clash hadn’t lasted more than ten seconds, and only now did Emer seem to process what had happened.

He fell to the ground, his face completely pale as he looked over at the youth.

The lamb they had brought to their house had turned out to be a terrifying wolf.