Chapter 288: Apple (2)
“Right now, you’re trying to cover both offense and defense, and that’s dulling your spear. You probably don’t even realize it.”
“I’m the type who prefers thrusting twice over blocking once and striking once. I’ll be focusing on that aspect while teaching you.”
Those words resurfaced in his mind.
‘All my current skills are built with evasive maneuvers as insurance. It’s a selfish setup that minimizes risk while optimizing for strategic openings.’
Upon reflection, Kang-hoo realized he had been using his skills in this manner. Indeed, it was a low-risk approach.
But what if it didn’t work against his opponent?
Just like in this apple training session—he was playing right into his opponent’s hands, using a method that was too easy to block.
Without realizing it, he had started doing exactly what the Celestial Assassin had warned against. The dulled spear wasn’t in his hand—it was embedded in his mind.
‘In that case, I need to be more aggressive.’
He had to break the mold.It wasn’t something that would break all at once, but Kang-hoo came to his own conclusion and began to move actively.
【Acceleration】
【Leap】
The most basic approach, and precisely because of that, a simple one. He used a combination of acceleration and leaping to close in on the Celestial Assassin.
And he didn’t stop there.
【Qi Blast】
Pang!
He roughly fired a Qi Blast to restrict the Celestial Assassin’s movement. It was an offensive application.
“Oh ho.”
The Celestial Assassin’s interjection felt like a welcome acknowledgment of his decision, giving Kang-hoo even more confidence.
【Fire Dragon Spear】
The Celestial Assassin was clearly preparing to swat away the Qi Blast.
Then, if the Fire Dragon Spear were fired with a delay, it might further restrict his movements.
Ta-at!
The Celestial Assassin, who had been stepping back, swatted away the Qi Blast with a wave of his hand.
Having mastered qi, deflecting such an attack seemed as easy as swatting a rubber ball.
However, he had no choice but to hurl himself further back to avoid the oncoming Fire Dragon Spear.
As a result, for the first time, he missed eating the apple. Kang-hoo was closing in on him as fast as he could.
“That’s more like it!”
A positive response came from the Celestial Assassin.
It wasn’t a provocation to rile him up, but praise for acting just as the Celestial Assassin had hoped.
Had his tactic worked?
Kang-hoo was now less than two hand spans away from the Celestial Assassin.
At this distance, he could even strike the Celestial Assassin’s hand that held the apple if he wanted to.
Srrrk.
Unconsciously, Kang-hoo reversed his grip on his dagger and swung it toward the Celestial Assassin’s hand.
At that moment—
The Celestial Assassin gave Kang-hoo a look of utter disappointment.
Then he grabbed Kang-hoo’s approaching hand and yanked it backward.
At the same time, he used the dagger in his other hand to slash Kang-hoo’s forearm.
Shhhk!
Blood sprayed.
The Celestial Assassin, now splattered with a streak of his disciple’s blood across his face, took another bite of the apple.
Then, kicking Kang-hoo’s unbalanced body with force—
He grabbed the apple chunk from his mouth and hurled it at Kang-hoo with full strength.
Thwack!
The chunk struck Kang-hoo square in the face as he staggered backward from the Celestial Assassin’s pull.
“When did I ever tell you to show me useless mercy? You’ve gone soft. I can’t believe I even considered making you my disciple. I should go back to China right now. Who can I blame? I’m the fool who chose you.”
In that instant, fury welled up from the depths of Kang-hoo’s being.
It wasn’t just a matter of being angry—he was filled with the kind of rage that made him truly want to kill the Celestial Assassin.
Of course, he regained his senses soon enough, but those words cut painfully deep.
All the more so because they were true.
He had been arrogant. Who was sparing whom? Whether consciously or not, he had indulged in emotional luxuries.
“I’ll give you time to stop the bleeding. Just one bite left now.”
Thup. Thup. Thup.
The Celestial Assassin spoke as he tossed the apple into the air and caught it repeatedly.
Kang-hoo took out his handkerchief and tore it lengthwise with his dagger to make it as long as possible. For the bleeding.
The Celestial Assassin continued.
“If your attack had been enough for me to consider it a threat, I wouldn’t have even thought of becoming your master. Right now, I am your enemy. I’m not some old man you can treat with respect while fighting.”
“……”
“Your thinking is completely wrong. Do you think this is some novel or movie? This is reality. A reality where I could die from just one moment of emotional weakness. Get your head on straight, you brat!”
The Celestial Assassin’s voice pierced Kang-hoo’s ears clearly. It resonated so deeply it seemed to echo inside him.
“F*ck.”
Maybe that’s why.
For the first time in his life, Kang-hoo cursed—not at the world or at an enemy, but at himself, with all sincerity.
Meanwhile.
Ju Haemi, who had been observing the scene the entire time, noticed something in Kang-hoo after he finished stopping the bleeding and resumed his challenge.
She could sense that not only had he grown more intense, but something within his emotions had been stirred.
She could see it clearly with her eyes—Kang-hoo, who had always felt colorless, now had a dark aura cast over him.
It was the color of emotion.
While the color of emotion doesn’t always match its specific nature, at the very least, Kang-hoo was both emotional and composed at the same time now.
The coexistence of such paradoxical feelings meant that he had begun to truly embrace his emotions as his own.
Perhaps that’s why the Celestial Assassin’s usual “apple training” would typically last only about a minute—
But now, two minutes had already passed.
Pausing mid-action, speaking to allow time for the opponent—this was also part of the training process.
It gave the opponent time to draw out their emotions—but holding out for even one minute had always been difficult.
Only someone like Ju Haemi, who trained with the Celestial Assassin as regularly as eating meals, could normally go over two minutes.
Yet Kang-hoo, on his very first attempt, had already reached that level.
Unlike before—
This time, he clung to the Celestial Assassin and refused to let go.
Even when pushed back, he would tenaciously return using Shadow Step.
He even charged into the Celestial Assassin with Wall of Integrity raised like a battering ram.
Just as one would use a shield to shove and press down an enemy, he pulled off something similar against the Celestial Assassin.
‘He’s sharper than I thought. That doesn’t look like something learned later—it’s more like innate aggression.’
Ju Haemi was surprised watching Kang-hoo shine once he resolved to fight offensively.
At first, she thought he was just a flashy assassin full of hollow reputation and showy tricks.
Even when she gave him advice before training, it wasn’t because she thought highly of him.
It was a warning—that someone like him could be discarded at any time if he didn’t earn her father’s approval.
‘He really does have a level of skill my father would covet. Especially those unmatched skills and abilities for his level.’
She had already finished her own assessment. But suddenly, tears began to roll down her cheeks.
‘I shouldn’t be like this…’
Just the sight of her father smiling while training someone brought her to tears.
Ju Haemi could see it clearly.
Her father’s expression, glowing with pride as he watched Kang-hoo grow and evolve in real time.
Though he provoked Kang-hoo with harsh words and empty ridicule, it was all a calculated act.
Knowing that, Ju Haemi couldn’t help but see through to his true heart.
He looked like a child.
A pure-hearted child overjoyed to be sweating and breathing in sync with his disciple, unsure of how to contain his happiness!
At that moment—
K appeared silently behind her and gently patted her shoulder.
“Cry it out while you’re alone. Don’t show a pitiful face in front of your father.”
“…Okay.”
“There’s no need to keep thinking everything will go wrong. You don’t have to decide the conclusion. Your father’s strong. Don’t go digging for fear that might not even be there.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle.”
“No need for apologies. It just pains me… You remind me so much of Yuri back when I was about to go in for heart surgery.”
K, recalling the time he had once teetered on the brink of death due to heart surgery, comforted Ju Haemi.
At that time, Jung Yuri had sobbed as if the world had ended.
She even said she’d die with him if her grandfather passed—that’s what Gang Bok-hwa had told him.
K changed the subject.
“What do you think of young Kang-hoo?”
“He seems different from the assassins I’ve thought of until now. Though he’s still far from catching my father’s eye.”
“Exactly. He’s a rough stone—clearly a gem. All he needs is to be refined.”
Ju Haemi nodded.
She saw great potential in Kang-hoo precisely because his level was still low—meaning he had more room to grow.
He was already strong as he was.
But if his level increased, he could show even greater growth than now.
Right then—
“It’s over, you punk!”
With the Celestial Assassin’s thunderous voice, Kang-hoo collapsed to his knees as though he had lost everything.
“Two minutes and thirty seconds…”
In his first apple training, Kang-hoo had already matched Ju Haemi’s personal record.
Her inner gaze trembled without rest. He really was the real deal.
“Haaak… haaak… haaak…”
Kang-hoo gasped heavily for breath.
Perhaps it was because he fought with full strength without using Mad Solarkium, but a crushing headache surged in.
Near the end, he had entered an almost trance-like state and used up a tremendous amount of mana in a short time.
Because of that, his body now screamed as if it were about to die. Waves of nausea followed.
“Ghhrr…!”
In frustration that he hadn’t even lasted five minutes, Kang-hoo slammed his hand against the leaf-covered ground.
Then the Celestial Assassin, in a noticeably softer tone, spoke to him.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone last this long. Personally, I think you got a bit full on your first spoonful.”
“…I only got halfway. I failed, didn’t I?”
“That final ten seconds were impressive. You sensed your stamina and mana were running out and gave it your all, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“That’s exactly it. What I’ve been emphasizing from the start is that every moment must be desperate.”
“Hoo…”
He wanted to reply to his master’s words, but all that came first was a sigh as he struggled to steady his breath.
The Celestial Assassin continued.
“Draw out your primal killing intent. Let go of the idea that you’re a machine built to crush.”
“Primal killing intent…”
“Yeah. Your strength and weakness lie in being methodical and calculating. But that doesn’t mean you’re flawless.”
“Please continue.”
“Up to the 2-minute-20-second mark, you probably kept telling yourself you’d let everything go, but no—you hadn’t. Not even close, by my standards.”
“……”
“If you go in like that, you’ll never defeat an opponent who dances above your head like I do. I’ll be blunt—you’ll be utterly trampled and die.”
At the Celestial Assassin’s words, the image that flashed in Kang-hoo’s mind was, of course, Jang Si-hwan.
And the Celestial Assassin’s words pointed directly to the one future Kang-hoo never wanted to face.
Being thoroughly crushed and killed by Jang Si-hwan.
The inflection point of fate that he had already experienced in the original work—one he was determined never to repeat.