A Waste of Time

Chapter 111: Mistbound Circle

“It’s been three days,” Yan Jia muttered. Her skin still held its soft luster, her body looked as healthy as ever—but her eyes wore a deep, steady sadness, the kind that didn’t leave between blinks. Every hour away from Young Master Daemon feels like a step away from hope—away from his smile, away from the way he could turn trouble into a lesson and panic into a plan. I need him most to solve the problem of not having him here. Only now did she grasp how much that stoic boy had become her source of confidence, joy, and peace.

Xia and little Mei tried to comfort her—girls sticking together when things bite hard—but all gazes kept drifting to the clearing ahead. There, a boy stood cocooned in silver Lightning, enduring a waterfall of red Lightning spat from Kirin’s beak. The Soul-Snatcher Eagle seemed to relish bullying this weaker version of Daemon for a change.

Ru sat beside the girls, cross-legged, eyes closed, Sword laid across his knees. The Weapon Young Master had forged for him now wore a proper handle and scabbard; its edge no longer dull like on the day he’d faced two of the Mountain’s Sect Disciples.

“Humph. Big Sister Jia, don’t be sad—now you’ll make me cry,” little Mei blurted, cheeks puffed with indignation. “Seeing you heartbroken while that… jerk acts carefree when his big twin-brother was kidnapped by the Immortals—ugh! He’s so useless!” Even her anger was adorable; the way she ground her teeth made a fierce expression sit oddly on her childish face.

Xia’s fingers twitched—tempted to pinch those cheeks—then froze. The tiger cub waddled over at the same moment, and the woman met the mother’s stare. Kyra stood just behind, gaze watchful and unblinking. The tigress kept her eyes on her little fellow always, more so with a lethal presence in camp—the Soul-Snatcher Eagle right there in the sky.

Yan Jia hugged Kira, burying her face in the cub’s soft fur. Comfort, yes—but also strength in the memory of the day Daemon had returned from the forest hunt with these two trailing his footsteps.

“Immortal Ru.” A guard came running from the far side of camp, where Li Yue’s people were resting after a long, punishing day. The caravan had forced its carriages through harsh terrain, avoiding main roads, villages, towns, and above all—cities—while trying to keep pace with the bird that covered half the sky.

He’d seen the torment before, but up close it still stifled his breath. He caught himself staring and tore his gaze away to face the cranky Swordsman. A cold shiver ran his spine when he met those snake-eyes—killing intent pooled there like winter.

“What?” Just one word—but it hit like a gust from the underworld. The guard’s knees went soft.

“Madam Li asks if this is a good time to talk. Tomorrow we’ll reach the southeastern sea. Crossing it by mortal means would land us in the Golden-Lion Kingdom’s territory in about a week.” Sweat popped as Kyra paced a slow circle around him. Instinct begged him to draw his Sword—anything to feel safer—but he knew it would be too late once the tigress chose to pounce.

“Have her come over,” Yan Jia said before Ru could answer. “Make sure she packs before coming. Tell her we’re flying straight to the Syndicate’s headquarters in the Burning Dawn Dynasty.”

The guard bowed deeply—polite, grateful, terrified—then eased back a hundred careful steps, never taking his eyes off Kyra. The tigress seemed amused, almost playful, toying with a harmless intruder. She wasn’t hungry; hadn’t been for days. Her injured leg was mending faster than before, thanks to the rich food both she and her cub had received ever since they followed the boy.

Yan Jia stroked Kira’s head, eyes on the streaming red and silver in the clearing. Hold together. One more day. And then the next.

“Any news on Young Master Daemon?” Jia looked over her shoulder and shouted almost at the top of her lungs. The whistling wind cut sharper than her brother’s Sword and rang louder than Kyra’s roar.

Speaking of the tigress—she was crouched over her cub, laying as low as she could, claws sunk into the rough, thick feathers along Kirin’s back. Even gripping with all her strength, she still couldn’t find steady balance with the gale fighting her from every angle. It was only thanks to Ippo’s hard hold on the ropes—one line tying Kyra and her cub to his own waist, the other looped around the bird’s tree-thick neck—that neither mother nor cub had been peeled off and hurled into the clouds.

Yan Ru and his little sister braced a pair of mortals each, shielding them with a thin layer of Qi from the air pressure that wanted to blast them off the spine of the world. Li Yue had requested her assistant be brought along, and the siblings had been left speechless when Ippo decided before either of them could answer, claiming Kirin’s back was wide enough for one more. Everyone could see his lascivious eyes roaming over the woman’s curves.

“No. He’s still in a comatose-like state,” Ippo answered, voice flat against the wind. “Rarely lucid enough to speak with me—and even then, he can’t move or open his eyes. He’s waiting for the moment they show their intent. Trust him. We follow the plan: he draws the heat while we make our exit. Either these fools draw Master’s ire onto themselves, or Daemon handles it himself. It doesn’t change our mission; it never has.”

He shrugged, then—unbothered by the storm—licked his lips, impatience simmering as if the day of his maturity couldn’t come fast enough. So many wonderful things to do, so many flowers, he thought, amused. And I’m the king of bees. He tossed Daemon’s issue to the back of his mind, where it landed in the figurative trash can.

Li Yue and her assistant, Li Hua, exchanged a look. They had been taking mental notes for days now—first time flying on the back of a Magic Beast; thrilling, yes, but mostly frightening and dangerous. Especially when this Soul-Snatcher Eagle kept ignoring everyone’s wishes to chase thunderclouds over the southeastern sea.

They had been surprised to learn this boy wasn’t Young Master Daemon—looks, habits, even abilities so similar—then startled again when they realized he could communicate with his twin-brother, prisoner of the Mountain. Not a diamond in the rough, Li Hua judged, eyes narrowing. A generational talent—worth a dynasty’s treasury. She turned—and caught him ogling her backside again. Humph. You’re ten years too early. She raised her proud nose a fraction; Ippo just winked, a shadow-smile curving his mouth.

“He’s alive, and that’s what matters,” Yan Ru said, glancing back toward the border of the Golden-Lion Kingdom, which they had finally left behind after two days of flight.

His sister nodded, then rolled her eyes when she caught Ippo red-handed playing the lecher. “Ippo. Have Kirin find a hidden spot to land. We need to rest before we cross the Iron-Tiger Kingdom. Be extra careful—getting spotted at the border will only bring trouble. Suspicion from both sides is not something we can explain away easily, even with Madam Yue and Lady Hua with us. They’re mortals; we’re Cultivators—that alone paints us as spies to half the fools we’ll meet.”

The boy didn’t bother to hide his stare. He simply nodded and flared Lightning-Cocoon to draw Kirin’s attention. The bird twisted its neck, gave a lazy look over its shoulder at the passengers littering its back, and Ippo gestured toward a mountain summit. The eagle understood the rest; its intelligence had sharpened since its evolution—now as keen as a child of Ippo’s apparent age. A spoken command would have sufficed if it wasn’t tearing along at a couple hundred miles per hour. And this still wasn’t its true speed. For the past dozen hours, the Soul-Snatcher Eagle had mostly been gliding, flapping its wings once or twice only when the glide slackened enough to let its body plummet.

It really did try to take them for a ride.

And all of them were nearly soiling their pants as they clung to the tail-feathers after losing footing on the broad back—ropes snapping under strain, fingers and paws sliding off feathers that were slick with rain and hard as polished horn.

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