A Waste of Time

Chapter 114: Hollowed Rapture

Su An didn’t dare keep Elder Bai waiting and blurted her answer at once.

“None that I’m aware of, Elder. I’ve been watching the boy like a hawk, and I’ve stayed inside the Azure Lock Chamber ever since my shift began two days ago.”

Her voice cracked toward the end, and she bit her lip. The girl’s greatest fear was that the crushing weight of responsibility for this mishap might be shoved onto her own narrow shoulders.

Bai Sui’s eyes flicked toward the projected image of the boy suspended above the dais. With a casual sweep of his sleeve, the illusion dissolved into nothingness.

“We’ve been extracting his Blood and Blood Essence for a week now,” he murmured. The elder rose smoothly, furling the talisman in his hand before sliding it into the hidden depth of his Space Ring. His robe rustled as he straightened to his full height, gaze cold and unreadable.

“He has done well to cling to life this long. I suppose it is time we rouse him… and feed him something to stir new Blood into his youthful veins.”

The brush and vials he had been using were left scattered across the short lacquer table. Without a backward glance, Bai Sui strode onto the long bridge, his steps measured and assured, each one echoing faintly over the water.

Su An hurried after him, the knot of dread in her chest easing ever so slightly. At least no blame would fall upon her for what had occurred during her watch. Still, as she kept her head bowed and her steps quick, her thoughts churned. When will they let that boy go?

It had been days of merciless draining, his Blood and Blood Essence funneled into vials only to be weighed, stamped, and sold for the Sect’s gain. All this, simply because he had dared to fight back—because he had beaten Qi Ying and left both of the arrogant fellow’s arms nearly crippled. In Su An’s eyes, that punishment already reeked of cruelty. To chain the boy to this torment for profit’s sake was… far beyond what her conscience could accept.

Daemon grew restless when the two beasts dragged their struggle beyond the edge of his sight, their writhing shapes swallowed by the murk. With nothing left to hold his attention, he abandoned the submerged path and tested the boundary of his strange prison, half-expecting—half-dreading—to see if he still hung suspended in the material world.

What greeted him was exactly what he had feared: the darkness, stretching endless and absolute, enfolded him in its clammy embrace. It was not peace that it carried but a creeping chill, the sort that whispered of eternity without warmth or solace.

I’d rather sleep than feel this void gnawing at me,

he thought bitterly. Yet even that escape eluded him now. The simple act of willing his mind to drift had always come easily before—like closing a door against a storm—but this time the door would not budge.Then, without warning, he felt it: a touch brushing against his eyelids, prying them open. Light—harsh and unyielding—poured in, and he could not flinch, could not turn away.

A weak groan escaped him, the only sound he could muster. His throat, parched and raw, rasped like the voice of a man decades older than his small, weary frame.

“Good of you to finally join us,” a man’s voice rang in his ears, crisp and articulate—the first coherent words he had heard in what felt like a week of muffled silence. “I hear your name is Daemon.”

The boy’s vision sharpened by degrees until blurred outlines resolved into a face above him: severe, composed, its expression cold but deliberate.

“If you behave,” the man continued, “then I will permit you to remain awake. And if you are obedient… I may even allow you to move freely within the Formation.” With those words, the elder pressed his fingers into a sharp seal and brushed a Jade Token at his waist.

Daemon felt the unseen shackles binding his limbs loosen, threads of invisible force peeling away. Yet the release brought no strength with it—merely a reminder of how frail he had become. Even sitting upright demanded a monumental effort, his muscles quivering under his own weight.

That was when he saw them.

Silver needles embedded at his navel, copper tubes extending from them like parasitic veins. The lines emptied into jade vials arranged neatly nearby, each collecting his life in measured drops. But the final tube fed into a gourd marked with runes, its glow suggesting a reverence, a worth far greater than the simple blood filling the other containers. Whatever flowed into that vessel was treated as treasure, not mere harvest.

Daemon’s gaze drifted outward and caught the circle of stone pillars ringing his dais—each carved from Spirit Stone, humming with the energy that birthed the shimmering veil between him and the world beyond. Outside that barrier stood a girl in ash-colored robes. Her posture was respectful, disciplined… but her eyes betrayed her. They brimmed with pity, a sadness that lingered as she watched him endure.

“Where… am I?” Daemon’s voice cracked as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. His skull throbbed with pain, a merciless pounding that made him dizzy, and the pallor of his skin told the rest of the story. The boy was drowning in blood loss, each breath thinner than the last.

Bai Sui clasped his hands behind his back, his sharp eyes never leaving the boy. From the moment Daemon stirred awake until he asked that timid question, the elder scrutinized every flicker of expression. So far, there was no hint of rebelliousness in the brat’s behavior. Good. Let us see how long that lasts, he thought.

Outwardly, however, Bai Sui wore a warm smile. He even leaned forward to give the boy’s frail shoulder a gentle pat.

“Naughty children get punished,” he said softly, voice smooth as silk. “And you’ve been causing mischief, so… us grownups had to intervene before things went too far. Now you’re being disciplined.”

The smile, the tone, the tender gesture—an elaborate mask meant to veil the true intent lurking behind his eyes. Even Su An, who knew his reputation all too well, almost believed his act.

Daemon, of course, did not. What a load of crap. But who was he to challenge anyone in his current state? Instead, he lowered his gaze and feigned the fragile resignation of a boy forced to accept his cruel fate. His cracked voice trembled with grief as he forced the words out:

“D-did you guys… kill my servants?”

He lifted his head slowly, timidly, as if terrified of the answer. His performance was flawless—the grief, the hollow hope, the sting of imagined loss all spilling out in a way that tugged at the heart.

Bai Sui blinked. He hadn’t expected such raw emotion, such apparent loyalty, from this child toward a handful of mere followers. But he didn’t let that hesitation show. His reply was flat, almost casual:

“We did. We had to show the villagers, to spread the word through the mortal realm. That way… this sort of thing never happens again.”

Liar! The thought flared in two minds at once—Su An’s and Daemon’s.

The girl swallowed it down, her head bowed. One did not show attitude toward an Elder of Ten-Thousand Beasts Mountain—especially not Bai Sui, the infamous Blood-Brush, a master of talismans feared for his merciless temper.

Daemon, on the other hand, lowered his head in silence, saying nothing more. He allowed the elder to believe he had accepted the lie. In truth, he already knew better—every sensation his clone experienced while flying astride Kirin with his servants, every memory of Ippo’s week of life, already lay in his mind. Nothing this man said could deceive him.

His voice cracked again, weaker now, yet filled with a desperate, reckless resolve.

“You could’ve killed me in my sleep… Are you going to at least show me that mercy once you’re done torturing me? Or was my offense so great that you won’t be satisfied until you’ve drained me dry? Will cutting off my arms and legs be enough? Burn me if you must! Kill me by a hundred-thousand cuts!”

His body shook, breath ragged and shallow, but the words kept pouring out, carried by trembling sobs.

“I don’t care if I’m humiliated in the process… As long as I’m allowed to join Yan Jia and Yan Ru… I must apologize to them.”

Crocodile tears slid down his pale cheeks. The act of a child on the edge of collapse, riddled with despair and suicidal thoughts—so convincing that even Su An’s eyes welled up. She stifled her sniffles, hiding them behind lowered lashes.

Bai Sui, for all his hard discipline, felt a pang of shame strike his chest. He had lied to the boy. He had broken his heart.

'Hahahaha…'

Daemon’s head throbbed as Ippo’s voice thundered across their mental link.

Welcome back, boss. These guys really sucked you dry, huh! Nice act, by the way… Oscar-worthy performance… Bravo!

Shut the fuck up! Daemon snapped back silently. But instead of suppressing his anger, he harnessed it, allowing the heat of it to bleed across his face as he glared coldly at Bai Sui. His words were laced with venom:

“Who killed my two servants? Did they also harm Kirin? I’ll never forgive them. Even if I die… I’ll turn into a ghost and hunt them to the ends of the world! May my Soul never rest until those bastards regret the day they were born!”

The air tightened. Bai Sui instinctively took half a step back, caught off guard by the surge of Killing Intent radiating from the frail child before him. For a heartbeat, his lips nearly betrayed the truth—that the two servants and the flying beast had been spared. That Ping Xueling, fearing the risk of losing the true target, had decided to let them go rather than push her luck and lose them all when being greedy.

But Bai Sui mastered himself swiftly. He straightened, mask snapping back into place, and snorted coldly.

“You stay obedient. Eat your meals. Endure until the Sect-Competition concludes in two weeks. Do that… and I will reveal the truth to you.”

Daemon’s lips curled faintly, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his pale face.

“Deal.”

“He’s awake.”

Ippo didn’t share the truth with the others right away. He waited until Kirin touched down on a wide stretch of grassland—what Li Yue and Li Hua called the Boundless Steppe. Only then, while helping set up the camp, did he casually announce the news. Of course, he took the liberty of masking his shameless behavior as casual assistance, slipping in intimate touches beneath the guise of lending a hand. Even the poor old woman and the little maid, barely his own age, weren’t spared his antics.

The merchant matron was startled at first, scandalized that a boy who could have been her grandson dared to lay hands on her worn, wrinkled body in such a way. Yet her shock soon twisted into amusement.

The little maid, however, was outraged. She flushed crimson when the jerk had the audacity to grope her backside, then pretended nothing had happened. Her anger swelled to the point of bursting—until her mother’s advice echoed in her mind. She bit her tongue, swallowed her words, and turned her face away, cheeks burning.

But she wasn’t alone. To her surprise, every woman bore a blush of her own, each casting the boy her own brand of glare. Mei’s young eyes widened, drinking in their beauty even through their scowls. If I could grow up to be as lovely as them one day, she thought, then maybe being teased like this wouldn’t feel so shameful.

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