A Waste of Time

Chapter 116: Hidden Axis

Daemon sat alone in the Azure Lock Chamber after Su An departed, her Space-Pouch heavy with vials of his blood. Before leaving, she had explained that she needed to deliver them to Elder Bai Sui for confirmation. From there, portions would be passed down for exchange at the counters, where eager disciples were already lined up, clamoring to trade contribution points before rushing back to prepare for the looming Sect Competition.

Are these bastards seriously using my blood as some kind of viagra? The thought struck Daemon like a slap. His jaw went slack, caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. Insult welled up first—but strangely, pride followed close behind. The absurdity of it nearly made him laugh.

Of course, the boy’s conclusion was entirely wrong. The disciples of Ten-Thousand Beasts Mountain weren’t clamoring for his blood to stoke their desires. What they truly sought was far more practical—and far more dangerous. His blood, once refined with their Qi, could be digested to harden the body, to increase strength, and to hasten recovery between brutal training sessions.

The price for each drop was exorbitant, draining the disciples’ savings and leaving their stores of contribution points ragged and thin. Yet still they paid. For them, the benefits outweighed the cost, especially with the Sect Competition so near. Each boost in power could spell the difference between humiliation and triumph.

More importantly, the rewards for success were immense. A disciple who clawed their way into the top three would not only recover their losses in Spirit Resources and contribution points but gain access to far greater prizes. Third or second place earned three drops of Blood Essence—precious beyond measure. And first place… a single drop drawn directly from the heart.

Dangling such an incentive before hungry juniors was like baiting wolves with fresh meat. And as expected, they gave chase, their ambitions sharpened by desperation and the promise of glory.

Su An completed her errand, presenting the vials of Daemon’s blood to Elder Bai Sui. He inspected each container with a practiced eye, his expression unreadable. The Blood Essence he slipped into the safety of his Space Ring without hesitation, while the five jade vials of ordinary blood he returned to her after confirming their quality. A flick of his hand dismissed her, instructing her to deliver them to the Merit Hall staff, who would trade them at the counters with disciples eager to exchange their contribution points.

Blood-Brush’s focus was already elsewhere. His brush scratched steadily across the short table, completing the framework of another talisman. Yet his gaze strayed once, turning toward the projected image shimmering across the pavilion’s far side. In it, Daemon sat quietly on the dais, still and obedient—just as they had agreed.

Good boy. The Talisman Master’s mouth curved in the faintest nod. With that, he cast the matter of the prisoner aside. The Temporal Seal Formation was absolute. Even if the boy miraculously squeezed out his potential and shattered the barrier between the Nine-Stars Realm and the Eight-Palaces Realm, escape was impossible. More so when the child was nothing but a husk, his vitality bled away drop by drop into vials and a gourd.

Su An completed her next delivery swiftly and hurried back. She was eager—too eager. The thought gnawed at her that the pitiful child might be aching with loneliness in that cold chamber. To awaken in such a place, surrounded by strangers, chained to silence and confinement…

He must be afraid, she thought, clutching her pouch. Afraid, and hiding it behind his calm face and that sharp anger.

From within the pouch she withdrew a jade slip. Without this token, no one could enter the Azure Lock Chamber; and by Sect rule, it could never leave the Merit Hall. Should anyone try, its Spirit Qi would flare violently, sending a warning across the halls.

When Su An stepped across the shimmering edge of the array, the air rippled around her. Inside, she found him just as she left him: sitting upright, eyes dark and steady.

“My shift is almost over,” she murmured as she knelt. From her Space-Pouch she drew a soft cushion and placed it on the stone floor before settling down across from him.

Daemon’s gaze met hers. His eyes—black, calm, and unfathomably deep—held her still. She found herself staring, caught in their tranquility. For a moment she felt as though those eyes had opened a doorway inside her, pulling her Soul into a stillness she had never known. Years of weary struggle since passing the Mountain’s Entrance Competition—the endless days of labor in the Outer and Inner Circles—seemed to dissolve.

In those eyes, she felt rest. She felt welcome. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt at peace.

Daemon spent the next half hour indulging Su An’s curiosity. The girl brimmed with questions, eager to know everything about “Da Niu’s” past. With little else to occupy his time, he answered her freely. There was nothing to conceal—these weren’t his memories, not truly. He had been in this world for less than two weeks before circumstances had thrust him into this prison, and the life of Da Niu was nothing more than borrowed history.

As he spoke, a quiet thought tugged at him. Was I wrong to antagonize Qi Yu? To beat Qi Ying and almost cripple both of his arms? The question lingered, but no guilt followed. He could weigh his choices, debate them, but regret? No—regret was absent. He had done what he felt was right, and he would not apologize for it.

Just earlier, however, Ippo had delivered news that jarred him more than any memory. A truth the clone had deliberately hidden until now.

His clone did not require food to sustain itself, nor sleep to sharpen its body and mind. But that did not mean it could not.

Daemon had listened in stunned silence as Ippo explained his little trick: he could gorge himself, filling his stomach, and then leave all the unpleasant consequences—digestion, cramps, bowel movements—for Daemon to suffer first before enjoying the benefits of nutritions overflowing throughout his body thanks to the two-way benefits linking them together. A cruel, pragmatic loophole.

It wasn’t hard to see why Ippo had considered it. With his blood being siphoned constantly, Daemon was left with no chance to restore his body naturally. Any hidden reserves of nourishment could mean the difference between survival and collapse.

Daemon’s reaction was immediate. He warned his clone against such recklessness, his mental tone sharp and commanding. But even as he spoke, he knew the truth: Ippo would never have attempted it unless Daemon was already standing at death’s door.

And besides—someone was watching. He could feel it, the scrutiny hovering around his every movement. If Ippo revealed such an obvious secret now, the consequences would only tighten the chains around him. Best to let the sly fellow keep that card hidden, until the moment it was needed most.

“So… how did it start between you and Qi Ying?”

Su An’s voice was soft but eager, her ash-colored robes rustling as she leaned forward. She had been enjoying herself far more than expected in the boy’s company, and for the first time, she regretted all those wasted hours she had spent in silence—merely watching him, keeping track of Formation nodes, making sure the wick of his life-lamp didn’t gutter out.

Daemon knew this question would come eventually. He folded his hands over his knees and gave a small shrug.

“It started with his younger brother, Qi Yu…”

And so he told her.

He spoke of the bully and his gang of wastrel teenagers, a group of spoiled brats who strutted like they owned the village. He described how he had given them a light beating—not enough to cripple, just enough to teach them a lesson they wouldn’t forget. How, in the heat of the moment, he had even dared Qi Yu to gather his whole clan and declare war on him and his two servants if he was really as important as he acted.

Then he recounted the arrival of Qi Ying at the Scattered-Woods Village. How that Outer Disciple tried to weave Da Niu’s mother into one of his schemes, and how it had ended in disaster for him instead. Both his arms broken, stripped of all dignity when Yan Jia robbed him of his belongings before the entire village, leaving him humiliated in front of mortals.

Daemon went on, narrating fight after fight: his clashes alongside his servants, their battles with Su An’s Senior Brothers and Sisters, the close calls, the reversals, the unlikely victories. His words painted them larger than life, each skirmish told with such vivid detail that they grew in her mind into something legendary—epic duels that could boil seas, shatter mountains, and remake the land itself with every strike.

Finally, he came to the end. He told her of his struggle against Ping Xueling, and how it all collapsed into darkness before he awoke here, under the cold eye of Elder Bai Sui.

Silence settled after that. Daemon leaned back, the story finished. But Su An sat motionless, still caught in the spell of his words. Her eyes were glazed, her thoughts wandering, as though she were still watching those battles unfold in her mind’s eye. Long after the Azure Lock Chamber had gone quiet—save for the soft rhythm of their breathing—she remained adrift in daydreams.

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