A Waste of Time

Chapter 148: Caged Poise

Mo Qiuya swallowed her words.

Shen Duan had lifted his gaze skyward instead of engaging her — completely opposite of the script she had envisioned. In her mind, the Disciplinary Chief was supposed to erupt in fury at the boy’s attempted escape, sweeping the mountain with his formidable senses. She would then offer to join the search, citing her affinity for the Space Element, and conveniently handle her business with the boy far from prying eyes.

But the brat had flipped the board.

Instead of vanishing with that little girl, Daemon appeared again — both he and Su An plummeting from the sky, laughter on the wind, as though he were playing rather than fleeing.

Mo Qiuya froze. Her brain short-circuited. The boy had tricked her.

Had she dared to spread her Domain, she might have tracked him easily through the Formation tied to his ankle-bracelet. But in Shen Duan’s presence, she hadn’t risked it. Activating it openly would have exposed her — proof she had placed a countermeasure on the child beforehand. And then she would have to explain herself to the one man in the Mountain famous for sniffing out lies like a bloodhound.

I was tricked by the brat!

Her reaction had been too quick, too sharp — and instead of earning her credit, Daemon turned it against her. Now Shen Duan would be more certain than ever that she was plotting something.

She forced herself to sit back, feigning calm, eyes lifted like everyone else to where the boy in black-and-white robes and the girl in ash fell through the clouds. But inside, her composure cracked.

He had outplayed her.

When was the last time she had been so certain of victory, only to blink and find her prey had slipped free, leaving her clutching at nothing? This was no minor setback — it was a slap to the face.

Smoke and mirrors.

That was what he had done to her. The patience he had shown in the Azure Lock Chamber, the way he pushed her to the limit before finally nibbling at her bait, the mock-innocence of calling her Auntie, the subtle glances toward her and the other Elders, the way he had pretended to follow her line of control. All of it had been an act. He had lured her into confidence, then turned her own trap back on her.

Such patience. Such immaculate scheming. Such daring.

Daemon had been on to her since their very first meeting. Her performance, she now realized, had been a comedy — one he had let play out simply because he needed time, because she was the perfect stepping stone to gather information without raising suspicion.

Shen Duan’s lips twitched, curving ever so slightly before flattening again. His face returned to stone, but in the depths of his eyes flickered something rare: admiration.

The boy had confirmed his suspicions. From the very start, Mo Qiuya had pressed to drag the child into her circle, pushing harder than any other during the meeting of the Elder-Council, and cloaking her intentions in feigned kindness.

Now there was no doubt.

She was scheming, and the boy was her target. The more she tried to hide it, the deeper Shen Duan would dig his teeth in.

Because to let go now would mean Mo Qiuya had bested him.

And the Disciplinary Chief’s reputation was not something he would allow to be toyed with.

Daemon reappeared exactly where he had plucked Su An from the ground.

The girl was breathless, still riding the high of what had just happened. She had been swept into the sky, carried higher than even Foundation Establishment Cultivators could reach without costly Artifacts or burning through their Dantian reserves. For her, it had been pure exhilaration — the thrill of flight, the rush of freefall, the joy of touching a height only the rare few Juniors in the Mountain would ever experience.

By the time she finally soaked in all of it, the chance to thank him had already slipped away. Words seemed small against what he had shared with her.

And the boy himself? He sat as if nothing had happened. As though he hadn’t just torn the veil from an old hag’s schemes in front of the entire Assembly. His face gave nothing away. Calm. Detached.

At the center of the Arena, Daemon lowered himself cross-legged, but silence never sat well with him. Within moments, restlessness prickled at his limbs.

So he rose again, shifting into movement. Pushups, stretches, stances — simple exercises, nothing flashy, but his body flowed from one to the next with an ease that made the mundane look deliberate. A restless fox pacing in plain sight, unbothered by the gazes still weighing down from above.

One by one, the Inner Disciples stepped forward as their names were called, each drawing their number from the Instructor’s box. The rest sat in silence, meditating, while Daemon spent the waiting time attuning himself to the changes in his physique.

Wei Shun’s relief was short-lived. He was delighted when his draw placed him on a different branch from Kang Lai — but his heart sank the moment Liu Yuying’s cold eyes marked him from across the fifth branch. She hadn’t even drawn him as an opponent yet. Just his proximity to Daemon had drawn her grudge down on him. The young man felt tears threaten, though he dared not voice a single complaint. If he blamed Daemon aloud, his life would only grow worse.

Kang Lai, bare chest glistening, let out a bark of laughter when he saw the predicament Wei Shun had stumbled into. The sight of the rat squirming under the gaze of an Elite Inner Disciple amused him endlessly. His grin widened when he glanced at the woman who shared his own branch — hoping she would notice him, target him, give him a real challenge worth the blood and sweat. To Kang Lai, anything less was dull.

For Luo Han and Sun Kai, though, fate was crueler. Their draw placed them beneath the shadow of Yu Tianwu. Daemon’s familiar enemy stood at the head of the eighth branch, his bladesman’s eyes burning with anticipation. He had already marked the two lackeys. One would face him in the very first round. The other, if luck betrayed him further, would meet him in the second.

One scratched nervously at his scars, unable to stop. The other sat in despair, sweat pooling down his back.

Meanwhile, the Instructors worked in concert. Another jade slip was drawn from a Space Ring, and a new Array flared to life.

From the center of the Assembly Arena rose a tree. Its trunk was brownish-red, its canopy a spread of yellow-gold leaves. Eight thick branches stretched outward, curving down until each touched the ground. Together they formed the pattern of an eight-trigram, black and white symbols etched in radiant lines.

At the end of each branch, a Transportation Formation shimmered, its surface twisting to show distorted glimpses of what lay beyond. Daemon recognized it instantly. Yan Jia had explained such constructs before, back at the campsite.

“First branch!” an Instructor shouted, his eyes settling on Daemon. “Everyone in this bracket, step forward! The first round begins once you cross.”

The boy nodded, moving to stand beside Su An. Together, the two stepped into the shimmering curtain. Light swallowed them whole.

In the next moment, they were gone from the Assembly Arena.

Above the first branch of the great tree, a water mirror unfolded, showing the scene of their trial.

Daemon found himself standing on a bamboo raft drifting atop a vast lake. His raft was numbered ninety. All across the water, more rafts bobbed in place — two hundred and fifty-six in total. One by one they filled with disciples: yellow-robed Inner Disciples in the majority, ash-robed Outer Disciples in the dozens, and a scattering of white-robed figures.

But only two figures stood out in black and white.

Daemon, and Su An.

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