A Waste of Time

Chapter 149: Threads of Deception

Daemon had to wait longer than expected, alone on bamboo raft number ninety, while the rest of the participants were already facing their first opponents across the other drifting platforms. The raft swayed gently beneath his bare feet, but the surrounding silence weighed heavier than the movement of the water.

At the very center of the vast formation, a lone Instructor hovered atop a massive, emerald-green leaf that floated without sinking, as though the Lake itself bowed to his presence. His hands rested behind his back, robes unmoving despite the restless breeze curling across the water.

Beyond the shimmering walls of the Array, those seated on the Elders’ stage observed everything from their high perch. Eight water mirrors, each rooted to a separate branch of the colossal Eight Trigram Tree, reflected the different domains within the Array. Through them, the Elders followed the trials of the disciples—each mirror a window into a different battlefield.

Daemon steadied his breath, eyes darting over the endless water that separated him from his rivals. He counted them one by one, confirming his place among two hundred fifty-six bamboo rafts, each drifting in a perfect circle. The weight of those unseen opponents pressed in from every side.

Far from the boy's lake domain, Han Ruyue stood on the jagged summit of a mountain peak, with two hundred fifty-five surrounding summits rising like teeth around her. Mist clung to the sharp ridges, but the pressure of the Array made each peak feel like a solitary cage.

Elsewhere, the young man ranked third in the Thousand-Blows Cycle Array endured a world consumed by flames. He stood upon a flat volcanic stage, its scorched surface carved with his number at the center. Around him burned two hundred fifty-five other volcanic platforms, their heat distorting the very air.

The girl who seized the fourth rank found herself beneath the surface of the ocean. She balanced uneasily on colorful coral, its jagged edges biting at her feet, a fragile bubble of air enclosing her tiny stage. The number marking her coral glowed faintly, mirrored across two hundred fifty-five bubbles with similar coral beds inside them were spread through the dark depths.

High above, Liu Yuying stood barefoot on a black storm cloud. Snake-like Lightning bolts tore across the air beneath her, yet one particular streak twisted and snapped in a deliberate rhythm, its shifting pattern forming the number of her cloud. Around her loomed two hundred fifty-five other storm-cloud platforms, each alive with its own pulse of Lightning.

The man who claimed the sixth rank fought simply to remain standing. He was trapped in the eye of a colossal hurricane, winds shrieking on all sides, forcing him to shift constantly or risk being flung into the raging walls. Around that endless cyclone whirled five-hundred and eleven more tornados, each demanding a chance of balance amidst this constant turbulent chaos.

The seventh ranker stood before the mouth of a yawning subterranean tunnel. Darkness gaped within, broken only by the pale glow of a torch stabbed into the earth at its entrance. Its flickering light bore his number, mirrored again across five-hundred and eleven other tunnels, all leading into the hollow void beneath the Array.

But the eighth-ranked youth could barely contain his laughter. Fist pumping the air in triumph, he marveled at the sheer luck that placed him before the true treasure of the trial: the Heaven Gate of the Eight Trigram Tree Array itself. Jade steps shimmered under his feet, Spirit Energy pouring down in endless waves.

Without hesitation, he struck. The girl in ash-colored robes who appeared opposite him barely managed to defend herself before he forced her into submission. His intent was clear—crippling her for daring to waste his time. Once she admitted defeat, he dismissed her as if she no longer existed.

Sitting cross-legged upon the jade step, the youth closed his eyes and began to draw in the overwhelming Spirit Energy around him. Every Element—Fire, Water, Wood, Gold, Earth, Wind, Lightning, Light, Darkness and beyond—thrummed with richness here, each one eager to be manipulated. For him, the Heaven Gate was no battlefield at all, but the beginning of a Cultivation feast.

Daemon waited alone on his bamboo raft, the Lake still beneath him. It took longer than expected, but at last his opponent appeared — a girl in yellow robes, the number ninety glowing faintly at her feet.

She bit down hard on her nerves before forcing a bright smile. Smoothing the creases of her robe, she tilted her head in a practiced charm.

“Little brother Daemon, you’re so strong and mighty at such a young age already. I’m sure you can join the Core-Circle whenever you want. So... why not give this opportunity to this big sister? That way you can enjoy yourself in the Inner-Circle until the next Sect-Competition.”

Her tone softened, eyes turning moist with feigned vulnerability. “Besides... you’ll have more time with your pretty friend — the one who just got promoted from Outer Disciple. Wouldn’t that be better?”

Her voice dripped with consideration, but the agenda beneath it was sharp enough to cut glass.

Daemon tilted his head, gaze flat. “If I surrender this round to you... will you win it all? Are you confident you can seize the Promotion to Core Disciple? Stronger than the one ranked ninth in the Thousand-Blows Cycle Array?”

“Th-that’s...” She faltered, mouth open but empty of answers.

Daemon raised a hand to silence her. He had no interest in listening to lies and hollow promises. His eyes hardened, each word landing like a hammer on her brittle front.

“Let’s imagine you fail. That would mean I gave up an opportunity I had complete confidence in seizing — delaying my improvement just to hand it to you.

“Would you still be willing to spend every moment with me in the Inner-Circle until the next Sect-Competition?

“Would you let me squeeze every benefit from you, force you to pay this debt in blood, sweat, and tears?

“Are you truly sure it’s worth the risk?”

His tone shifted, softer but far more dangerous. “Because believe it or not, I’m willing to step aside and give you this chance if that’s your wish. But I’ll hound you like a ghost afterward — and I’ll collect everything you owe, with interest.”

The girl’s lips trembled. She had come thinking herself clever, but standing before him now, she realized she had been digging her own grave.

Daemon, meanwhile, had already accomplished what he needed. He had confirmed her weakness, drawn out her intent, and gathered the information he sought. His purpose in this Sect-Competition had never been to climb higher among the juniors of the Ten-Thousand Beast Mountain. His deal with Bai Sui was simple: behave, and be rewarded. And so he behaved.

What he gained from that deal was not rank, but clarity — a measure of how far the higher-ups of this Sect were willing to go in their game of deceit.

He knew the entire agreement rested on falsehoods. The names of those who had killed his followers would never be handed over so easily, simply because it would risk exposing the fact that his followers are still alive. But he played the role they wanted — the patient avenger, willing to bow his head, to accept manipulation, to appear vulnerable.

It left the Sect’s leaders with only three choices.

The first was the most extreme: kill him outright, and erase the threat forever. But such a choice would only invite disaster. His clones would not forgive — and their vengeance would turn the Ten-Thousand Beast Mountain into rubble, or their own bones.

The second was imprisonment. Less risk, but still dangerous.

The third was the most tempting — and the most likely. To brainwash him. To use him. To mold him into a blade they could wield. Cultivators almost always chose the path of control.

And Daemon knew it.

His effortless climb through the Sect-Competition had been proof enough of his terrifying potential. Now, with this girl surrendering willingly after his cold words stripped her of every excuse, the illusion was complete.

The higher-ups had seen what they needed to see.

The “obedient” boy, ruthless in talent yet pliable in appearance.

The perfect candidate to deceive, manipulate, and cultivate as a weapon.

And Daemon let them believe it.

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