A Waste of Time

Chapter 153: Cementing Opinions

Xue Lian’s head throbbed as though caught between a vice. The boy standing across from her wasn’t just another opponent — he was a storm of grudges and scorn aimed squarely at her. She could feel it in his gaze, sharp enough to peel her flesh from her bones.

He thinks I deserve punishment. He thinks we all do, she thought bitterly, teeth clenching. Yet the loathing was unwarranted. His servants were still alive, not slain as he had been led to believe. But she could not tell him. None of them could.

The Elder-Council’s gag-order was absolute. Discussing the truth was forbidden to all in the Sect, both in public and in private. Any who defied it would be declared traitors to the Mountain and executed on sight. So she was left with only silence, forced to endure whatever venom Daemon chose to spit, while the truth rotted unspoken in her throat.

The boy advanced, twirling the Spirit-Thorn Scepter lazily, his grin sharp. “Are you not going to use your Spiritual Treasure? I want to see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your Chain and Sickle.”

Her body tensed. At once, she called forth her Weapon. The Meteor-Hammer swung in a tight circle, a rotating shield of steel link, an obsidian Chain guarding her flank, while her other hand gripped the curved Sickle, its silver blade glinting with menacing intent. Qi surged through her meridians, coating her form in shimmering Light. To her enemies, it was like fighting a ghost — their vision blurred, their focus split, their gaps exposed.

Daemon only closed the distance further, resting the Cane on his shoulder. His posture was casual, almost insolent, like a street thug cornering prey in a dark alley. “Why not call out your Martial Spirit too? I promise I won’t strangle that beady-eyed Weasel of yours... or skin its brassy fur.”

The words cut deeper than any strike. Xue Lian flinched, memories clawing to the surface. The trauma of that fight still lingered — Yan Jia’s desperate sacrifice, the moment her Martial Spirit had been almost torn apart and gravely wounded. Even now, her blood ran cold at the thought of seeing the Weasel manifest under Daemon’s mocking gaze.

It had taken her everything to restore it. Days of effort, focused healing through long sessions of meditation, and five precious drops of the boy’s Life-Blood — an irony too sharp to ignore. His Life-Blood had accelerated her recovery far beyond expectation, mending not only her Martial Spirit but hidden cracks in her Bloodline itself. She stood stronger than ever before, her Cultivation close to perfection.

And yet, just hearing him demand to see it made her heart quake.

Xue Lian’s silence was a chain around her throat. She could not speak, could not defy the gag-order, could not give him what he demanded.

Daemon’s lips curled into a thin smile. “Fine then.” He raised his hand, sparks of Silver Lightning gathering at his fingertip.

A single-target variation of Chain Lightning cracked across the raft. The bolt struck Xue Lian’s shimmering coat of Light Qi, shredding through it. Her defense dampened forty percent of the attack, but the rest tore through her body and left her paralyzed. The stun locked her in place, every muscle rigid. For four long seconds, she was nothing more than prey at the boy’s mercy.

Terror flooded her eyes as Daemon’s hand clamped around her throat. He yanked her close, face to face, his voice husky and cold enough to freeze bone.

“Who killed my servants?”

His expression was all vengeance — sharp, merciless, unyielding.

Inside, though, Daemon was congratulating himself. Perfect. Keep selling the act. No one will ever doubt I’m not deceived by the Mountain’s higher-up's schemes after this.

The Instructor on the hovering Leaf jerked upright, caught off guard. He had not expected the fight to turn this sharp, this fast. But it made sense. A boy burdened with vengeance, starved of truth, had finally cornered one of the few who had been there that day. No patience left. No faith in the Elders’ mercy of whispering the names of the perpetrators' in his ears. Just the raw instinct to squeeze answers from her throat with his own hands is what was left in his mind now.

Outside the Array, silence rippled across the Elders’ platform. Shen Duan narrowed his eyes slightly. Then, with nothing more than a twitch of his pinky finger, he acted.

From the Spirit-Thorn Scepter, Tentacles of Darkness erupted. They coiled like living shadows, wrapping around Daemon’s body in an instant. His limbs locked, his Vitality sank, and his breath hitched as though the air itself had turned hostile.

Shock cut through him as the realization set in — the black energy wasn’t only binding his body. It had invaded his flesh, clogged his Meridians, and suffocated his strength from the inside out.

For the first time in weeks, Daemon felt that old, suffocating weakness. The helplessness of being utterly at another’s mercy.

It was a feeling he had known all too well in his life on Earth. And one he had almost forgotten since coming to this world.

“Disciple Daemon. This is your final warning.”

The Disciplinary Chief’s voice thundered across the Array, heavy and absolute. Its authority brooked no argument. “You were promised an answer after the Sect-Competition. By acting now, you are breaking the terms of that agreement. You have two choices: return to the Azure Lock Chamber immediately or continue to participate in the trials. But you are not permitted to recklessly strike at other Disciples with deadly intent.”

Tsk.

Daemon’s lips twisted in irritation, but his fingers loosened. He released Xue Lian’s throat at last.

The girl staggered back, gasping for air, her eyes wide with disbelief. Fear trembled in them — but also shame. Humiliation. Even a trace of violation. She had been subdued too quickly, too easily, as though her struggle meant nothing the instant the boy decided to defy the higher-ups and gamble on prying the truth from her lips.

Daemon’s gaze followed her lazily, almost bored. “You were lucky this time.” He lifted a hand, palm open, fingers curling with impatient demand. “You can go... but not unharmed. Hand over your Space-Pouch and your Spiritual Treasures.”

Gasps rippled through the Array. The Disciples inside the Lake Domain, the Elders, Instructors, and disqualified Inner Disciples outside watching through the mirrors — all stared, stunned. This boy had just been admonished by the Disciplinary Chief himself, yet here he was, immediately pressing his advantage, squeezing his opponent dry without the faintest concern for consequences.

It was madness.

Xue Lian was no nameless Disciple. She was the cherished daughter of a powerful Clan, her mother famed for doting on her to the point of sacrificing half her own Cultivation Base to bless her unborn child with a Martial Spirit and a physique compatible with the path of Spirit-Cultivation. And yet, Daemon treated her as though none of that mattered, as though Bloodlines and backings were nothing more than kindling for his wrath.

To the onlookers, the boy seemed drunk on vengeance, his reason devoured by hate. A rabid dog, they thought — one that would bite and tear at anything that stood in its way.

Xue Lian bit her lip until it bled, shame burning through her chest. But in the end, she extended her trembling hands and surrendered what he demanded. He had already shown what awaited those who opted to take the easy and cowardly way out of surrendering — punishments brutal and humiliating, like the Inner Disciple whose backside had been beaten raw under the Cane, mocked for the simple misfortune of being male instead of female.

Better to yield than to endure that fate.

Here's a link to my discord server if you want to talk - .gg/HwHHR6Hds