A Waste of Time

Chapter 165: Shadowed Ember

“Why don’t you sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!”

Daemon rolled his shoulders, mischief dancing in his eyes. Then, with exaggerated flair, he brought his hands together in a sequence of familiar gestures and called out, “Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!”

Liu Yuying blinked. Han Ruyue froze.

The boy looked far too proud of himself for what came next — but the scene that unfolded silenced any thought of mockery.

A sharp crack split the air. Daemon’s figure shimmered, distorted, then—

He divided.

Two versions of him now stood in the clearing.

He had already mastered the art of creating living Clones — Ippo and Kai were proof of that — but this was something entirely different. This was no autonomous echo; this was a Skill born of deliberate control, of a single will manipulating two vessels with perfect synchronicity.

Demon Descent, he thought, recalling the first time he had witnessed its potential — during the battle between Ippo and Kirin.

Both girls stood frozen, their instincts screaming warnings even before their minds could process the sight. One of the two Daemons radiated an overwhelming presence — raw, searing, volcanic. The other, however, vanished into the shadows, slipping beyond their perception entirely.

The Fire Clone’s aura burned bright and suffocating, a furnace of violent Qi that made the air shimmer around him. The other… the Dark Clone… felt like an absence of existence — an eerie void that tugged faintly at the edges of their senses before disappearing altogether.

Yuying’s heartbeat quickened. Ruyue’s posture shifted, her stance instinctively defensive. Neither of them realized how much their bodies had tensed until Daemon’s voice — or rather, his fiery half’s voice — cut through the silence.

“At ease, ladies… I promise no harm will come your way.”

He smiled reassuringly, though the molten light in his eyes made it anything but comforting.

Then, before they could respond, he reached into his Inventory and drew a Blade — the same curved weapon that gleamed with restrained hunger — and turned toward the west.

Ahead lay the group of seven. Yu Tianwu stood at the front, Zhan Lei just a step behind. The others — three men and two women — spread in formation around them.

“We meet again, Tianwu,” Daemon called as he approached, resting the Blade on his shoulder with casual arrogance. “Unfortunately, you’re still in the Qi Gathering Realm.”

The smirk on his face was insufferable. The tension that rippled through the enemy group was almost visible — seven bodies, seven sharp intakes of breath.

Behind him, Yuying and Ruyue exchanged uneasy glances. Whatever amusement they might’ve felt earlier had vanished. Now, they could only watch — and understand — why those seven looked ready to bolt.

Ruyue’s eyes darted around the clearing, searching for the missing half of him. Nothing. Not a flicker of Qi, not a shadow of presence. How is he hiding it completely? she thought, her heartbeat quickening. If he ever turned that power against me—

Zhan Lei’s expression twisted with irritation. The kid’s jab hadn’t even been directed at him, yet the sheer dismissal of his existence felt like an insult.

“Yeah… been a while, huh,” Yu Tianwu said, forcing a smile and placing a hand on Lei’s shoulder before the man could speak. “We’re here to talk, not fight.” His grin was warm, but the tremor in his tone betrayed his nerves.

Daemon tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Talk?” He swung his Blade lazily, the air hissing in its wake. The motion alone carved a trench a dozen meters long into the earth.

“I’d suggest you throw everything you’ve got at me all at once,” he said, his tone turning cold. “We both know you’re trying to buy time. The only way to do that is by entertaining me. Because the moment I get bored—” he smiled, sharp and cruel, “—is the moment you’re all gone from this stage for good.”

Tianwu and Lei exchanged a tense glance. Behind them, the rest of their group tightened grips on their weapons, summoning layers of Qi around their bodies. The atmosphere was electric, a breath away from chaos.

“Boo!”

The shout came from behind them — sudden, playful, and horrifying. Two of the enemy girls screamed as a second Daemon materialized right before their eyes.

“Here I come!”

The first Clone was already in motion, descending from above with his Blade arcing downward like the strike of a god.

The battle erupted into madness.

Liu Yuying and Han Ruyue could only stare from afar, struck silent by the sheer ferocity of the spectacle. One Daemon — the Dark Clone — moved like a phantom, slipping in and out of existence, dismantling his opponents one by one as if mocking their efforts to land a single blow. The other — the Fire Clone — fought like a tempest, his strikes blazing with Fire and Lightning, each swing shaking the ground and scorching the air.

“H-he’s like a completely different person!” Yuying whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Ruyue nodded slowly, her wide eyes following the streaks of flame and the shadows flickering in the treetops. “No,” she murmured. “He’s like two different people.”

Each move was unpredictable. Each strike — flawless. There was no hesitation, no opening.

The Daemon facing Yu Tianwu and Zhan Lei fought with reckless dominance, his every motion bold and devastating. Fire roared along his Blade; Lightning cracked from his steps. Every blow drove the two men further back, their defenses crumbling under the relentless storm.

“Yield,” he said calmly, voice cutting through the chaos, “or fail this round. It’s up to you. Both of you still have a chance to compete in the next Sect-Competition — if you live long enough to crawl out of this one.”

The Dark Clone stood a short distance away, arms crossed, watching the two men teeter on the edge of defeat as his fiery counterpart pushed them to exhaustion.

Tianwu’s jaw clenched. Around him, five Cultivators had already been eliminated — snatched away in beams of light. The boy had defeated them in minutes, cutting through eighth and ninth-stage fighters like weeds.

Zhan Lei was trembling, his Qi flaring wildly as he forced his battered body to keep standing. Rage burned in his chest, but shame burned hotter.

“Damn it!” he roared, veins bulging against his skin. He’d trained in seclusion for weeks to repay the humiliation from their last battle. Yet here he was again, powerless. Outmatched. Barely clinging to consciousness against a boy who hadn’t even gone all out.

He looked up through the haze of dust and flame, and saw Daemon standing there — smiling faintly, eyes calm.

It was the look of someone who’d already decided the outcome long before the battle began.

Near the Guardian Beast’s territory, hidden behind the thickest of ancient trees, three figures stood in silent formation.

Lian Feiyun took the center, calm and composed, while Tao Qingshui and Cui Fangran flanked him on either side.

“We take care of Gorath’s early phase of attacks together,” Feiyun said evenly, his tone smooth yet commanding. “Once we’ve drawn his attention, Qingshui—use the first opening to slip through and claim the Evil-Eye Flower. Trust the plan, and everything will be fine.”

His voice was steady, almost reassuring, but Cui Fangran’s scowl betrayed his dissatisfaction.

He didn’t like this arrangement — not one bit. Why does she get to take the treasure while I risk my neck alongside this smug bastard? he thought bitterly, shooting Feiyun a glare sharp enough to cut steel.

Worse still, their opponent was no ordinary beast. The Thousand-Eyed Warden — Gorath — was an Abyssal Eye Ape, a creature feared for its triple mastery of Darkness, Earth, and Soul.

Even if this one was still young and not yet fully matured, facing it head-on was nothing short of suicide.

Lian Feiyun, however, seemed completely unfazed. He reached into his Space Ring and drew his Sword, Radiant Gale, its silvery edge humming with faint Wind Qi. The sight alone was enough to remind both companions why this man was known throughout the Sect as Soaring Cloud.

“Time to see whether Gorath lives up to the rumors,” Feiyun said softly, the corners of his mouth curling into that same infuriatingly confident smile.

In one fluid motion, he soared skyward.

His Sword flashed — a brilliant fusion of Light and Wind bursting from the blade — forming the spectral image of a winged dragon descending from the heavens.

Roar!

Howl!

The twin cries — one of the Spell, one of the awakened Beast — tore through the forest, shaking the very roots of the mountain.

Then came the boom.

The shockwave rippled outward, flattening trees and stirring up whirlwinds of dust and debris.

That was the signal.

Tao Qingshui and Cui Fangran moved instantly.

The woman summoned her Artifact — a Shield engraved with intricate, glowing runes. Tri-colored Qi surged around her body, forming layers of defensive energy like rippling water.

Beside her, Fangran’s aura exploded in a burst of freezing light. His Hammer appeared in his grip, a weapon of brutal simplicity and murderous intent. Icy mist coiled from his arms as his veins pulsed with frost Qi, every muscle tensing in preparation for battle.

Together, they charged into the storm — the calm before the true wrath of Gorath was unleashed.

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