A Waste of Time

Chapter 28: Ghostly Harvest

Daemon snickered when he saw Ru nearly pop a vein — Nie Leixu had completely ignored the main point and instead latched onto something trivial, yet again.

“Are you in a hurry to reincarnate?” Ru’s voice was calm but the subtle shift in the air around him carried his Killing Intent — a cold, invisible blade that made Nie Leixu’s skin prickle.

Yet the big man only shrugged, unfazed, and grinned wide. “You wouldn’t strike me down. Young master Daemon likes me. He won’t let you. At least not until I finish forging what he needs.”

Ru’s glare could have peeled bark off a tree, but after a tense moment he scoffed and snatched the jug of ale right from Nie Leixu’s hand. “No more for you, drunkard.”

Daemon laughed and scratched his chin. “While you’re at it, how about a few Tower Shields and a Hammer too? Big, sturdy — just like everything else.”

Nie Leixu peered at the pile of raw materials stacked by the forge. “Armor too?”

Daemon shook his head. “Not for now — still growing, remember? But if you want to make something that fits when I grow… well, maybe it can be done.”

He stood up, unbuttoned his shirt, tugged off his boots and socks, and shucked his pants. The big smith blinked, baffled, as the boy stood there in nothing but his undergarments. “Come on. Take the measurements. Be quick about it.”

Then Daemon’s form rippled and grew — taller than Nie Leixu by two heads, shoulders broad as a barn door. The blacksmith’s jaw dropped when he saw the six arms and three heads towering over him, muscle stacked upon muscle like sculpted granite.

“Go on then,” Ru barked, thoroughly enjoying the stunned look plastered across the giant man’s face. Even Nie Leixu’s six sons, who’d been sneaking glances through the door, stood frozen, eyes wide like they’d just glimpsed a living god.

“R-right,” Nie Leixu stammered, clumsily scribbling the numbers onto a bit of wood, his eyes unfocused, mind half stuck on the impossible giant standing barefoot in his smithy.

Daemon let the transformation drop and tugged his clothes back on, humming to himself. Protection for every form. Good.

“How long?” he asked, rolling his shoulders.

“That depends,” the blacksmith said, still blinking.

“On?”

“Are you swinging these weapons and wearing the armor as a boy — or as that big bastard?”

Ru crossed his arms. Good question.

Daemon shrugged. “Why not both? Make them for both forms. Big, small — I want options.”

Nie Leixu chuckled weakly. “Costly. Especially the big ones.”

“Make your list,” Daemon said, waving it off. “Focus on quality. I’ll handle the cost. I’ll be back tomorrow to sort it all out.”

He left the smithy with a grin, waving at the six sons, who stared at him as if the sun itself had dropped by for tea.

A short walk later, Daemon rapped his knuckles on a creaky door. “Auntie Fan? You in?”

The door cracked open to reveal a wiry old man with a mop of grey hair and warm eyes. “Ah! Da Niu! Heard you thrashed that Qi brat in the market yesterday. And gave little Qiu some good advice too. Little one! Thanks for the pheasant, by the way — old Lou’s man forced today’s elk on us too, can you believe it?””

Daemon chuckled, tugging his hand free from the man’s hearty grip. “Just a small thing, Uncle Zhou. Is Auntie Fan here?”

“In the kitchen! Come in, come in.” Uncle Zhou bellowed toward the yard, “You rascals — quit your nonsense back there! We’ve got a guest!”

Inside, the smell of fried vegetables, soup, and fresh elk meat filled the warm little house. Daemon stepped into the kitchen, grinning. “Good afternoon, Auntie. You’re looking busy as ever.””

“Humph. All your fault!” Auntie Fan barked, wiping sweat from her brow. Four grown sons slouched at the edge of the room, pretending they hadn’t been eavesdropping. “You boys — useless! Mei! Did you set the table?”

A shy girl about Daemon’s age poked her head in, nodding. “Yes, Mother. I prepped the vegetables too — I’ll wash the work clothes next.”

Auntie Fan shot Daemon a sly look, chin lifted proudly like she was presenting a rare treasure. He caught her meaning and hid a smile.

He watched the four sons shuffle uncomfortably — as if to say family business, not ours. Ignoring them, he turned back to the formidable matron. “Auntie, today at Qiu’s stall I met a woman — Auntie Ming. She’s a good cook, but I want your opinion before hiring her.”

Auntie Fan’s eyes narrowed — then she smirked, pleased. “She’s good, but it’s her daughter that does most of the cooking now. Ming’s health turned bad after that fire. Can’t stand by the stove long.”

Daemon tapped his chin. No wonder she seemed unsure. He asked softly, “They doing alright?”

Auntie Fan’s eyes flicked to her chopping knife. “Scraping by. Her husband works the fields. She helps where she can. Little Xia — that’s the daughter — works at the Qi house kitchen. Same family you thrashed yesterday, eh?”

“Xia’s her only child?”

“She had two boys — died in that war, same one that took your father.”

Daemon nodded, voice gentle. “So… would you recommend them?”

Auntie Fan stabbed a finger at him. “If you lighten my load and take Mei too — then yes.”

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “Fair. Mei keeps the camp tidy, Xia does the cooking.”

Auntie Fan crossed her arms, triumphant. “Pay well. Keep them fed and clothed. And if Mei ends up your woman one day — so be it!” She turned on her sons, roaring, “Look at you layabouts — still no wives! No backbone! No shame!”

Uncle Zhou sighed. “You don’t understand — the Nie boys—”

“Shut it! Take the food outside!” Auntie Fan barked, cutting him off.

Daemon stifled his laugh. “So — how much for Mei’s service?”

Auntie Fan pretended to think, but her eyes gleamed. “Three silver a month. She stays here at night. You protect her. Feed her well. Good clothes. Warm in winter.”

Uncle Zhou bobbed his head. “Fair. Fair.”

Daemon leaned back, grin wide. “Deal. And a ten percent raise every six months — no limit.”

Husband and wife stared — this boy truly was something else.

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