A Waste of Time

Chapter 33: Crimson Veil

"You’re here! Good. Sit down—I’ll make you some tea first. I have something for you." Qiu greeted Daemon warmly but her eyes flicked again and again to the girl standing behind him.

"This is Jia, my dear friend," Daemon said, answering the unspoken question. He gestured lightly. "And this is Qiu. Auntie Fan recommended her stall to me. Ever since then, I visit every day—mostly to gift her priceless advice in exchange for a few cups of tea." His sly grin made Qiu flush with embarrassment.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jia," Qiu managed, ignoring his teasing.

"The pleasure is mine. I love the clothes young master Daemon wears—and the ones you chose for me," Jia said sweetly.

"Forgive her tone," Daemon cut in with mock gravity. Both women stared, puzzled. His grin widened. "I’ve noticed certain sparks between these two—so I decided to be cruel and keep them apart. Otherwise, Qiu’s poor wandering eyes would keep searching for your brother Ru whenever we visit."

Qiu gawked. Jia covered her mouth, giggling.

"Y-you! W-what nonsense are you babbling now?" Qiu stammered, glaring at him before turning to Jia. "Don’t listen to him. There’s nothing between me and Mr. Ru."

Jia nodded, but her smile said otherwise. She knew her brother was far too oblivious to notice Qiu’s subtle feelings—but who knew? Maybe her mischievous young master would make something happen. It was about time she had some nieces or nephews to spoil.

While Qiu grumbled and set the teapot on the coals, Daemon’s eyes drifted to the busy street beyond. People lingered at a respectful distance, stealing glances at him. But what caught his attention wasn’t the admiring looks—it was Da Niu’s mother walking toward them.

Daemon didn’t care. That life was gone—so was any need to cling to another boy’s past. As long as she kept her distance, he’d do the same.

Qiu spotted the approaching woman and forced a polite smile. "Hello, Auntie Hao. How can I help you?"

The older woman ignored her, eyes locked on Daemon with a cold, hard edge. "Humph. Are you not going to get up?"

Jia’s eyes narrowed. She stepped forward, voice sharp. "Who are you to speak to young master Daemon like that? Leave now before I slap that filthy mouth!"

Auntie Hao bristled but didn’t back down. "I’m talking to my son. Who are you to meddle when I discipline my child? Shouldn’t he stand when his mother arrives? Shouldn’t he stop a mouthy girl like you?"

A murmur rippled through the watching crowd. Heads nodded—villagers drawn to the drama.

Qiu sighed. Trouble always follows this boy. Jia was fuming but sneaked a look at Daemon—only to find him calmly watching the teapot, as if the scene before him were distant noise.

"Qiu," he said suddenly, ignoring Auntie Hao completely. "Next time, give your customers space to look around first. Let them feel they’re making their own choices—then surprise them with something new. That’s how you earn trust."

Jia’s heart skipped—was he taking his mother’s side? But when his cold eyes met hers, she flinched.

"And you," he said, voice like ice. "How long will you waste time arguing with fools? If you’re going to speak for me, wait until I tell you. Otherwise, save your breath—actions speak louder. If you must, slap first, talk later."

Jia’s eyes gleamed with pride. She stepped back behind him, giving Auntie Hao a smug look.

Now the woman wavered. She’d expected outrage, anger—anything. But this boy’s indifference stung worse than any insult.

"You unfil—"

Daemon looked at her at last—eyes flat and uncaring. "Careful. Two days ago, I came to your door and left you a gift to sever Karma between us. You accepted. So you’re no mother to me—just a stranger shouting for no reason." He lifted the cup Qiu offered, took a sip, then gestured lazily. "Whoever paid you to bark, let him step forward himself. You’re done here, Auntie Hao. Collect your fee from that gentleman over there before you go. And next time—think of the children you do care for before you bite off more than you can chew."

All eyes turned to where he pointed—a man leaned against a wall in the shade, smirking.

Clap.Clap.Clap.

Slow claps echoed as Qi Ying stepped into view. "Not bad, boy. Keen eyes. Stronger than you look. But…" He stepped closer, face lit with cruel amusement. "Isn’t it time to call your servant? Leaving yourself so exposed, guarded only by a pretty girl—dangerous, don’t you think?"

Daemon sipped his tea, exchanged a glance with Jia, and gave her the tiniest nod to stand down.

"You’re the bully’s kin, right?" he asked coolly.

Qi Ying’s eyelid twitched. "My youngest brother—the one you had your Cultivator suppress while you toyed with him and his friends. Now call him out."

Daemon tilted his head, voice dripping sarcasm. "So a kid like me, who can haul an elk around, needed my servant’s mystical powers to tap your brother’s stomach? Incredible. Your brother must be strong enough to carry a mountain! Truly fearsome—your clan must breed only bullies, then. Small bully, bigger bully—what comes next? A giant bully to teach the bigger one a lesson?"

The crowd tittered. Qi Ying’s jaw clenched as anger and humiliation warred in his chest. A faint crack rippled through his resolve—a whisper of a Heart Demon clawing at the edge of his mind.

"Silence!" Qi Ying barked, his Qi rolling through the air like thunder. The crowd quieted instantly. "Call your servant—now!"

Daemon set down his cup, stood, and faced him calmly. "Why waste words? If you want a fight, let’s fight. Not here, though. There’s a clearing over there—perfect for men to settle things with their fists."

The people gasped—some with fear, most with gleeful excitement. This boy had no Cultivator’s presence, yet he stood eye to eye with one. And the look in his eyes said he would not run.

The show was about to begin.

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