A Waste of Time

Chapter 65: Tethered Secrets

“Hey there, friend.” Qiu greeted Daemon brightly when he stepped into her humble stall. She wasted no time pulling the only chair from under the table with an eager grin. “Thanks to you, I was able to buy much more than I planned for the winter merchandise,” she said, voice dripping with the sweetness she saved for customers that weren’t terrifying. She set out her simple tea set, the chipped porcelain balanced carefully over a clay pot steaming on a bed of hot coals. “I see you’re wearing the latest version of the shoes — how’s it feel?” She batted her lashes at him, playing cute.

Daemon shot her a side-glance before a wicked grin split his face. “You’re lying through your teeth, Qiu.” He sank back in the chair, legs stretched, hands behind his head as he looked up. Above the little open market, Kirin — the massive Harpy-Eagle that dwarfed rooftops — circled in lazy loops, its vast shadow trailing across terrified villagers. “If you just admit it, I might let you hitch a ride on Kirin’s back. Imagine that — one flap and you’d be at my campsite face-to-face with the person missing from the picture. A heartbeat’s flight, really.”

Tsk.

Qiu rolled her eyes dramatically and stuck out her tongue. “You know I’m good friends with Xia, right?” She huffed, fussing over the teapot. “Try that stunt again and I’ll have her tie you to Kirin’s leg by your ankle! I’m not that easy to bully.”

“That’s the spirit!” Daemon barked a laugh. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever show any backbone at all.”

“Humph.” She crossed her arms, puffing out her cheeks. “Don’t let the pretty face fool you, Da Niu. Back when I was your age, I was the queen of beating up the neighborhood brats.”

“Damn.” Daemon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grin devilish. “Then you must’ve done such a good job bullying those boys that the heavens decided you needed payback. That’s why you met me — the final boss of all bullies.”

Tsk!

“J-just drink your tea already! You’re so annoying…” Qiu practically shoved the steaming cup at him, her fingers flicking his wrist when he tried to protest. “Drink, leave, let my real customers buy something before the sun sets.”

Daemon didn’t argue. He downed the tea in one clean gulp, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, then set the cup back on her tiny counter. He rose to his feet in one smooth motion. “Thank the cobbler for me. This pair’s a lot better than the last — softer sole, good ankle wrap. Tell him not to stop improving. Better colors, better style. People judge from the ground up.”

Qiu raised a brow. “And where am I going to put all that stock in this broom closet of a stall?”

Daemon’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t stay a stall. Become a Brand. Bigger tent, bigger sign, apprentices to push your shoes and clothes across three villages if you’re clever. That’s your hint — find the rest yourself.”

And with that, he strolled away, his words hanging in the air like a spark waiting to catch. Qiu stood frozen, mouth open. Before she could chase after him, a polite cough made her spin on her heel. A well-dressed woman stood at the edge of her stall, eyeing the rows of shelves with sharp interest.

“Excuse me, Miss Lin,” the stranger said smoothly. “One of my caravan partners mentioned your shoes. He said they were the finest he’s worn. Are there any left?”

Qiu blinked once. Then her expression shifted — first shock, then a cunning, foxy smile. She pulled out a stack of fresh soles from under her counter, bowing slightly as she said, “Step right in, Madam — I think you’ll find something worth your coin.”

“Quickly get to work. I expect these Weapons to be ready today.” Nie Leixu’s voice was flinty steel. He didn’t wait for excuses. He simply pointed Daemon toward the workbench — and the mountain of unrefined Steel waiting to become Blades worthy of men and monsters alike.

Daemon flicked open his Status and checked the timer on Asura’s Buff: [15 Hours 12 Minutes 47 Seconds].

I won’t feel safe once this runs out — but what can I do about it?

He sighed inwardly but didn’t argue. He snatched the Hammer from Nie Leixu’s massive hand and took his place at the bench.

Nie Xiaoli, the third son — the one with the keenest eye for Steel — stood by Daemon’s left shoulder. Nie Leixu stood to his right, arms folded, eyes glinting under the flickering glow of the Forge.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The Hammer rose and fell like thunder rolling over Iron Hills. Sparks spat in every direction as Daemon’s Lightning crawled over the Steel’s surface, bleeding Silver currents into the heated metal. Every strike compressed flaws, pressed heat deeper, birthed a resonance within the Blade — a silent hum that even the old man could feel in his bones.

“Hmmm…” Xiaoli’s eyes narrowed. “He’s about to succeed on this cycle.”

The eldest son, Nie Xiaodan, made a noncommittal grunt before he slipped out the back to fetch more raw stock. Xiaoli turned to his father and smirked. “The rest is up to you, Old Man.”

Nie Leixu just crossed his burly arms tighter. There was no need to speak — the clang of Steel sang all the truth needed.

Daemon finished his first Hundred-Refinement within ten minutes. The air crackled with Silver static as he lifted the Blade — but instead of quenching it, he swung the Hammer again, dropping it straight back on the Blade’s edge with the same force.

“Don’t!” Xiaodan barked, stepping forward with a raised hand. “You’ll ruin the Steel! You go too far and—”

CLANG.CLANG.CLANG.

Daemon ignored him. The Sword sang under each strike, refusing to shatter. Tiny veins of pure Silver flickered under the surface — like Lightning frozen in metal.

“Eh? Is he repeating the cycle?” Xiaosheng asked, scratching his ear with a grease-stained pinky. “Xiaoli, are you sure that’s our Hundred-Refinement? He’s not about to ruin all that work?”

Xiaoli’s eyes didn’t blink. “Watch. Remember what father said — our ancestors were rumored to be descendants of Immortals who crafted Spiritual Treasures. Our version is just a shard of the whole. We lack one thing: Qi. But this brat…” He nodded toward Daemon. “His Lightning is Qi.”

Xiaotong’s jaw dropped. “But won’t it crack?”

“It should.” Xiaosi snorted. “I tried once when I was young and cracked three Swords into useless scrap.”

“At least you made it to the final cycle once!” Xiaowen jabbed back. “I’m still failing on the first cycle half the time.”

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Daemon didn’t hear a word. The Sword in his grasp was a world unto itself — a living conduit for all six Elements he’d begun to touch. I can feel its weight, its heat, its flaws… even the stubbornness in the core.

When he struck the final blow, the Blade glowed with a Silver sheen so bright the workbench seemed to flicker in and out of focus. Without hesitation, he lifted his palm — Lightning gathered in his fingertips and exploded down the Blade’s spine.

Crack!Vzzt!

The Blade flared, a thin crackle of miniature Thunder dancing along the edge.

Instead of quenching it in oil, Daemon turned to the Forge, flung open the heavy iron door, and slid the Blade inside the roaring blaze.

“Wait!” Nie Leixu thundered. “Why not quench it? Why back in the Forge?”

Daemon didn’t flinch. He turned, sweat dripping from his brow. “Those tiny cracks in the outer layer — I could feel them. The Lightning hardened the core but left the surface like glass. If I quench it now, they’ll seal wrong — permanent flaws. If I keep it roasting in the Forge, maybe the heat will coax them closed. Then I’ll strike it again. Maybe then it’ll accept the final shape.”

The old man’s eyes glowed like hot coals. He sees it… he really sees the Steel. Nie Leixu nodded once but said nothing. He waited until Daemon’s back was turned before creeping to the Forge and cracking the door open.

Inside, the Sword danced in chaos: Flames licked the edge like tongues of Fire Elementals, tiny Wind cyclones spun along the flat, and at the groove of the Blade, pure Silver Lightning pulsed like a heartbeat. From the tip, droplets of black slag dripped steadily — impurities melting away into the coals below.

Nie Leixu’s heart thundered in his chest. This boy isn’t just forging a Weapon — he’s coaxing a Spirit awake inside the Steel. If the next cycle works…

Behind him, Daemon hefted the Hammer, eyes gleaming with Silver arcs of Lightning. Let’s see how many cycles you can take before you break, old friend. He smiled. Or before I do.

CLANG.

CLANG.

CLANG.

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