A Waste of Time

Chapter 67: Enshrouded Breeze

Daemon leaned back in his rickety chair, watching these scavengers sip at their cups. He tapped the table once with a finger.

Let’s see what you want, little fox.

He lifted his chin toward Hongyu. “Speak, Lady Hongyu. Why drag this whole flock here instead of doing your deals in the market?”

Hongyu’s painted lips curled. She folded her hands atop the rough wood, pretending not to notice the other merchants hanging onto her every breath.

“Young master,” she purred.

Han Hongyu’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Should I call you young Master Da Niu… or do you prefer your new name. Daemon?”

He said nothing — only flicked a crumb off the table.

She continued, voice calm and syrup-smooth. “I’ve heard… certain rumors. Of a disagreement between you and a disciple of the Ten-Thousand Beast Mountain.”

Ru stiffened behind him — but Daemon only gestured for her to go on.

She leaned in just slightly, as if sharing gossip, though her eyes never left his.

“You see… the Myriad-Beast Forest is the garden of that Sect. They hold sway over the lands of five Kingdoms and four Empires that cling to its borders like moss on stone. Some say even the Royal Courts bow when the Mountain roars.”

Daemon’s smile flickered sharp. So she wants to see if I’m afraid to stand alone.

She traced the rim of her cup with one finger.

"Our Pavilion… we thrive on balance

. Trade flows best when men of talent are free to move and act as they wish. But conflict — especially with a Sect that guards such massive territory — can… hinder such freedom.”Han Hongyu set her cup down, then slowly turned it by its delicate handle — once, twice — as if weighing the worth of each word. “So I wondered… when word of this incident reaches the Mountain’s higher halls — as it must — will Young Master Daemon stand alone? Or… might he see the wisdom of strong friends in high places?”

Her other hand slipped to rest lightly atop a small silk pouch at her hip, her thumb tapping it in rhythm with her thoughts. "The Golden-Sun Pavilion has long memories — and deep coffers — for those who promise value.”

Daemon leaned back, eyes cold and calm. If I don’t flinch — they offer profit.

His face stayed blank as polished stone, eyes reflecting only the campfire’s glow.

“And if I told you to take your deep coffers and go knock on the Ten-Thousand Beast Mountain’s gate instead?”

A flicker of genuine amusement touched Hongyu’s lips. “Then I’d bow, wish you luck, and watch the fireworks from a safe distance. We’re merchants, not heroes. But if you do mean to make enemies, it pays to have allies who profit when you live — and bleed when you fall.”

The clearing fell silent. Then Daemon's eyes narrowed — not in anger, but in open calculation. So that’s your game, old fox.

He flicked his fingers, and Ru’s hand relaxed on his blade. “Talk, then. Show me what you really want… and what you’re willing to gamble.”

She gestured delicately at Kirin’s distant silhouette, wheeling above the campsite.

“A Ferocious-Creature Mount… two Cultivators at your side… rumors say you hunt the outer circle of the Forest as if it were your private storehouse. You see, Young Master… some tremble when the Mountain growls. But a rare few… might feed that growl a dose of cold Steel.”

“Talk straight,” he said at last. “Are you here to wag your finger — or put a coin in my pocket?”

Han Hongyu’s smile warmed by a fraction. “If the Mountain strikes — you will need windows that stay open when doors slam shut. The Pavilion can be that window… if you wish it.”

The clearing fell silent — heavy as Kirin’s wings drifting above.

Daemon leaned back further in his chair, fingers drumming once, twice, on the battered wood. His eyes slid past Han Hongyu to the other faces — six men, four women, silk and beads pretending they were wolves in a den of cubs.

Not wolves, he thought. Crows. Let them peck each other bloody for scraps.

He let the silence stretch until the fire popped behind him. Then he spoke, voice steady, each word sharp enough to shave the edge off every lie in the clearing.

“Seems Lady Hongyu’s tongue is quick — but the rest of you look half-turned to stone. If you came all this way to sip tea and gawk, feel free to crawl home now.”

A ripple of forced chuckles. A heavyset man cleared his throat first, bowing stiffly from his bench.

“Gong Chang, Silver-Drake Exchange, Empire of High Rivers. My caravans cross the River Kingdoms — Iron Sand, refined ores, Black Salt… all move when I say so. If Young Master wants his forges hot, my doors stay open.”

He sank back down, sweat shining at his temples.

Next, a lean woman with jade bangles rose halfway. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes gleamed like a hawk’s.

“Lin Huan, Jade-Silk Merchants, Black-Gold Kingdom. Our weavers spin Spirit Threads into cloth for Enchanters. If you hunt beasts, we turn pelts into robes worth tenfold.”

One by one they came — polite bows, polite bribes. The Five Kingdoms, Four Empires — all there in spirit, each pitch another fishing hook.

Last, the older woman in plain black silk rose. Calm, precise. No grasping smile — just eyes measuring distance.

“Li Yue, White-Moon Syndicate.” Her faint accent drew a flicker of curiosity. She bowed low, silver clasp at her throat glinting.

“Our headquarters lie well beyond the Mountain’s garden. Distant, yes — but distance can be a shield. If Young Master tires of hunting alone… the Syndicate’s contacts reach certain Sects who might welcome him — especially one that enjoys defying the Ten-Thousand Beast Mountain.”

A few held their breath. Hongyu’s fan snapped open like a blade to her lips.

Daemon let the hush hang — then spread his hands on the table, voice dropping to a low, cold rumble.

“Well said. All of you.” He paused, eyes slicing them apart one by one.

“I’m no noble house stray, no Sect disciple — not yet. I hunt what I can kill, run from what I can’t. That’s my law — my camp’s law.”

A flicker of unease. He pressed on:

“You’ll crawl home soon enough, carrying tales to your masters. Some will scold you for wasting silver on sweet fruit and cheap tea for a stray dog who humiliated a Sect disciple.”

A few faces stiffened at his bluntness. Hongyu’s lashes dipped behind her fan.

“So here’s my charity. I’ll wear that scolding for you. Tell them I refused you all — equally. Tell them I chose to wait. Because if I ask for open doors and deep coffers, I should prove I’m worth the trouble.”

He flicked his chin at the woods beyond — shadows shifting like waiting teeth.

“When the Mountain sends its pups — and it will — I’ll bleed or run alone. If I fall, you lose nothing. If I stand… then we’ll talk. On fair ground.”

He paused on Li Yue.

“And Lady Li — her seat’s farthest. She drags heavier burdens just to sit here. I won’t tie her neck to my mess for a promise I haven’t earned yet. She’s free to watch. And decide if I’m worth another pair of shoes.”

He leaned back, the faintest grin ghosting his lips — cold, not unkind.

“That’s all you get tonight. Drink your tea. Whisper your little reports home. Stay if you’re bold enough when the Mountain’s teeth come calling — or run when the shadows bite.”

A hush deeper than any agreement settled — the only sound Kirin’s wings above.

Gong Chang swallowed, the weight in his gut not from tea but the thought — If he survives this, every one of us will pay twice the price for his favor.

Lin Huan tucked her smile behind her sleeve — He bleeds alone first… but his beasts and skins will need cloth still.

Hongyu’s fan hid her curling lips — Clever pup. If he lives, the Pavilion will sweep in anyway — and pretend it was our idea.

Li Yue’s thoughts were ice — Good. A man who stalls for tomorrow is worth more than one who sells himself tonight.

Ru’s eyes flicked like flint behind Daemon’s shoulder — Not for sale. Good.

Jia’s fingers brushed her sleeve — The more they circle him, the more Spirit Stones come my way. Let them circle.

And so the campfire crackled on — its warmth surrounded by a ring of merchants who no longer knew if they’d come to buy a boy’s loyalty, or watch him forge a knife at all their backs.

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